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‘His wool sacks were light and I won’t pay good gold for less than the full measure. A man who will cheat on such things, will cheat on his daughter’s dowry.’ Sayrid put her hands on Regin’s shoulders and looked down at his watering eyes. ‘We delayed the marriage because Bloodaxe had difficulties with the dowry and Blodvin wanted to have her dress properly embroidered. Not because of anything we did wrong. The jaarl knows the truth.’ She paused. ‘It is something to unsettle you so that we will accept a lower dowry.’
Regin slammed his fists together. ‘I will marry Blodvin with or without your help…or die trying.’
Sayrid pretended to fiddle with the fishing spear. ‘After I’ve forbidden it?’
Her brother’s face took on his stubborn look. ‘I’ll go anyway.’
‘I won’t rescue you.’
His face fell. ‘Maybe this time I won’t need rescuing.’
A brief laugh escaped her throat. ‘Regin! Think!’
‘I love her, Say. I can’t stand aside and let her be married to someone like Hrolf Eymundsson.’
Sayrid mentally said goodbye to a quiet few weeks fishing and planning how to be put in charge of a felag. ‘If it means that much to you, then we will see if Blodvin needs rescuing. But if the lady wishes to be married to Hrolf Eymundsson, we leave her there and walk away. Agreed?’
Instantly, her brother’s face became wreathed in smiles. ‘I knew you’d do it. I told Auda you’d help.’
‘And, Regin, this is the last time…’
* * *
Hrolf Eymundsson watched his host and hostess from under his hooded eyes. They were hiding something from him. He could tell from the way they kept glancing at each other and then glancing at the door. ‘Is there some reason why you want the marriage to happen tomorrow?’
The sweat had beaded on Ingvar the Bloodaxe’s forehead and he signalled to his wife that he wanted his horn of ale refilling. ‘An agreed bride price and my daughter is everything you could wish for in a wife—accomplished and beautiful. Why wait?’
Hrolf inclined his head. When he’d returned from his latest felag to find Inga’s mother dead and Inga barely able to speak his language, he’d known that he had to take steps. He required a wife with land, particularly land with good access to the sea, but more than that he wanted his daughter brought up by a woman who understood what it meant to be Svear. It was why he’d returned to this land, rather than marry one of the women along the Rus trading route. As his uncle had explained many years ago, wives had a defined role and purpose. And although he had never particularly wanted to marry, it was the only way to keep his daughter and growing empire safe.
The bride price was slightly steeper than he would have wished, but Bloodaxe’s daughter had a number of suitors, according to the mother. Taking a bride from this area would demonstrate to Kettil that he was serious about their alliance—these shores would be protected from the menace that was his rival sea king, Lavrans. Unlike Lavrans, who continually demanded more tribute if he felt an ally was weak, Hrolf prided himself on honouring agreements to the best of his ability.
He had spied Blodvin looking after some children when he disembarked from his ship. She was pretty enough, with a vague look of Inga’s mother about her, and had responded to his query with a sweet smile. When he learnt her name and that she was unmarried, it seemed the Norns had blessed him. Bloodaxe and his father had been close once in the old days before his father lost his lands and his title… Hrolf gripped the drinking horn tighter.
He had righted old wrongs and paid off the debts he owed. He was now a sea king who ruled the waves. And Bloodaxe was right—what more did he want? His daughter was the correct woman to mother his Inga.
‘Blodvin is the proper sort of woman to be on a sea king and future jaarl’s arm!’ the mother said with a loud sniff. ‘I knew the Norns had a special future marked out for her.’
Hrolf took another draught of the indifferent ale. ‘Your daughter has no objections? We’ve barely spoken.’
The man and his wife exchanged quick glances.
‘Blodvin is quite shy.’ Bloodaxe slapped his chest and emitted a loud belch. ‘But she will make the ideal wife. She has spent years stocking her wedding chest. She knows all there is to know about housekeeping. Children adore her. Once she knows the match has been finalised, she’ll be more than eager to have her wedding night.’
Every sinew of his body urged caution, but there was no reason to suspect anything was amiss with the woman.
‘You, of course, know your daughter best.’
