Surrender to the Viking. Joanna Fulford

go to the hall.’

      With that he hurried off. Lara made her way back to the bower. The place was empty now so she removed her cloak and unbuckled the sword belt before laying the weapon carefully back in the bottom of her chest and replacing the clothing on top. No one would suspect its presence there. Having done that, she straightened her rumpled gown and brushed a few tendrils of hair off her face. Then she went to find out what was toward.

      By the time she reached the hall the place was bustling with servants carrying platters of food and jugs of ale. Her brother and father were deep in conversation with the guests. The servants had matters well in hand so she was able to stay in the background and listen.

      * * *

      Finn and his men took the edge off their hunger with bread and cold meat washed down by several cups of ale. Ottar made no attempt to discuss business until they had eaten. Then he made a gesture for the servants to replenish the cups and looked at his guests.

      ‘Now, will you not tell me why we have the honour of your company?’

      ‘It is not pleasure only that brings us here,’ said Finn then, ‘but rather the political turmoil in Vingulmark. The royal house did not look kindly on their defeat at Eid.’

      Ottar regarded him intently. ‘You were there?’

      ‘Leif and I fought for Halfdan Svarti. So too did our cousin Erik and all the men you see before you. The fighting was fierce but at the end of it King Gandalf’s army was routed. Heysing and Helsing were slain. Only Prince Hakke survived.’

      ‘Better if it had been the other way around,’ said Ottar. ‘I always thought him the most dangerous of Gandalf’s sons.’

      ‘There’s many would agree. Hakke is nothing if not vengeful. His next act was to carry off Halfdan’s intended bride, Lady Ragnhild, thinking to wed her by force. Fortunately we prevented it and rescued the lady, but, in the confusion, Hakke managed to escape us.’

      ‘That was ill luck.’

      ‘Ill luck indeed. He bided his time until he could have his revenge. It was to take the form of a hall burning. My brother’s hall to be precise.’

      ‘That is treachery of a high order.’

      ‘The hall was on an estate in Vingulmark, a part of the land ceded to Halfdan. It was a gift to my brother from the king—a generous gift too, but its location made it vulnerable.’

      ‘I can see how it might.’

      ‘Hakke intended to surround the place and trap us within before he set fire to it. But for a timely warning the plan might have succeeded,’ said Finn. ‘As it was we were heavily outnumbered. We decided to split up so that the enemy would have to divide his force in order to give chase.’

      ‘Which, knowing Hakke and his adherents, they did.’

      ‘My men and I were pursued by a big warship under the command of Steingrim. They would have overtaken us for sure but, mercifully, the fog came down and we managed to lose them.’

      ‘As well for you that you did.’

      ‘Steingrim won’t give up easily. If we’re to have any chance of defeating him we must have reinforcements.’

      ‘Ah.’

      ‘I was hoping you might be able to help us, my lord.’

      Ottar nodded. ‘Whatever can be done will be done.’

      ‘I appreciate it.’

      ‘You are the son of a friend and an ally. Your enemies are mine.’

      ‘I shall not forget this,’ said Finn. ‘Nor do I expect such a favour for nothing. You will tell me what I may do for you in return.’

      Ottar was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then his gaze met Finn’s and he smiled. ‘I will think on it. In the meantime I invite you and your men to remain here for a few days as my guests. Tonight you must take pot luck. On the morrow we shall feast you properly.’ He looked round, his gaze scanning the room. Then it lighted on the person he sought. ‘Ah, there you are. Come here, girl.’

      Finn glanced round casually, assuming that his host was addressing one of the servants, but as the girl in question crossed the room towards them he stared, recognising her at once. Seen at closer quarters she reinforced his earlier impression of a fey; the face with its high cheekbones and small pointed chin was dominated by beautiful blue-green eyes. Her hair, which he’d originally believed to be brown, was actually deep red and naturally curly, spilling in a glorious mass over her shoulders and down her back to a waist he could have spanned with his hands. Despite its slenderness her figure had the alluring curves of womanhood. The green gown he had noted before was made of fine wool and belted by an embroidered girdle. The only thing missing was the sword.

      ‘Jarl Finn and his men will be staying with us for a while,’ said Ottar. ‘You will make whatever arrangements are necessary.’

      ‘Yes, Father.’

      Ottar went on, ‘This is my youngest daughter, Lara.’

      Finn made a courteous bow. ‘I am honoured, lady.’

      The blue-green eyes surveyed him coolly for a moment and then she inclined her head in acknowledgement.

      ‘The honour is mine, my lord.’

      The tone was polite but also aloof. The words were not accompanied by a smile, or a blush or the lowered gaze that he might have expected. It was as though she were merely observing the outward forms of courtesy but was inwardly unconcerned about whether she pleased or not. It was far removed from his usual experience with women. Then again, the women with whom he’d associated in recent times had a vested interest in pleasing a man. This was the daughter of his host so it behoved him to make an effort.

      ‘I did not know that Jarl Ottar had so fair a daughter.’

      ‘Didn’t you?’ she replied.

      Finn was momentarily taken aback, which it seemed she had intended. He recovered quickly. ‘No, I regret to say I did not.’

      ‘Why regret?’

      ‘I could have brought a suitable gift.’

      ‘I have no need of gifts.’

      ‘A gift does not have to supply a need,’ he replied. ‘It may be given as a token of regard.’

      ‘True, but since we have only just met the gesture would seem excessive.’

      He knew he should probably drop the subject but at the same time couldn’t resist pushing it a little further. ‘So you would not appreciate a necklace of amber beads or a gold brooch?’

      ‘That would depend upon the giver. If it came from my father or brother I would treasure the gift.’

      ‘But not if it came from a visitor.’

      ‘No, my lord, for then I should suspect an ulterior motive.’

      ‘Oh, what motive?’

      ‘I should have to ask myself what would be expected in return.’

      It was bold and blunt and provocative. No doubt that was quite intentional too and no doubt he should let it go, but the underlying challenge was becoming irresistible. ‘A gift should not come with strings attached.’

      ‘No, but they usually do in my experience.’

      ‘Is your experience so great, then?’

      ‘Great enough to make me wary of gifts—and givers.’

      It was politely spoken but it was a rebuff all the same. She was quite impervious to compliments of any sort and, by extension, impervious to him. Nor, he suspected, was it a ploy to increase his interest. On the contrary he was fairly sure that she didn’t like him. He didn’t know whether to be amused or piqued.