Page 33 of Paying the Viking's Price

Chapter Six

Edith waited in the yard, her head held high, but her stomach roiled. It was one thing to agree to Brand’s terms with fake bravado and quite another to wait for it to happen.

She had to be right about no one from her household being involved in the practical joke. Her entire future depended on her following her gut instinct. If she could prove to Brand that she was correct, she would not have to be his concubine. She would become his adviser instead and the sword which had dangled over her head would lift. If not, she would lose everything.

She watched silently, keeping her hands at her sides and her head erect as everyone filed in—Northumbrian and Norseman—until the yard was full of sleepy and yawning people. Everyone had been roused, from the Norsemen warriors to the lowliest pig keeper.

Brand stood in front of everyone, dressed in his battle gear, his double axe resting against his calf as he balanced the helm from the straw man in his right hand.

‘What is this all about, Brand Bjornson?’ Hrearek asked. ‘Why have you woken us? I thought we’d have one day to sleep in, particularly after a feast like the one you gave us.’

The other Norsemen warriors echoed the grumbling. Brand’s face became sterner. He cleared his throat and the grumbling instantly ceased. The men stood straighter, but there was no disguising the malevolent glance she’d been given by the Norseman who’d caused the trouble last evening.

Edith reached for her circlet of keys for comfort before remembering. If she was wrong, the mood of distrust and discontent created would be far worse than she’d ever imagined. She crossed her fingers and hoped. Her instinct had to be right. The person who had done this was not from Northumbria. It was a set-up designed to sow distrust.

‘There is something which needs to be sorted,’ Brand said in a tone of voice that allowed for no dissent. He nodded towards the most vocal of the Norseman. ‘You appear to be missing your helm, Hrearek.’

Hrearek shuffled his shoulders importantly, thrusting out his chest. ‘It isn’t where I left it. I’ve had no time to search for it. Whoever took it will regret it when I’m through with them. I promise you that. On my honour as a Norseman.’

‘Funny, that. I found it straight away.’ Brand tossed him the helm, hitting him square in the chest. ‘Next time, look after it better, Hrearek. It can be a matter of life or death. We have been together for too long for me to risk losing you because of your inattention.’

Hrearek scowled as he jammed the helm on. Edith clenched her jaw and concentrated on looking straight ahead, rather than returning the Norseman’s arrogantly malevolent gaze.

Of all the people to have had their helm stolen, it would have to be him, the man who had wanted to bed Hilda.

She’d made an enemy last night, but she knew she’d do the same again to protect Hilda or any woman belonging to this house. Edith gulped a mouthful of air as her heart contracted. Silently she prayed that the straw man wasn’t Hilda taking some sort of childish revenge. She could remember an incident with some nuts which went wrong last Christmas. Egbert had laughed, but the kitchen boy suffered a beating before the truth came out.

‘Next time, Hrearek, I expect you properly dressed before you come on parade,’ Brand thundered.

Hrearek stood straighter. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘The incident is now closed.’

Hrearek moved to stand behind his jaarl. The remainder of Brand’s men followed his lead—a definite show of strength by the Norsemen and a statement that they all stood together with their leader.

Edith’s heart sank. Had her instincts been wrong? Swiftly she silenced the little voice which urged her to withdraw before she was utterly humiliated, before Hilda was exposed. Nothing was proved. Just because Hilda had made a straw family last Christmas, it didn’t mean she had done so this time. She just wished she’d remembered that particular jape before she had opened her mouth, pledging hidden treasure against the freedom to live how she wanted. She glanced about her and saw that Hilda was missing.

Edith balanced on the tips of her toes, debating if she should ask Brand for permission to fetch her cousin when Hilda entered the yard, wrapped in several shawls and yawning her head off. Edith waved.

Hilda ran up to her. ‘What is going on, Edith? Why have we been dragged from our beds? What new tortures have the Norsemen devised? Is this your fault?’

Edith put her fingers to her lips. Right now, whatever happened, she had to keep Hilda calm. A hysterical Hilda was not worth thinking about. ‘All will be explained, but a straw man has been found.’

‘A straw man. How wonderful!’ Hilda clapped her hands. ‘Was it poking fun at the Norseman? How clever.’

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