Sandulf was pleased that they would be operating under cover of darkness. He had to admit that Ceanna’s plan was a sound one. There were flaws—not the least her being in the square rather than waiting safely with Bertana back at the tavern. But he had accepted that he would need help getting Danr back if he was going to take his place.
She was asking him to trust that the villagers would rise up in support of her once they had gathered to see Urist’s viewing of the prisoner. But he didn’t have a better plan and he did know time was of the essence. In his mind, he could hear his brothers arguing and he knew what each of them would say about the scheme. Brandt would counsel that it was far too risky. Alarr would warn him against being caught without a weapon. Rurik would scout out the lie of the land and have three other backup plans. Danr, well, he’d notice Ceanna’s ankles and tell him that he was being a fool for not telling her how he felt. But how could he when he had this hanging over him?
‘Are you ready? Do you have enough dirt on your face?’ Ceanna asked, lifting her hood. ‘Have we thought of every eventuality?’
‘I will take a dagger. Just in case it is not a fair hearing as you think it will be.’
‘It would be highly unusual for my father to behave in any other way. He will want his daughter’s murderer punished according to the law.’
‘Nevertheless, I remain cautious. I would be a fool to be caught without one.’ Sandulf slipped the slender blade into a special pocket in his right boot. He’d purchased the boots in Constantinople, after he’d seen how the hidden dagger in a friend’s pair had saved both their lives.
It had struck him at the time that of all his brothers, Danr would be the most envious of the boots. Danr was fond of his clothes and said that it was the cut of his boots that endeared him to the many women who fell at his feet.
An unaccustomed throb of pain went through Sandulf. He wanted to hear Danr joke again. He missed his brother’s teasing jests; he missed the faint pause after his outrageous statements as if Danr was waiting to judge the reaction; mostly he’d missed the sound of his brother’s voice.
‘We will free him,’ Ceanna said.
He gave a quick smile and squeezed her hand. ‘Yes, we will. Together.’
She answered his attempt at a smile with a genuine one of her own. His heart ached afresh.
Whose happiness would he put first—his wife’s or his brother’s? He pushed the thought away. It wouldn’t come to that. He had to survive first.
* * *
The faint silver of moonlight lit the market square, silhouetting the post. Ceanna stifled a cry. Sandulf’s brother had collapsed against the wooden spar, with sagging knees and hands held over his head.
‘Stay here,’ Sandulf said in a low voice. ‘Until I give the order. There may be watchers.’
Ceanna sighed. ‘How can I help if I remain in the shadows?’
‘Ceanna!’
She rolled her eyes.
‘Do this for me. Please.’ Sandulf hurried over to where his brother was slumped. ‘We will get you out of here alive, Danr.’
Danr groaned. Ceanna saw Sandulf wince and fumble with the ropes. There was no way Danr would be able to walk on his own towards her.
Ignoring Sandulf’s earlier order, Ceanna ran over to them. He raised his brow.
‘You need another pair of hands.’
He nodded. ‘When I release the ropes, keep his head from touching the ground.’
‘I’ve got him.’
He carefully undid the ropes, muttering a curse as one of the knots stuck but he persisted. It finally gave way suddenly. Danr slumped. Staggering under the weight, Ceanna managed to lower him down gently.
Up close, the resemblance to Sandulf was apparent. Even if she hadn’t known of the relationship, she would have guessed they were related.
He nodded his thanks to Ceanna.
‘All right, Danr? Your baby brother has nearly rescued you.’
His brother gave a faint groan which sounded like, ‘Took your time, you fumbling idiot.’
‘I don’t know why I ever expected thanks from you, Danr. Maybe I should leave you here to die.’
Danr opened one eye. ‘It is you, Sandulf. Rurik said you were here when he sent me north. I half-doubted him. You know what Rurik can be like. Then these crazy people claimed I murdered the daughter of their lord. Never saw the woman in my life. Now you turn up and I know it must be all your fault.’
‘Rurik is happy with his lady?’
Danr closed his eyes. ‘Utterly.’
‘We need to get him away from here. Before anyone realises what is happening,’ Ceanna said in a hoarse whisper.
‘Ceanna, I may not get the chance again.’
Ceanna forced a smile, trying to banish the sudden clench of fear at the risk Sandulf was taking. ‘You will have a chance. Our plan will work. Now get the ropes about your wrists before someone comes.’
Saying the words out loud helped and the sheer nauseating panic which had choked her subsided.
‘Ceanna? I think I was supposed to have murdered a Lady Ceanna,’ Danr said.
‘This is Lady Ceanna, my wife, and she is very much alive.’
‘That figures.’
Ceanna put an arm around Danr and helped him to rise. She started to lead him away, but he stumbled and his heavy weight fell into her. A low moan escaped her throat. She gritted her teeth and redoubled her efforts, but his bulk prevented her from moving very fast.
Sandulf put an arm around Danr’s other shoulder and pulled him off her. ‘Let’s get you gone before the ropes go on my wrists.’
Danr shrugged him off. ‘I can walk. Give me a chance to get the blood moving in my feet. Always in a hurry, you.’
‘My fault, not his,’ Ceanna whispered. ‘My ankle turned.’
‘You go with my wife,’ Sandulf said in a low voice. ‘When we are done here, we will speak properly. How in the name of Sigurd you got yourself in this situation, I will never know!’
Danr put his hands on his knees. Sweat poured from his brow. ‘Everything you do, Sandulf.’
Sandulf’s jaw jutted forward. ‘Everything I do what?’
Ceanna braced herself for a fight between the brothers.
Danr paused and then smiled. ‘Everything you do is different from how I’d do it. I can walk now.’
Sandulf clapped him on the back. ‘Good. Go.’
Ceanna shook her head. ‘Are all your brothers like this?’
‘Brandt is far worse. Always gave me grief. He wanted things done precisely his way. He was very like our father in that respect.’
‘Still is,’ Danr said.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Is it any wonder you took the first opportunity to escape?’
‘That’s one way of thinking about it.’ Sandulf leant forward and brushed a kiss against the corner of her mouth. The touch sent a pulse thrumming through her. ‘Take my battered hulk of a brother to safety. Let me handle the rest. I can do the ropes on my own.’
Ceanna knew there was much she wanted to say to him, but now was not the time. It amazed her that she had ever stopped believing in heroes when the man in front of her was doing a very good imitation of one.
‘I love you,’ she whispered before her nerve failed.
In the dim light his eyes burned. ‘Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.’
Ceanna reeled back as if he had struck her. ‘I understand.’
* * *
Did she love him? Did she really love him? Sandulf found it impossible to banish the stricken look on Ceanna’s face from his mind. He wasn’t worthy of her love, not yet, maybe not ever. His brothers clearly didn’t think so. But he was going to try.
Sandulf’s arms ached from where he’d tied them on the post. The ropes were loose enough for him to move when he had to, but he needed the element of surprise to work in his favour. He kept his face against the post and contented himself with running through all he had to do and how he would keep Ceanna from doing anything rash.
By Ceanna’s reckoning, Feradach and his brother would make their move about noon, when everyone was gathered and the judgement would begin. However, they arrived when the rose hue of dawn had barely lit up the square and all remained quiet. Urist, a well-dressed woman and the two brothers—one in the costume of a guard and the other dressed as monk—entered. Sandulf glimpsed them out of the corner of his eye. Despite the temptation, he kept his eyes trained on a knot in the wood and went over the plan he’d agreed with Ceanna. To take all of them, he needed his sword, the sword which Ceanna would bring with her. His dagger would only work against one assailant. Which brother would give him the best chance of success?
‘It needs to be done carefully,’ the well-dressed woman said. He assumed it was Mhairi, Ceanna’s stepmother. There was a faint nasal twang to her words. Her shoes rang out against the cobbles, stopping a little way from where he was tied. ‘We want justice done. You can recognise the culprit, can’t you, Urist ab Urist? When the time comes?’
Urist gave a loud belch. ‘His features are emblazoned on my mind, my Lady Mhairi. I will not make that sort of mistake. I will do you proud. This man murdered your stepdaughter. He made such a mess of her that it weren’t right for you or her father to see her corpse. Right vicious he was. Captain Feradach agreed with me.’
Urist peered at Sandulf. His jaw dropped. Sandulf mouthed Ceanna is here and Urist took a step backwards.
‘For the sake of Lady Ceanna I will identify the culprit,’ Urist said. ‘I promise. I won’t let her down. I will proclaim the truth at the judgement. Now let me go. I need more ale. I don’t need to see any more.’
‘He won’t have gone far,’ Lady Mhairi said after the footsteps died away. ‘Your guards can fetch him from the nearest ale house when the case will be tried.’
‘It would be better if the witness was not drunk,’ a man said. ‘Can we sober him up in time?’
‘Don’t worry. It will all work out. You will see—the shock of the trial combined with the funeral will kill the old fool.’
‘You shouldn’t have come here, Lugh. You should have stayed to ensure your job was done,’ Feradach said.
‘You sent word about a Northman asking the way to Nrurim. My angel from Glannoventa might be in danger.’
‘You should never have accepted that commission from Glannoventa. What did you gain from it? Nothing.’
‘I met my angel, a sweeter and kinder woman you could not ask for.’
‘And nearly blew everything because this Annis of yours had the eyes of an angel and must not get blood on her hands. Dealings in the kingdom of the Northmen to bring fabulous wealth, Lugh? You killed what? Two women? A sure way to get yourself killed to my mind. Your ugly face even acquired a new scar.’
‘My angel gave me a cloth to stem the bleeding when the ship was pulling away. It’s why I call my scar my angel’s kiss.’
‘Spare us any more about your blessed angel,’ Feradach said. ‘It’s all you’ve gone on about since you got back and I’m sick of hearing about it. Keep to the business at hand.’
Sandulf’s fingers itched to grab the knife in his boot, but he resisted. Striking now would achieve little.
‘I’d feel happier if we hadn’t used that body from your little ambush,’ Lady Mhairi said. ‘You were far too heavy with your sword that night. Thankfully, no one has questioned about that missing woman.’
‘That drunken sot gave his oath with a sword held to his son’s throat. I should have run him through. He insisted that Lady Ceanna was certainly dead out in the forest and you needed a funeral. You said your husband would collapse on the coffin and never rise. He seems stronger than ever since he learned of her death. Since he put his head on that coffin and the crowd roared their approval.’
‘The depth of the feeling towards her has surprised me. I had no idea that she was that beloved,’ Lady Mhairi said. ‘If anyone thinks I had anything to do with it, it could be the end of all our hopes, Feradach.’
‘You’re far too nervous, my dear. Even if this idiot has double-crossed us, Ceanna is long gone from here.’ Feradach gave a harsh laugh. ‘I doubt she’d survive for long. The woman wouldn’t say boo to a goose, terrified of her own shadow.’
‘I hope you are right.’
‘See.’ Rough hands jerked Sandulf’s head back and a fetid scent assaulted his senses. ‘This man will be the right sacrifice. I should slit his throat right now and be done with it. Who mourns for one from the North? Certainly not I.’
‘Look! Isn’t that your arm ring he wears, Brother? The one you lost on that expedition.’
‘That he does. Well, well, it would appear all our problems are about to be solved, Feradach. My angel will be on her knees, thanking me for it, and I look forward to her thanks no end.’
* * *
When they returned to the stable, Ceanna set about cleaning the worst of Danr’s wounds, despite his protests that he was fine. The wounds appeared to be mainly bruising from the beating and superficial cuts and scratches rather than anything more serious. Keeping busy with little practical jobs rather than thinking about Sandulf’s rejection of her love made it possible for her to hold her hands steady.
Sandulf had never made any secret of the reasoning behind their marriage. And she had been under no illusions that she had cornered him in the interview with her aunt, forcing his hand. The one time they had discussed it, at Mother Mildreth’s cottage, he had firmly but kindly promised her friendship and nothing else.
‘Remain here with Bertana as your nurse,’ Ceanna said to Danr when she’d finished tending him. ‘Sandulf and I have the plan worked out to the last detail. I go back, show myself when a crowd of enough size has gathered and Sandulf will do the rest. Bertana has done well, spreading rumours about my death being false.’
Danr blocked the door. ‘With the greatest respect, you have that wrong. No son of Sigurd is a coward. I will join this fight. I will be at your side.’
‘You’ve been beaten. You’ve hung from a post for nearly a day.’
‘All the more reason for me to fight.’ He put his hands together. ‘Give me a weapon, any weapon. Allow me to help. I’m grateful for what you both have done so far, but he tempts the Norns who control his destiny too much. These men are determined to kill him and he lacks his sword.’
‘It goes with me. For later. We’ve worked it out.’
Danr blanched. ‘My very foolish baby brother. Will he never learn?’
‘He has a dagger in his boot. He said you’d approve of his boots.’
A wry smile crossed Danr’s face. ‘I knew I liked the cut of his boots.’
‘He thinks well of all his brothers. He wants them to think well of him.’
‘Rurik told me what he’d done to the other killers. The boy has to stop doing things all on his own.’ Danr shook his head. ‘It is how he gets himself into serious trouble. You should have seen him the summer before our father died. He rushed the enemy and was out on his own, down on one knee. We thought he was off to Valhalla for certain that day. Brandt fought his way to him to rescue him and received no thanks for it.’
‘My husband is not the impetuous boy bent on glory you remember.’ Ceanna quivered with righteous indignation. ‘He is a man, he is my husband and you will treat him with respect.’
Danr gave a low bow. ‘Aye, my lady. I beg your pardon.’
‘Granted.’ She graciously lowered her head. ‘It has preyed on his mind for a long time that he can’t measure up to his brothers. He told me about the skipping stone contests and how he always came last.’
‘Until the day he came first.’ Danr shook his head, laughing. ‘We must have another contest.’
‘I think he would welcome that.’
‘He was alone in the longhouse that day, looking after our sister-in-law,’ Danr said. ‘If he’d had help, who knows what might have happened. One young warrior against the four assassins who managed to murder our father and Vigmarr—two of the best warriors in the North—before people even understood what was happening? He is lucky to have emerged with his life.’
‘I’d understood that his brothers were all away, except for his middle brother Alarr who was severely injured in the fight outside the hall.’
‘There was one brother who wasn’t there who should have been.’ Danr’s cheeks flushed and he rapidly examined his boots. ‘I have to live with that, my lady. The knowledge remains with me always. I swear to you that I have changed my ways.’
‘Where were you?’
‘With a woman. Some forgettable warm body with accommodating thighs.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I’m not proud of what happened, my lady, but I want a chance to put the matter right. Please let me have that chance. Let me assist in whatever Sandulf has planned. He cannot bear this burden alone.’
She watched the shifting shadows. Danr and Sandulf were much alike—neither wanted the other one hurt.
‘Call me Ceanna, please. I’m your sister.’
‘I hadn’t considered that. I have acquired three sisters in a matter of months. All of them excellent women.’ He sobered. ‘I love my little brother dearly, my—Ceanna. He is fun to tease. I can see he has grown up beyond all recognition in our time apart. I knew the boy and want very much to know the man. Will you allow me the honour and privilege of fighting alongside him and you? Will you allow me to do what I failed to do all those years ago?’
‘He gave me specific orders where you were concerned.’
‘And if I fail to protect you, my new sister-in-law, what will that make me? Don’t you think I carry enough of a burden with the deaths of Alarr’s fiancée and Ingrid emblazoned on my soul?
Despite his many cuts and bruises, despite his obvious tiredness, Ceanna saw the pleading hunger in his eyes. She handed him Sandulf’s sword. ‘I doubt I could swing it anyway if it came to it.’ She rapidly outlined the scheme she and Sandulf had devised. ‘You can get it to him when I reveal myself. All eyes will be on me.’
Danr gave the sword a few practice swings. ‘It is well balanced. I prefer my own sword, but this will do until I can retrieve it.’
‘Sandulf is going to need that.’
Danr made an overly innocent face. It was easy to see how women fell for his charm. ‘You said he had a dagger. And things can happen very quickly in operations like this.’
‘Sandulf and I agreed the plan. Follow it.’ She added ‘please’ as an afterthought.
His eyes danced even more. ‘I’ll see what can be done.’
‘My lady, the sun rises,’ Bertana shouted from the door.
Ceanna ground her teeth. Arguing with Danr was pointless. She lifted her hood and concealed her features. ‘The time has come.’
* * *
‘If you slit his throat,’ Lady Mhairi cried out as the assassin pulled Sandulf’s head back and he could see the horrifyingly familiar scar, a double star with a cross as well as a newer scar overlying the old one on Lugh’s ugly face, ‘they will search for the murderer.’
‘They will, but not very hard.’ The rough hands slipped about Sandulf’s neck, cutting off his oxygen.
‘Giric, the King’s Regent, is already hunting the assassin who murdered Aed. The last thing we need is the King’s guard sticking its collective nose in our business, Brother. Patience. Your thirst for blood will be quenched. I agree with my lady, we wait and allow the crowd to tear him limb from limb.’
The hands about Sandulf’s neck loosened. He gulped in life-giving air. ‘I will wait for now.’
‘What is going on here? Stepmother, why is this man tied up?’
Sandulf’s heart stopped. Why could Ceanna never stick to an agreed plan? She had put herself in danger without any back-up. The townspeople were still to gather in any significant number.
‘Lady Ceanna! By all the—’ He started again in a different tone. ‘It is excellent to see my bride alive and well.’
‘I understand you’ve arrested this man for my murder, Stepmother.’ Ceanna pointed towards where he stood. ‘Release him. As you can see, I am very much alive.’
Sandulf’s eyes narrowed. Where was his sword? How could she have forgotten it? She seemed to think mere words would alter this. He fought against the ropes, but one knot was more stubbornly tied than the rest.
‘Brother. I can take her before anyone notices,’ Lugh said in a low voice. ‘Blame it on the Northman, trying to escape. The villagers will lap it up. I can preach a sermon on it.’
‘Do it.’
Sandulf twisted his wrist to the right, to the left and slid his hand out. He grabbed the dagger from his boot, pivoted, but saw he was too far away for an accurate throw. Lugh was nearly upon Ceanna. Then he saw him, his battered but unbowed brother standing in front of her, with a drawn sword, their family’s battle cry emerging from his throat.
Lugh belatedly tried to change course, but his momentum carried him forward. But with one motion, Danr connected with the robed assassin.
There was a gurgle and Lugh fell to the ground at Ceanna’s feet. Danr made a little flourish with his hand and bowed towards Sandulf. Always the showman was Danr, Brandt used to say.
Sandulf clenched his dagger until his knuckles ached. ‘Brother, you were supposed to be resting from your ordeal.’
‘I believe I’ve saved your life, Sandulf. Do not throw it away so easily next time.’
‘Guards, seize them!’ Lady Mhairi shouted. ‘These heathens have attacked and killed a monk!’
Nobody moved. All shocked eyes seemed to be on Ceanna.
‘What are you waiting for? That man, that heathen, slew a monk in cold blood,’ Feradach shouted.
The guards and the now-gathering crowd remained still.
Ceanna raised her arms. ‘For the sake of the love and affection you have given me and my family, I beseech you, stay your hands. These men have saved my life. There has been a plot against me and my father. My stepmother and Feradach, the captain of the guards, seek my death.’
The crowd began to mumble. A lone woman’s voice called, ‘God bless Lady Ceanna! Hooray that you are alive!’
The cry was taken up, growing louder and louder until the roar shook the buildings. Ceanna’s mouth dropped open and she stood still for a heartbeat.
She retrieved the sword Lugh had been carrying and held it above her head. Her smile became genuine as the crowd responded with even greater cheers.
Sandulf watched Feradach and Lady Mhairi. The crowd would prevent them from escaping, but they remained dangerous.
‘Lady Ceanna is touched in the head, like her father,’ Lady Mhairi proclaimed. ‘There has been no plot. Merely a misunderstanding. The holy priest was going to embrace her. Ceanna, look at what you have done.’
‘I overheard the plot that you, your lover and this supposedly holy man were concoting,’ Sandulf said. ‘Even men secured to posts have ears.’
‘And you are?’
‘Sandulf Sigurdsson, husband to Lady Ceanna of Dun Ollaigh.’
The woman’s mouth fell open. ‘You can’t be.’
‘We married at St Fillans with my aunt’s blessing,’ Ceanna proclaimed loudly.
‘Mother Abbe gave her blessing?’
‘Yes, and it cannot be undone,’ Sandulf said. He judged the distance between the woman and the captain of the guard. Even now Danr was slowly moving towards him, getting himself in position.
‘Where are the royal children, Stepmother?’ Ceanna asked and Lady Mhairi’s head swivelled towards her. ‘The sons of the late King Aed that the false monk promised he would take to Éireann. I presume they are somewhere in Dun Ollaigh.’
Her stepmother took a step backwards and stumbled. ‘You said it was Ceanna, Feradach. You said it was her before the coffin was nailed shut. We buried her.’
‘It was all her idea!’ Feradach said, looking about him wildly. ‘Lady Mhairi and my brother. Concocted in St Fillans. Nothing to do with me. I can’t stand her and her whining ways. Dried-up stick of a woman. Guards, arrest her!’
‘You liar! I will stop your lying mouth.’
Lady Mhairi rushed forward and wrenched the dagger from Sandulf’s hand. Before he could react, she plunged it into Feradach’s throat. He gurgled and fell forward.
The crowd looked on in stunned silence. Urist, who had stood quietly during all this, rapidly looked about him and fell to his knees while he loudly proclaimed his loyalty. That he had recognised Sandulf and had not given him away.
Ceanna ran over to Sandulf’s side and threw her arms about his neck. ‘My husband.’
The crowd roared their approval.
‘It would appear they have missed you,’ Sandulf murmured, watching the crowd and Ceanna’s reaction to it. They loved her and it would seem she revelled in it. The knowledge struck him like a knife. How could he ask her to give this up? His duty was to his family and hers to these people.
He had worked for years to avenge the murder of Ingrid and her unborn child. His brothers would need him at their side. And Ceanna wouldn’t need him at all.
The thought made his chest ache. He wanted her to need him—to love him with her whole heart and not just say the words because he had put himself in danger. He wanted to prove that he was worthy of her love.
With an effort he pushed the thought away. He focused on the present objective, rather than worrying about battles to come.
‘I think you had best come back to Dun Ollaigh, Stepmother,’ Ceanna said in a very quiet voice, holding out her hand to her as the cheering died away. ‘We have much to do.’
Her stepmother’s eyes were wide and darted everywhere, never resting on anyone or anything, a contrast to the earlier gaze Sandulf had endured from the woman. ‘I need to see to your father, Ceanna. It has been most unconscionable that you have been gone for so long. You worried him to the point of near death. I actually feared your funeral would be the death of him. He did insist on going. And he will have to be told gently that you are, in fact, alive.’
‘You buried another woman’s corpse.’
‘That man, Urist, he led me a merry dance with a closed coffin. Feradach told me his brother had lost control back at the clearing when you wouldn’t answer him. I feared him, truly I did, and his brother was worse. I couldn’t look. He said your head was totally crushed.’
‘That is not what you said to Feradach,’ Sandulf said. ‘I believe you wanted the shock of the funeral to kill your husband, Lady Mhairi. You knew that body wasn’t Ceanna’s and played along. Urist, to his small credit, refused to tell you where Ceanna was when Feradach threatened the life of his son.’
‘Indeed.’ Ceanna’s voice dripped ice.
‘You have always been far too headstrong, Ceanna. All I have ever wanted for you was the best.’ Her stepmother gave a little simpering smile. ‘No doubt you told these men a pile of untruths and embellished stories, but you and I know the full truth, don’t we? I have never been your enemy, Ceanna. Search your heart. You know that to be true.’
Ceanna signalled to two of the townspeople who grabbed her stepmother’s arms. ‘My stepmother needs to return to Dun Ollaigh with me. My father should have the opportunity to hear what has happened here.’
A small smile which Sandulf distrusted appeared on her stepmother’s lips. ‘I’d be grateful.’
Ceanna rapidly organised the villagers, all of whom obeyed her words without questioning. She was in her element, here, moving with assurance and command.
‘Your stepmother is probably the most dangerous of the lot. Do you trust her guards?’ Sandulf murmured as he stooped to regain his dagger.
‘I agree with you.’ Ceanna handed him Lugh’s sword and wiped her hands on her gown. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. ‘I need to find my father. He needs to know I live while time remains for us. He deserves the truth, but my stepmother is right, it will have to be gently done.’
‘We will all go.’ Sandulf put his hand on her shoulder. She briefly rested her head on his chest as if she was drawing strength from him, but then seemed to remember something, stood up straight and began speaking to various well-wishers.
‘My Lady, I wanted to say I was sorry, sorrier than you will ever know. And I didn’t betray you. I told them a Northman kidnapped you and I expected you were dead in the forest. But I couldn’t be sure seeing as how my head ached so bad.’ Urist, shame-faced, stepped in front of them. For a change, he was speaking Gaelic.
‘I overheard them saying they’d held a sword to your son’s throat and threatened his life, but your story never varied,’ Sandulf said. ‘Thank you for keeping quiet and protecting Lady Ceanna in your own way.’
Urist stood up a bit straighter. ‘I was right to get that body, but I was wrong about who was going to attack us. I thought this here Northman would, except now they say he is your husband and that means he will be my lord soon. But that Feradach was thoroughly bad.’
‘I hope my father lives for some time yet. And I am grateful…’
‘And I didn’t betray your man neither. I could have done, but I didn’t. My loyalty, my lady, does belong to you.’
‘Your delay assisted us both times,’ Sandulf said in Pictish and held out his hand. ‘Shall we put the past behind us?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you spoke my language? You are one of the good ones.’
‘Remember that,’ Ceanna said, fixing Urist with her gaze. She did not fully trust the man, but what he had done had certainly helped them. ‘My husband is one of the good ones and I want no more trouble from you.’
Urist went running off, shouting about how Lady Ceanna’s new husband was a good Northman.
Sandulf controlled his features. He was under few illusions that the people who lived here would accept him if not for Ceanna. In time, he hoped… He dragged his mind away. The future stretched out uncertainly before him.
‘Your lady is far more of an important personage than I first realised. You’ve done well, Brother,’ Danr said in an undertone. ‘I assumed she was some woman you picked up on your travels. Pretty enough in her own way, but…’
Some woman. Like one of his faceless women? Sandulf pitied his older half-brother. He didn’t understand the difference. Ceanna had ruined him for other women. He now totally understood Brandt’s overwhelming anger at Ingrid’s death. He hated to think how he’d behave if such a tragedy had befallen Ceanna. But what he felt for Ceanna was far too new and overwhelming to be confessed to his brother.
‘I realise what you are saying,’ he said when he trusted himself to speak. ‘You made a mistake. Ceanna is far more than some woman. She is my wife, my Skadi.’
‘A force to be reckoned with.’
‘That she is.’ Sandulf watched how she stopped to talk to people and allowed herself to be enveloped in a variety of hugs as she started towards the fortress.
He had thought it would be a relief to be able to give Ceanna’s protection over to someone else, but a huge hole opened in his insides. He wasn’t ready to give it up yet. He wanted to be her hero, the one who gave her everything her heart desired, and it frightened him. He had nearly caused her death today. It was his brother’s actions which had saved her, not his. He needed to remember that he did not deserve her yet.