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Merrik shouted at Chessa, “Have you begun your monthly flow yet?”
They would return Lord Ragnor, Kerek, and Torric to York once they’d taken Chessa to Rouen for her marriage to William. The men made the decision, then informed the women.
“I see,” Mirana said after Rorik had finished. “You mighty men thought this all through, did you? You doubtless sat about swilling ale and weighing this complicated decision. How pleased I am that you deign to inform us of your plans. How tired you must be after all your mental discussions. Would you like some more ale, my lord? Are my lord’s feet weary? I could go onto my hands and knees and you could rest your feet upon my back.”
Rorik looked harassed. “Stop your sweet attacks, Mirana. Nay, they’re vicious, you just speak sweetly. Damnation, someone had to make the decision. You women—” He paused, taking in Laren and Chessa, and beyond them, Entti, Amma, Erna, Old Alna, all the women of Hawkfell Island, falling in behind their mistress, ready to kill for her if need be, their loyalty always to her, not to him. He wasn’t happy. He turned to his brother. “Merrik, you will speak to Laren before she makes a skald’s tale of this and casts us all in the role of the Christian devil. Make her see reason. As for you, Cleve, take Chessa away from here and tell her to begin her monthly flow. She has no say in anything. Her father has made the decision for her.”
“Laren,” Mer
rik said in his softest voice, which was just beneath a roar, “surely you don’t agree with Mirana. Surely you won’t mock me as she does Rorik. Surely you won’t make this pitiful little happening into a skald’s tale, will you?”
“A Christian devil is too good for you, Merrik,” his wife said, standing toe to toe with him, even though she reached only to his chin.
Suddenly Old Alna cackled. “I think we shouldn’t cook for them anymore. No more porridge from Utta. No more ale. No more roasted boar steaks. What say you, Amma?”
Amma, a strong woman, a large woman, grinned up at her huge husband, Sculla. “What say you, husband? Do you want your belly to shrink just because you’ve been an ass?”
Cleve interrupted in his best diplomat’s low, calm, smooth voice, “We are getting far afield. I will ask the women just one question. Choose from amongst you who will give me your answer.”
“What is the question?” Utta asked.
“Who should Princess Chessa wed?”
The women withdrew, drawing together into a tight circle, speaking, all talking at once, until Mirana held up her hand. “Let us go outside. I do not wish the men to hear this. Doubtless they argued and insulted each other and yelled and carried on, but they will deny it and make us feel like fools when we do the same.”
When all the women had left the longhouse, Rorik clapped Cleve on the back. “That was well done of you.”
“Aye,” Merrik said, grinning like a Viking who’s just plundered a rich town, “what else can they decide? They must decide exactly what we decided. There is no other way to settle things.”
“They are women,” Cleve said. “Women aren’t like men. They don’t think like we do.” He shook his head, sat on the bench, his hands between his legs, and just stared down between his shoes.
The other men drank ale, sharpened their axes, their swords, played with the children, pulled Kerzog’s ears. The three wounded men lay in the corner, watching, but saying nothing. They wondered what would become of Lord Ragnor. All three hoped he would magically drop dead in his tracks before the fool managed to get all of them killed.
“Papa, what’s happening?”
Aglida climbed onto her father’s lap. “Mama isn’t pleased with you, is she? What did you do?”
“Nothing, sweeting. It’s just a thing that happens between men and women. Where is Kiri?”
“She followed Aunt Laren outside with the women.”
“It won’t be good,” Cleve said, shaking his head back and forth. “I was stupid to suggest it.”
“There is nothing else they can decide,” Merrik said.
“What if she doesn’t begin her monthly flow?” Rorik said.
“She could begin it and not tell us,” Hafter said. “I will order Entti to tell me the truth.”
The men stared at Hafter as if he’d grown another head. “You will order Entti to spy for you?” Rorik said, then he laughed, low, deep laughter, and soon all the men were jesting and laughing and drinking more ale.
The women came back into the longhouse, Mirana at their head. “We have decided what will happen.” Slowly the men rose. They didn’t say anything.
Mirana smiled at her husband. “My lord, we agree that Ragnor, Kerek, and Torric must be returned to York. It’s unfortunate that we can’t kill them since they richly deserve it, but there it is. We’ll return the other three men as well.”
“You see,” Rorik said to Cleve, “I told you there was no other way for them to decide.”
“As to Chessa marrying William. She doesn’t wish to and we agree with her. She wishes to marry Cleve.”
