Page 86 of Lord of Fire and Ice

Harald scowled at Katla, clearly blaming her for interrupting his reunion with his friend and the drinking that by rights ought to ensue. “What else am I watching for besides disloyal chieftains?”

“I don’t know yet,” Brandr said. “But I mean to find out.”

***

Long before they reached the great hall, the folk of Jondal discovered the second son of Ulf had returned. People lit torches and poured from their homes and shops to welcome Brandr back. Obviously his friends had neglected to mention his unfortunate stint as a thrall on Tysnes Island, because every face was etched with welcome.

And more than a little relief.

When the mighty quarreled, the folk who did the farming and smithing and building and wedding and birthing were the ones who lost the most. By the time Brandr and Katla reached the tall, carved doors of the jarlhof, the villagers had stirred up the atmosphere of a fair. Brandr and his bride collected nearly the entire population in their wake.

The massive doors swung open, and Hilde, his brother’s wife, was there to greet them.

“Brother,” the tall woman said as she nodded gravely to him. “We bid you welcome. You and yours.”

She’d always been spindly, but now she was gaunt. Instead of honey-blond hair escaping her starched headdress, Brandr was surprised to see Hilde’s hair was white. Her eyes were like a hunted doe’s, wild and terrified, but so tired of running, the arrow that found her heart would be a blessing.

Like any good Norse matron, she gave her first attention to their immediate needs. Hilde gave orders for their accommodations to be aired, and a wet nurse for the baby was sent for immediately. Katla refused to give the babe up, asking that she be able to meet the nurse first, which seemed a reasonable request to Brandr.

“Very well,” Hilde said. “Walk with me.”

The people from the village called out final well-wishes, and the big double doors swung shut behind them.

“How is Arn?” Brandr asked, placing a hand at the small of Katla’s back to keep her beside him. May as well let folk know right from the start she was his.

Hilde looked at him sharply, a quick appraising glance. “You know about his sickness.”

“Tales travel on the wind.” Brandr shrugged. “I have ears. Does he suffer?”

Hilde bit her lip. Her mute response was answer enough.

“He can no longer wield a sword?”

Hilde shook her head.

“You have no son,” he surmised.

“Arne gave me five daughters before the sickness struck him,” Hilde said, her long-fingered hands clasped tightly over her own belly as if wishing could place a man-child there. “But never a son, and so the chieftains gather.” Her pale eyes narrowed. “Now I suppose you will rally them to your side.”

“My allegiance is to the man who wears the Iron Crown and sits on the jarl’s judgment seat,” Brandr said. “As long as he breathes, that man is my brother.”

The tension went out of her shoulders, and he read relief in her.

“Leprosy is grounds for divorce,” he said softly.

“I am not just your brother’s wife,” she said with the sting of a whip in her tone. “I am the wife of the jarl. It is my duty to care for the people of Jondal.” Some of the fight went out of her, and her tone softened. “And for their jarl.”

Hilde’s devotion reminded him of Katla and her determination to provide for the people of her farmstead. When he left for Byzantium, Hilde had been more interested in what baubles the traders might bring for her than in how her people fared. Now she was simply but elegantly dressed. All hint of ostentation had been ground out of her by Arn’s illness.

Before they reached the great hall, where stentorian voices were raised in angry debate, Brandr stopped his sister-in-law with a touch on her forearm.

“Hilde, you have been a good wife and a good lady to the people of Jondal. I will do all I can to see that your husband remains the jarl. We have come a long, weary way. Will you see to my wife now?”

Katla cleared her throat and tossed him a pointed look.

“And the child as well,” he added and was rewarded by her smile. He would have leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek, but no one ever demonstrated affection openly in his father’s hall. He suspected Arn would have it the same.

“Of course,” Hilde said as she led Katla away. “Please, your chamber is this way, sister.”