Page 53 of Lord of Fire and Ice

“Then take him back,” Katla said. “I don’t want him any longer.”

Finn shook his head. “You’ve made your play. Ulfson is yours. And now I’ve given you your pick from three men. A bargain’s a bargain, sister,” he said with a wide smile. “I intend to hold you to it. I expect your decision by nightfall. Both Gormson and Sturlson are on their way here.”

“You didn’t give me any warning, Finn,” she complained. She longed to smack the smug grin from her brother’s face, but she’d suffered so from self-recrimination over the last time she slapped someone, she laced her fingers together before her to keep them still. “And just when did you plan on telling me this?”

“At the last possible moment. The time has come, sister. You’ll have your choice, and then we’ll have a wedding.” He folded his arms across his chest, clearly satisfied with his own cleverness. “And there’s an end!”

Katla made a low growl in the back of her throat and turned to stride away from them.

Finn chuckled and then cast a chagrined glance at Brandr. “Sorry about that, Ulfson.”

“Don’t be.” Brandr joined his laughter. “It was worth it just to see her hackles rise.”

When their laughter ran its course, Brandr spoke to Finn in a low tone. “If she chooses me, I want you to know I’m not without means. I’m still a jarl’s son, despite this collar. I’ll see you receive a fair marriage settlement.”

Finn clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t fret. She won’t choose you. And she won’t shackle herself to that old man either. I just needed a bit of leverage to get her to commit to Albrikt Gormson. He’s the one who’s offering the most. He’s our choice. Has been all along. We needed to give Katla a nudge toward him so he’ll be hers too.”

***

All day, Katla’s insides were wound tighter than a spool of new yarn. When she made her bargain with Finn, she hadn’t really thought the matter through. At the time, finding a way to keep her vow to avenge Osvald seemed the most important matter.

In truth, she hadn’t thought of her late husband in days.

Her plan to humble Brandr Ulfson was a failure on all counts. He didn’t seem at all troubled by the labor she set him to. Wearing the iron collar didn’t chafe his spirit as much as she’d hoped. He seemed to ignore the fact that he was her property most of the time. Even though she’d shamed him by slapping him, she suffered more pangs over the incident than he seemed to.

The more she thought about it, the more wrong it seemed to hold Brandr to account for the misdeeds of his father. Osvald and Ulf were both dead. Perhaps they’d already resolved their differences in Hel’s cold hall.

But she was still trapped by her bargain, and now she’d have to make a choice. After she finished her chores, she hiked into the woods to be alone to think. Katla climbed through the thick pine forest to the highest point on her property and settled herself beside the stack of unused signal firewood. Clouds threatened rain, but Katla was unconcerned. A light misting would cool her off after the exertion of the climb.

Three men. Three possible outcomes. She weighed the attributes and failings of each of them.

Albrikt Gormson was a strong fellow, a man in his prime. There was something of the warrior about him, a throwback to a few generations ago when might triumphed over industry and raiding was preferred over trading. If she was worried about the security of her people, he’d be a good choice, and her brothers would each receive a portion of land of their own. Maybe this time they’d make something of the opportunity.

But Gormson demanded control of her steading as part of the marriage settlement. He’d put his own stamp on the place. Katla’s burden would be lightened, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to give up the reins so completely. She knew what it was like to have a husband who countermanded her orders. She remembered Osvald’s heavy-handedness well enough to know she preferred being in charge.

Otto Sturlson was affable enough. He’d not interfere with the way she ran her household. He’d even been some measure of help in clearing their land. An infusion of his coin would benefit her people. She’d be able to buy another plow and a second team of oxen. If they cleared another field, they’d be able to feed that many more mouths.

But her brothers would receive only coin in the settlement, something they’d shown a propensity to waste like water. They’d be looking to her to fill their gullets again in no time.

That Otto was elderly couldn’t be dismissed. Though an old man might be able to give her children, if she were capable of bearing them, he likely wouldn’t be there to help her raise them to adulthood.

Besides, she’d already buried a husband. She wasn’t anxious to be made a widow twice over.

Lastly, there was Brandr Ulfson.

Her mind went blank. There was no advantage to wedding him. Even if she freed him, the taint of having worn a thrall’s collar would follow him the rest of his days.

Her own high status as the lady of the house would be tarred by it as well. Even any children that resulted from the marriage would be marked by Brandr’s past thralldom.

Katla had seen the way folk looked sideways at Inga when she wasn’t aware of it. There was always a curl of the lip, a hint of disdain for Osvald’s former bed slave. If not for Inga’s musical gift and quiet, unassuming ways, Katla probably would have run the girl off for her own good. Perhaps her life would be easier some place where her status as a former slave wouldn’t be the first thing to cross folk’s minds each time they looked at her.

While Katla’s people seemed to accept Brandr readily enough now, what would they make of such a sudden elevation in rank? Perhaps a person could work hard and scramble up a class or two within their strictly measured society, but from thrall to master of a prosperous steading? The gap between the two was broad as the North Sea. An unprecedented rise like that would upset the order of things.

To say nothing of the way Brandr would upset her.

The man made her weak. Not just physically, though she’d be hard put to discount that. Knowing a man like Brandr waited in her bed each evening was beyond the hope of most women.

But Brandr exposed her deepest need, the desire to be loved, to find that mystical inn matki munr, to hear her lover call her name without voice, his love resounding in her head and heart. She ached for that soul bonding.