"Ha! What a question!" Einar roared. "Call your men ashore, and we'll break out the ale!" Winking lewdly, he lowered his voice. "I'm sure there are several lasses here who will fight like she-cats for the chance to warm such a noble Viking's bed as yours! Hal Now, that will be a sight to see! Come on, my boy, the air out here is cold, while a warm hall awaits us yonder!"
Hakon smiled broadly at his huge cousin, then turned back to the ship. "Egil, take several of the men and see that Svein and Torvald are chained securely to their benches for the night."
"Yea, my lord," Egil called out. He disappeared beyond the railing.
"As for the rest," Hakon shouted, waving his arm, "over the side with you! Your welcome awaits with open arms!"
Jumping into the water with excited whoops, the men quickly waded to shore and lost themselves in the crowds.
"What is this, then, Hakon? Prisoners aboard your ship?" Einar asked, curiosity lighting his eyes.
"More than prisoners, cousin," he replied, gesturing toward Gwendolyn and Anora, who stood along the railing near the prow. "I will need lodging for two others this night." Wading back out to the ship, Hakon reached out his arms to Anora. "Come, little one, do not be afraid. I will catch you." She looked at him incredulously, and stepped away from the railing.
"Go on, Anora. Best not to make him look the fool in front of his friends," Gwendolyn whispered reassuringly. "I will be right behind you." Still somewhat dubious, Anora stepped up on a rowing bench and sat down on the narrow railing. Holding her tunic and mantle demurely in one hand, she swung her legs over the side of the ship. Then, closing her eyes tight, she pushed herself off the ledge.
Hakon caught her securely in his outstretched arms. "There, now, Anora." He smiled gently. "We Vikings can be trusted." Ignoring his soft-spoken words, she tensed in his arms. That day will never come, she vowed silently.
A sudden splash beside them caused Hakon to laugh wryly. The lad follows her like a shadow, he thought, then shrugged. More than likely he would, too, if he had a sister as beautiful as Anora.
"There will be many jealous women crying in their beds this night," Einar muttered, shaking his head. He watched with great interest as Hakon carried ashore what looked to him to be a foreign wench.
"It has been a hard journey, Einar," Hakon stated, amused by the unspoken questions in his cousin's eyes. "This woman needs a warm bath and a place to rest."
"She will be well tended to, my boy," Einar replied. Over his shoulder, he called out to a stout, red-haired woman standing nearby. "Greta, see that this wench gets a bath and a good meal." Turning back to Hakon, he threw his head back and laughed uproariously. His young cousin had never failed to surprise him, but this time he had outdone himself. "I see there are many things for us to talk of this night!" he said, grinning broadly.
Hakon set Anora down on the sandy beach. "Go with her. She will see to your needs." Anora hesitated for a moment, then resignedly allowed the woman to lead her away. Seeing Gwendolyn start to follow them, he called out sharply, "Nay, Garric, you will stay with me."
Gwendolyn stopped abruptly in her tracks, then reluctantly turned back toward Hakon. A protest was on her lips, but Hakon's expression boded no resistance. "Do not worry, lad, your sister will be well cared for."
That's just what I am afraid of, Viking, Gwendolyn thought warily, trudging behind him along the sandy beach toward the well-lighted hall.
Chapter 13
"So, what has it been, Hakon— two years since you passed this way?" Einar asked between long drafts of ale from his drinking horn. Some of the frothy liquid spilled out over his thick beard and down the front of his leather tunic, but he did not seem to mind. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes widening lustily at the sight of a serving girl's ample breasts as she leaned over to refill his drinking horn.
Suddenly he pulled her onto his lap, his large hands roaming freely over her well-rounded body. The girl's startled squeal brought a roar of delight from the grizzled Viking. She struggled in mock resistance, giggling all the while. "Go on with you, wench, but mind you do not stray too far," Einar chortled, releasing her reluctantly. Planting a rough kiss on her smiling red lips, he followed her with his eyes as she sauntered away.
Hakon laughed heartily. "Yea, cousin, at least two. And I can see that you have not changed in the least during that time!" And he hoped Einar would never change, for he was truly fond of his unruly cousin.
Einar had sailed with him when he left Norway ten years ago, only to decide to homestead on the Shetlands after they had stopped there for several days on their journey south. At that time there had been plenty of land for the taking: lush, green, and well suited for raising sheep. And since Einar had never really been a sailor at heart, he had opted to stay.
Hakon reluctantly bade his cousin farewell, but had promised to return whenever his trading voyages brought him near the islands. He had since made many visits to Sum-burgh Voe, for the Viking settlement was always in need of provisions, trade goods, and news from other lands. Yet his most recent trading voyages had all been to the south, and Hakon had been unable to sail to the Shetlands for these past two years.
"This journey is different from the others, is it not?" Einar shouted, leaning forward to hear Hakon's answer. The carousing in the hall had reached a near fever pitch, and it was proving difficult to converse over the drunken rabble and coarse laughter. He had perceived there was a great weight upon Hakon's mind, for his young cousin had been slightly subdued all evening. And for him to be immune to the provocative glances thrown his way by several comely wenches was more than Einar could comprehend.
"It seems my trading days are past, cousin. I have received word that my brother Eirik lies on his deathbed, gravely ill. And as he has no heirs, he wishes to leave his lands and wealth to me —that is, if I get to Norge before Rhoar makes his play for the inheritance."
Suddenly Einar jumped from his chair and brought his huge fist down upon the wooden table. "Rhoar lives?" he roared, his swarthy face livid with anger. The hall suddenly grew still at the chieftain's outburst, all eyes upon him.
"Yea, he lives, cousin. I am afraid your sword, though mighty, did not end his life." It had been Einar, fighting at Hakon and Eirik's side those ten years past, who had plunged his sword into Rhoar Bloodaxe. Believing the chest wound would provide a slow and painful death to the traitor, as Einar believed Rhoar to be, he had not dealt him a final deathblow. Instead, he watched as Rhoar's men dragged their leader from the battlefield, confident that he would breathe his last before the night had fallen.
"Would that I had run that spawn of Midgard, serpent of the underworld, clean through his black heart with my sword, rather than let him wreak further havoc upon your house!" Einar blustered fiercely. Drawing his broadsword from its scabbard, he thrust it with great vengeance at an imaginary opponent, just barely missing several of Hakon's men, who dove beneath the table to escape the flashing blade.
"Yea, cousin, I would that he had died that day, also. But the gods have let him live for some purpose, if not just to try me," Hakon replied grimly. "Come, Einar, sheathe your sword, and let us walk outside for a moment. My men have a hard sail before them, and they are in dire need of merriment tonight."
Catching Hakon's meaning, Einar returned his sword to the scabbard at his wide belt. "Very well, my boy," he agreed. The cold night air would no doubt help to quench his ire, and he had no wish to spoil the evening's promise for Hakon's crew. Turning to the still-silent revelers, he shouted, "There is more ale to be had, men, so drink up, and remember the wenches are willing!"
At his words the walls once again resounded with laughter and merriment. Grinning, Einar glanced at Hakon. "But what of that scrawny lad, cousin? Will you have him accompany us, or may we walk alone? He has not left your side since you entered the hall an hour ago, but remains near you like some pup who has lost its mother!"
Hakon's gaze fell on Gwendolyn, sitting huddled on the floor near his chair. The lad had been so quiet Hakon had almost forgotten he was there. "Garric, stay here with Egil. He will show you where to sleep tonight if I do not return." With that curt command, he strode out of the hall after Einar.
Gwendolyn stood up suddenly from the ground as if to follow after him, but Egil grabbed her by the shoulder, thwarting her escape. He gestured for her to sit back down, his stern expression threatening certain punishment if she disobeyed. Sliding back down to the floor, she slumped in utter frustration.
Sweet Jesu! Gwendolyn agonized. What if he seeks out Anora? Once again her feeling of helplessness was almost more than she could bear. She muttered every curse she could think of upon Hakon and his kind.
Outside the hall, Hakon took a bracing breath of the sea air. The sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline enlivened his senses, and his step was light. For several moments he and Einar walked in silence, each occupied by his own thoughts. The sounds of revelry from the hall gradually receded into the distance, drowned out by the wind and the sea.