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‘It matters to me.’
‘Very well.’ Edith put her hands in her lap and clenched them tightly. ‘My late husband did know of the passageway. My father showed him all the hall’s secrets before he died. My father trusted him. It was not until later that Egbert changed. I believe one of the Romans built the passageway before they departed these shores.’
His eyes danced. ‘Not a fairy or the wee folk?’
‘This estate originally belonged to a Roman or so my grandmother used to say. My father used to say that one of them had hidden huge quantities of silver about the land, but he never found it. He reckoned that it was one of his mother’s stories.’
‘Why would Egbert return that way?’
‘I had little expectation of him winning. I was in Eoferwic when it was first overrun. I saw the hordes of Norsemen with their gleaming axes and swords. I know what happened when the Northumbrians attempted to retake Eoferwic. Every building burnt to the ground. Even the great church was scorched. When I last saw the city, the ash still smouldered.’
His cool blue eyes assessed her. Then his face relaxed into a smile. ‘I have it finally! You thought your husband would return with his tail between his legs and didn’t intend to be taken unawares. You should have said something, rather than speaking in riddles.’
Edith shifted uncomfortably. ‘I like to plan for all eventualities.’
‘Your cousin is enjoying herself.’ He nodded towards where Hilda sat in between two Norsemen, effectively changing the subject.
Edith clenched her hands tighter, torn between the desire to move the conversation away from her previous behaviour and her fear of Hilda’s volatility. If she looked closely, she could see signs of forced gaiety. Hilda’s laugh was far too shrill and her gestures extravagant.
‘My cousin enjoys feasting far more than I do. Shall I call her up here so that you may converse with her?’
Edith started to rise, but Brand’s hand went around her forearm, pinning her to the chair. He gave a quick shake of his head and the heavy gold torc about his neck gleamed in the torchlight.
‘I would hardly wish to disturb her pleasure.’
Edith glanced quickly at Hilda. Hilda’s hand inched towards a knife. ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. I had best go and fetch her.’
‘Leave her.’ Brand’s mouth turned down and his tone allowed for no dissent. ‘She knows who holds the power here and is far from stupid.’
‘She is intelligent,’ Edith agreed. ‘But impulsive. Acts and then regrets her actions when they fail to work out as planned.’
‘You were wrong about her wishing to hide in the kitchens. Relax and stop using her as a shield.’ His fingers turned more gently, lightly stroking the inside of her wrist. Little butterflies flew up her arm.
‘All is peaceful now.’ Edith focused on Hilda, rather than on Brand’s fingers. Hilda’s hand relaxed and she laughed up in the Norseman’s face, fluttering her lashes. Edith released her breath.
‘Did you think it wouldn’t be?’
‘Hilda has no love for the Norsemen. They burnt her house and murdered her husband,’ Edith explained, gently pulling away from Brand. Instantly he released her.
‘But she knows who holds the power now and accepts it.’ Brand Bjornson took a long draught of his mead.
‘I hope so. I also hope your men realise that they shouldn’t behave like conquerors and decide my cousin is one of the spoils.’
‘Seeking to tell me what my men should be doing now? You Northumbrians will need to respect us, rather than treating us like overgrown oafs who have no culture or manners. I will have no woman forced under my roof.’
‘An observation.’ Edith reached for her goblet and delicately took a sip. The liquid burnt a pathway down her throat. Drinking the mead helped to keep her thinking from what the night might bring or the potential for disaster from any number of areas. That there had been no serious incident was more from good fortune than anything. ‘Respect has to be earned.’
‘I will keep it under consideration.’ His hand stroked her cheek, turning her head towards him. ‘Where do you bathe?’
‘Bathe?’ Edith blinked. ‘There is the lake for bathing if one wishes. The priest believes that bathing leads to sinful behaviour.’
‘Luckily I am not constrained by such things.’
Edith put her hand on her stomach. Sin. The priest would no doubt consider her behaviour unredeemable. Her immortal soul would be damned for ever, but she had made her decision. ‘And neither am I any longer.’
