While they dined, set high before the eyes of the great hall, wasn’t the time to study Stuart and Della together. If he wanted any real answers, he would have to find an excuse to get all of them alone.
“Sir Stuart, it is said you have admirable skill at hnefa-tafl. I have been known to take a few games myself and am in possession of a fine tann-tafl if you are willing to play after we dine.” Brant kept his tone formal, not giving the man a chance to gloat. An arrogant expression crossed Stuart’s face as he looked at the ealdorman. Brant’s stomach tightened in animosity as the man’s eyes glinted in mischief.
Della turned to him in surprise, a warm look of gratitude shining on her face at his request. Her voice carried in it a persistent encouragement, as she said to her cousin, “Yea, Stuart. Perchance you could play one game.”
Stuart nodded his head, smiling kindly at his cousin. His eyes seemed to say, all right, but only because you wish it, Della. Brant gritted his teeth. Della smiled prettily, looking back and forth between the two men.
“Yea, Lord Blackwell. I would be most honored to teach you what I know.” Stuart turned to his mead. Swirling it thoughtfully in his goblet, he didn’t look back up.
Gunther grunted at Brant’s side in disapproval, but he ignored it. Brant didn’t mean to get a lesson from the obnoxious man and Stuart knew it also. How dare the man try to make him look foolish in his own home? Hnefa-tafl was a game of much skill and political maneuvering. To suggest one was not well-suited to the game was to suggest one lacked brains on the field of battle.
When her back was to him, Brant glared past Della’s shoulder. She whispered something to her cousin. He couldn’t hear her words, but knew it didn’t matter. He would have the answers he sought soon enough.
As he turned to his trencher, his appetite was not as hearty as it should’ve been. None at the head table broke the silence through the rest of the meal. After receiving Brant’s permission to start evening games to entertain the men, Gunther and Roldan quickly finished their food and departed. Brant even had mead brought out to the grounds to keep the men there and offered a prize of five gold pieces to the night’s winner. He wanted to be free of prying eyes when he probed Stuart and Della for their reactions.
Roldan would stay at the exercise field in charge of the men and Gunther would come back to the hall to witness Brant’s private tournament. He didn’t even have to tell his old friend what he was up to. The man instinctively knew. They’d fought together for many years.
Tonight, hnefa-tafl was more than a game of intellect played on a table. It was a game of wits played over his wife.
* * * * *
Della kept her eyes cast down during the meal, ignoring both her husband and cousin equally. She felt the heat of Brant’s gaze as he kept close watch on Stuart, who in turn studied him. Each man weighed the other’s measure in a silent war over her bowed head. She hated it.
After the meal, the tann-tafl, tooth table, was set up on one of the lower tables in the main hall. Many of the soldiers were encouraged to go out to the exercise field to participate in the games of strength. Torches burned high and bright over the great hall and serving maids carried the last of the food trays to the kitchen. One left a pitcher of mead at the game table. Gunther spoke to the woman while she poured him a goblet. She blushed and scurried away.
Peeking out from the stairwell, she finally saw Brant step over the threshold to the hall. She’d been waiting for him. Hesitant, she touched his arm. “There you are, m’lord. I’ve been looking for you.”
Brant stopped walking and turned to her. His steeled face showed no emotion as he glanced dispassionately at the nervous hand on his forearm. Flustered by his stare, she let go.
“I wanted to thank you for your kindness in letting Stuart stay. He and I are all that is left of our families. It’s a true and noble thing you do, especially after all I said the day we met, even though I was punished quite thoroughly for it. It proves you are a great man.”
Brant nodded, as if not sure what to make of her praise.
“Come, husband, they are waiting for you.” Della tried again to pat his arm. She wanted to feel the fleeting touch of his skin. Breathless, she waited for a tender word or gesture, only to be sorely disappointed. Swallowing over a hard lump forming in her throat, she glanced at her ring, wondering, yet again, if what she was feeling was the cause of a pagan curse. “Do you wish for me to leave?”
“Nay. Stay and watch.”
Della nodded, glad he at least spoke to her. He didn’t seem too angry, not like before. Mayhap he realized she didn’t love Stuart in the way he’d suspected and didn’t want to lay intimately with him. In fact, the only man she wanted to be with was the attractive, virile man she’d married. A blush crept to her cheeks, as she wondered if Brant would want to do it again this night. She hoped he did. He had promised to let her explore his body.