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‘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.
