Cnut’s men just rolled their eyes at all Reynilda’s chatter. Personally, he’d like to stick a plug in her mouth.
They came back to the keep, not with a yule tree, but with three huge logs, cut from an enormous dead oak tree that must have been felled by lightning some time ago. Each of the logs was six feet long and two feet in diameter. They would burn long and hot this evening and into tomorrow.
Reynilda went off to eat her newly prepared porridge, after which, she announced, she and her maids would take over the bathhouse for an hour or two.
Andrea talked Cnut and the woodworker, Hastein, into building a simple trellis for Thorkel and Dyna’s wedding ceremony. Cnut was impressed to see the array of wood animals that Hastein had carved as yule gifts for the children, at Andrea’s request. Horses, cows, deer, dogs, cats, bears, and so on. Cnut should have thought of gifts himself, but hadn’t. He would have to find something for Andrea . . . and for Reynilda, he supposed. After they brought the trellis into the great hall and placed it by the fragrant Christmas tree, Andrea and Dyna decorated it with trailing pine and holly boughs. He had to admit, it looked lovely. The whole hall did.
Succulent odors of cooking food permeated the keep, along with the evergreen. Roasting meat, sweet cakes, and the like. Festive smells. Stomachs rumbled with anticipation for the special treats that would be on all the tables tonight, his included. In the old days, he would have been unable to stop himself from gorging on a five-pound slab of pork before it ever left the kitchen. He was still tempted. Best he think of other things, he chided himself. Like his other appetites. How soon could they tap the barrel of ale? How soon could he tup Andrea again?
Speaking—rather thinking—of Andrea, the witch must have invaded his treasure room again, he realized, scanning the large room and seeing all the small candles on the tree, and the dozens of thick candles sitting here and there along the trestle tables surrounded by Christmas greenery, and, yes, red silk bows. They would be lit ceremoniously before the evening meal.
He had some plans for all those red silk ribbons. Later tonight.
Some of the youthlings were practicing songs, accompanied by the lute player. Younger children were singing anachronistic “Jingle Bells” and “Here Comes Santa Claus,” thanks to Andrea, no doubt.
Finally, he had a chance to talk with Farle in private. They were out in the bathing house, about to change into their yule finery—his borrowed once again from Thorkel. He’d given all his old garments to the sewing women to remake into more normal-size apparel. Some for himself, assuming he would be here long enough to avail himself of their use, and others to be dispersed among men in need of such.
“So, tell me everything you learned at Storm’s Lair.” Cnut was sitting in the pool up to his chest, and Farle was doing the same on the other side.
“Ah, a snake pit of intrigue it is there, master. Ye wouldn’t want to spend any more time there than necessary. Rumor is that Princess Reynilda poisoned Jarl Esgar when he refused to take her to the Althing last summer and then declined King Halfdan’s invitation to celebrate the yule season at his southern palace, claiming diminished funds due to the famine. There is no proof, but Esgar’s eldest son by his first marriage, Bjorg, holds the odel rights of inheritance and is said to be coming from the Scottish isles to take over the jarldom. Needless to say, there is no love lost betwixt the princess and Bjorg.”
“And so she comes here . . . why?”
Farle shrugged, but the answer was obvious. “I am to be her latest victim?” Cnut guessed.
“That is not for me to say.”
Yeah, right.
“The group that come with her are jist as bad,” Farle said. “A brother and sister what are swiving each other. A maid with loose fingers that steals anything she can lay her hands on. A man who rapes young girls, sometimes fer his mistress’s enjoyment. And a cobbler who’s been makin’ more than shoes with the princess, if ye get my meaning.”
Cnut put his face in his hands and sighed. He looked up then. “I don’t understand. She seemed to come out of generosity. She brought plenty of goods with her.”
Farle nodded. “As much as she could carry off before Bjorg gets there and cuts off her supply. Every bit of jewelry and clothing she owns, even some of Esgar’s. A chest so heavy with coins it took two men to carry it. In truth, anything of value that wasn’t nailed down or locked up. She would have taken Esgar’s longships if she could have pushed them down the fjord.”
“You mean she has no intention of returning to Storm’s Lair? No! She can’t stay here,” Cnut said with dismay. “Mayhap she’ll go back to her father’s home in Lade.”