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‘He was doing his job as he saw it. But I agree with you. He’ll be causing trouble for the sheer pleasure. He was one of Egbert’s creatures. But Owen the Plough had tears in his eyes.’
Hilda adopted a pious expression. ‘Brand Bjornson is doing his duty, in the manner he wishes. When are you going to learn that it does you no good to argue with men, be they priests or earls? The other night, I kept sending you messages with my eyes and still you played tafl like you wanted to win. And then you pointed out the mistakes he’d made.’
‘I play to the best of my ability. To do anything else is to dishonour Brand.’
‘Your problem, Edith, is that you hate losing. Learn to lose gracefully. And if you win, make it seem like an accident, rather than grinding his pride into the dust. Men like to feel superior.’
‘It is one lesson I hope I never learn.’ Edith gave her spindle a vicious twirl. ‘And I know what the people who farm this land are like and what can happen. The priest has a certain standing and it is better to work with him than against him.’
‘You really do care deeply about this land. I hadn’t appreciated it,’ Hilda commented. ‘You take your responsibilities seriously.’
‘Always.’ A small sigh escaped from Edith’s lips as the thread broke once more. That was part of the trouble—knowing what the probable outcome was. They might not complain out loud, but the resentment would build. She’d seen it happen with Egbert and in the end he’d had to reluctantly admit that she did know what she was doing.
Worse still, she didn’t know what her job was. She had spent so long running the estate that being here, spinning and gossiping with Hilda, felt alien. She seemed to be all fingers and thumbs, rather than completing her spinning quickly and efficiently. Perhaps she ought to investigate going to a convent, but somehow something always came up.
‘There are some things I know about and one is the correct time to plant corn on this estate. And we have always used a priest to invoke the blessing. Tradition.’
‘Traditions are made to be broken, I say.’
‘And when did this new attitude towards our conquerors come about?’
Edith narrowed her gaze. Hilda wore a new shawl, one which brought out the blue-green in her eyes. A little twist of jealousy curled around her insides. She wasn’t going to ask who had given it to her. It was not her business if Brand had found another woman to warm his bed.
It bothered her that she looked forward to their nightly tafl game. He made her think.
Hilda flushed slightly and tightened her shawl. ‘All I know is that it is not in your interests to quarrel with the new lord. Didn’t you learn anything from your experience with Egbert? A man likes to be flattered, not have his pride ground to dust under your heel. You insisted on trying to win at tafl and now you berate him for making hard choices.’
‘Why are you being so sympathetic to the Norsemen all of a sudden? Do not attempt to change the subject, Hilda. I know you too well.’
Hilda gave her distaff a twirl. ‘Some of them are quite mannerly. Starkad has the sweetest singing voice. He sounds like a robin in spring. He was the one who sang the saga of Lindisfarne the other night but he prefers other more romantic songs. He sang me the one he is working on for Brand Bjornson’s challenge. It brought tears to my eyes.’
‘And how do you know this?’
Hilda made a little moue. ‘We met and he sang me a song. Pure poetry. I have no hesitation in admitting that some of the Norsemen might be different. He smiles more than Egbert ever did. And you are right about the scars. On some men, they give a face dignity.’
‘Lady Edith, Lord Bjornson requires your presence in the stables.’ One of the servants rushed in before Edith could question Hilda further. ‘Immediately. You are to give no excuses.’
Edith’s heart leapt and then immediately the doubts crowded in. Why now after their quarrel? Had he uncovered another of her hiding places? Or provoked more unrest with the priest? ‘I’ll go to him. Since he asks so politely.’
‘You should go slowly, cousin.’ Hilda put her hand on her shoulder. ‘You don’t want him to think you were too eager.’
‘Hilda!’
‘I was only saying,’ Hilda protested. ‘I’ve seen how he watches you like you were some sweetmeat ripe for eating. Whatever you two quarrelled about, and I refuse to believe that it was about corn, you should get it sorted out. If the jaarl is in a good temper, the entire household benefits.’
