The Viking’s Touch(30)

 Eyvind nodded. ‘Can we train again tomorrow?’

 ‘Of course.’ Wulfgar ruffled the boy’s hair. Then the two of them came to join Anwyn and Ina.

 As Eyvind launched into animated conversation with the old man, she looked apologetically at Wulfgar.

 ‘I hope Eyvind isn’t being a nuisance.’

 ‘Not at all. He’s eager and quick to learn. He has only to be told once.’

 The words sounded genuine and Anwyn smiled, experiencing a little glow of pleasure. It was always good to hear someone speak in praise of her son, but somehow this man’s words meant even more. She had seen the way the new recruits responded to his praise, how his own men sought his approval. If seasoned warriors valued his good opinion, how much more it would mean to a child. His patience and tolerance gladdened her heart as nothing else could.

 ‘He’s like a different child these days. I hardly recognise him.’

 ‘And yet I think you are not sorry for it,’ he said.

 ‘No. It’s as it should be.’

 She experienced a momentary pang, knowing that Eyvind would eventually grow away from her, following the warrior path that was his birthright. Childhood was short. It was one of the reasons she was grateful for the influences acting on him now. A boy needed the right role models to follow.

 Unable to follow her thoughts, Wulfgar surveyed her curiously. Her affection for her son was very apparent for all that he was Torstein’s offspring.

 ‘Did you never have other children?’ he asked.

 ‘No.’

 With that one word the mood changed and became tense. Wulfgar mentally cursed his tactlessness. Women often lost babies and infants—losses that left deep scars.

 ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to pry.’

 ‘It’s all right.’ She turned to face him squarely. ‘Eyvind is my only child because I chose that he should be.’

 For a moment he regarded her blankly before the implications began to sink in. ‘You mean you…’

 ‘…took measures to prevent any more pregnancies, yes.’ She paused. ‘Does that shock you?’

 It did, but he concealed the fact. ‘You must have had your reasons.’

 ‘Eyvind’s birth was difficult. At the time I thought it would kill me, but he and I survived. Torstein had his heir, and I vowed that I would bear no more children to a man I loathed.’

 ‘How did you—?’ He broke off. ‘I mean, you did not deny him your bed.’

 ‘No, I had to endure that, but there are ways a woman may avoid conceiving.’

 ‘I see.’ Suddenly the full extent of her anger and detestation were made clear. That shocked him, too, even though he understood it. ‘You took a serious risk. If he had found out…’

 ‘He would have killed me, though at the time I did not greatly care.’

 ‘And yet you love your son.’

 ‘He was innocent of his making.’

 Wulfgar met her gaze. ‘Why do you tell me these things?’

 ‘Because you asked and because…’

 ‘Because?’

 ‘I don’t want to lie to you.’

 He hesitated, framing the next question very carefully. ‘Have you resolved never to have more children, then?’

 The words were spoken with apparent casualness, but for no good reason they brought a lump to her throat.

 ‘I was resolved never to have more of Torstein’s children.’

 ‘Just his?’

 ‘I…I never thought beyond Torstein, never thought I would be free of him.’

 ‘And now?’

 ‘The question is hardly relevant, is it? Under the circumstances.’

 Until that moment he had not considered the matter in that light, but now the terms of their agreement returned with cold clarity. A marriage in name only; swords bought for gold and, latterly, an earldom. Recent events had caused him to forget. When he looked at Eyvind it was not so hard to envisage other sons: his sons. When he looked at the woman beside him, the wish that he had kept so deeply buried resurfaced with painful force. He acknowledged it now, mentally calling himself all kinds of fool for letting imagination outstrip common sense. Anwyn had given him a timely reminder of reality. Children would only add another layer of complications to an already complex set of circumstances. He ought to feel relief to be free of that possibility. In any case, he had agreed to her terms and she to his. He cleared his throat.

 ‘No,’ he replied. ‘I suppose it isn’t—under the circumstances.’





Chapter Fifteen

Over the next few days, recruits arrived from across the estate, young men keen to learn the skills of war. What with that and the patrols that daily rode the boundaries, the men were kept busy. Wulfgar delegated work where it was appropriate so that he was free to check on any aspect of the day’s business when he wished to. It kept everyone on their toes for no one knew exactly where he would be or when. Moreover, the newly sworn Drakensburgh warriors were keen to prove themselves, and the newest recruits most of all. He surveyed it all closely, liaising with Hermund and Ina where necessary. When he recalled Anwyn’s earlier advice he acknowledged that she had been right: Ina’s support was invaluable. Despite his years, the old warrior was still remarkably fit and fast—as the trainees discovered to their cost. More than one came away from the practice bouts with a sheepish expression and a more respectful attitude than they’d had when it began. Ina rarely raised his voice in command; usually an eyebrow was enough to bring an individual back into line if it was required. Wulfgar watched it all with quiet approval.

 Apart from the beginning and end of each day he had seen little of Anwyn. Of course, she had her own work to do, and servants to oversee. Even so, he found himself looking out at odd moments, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. She tended not to linger in the hall after meat and by the time he came to retire she was asleep. Although she was unfailingly courteous when occasion did bring them together, the small intimacies that they had shared earlier were conspicuous by their absence now. He found it strangely irksome. It was almost as though she were avoiding him.

 Eyvind, on the other hand, was more forthcoming. He had taken to heart all the things that he had been taught and practised them diligently. Wulfgar set aside a little time each day to spend with the boy, watching him repeat the things he had been shown, teaching him new ones. The least word of praise was clearly balm, calling forth a flush of shy pleasure. Wulfgar began to wonder if Torstein had ever bothered with the child at all.

 ‘Precious little,’ said Ina, in response to his casual enquiry. ‘Torstein didn’t like children anyway. He had no patience at the best of times and, as I said before, a foul temper to boot.’

 ‘And yet he had a son any man might be proud of.’

 ‘If he was proud of the boy, he hid it well.’

 The words gave Wulfgar food for thought for they tallied with what Anwyn had told him. No wonder she had not wanted to give her husband more children. Now that the initial surprise of that disclosure had worn off, he found he could not censure her for it. All the same it was a pity; sons like Eyvind could only be most pleasing to a man. The thought recurred that it would be good to father Anwyn’s children. Hard on its heels came the realisation that fatherhood was a sacred responsibility, and he had failed at it already. Toki was three when he died. What manner of man might he have grown to be? Wulfgar sighed. When he told Anwyn he wasn’t good husband material he had spoken no more than the truth.

 Another practice session with Eyvind served to chase these thoughts from his mind. Nothing loath, the child rained blows upon the iron-bossed shield on Wulfgar’s arm, seeking a way past his guard. However, no matter where he directed the sword, the shield always met it. They were perhaps ten minutes into the drill when, out of the corner of his eye, Wulfgar caught a glimpse of a mauve gown. Instinctively he turned to look. However, that moment’s inattention allowed Eyvind past his guard and the point of the wooden sword thrust against his ribs.

 ‘A hit!’ Eyvind capered, brandishing the sword aloft. ‘You’re dead!’

 Wulfgar groaned loudly, clutching his side. Then he staggered several paces, feigning mortal injury, before collapsing in the dust. The child laughed delightedly.

 ‘Lord Wulfgar is dead! I’ve killed him!’

 Several of the men nearby glanced round, grinning. Eyvind thrust clenched fists into the air in token of his victory. However, as soon as he turned his back, the ‘dead body’ came suddenly to life and grabbed him. The child yelled in surprise as strong arms lifted him off his feet. Yells became giggles as the same arms turned him upside down and held him there.

 ‘Let that be a lesson to you, boy,’ said Ina. ‘Make sure your man is slain before you turn your back on him.’

 ‘That’s right. Otherwise you’ll end up dead yourself.’ Wulfgar swung the child the right way up and sat him in the crook of his arm. ‘All the same, you broke through my guard and that was very good.’