Paying the Viking's Price

‘When I married Egbert of Breckon, Halfdan promised to honour the agreement. I’ve a parchment with his seal.’ She kept her head up and knew she had to ask the question. She had to find out what Halfdan intended with this barbarian or she’d collapse in a gibbering heap. She had to know her fate. She had survived Egbert; she could survive this Norseman. ‘Do you mean the king intends that we marry?’

The Norseman’s mouth curled downwards and his gaze raked her form. Edith forced her hands to stay at her sides, but she was aware of her gawky frame and big hips. She wished that she was tiny with curves like Hilda, the sort of woman that men would marry in an instant, and not just to gain a fortune or lands.

‘Your husband broke fealty with my king. Why should he honour his promise to your father?’ he said finally. ‘Halfdan gave all of Egbert of Breckon’s land to me as a reward for my services.’

Had the mountain actually killed Egbert in battle? The boy had whispered of an ambush and a truce broken where all the true Northumbrians were slain. Edith put the thought from her mind and concentrated. This was far worse than she’d considered possible. Her entire life hung in the balance.

‘My husband acted against my counsel. We who are left never broke fealty. In the interests of peace and love he bore for my father, I’m certain Halfdan will have ordered some form of marriage.’ Edith held out her hand. ‘Show me his parchment.’

His blue gaze raked her a second time, more slowly, but leaving her in little doubt of her own inadequacies as a desirable woman—her figure was far too thin and angular, her chin too masculine and even her hands were stained with ink rather than lily white as a lady’s should be. Edith fought against the rising tide of heat which flooded her cheeks. It was bad enough that Egbert had taken great delight in telling her how few feminine charms she possessed, but enduring the Norseman’s gaze was far more humiliating.

‘There were no conditions to the gift, lady,’ he said, his voice thundering so all could hear. ‘The lands and all its possessions were in Halfdan’s gift. My need for a wife is not pressing. Halfdan knows my feelings about marriage and the sort of woman I wish for a bride.’

‘My mistake,’ she whispered and forced her legs to curtsy. Bile rose in her throat. One solitary look and he’d rejected her as marriage material.

‘Yes, it was. I trust the matter is now closed. I claim overlordship to this estate.’ He stepped forwards and brought the axe down on the stone flagging. The noise thundered through the hall.

Edith thought quickly. An overlord? There was always an overlord. It might be the best of possible worlds, the miracle she’d prayed for. She had been far too hasty in assuming marriage. ‘We will be happy to pay a tithe to you if you show me that your word is true. Forgive me, Norseman, but my experience with other Norsemen has been limited and sometimes the language has caused confusion. Do you have some sign, a scroll perhaps, which tells the amount we must pay?’

‘You wilfully misunderstand me, Lady.’ The Norseman fingered his axe. ‘Egbert of Breckon’s lands are forfeit. He rebelled against his rightful king. You have no rights here, but I bear no malice towards you. You may depart without molestation if you leave immediately.’

Edith heard the shocked gasps from the servants ranged behind her. Tears pricked her eyelids. This was her home, her land and her people. She’d never asked Egbert to rebel for all the good it had done her. This was absolutely wrong.

She bit back the words. Tact, not hollow words of protest, was needed here. Egbert had led the rebellion, until the bitter end. From what she understood, he’d been one of the last to fall. An honourable death, the boy had whispered.

‘The lands are in my name. I did not rebel. They remain mine until the king sends a scroll to tell me otherwise. I understand Halfdan is an honourable man.’ She crossed her arms. She had to play for time. ‘I don’t know how things are done where you come from, but here in Northumbria we do ask for more proof than a double axe and a broken door.’

She stared defiantly at the Norseman, trying not to notice his axe and the way he fingered the hilt. One stroke and her head would be rolling across the floor, like the rumours said the Norsemen had done to so many other people.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited for the Norseman to respond.

A rumble of laughter resounded behind the Norseman, breaking the silence.

‘She has spirit, this Northumbrian lady, I’ll give her that,’ one of them called out. ‘There are not many who would stand before Brand Bjornson and argue.’

‘Maybe they should,’ Edith answered as steadily as she could even as her legs threatened to crumple under her.

Her luck had truly run out. Brand Bjornson claimed her land. He was reputed to be one of the fiercest Norseman warriors, a name that nurses whispered to frighten children. She waited, hardly daring to breathe. Her next heartbeat was sure to be her last, once he lifted that axe.

The Norseman regarded her with those fierce eyes, unmoving but speculative. She forced her gaze to match his.

His hand loosened on the axe and his shoulders relaxed. Edith released a breath. She was going to live. The thought filled her with giddy excitement.

‘I regret, my lady, but you’re wrong. This hall and land belongs to me.’ He reached into his belt and pulled out a piece of vellum. ‘The king did anticipate that some may be prepared to doubt my word. Everything is in order. His seal is set with the date. Call for your priest to read it out loud.’

‘There is no need. My father ensured I could read.’ At his questioning glance, she added, ‘He’d little love for our priest.’

‘Wise man.’

Edith stared at the parchment. The words swam before her eyes. All of Egbert’s lands were forfeit to Brand Bjornson, including the hall and its property. They were specifically named, but it was a general proclamation. The king hadn’t even bothered to address her. She truly meant nothing to him.

Tears stung at the back of her throat. Everything gone, just like that. She wished she could wring Egbert’s fat neck. Her father had been wrong for so many reasons when he forced the marriage because he’d thought she needed a strong warrior. She could have held the lands on her own.

‘You may have the estate, but will you have the hearts of its people? I have never seen a Viking warrior stay in one place for long. Undoubtedly your king will have call for your services,’ Edith said before she could give herself time to think and be scared. ‘After seeing your parchment, I’m happy to pay a reasonable tithe to you and promise to keep good order. I know these people and this land.’

‘And you have their hearts, now that their menfolk are dead? You can guarantee that they will no longer rebel against Halfdan or his chosen successors?’

‘I like to think so.’ Edith tilted her chin upwards. ‘My family has cared for this land since before the Romans left. The folk here are honest and loyal. Those who rebelled left with my late husband. Never to return.’

A sardonic smile crossed his lips. ‘I find a full belly guarantees loyalty far more than blood or tradition.’

A snigger came from the ranks of the Vikings. ‘What sort of man obeys a woman?’

Edith clenched her jaw and ignored the remark which reminded her of Egbert’s attitude. She had proved him wrong and, given half a chance, she’d prove the unknown Viking wrong as well.

She motioned for her servants to be still.

Where else could she go? Some convent? To work like a thrall? It was what would happen to her if she appeared without any money. Goodness knew Egbert had threatened it often enough. Death by a Norseman’s axe was preferable to death by slow starvation. She had one last chance.

‘You must give me a chance to prove my words. I could be useful here. You are a warrior. Do you know how to run a large estate? I do. Put me to the test!’

Chapter Two

Edith waited as her plea echoed around the hall. Her entire life hung in the balance.

‘There is no need for someone else to run it. I shall be here.’ Brand Bjornson’s lips quirked upwards as if she amused him. A loud laugh escaped his throat, swiftly followed by the other warriors’ laughter.

Edith frowned. Amusement was precisely the wrong reaction. ‘My offer is serious.’

‘My days of fighting are at an end. My king has another use for me. For too long this part of the North Riding has harboured a nest of vipers. It is my task to ensure peace. With force if necessary, Lady. I’ll allow you safe passage to the nearest nunnery as a token of the loyalty you and your father showed my king.’

‘And you know everything there is to know about this hall and its farms? How to run it most efficiently?’

The blue in his eyes deepened. ‘From what I have seen, it will not be hard to run it better...unless there is some reason to think differently.’

Edith winced. He knew about her deception and was giving her the opportunity to confess. The Norseman was sharper than he first appeared.

‘My father trained me after my brothers died in infancy. I served first as his steward and then my late husband’s.’

‘Then they were both fools. This hall and its farms look miserable. A child could run them better.’ Brand Bjornson waved an impatient hand. ‘Save the stories for the children, Lady Edith. I’m in a generous mood, but that may change.’

‘Lady Edith speaks true, my lord!’ one of the servants burst out. ‘My Lady Edith runs this hall better than anyone. It is why the storage barns are overfull this year and our sheep are...’

At Edith’s look, the servant’s voice trailed away. Edith bit her lip. Now the Norsemen knew they were not poor. How much chance did the food have of getting to the people who needed it the most? These Norsemen warriors would more than eat their fill and leave everyone else to starve, just as Egbert had once attempted to do.

‘The hall is more prosperous than it looks? Show me. Now. While you have a chance to undo your deception.’ Brand Bjornson took a step closer to her. She became aware of the power in his shoulders and forearms. He was definitely not a man to be trifled with.

Edith shifted in her shoes, torn between a desire to protect what was rightfully hers and the knowledge that her unwomanly success might be the only thing to save her and her home. If she left now, she’d never be able to return. She’d seen enough refugees after the fall of Eoferwic ten years earlier to know her chances of survival. Who would give her shelter like she’d given shelter to Hilda? Anyone who might have helped her was dead or had lost their lands and had fled to the south. Edith curled her hand into a fist. She had no choice but to reveal some of her secrets.