Lord of the Runes (7 page)

Magnus shook his head with a slight smile. “Then I must be even more careful than usual. All this talk of marriage, love, and children is making me nervous.”

The jarl didn't look as though he would be nervous about much of anything. He was too controlled and certain of his place in life. He'd lean back, cross his arms, and weigh all his options. But perhaps, because of his certainty in his own views, he would be too slow to take action and it would end up hurting someone.

Eirik held his hand up. “These weddings and children might not even be yours. They might be of someone in your family. You said you don't see your mother any longer?” It might help him to recognize the undercurrents in this place if he knew more of their past.

“No. I know Asa told you of our father. How he died while on a trading journey. He had stolen my mother and her sister in his wilder raiding days, from a holding near Waterford in Ireland. They were noblewomen and he thought to hold them for ransom, as is customary. But he fell in love with my mother, Ailis, and when the money came, it became her dowry and they married. Her sister, Cliona, he gave to his finest warrior, Togur. They had Estrid, and Ailis bore my brother and me, then Asa.

“But after my father died, my mother said she wished to return to Ireland. She missed its green mountains and the beauty of it. And her family. Togur had died some years before of a pain in his chest, and Cliona had remarried. But she divorced her second husband and left with Ailis. I took them back myself, to be certain they would be welcomed, and they were. I haven't returned since.”

“And yet, they left their children behind.” It was difficult for Eirik to understand.

“They wanted to take Asa and Estrid with them, but I forbade it.”

“To separate mothers and daughters must have been painful.”

“It was. But it was their choice to leave. They loved their land more than they loved us. I couldn't risk the two girls being ostracized and rejected because they were the half-breed daughters of Norse raiders. The priests there would have called them illegitimate, for they would not have recognized our marriage rites. They were just becoming of marriageable age, and would have no prospects there. I couldn't have that. For either of them. As the jarl and the ranking male of the house, it was my decision.”

After the jarl had thanked him and left, Eirik took a sip of ale and regarded the casting.

It had been Magnus's decision, but had it been wise? And yet, Asa and Estrid had grown up in a jarl's house with all the comfort and privilege they could wish for. Who knew if women who would leave their children behind would take care of them at all in a strange land? What were the repercussions for Asa and Estrid? However, that responsibility lay with the mothers for abandoning them, not with Magnus for trying to protect them.

A new respect grew in Eirik, for this was a man who was able to make the hard decisions. Perhaps Magnus was someone he could form an alliance with. The runes spoke of a new partnership, and that could go in many ways.

Magnus said Asa and Estrid would have no marriage prospects in Ireland, and yet neither of them was married now. Had they been widowed? Why did Asa seem so afraid of him? Magnus had asked if the pain Eirik saw in the runes was in the past. Had Asa been abused? He'd seen such women before, how nervous they were, and how afraid they were to speak to men. She was much the same as they.

A slow anger built in him, his fists tightening. The winter would give him further wisdom, as would the runes. And when they spoke, he would listen.

* * *

“Asa, why don't you make a loaf of your bread? We'll need ballast for the ships come spring.” The voice of the bearlike, red-bearded warrior boomed through the longhouse. He stood with his legs braced, hands on his hips, taunting Asa as she ate her morning bread and honey at one of the tables in the common room.

Eirik looked at Leif. He took a swallow of his ale and ignored the insult. They'd moved the tables aside to make a place for the men to train, even though there wasn't much room. Still, when the land lay covered in waist-deep snow, it was better than nothing.

“Why are you and Magnus allowing that?” Eirik slammed his cup down. He might be a guest, but he would never allow a woman to be misused. The men had been disparaging Asa's cooking and lack of domestic talents for some time now. But she paid them no heed.

Leif took another swig and grinned at a serving girl who walked past. Magnus stood in the middle of the room, taking several practice swings with his sword, his back turned to them.

“No, the loaf would be for the anchor,” another warrior said. “We need her rolls for the ballast.” They all laughed, nudging each other.

“What in the Hel?” Eirik had had enough. He rose, but Leif reached across the table and grabbed his arm.

“Just watch.”

He sank back down with a scowl.

Asa took a last bite of bread, and stood. She stepped out from behind the table and the men all moved back. Her arms crossed, she regarded the huge red-haired warrior. “Arne, you were the loudest, as always. I'll start with you.”

Their hoots trailing behind her, she strode to her small chamber and slammed the door shut.

“I don't understand,” Eirik said. “Now they've hurt her. For you and Magnus to tease her is one thing, but the others should respect her more than that.”

Leif emptied his cup. “Oh, they do respect her. They'd better. Just watch.”

They all kept their eyes on the closed door. Even Magnus glanced at it as he loosened up.

Eirik's blood boiled. Was this why she was so quiet and nervous? A beautiful young woman like her, being harassed by a group of hardened warriors, would have to live in fear. It made no sense for her brothers to tolerate it. And now she was hiding.

The door to her room opened. He dragged in a shocked breath as she stepped out. She wore a tunic and leggings, similar to what a man would wear, only the tunic was longer, to mid-thigh. She'd put her hair back in a braid for, being an unmarried woman, she often wore it loose. An empty sheath hung at her side.

And she carried a sword.
A sword?
He looked at Leif, his brows raised.

“Just watch.”

She stalked Arne. The others cleared the floor, and even Magnus leaned against the wall, though he kept a close eye on them. Asa faced Arne, her feet braced apart, rolling her shoulders. He grinned and motioned her to come at him.

She tilted her head to one side, as though considering. Then in a move so fast Eirik would have missed it had he blinked, she spun and struck. Arne barely brought his sword up in time and knocked hers aside. She pivoted in a counterstrike and the clash reverberated throughout the room.

Arne was solid and massive, but Asa was fast and agile, like the fine horses of the eastern deserts compared to the huge warhorses of the west. She was just as beautiful. Sleek and fiery, her hair was like a flame, her sword like the lightning. She spun and wove, almost dancing around the larger warrior as he turned, until she hit him in the hip with the flat of her blade.

“Better you eat less of anyone's bread, Arne,” she said. “Or we'll be using
you
for ballast this spring.” All the men laughed, even Magnus. Arne laughed the loudest.

“That's one for Asa, as usual,” another man said.

“Sounded more like two good blows she gave Arne.” Leif raised his mug to her.

Magnus pushed off from the wall and nodded at Arne. “That will do for now.” As Arne left the floor, chuckling, Magnus faced Asa, his sword raised.

“Just pretend Magnus is a loom, Asa,” Leif said. “As big and immovable as he is, that shouldn't be too difficult.” He leaned over to Eirik. “She hates looms. Nearly destroyed one of ours the only time she tried to weave something. Her sword marks are still in the wood of the frame.”

Magnus bore down, his sword arcing toward her. Eirik nearly shouted, but if he distracted her—

Asa met his blade and deflected it. She wouldn't be as strong as he was, but she could use his own momentum to turn aside his attack. He brought his blade up and around, and she spun out of the way. As she passed, she smacked the flat of her sword into his back.

He yelled, and came after her, but she stood her ground, unflinching. “I have first strike, Magnus. It stops at that.”

He stared at her and the room grew quiet. Then he smiled and bowed. “I concede. This time.”

“You mean, you concede
again
.” She gave him a sweet smile.

The men hooted with appreciation, then broke up into pairs to train. Asa and Magnus discussed her movements, why she did as she had done, and what he wanted her to try next. They moved together, slowly, going over each turn of the blade. He repositioned her hand on the hilt and she nodded, loosening her thumb and first fingers, gripping it harder with her fourth and little fingers. Magnus told her this would allow the sword to flow more with her movements and let her use its momentum for more force. She'd grip it completely only at the instant of impact when she pulled the weapon back in a slicing motion. Eirik listened, fascinated. He'd never heard of this technique before.

They sheathed their swords and Magnus drew her into his embrace, saying something in her ear.

Eirik watched as she accepted the compliments and more teasing from the other warriors. It was obvious it was only the jests all comrades give each other. She stood tall among them, confidence pouring from her, as though she was one of them.

Speechless, he looked at Leif, who grinned. “Don't you know a shieldmaiden when you see one, rune caster?” He rose and went into the cooking room, no doubt in pursuit of the serving girl he'd smiled at.

A shieldmaiden? Asa? He'd fought beside them before. In fact, Rorik had six of them among his warriors, one of them his sister. But they were all tall, elegant, bold, strong.

Everything Asa was when she held that sword. She always sat with the warriors during meals, seldom with the other women. He'd assumed it was because her brothers were there as well, but what if that wasn't the reason? What if she fought alongside them in battle? If she was as lacking in household skills as it seemed, she might have very little in common with the women of the village.

It was difficult to believe that two brothers who loved her as much as they appeared to would allow her to endanger herself this way. And why had she learned weapons to begin with?

“Rune master?”

His head still whirling with what he had seen, it took him a moment to realize Estrid had taken Leif's place at the table across from him.

“I'm not a master. Only a rune reader.”

“Oh, but I think you could be a master of anything you desire.” She leaned forward, smiling at him. “Or anyone.”

Her eyes held a strangeness, a wildness. Just a hint, but it raised the hairs on his neck. “Did you want something, mistress?”

“Oh yes. But I'll settle for a reading, if you'd like.” She let her icy-blond hair spill forward over her breasts.

She was very beautiful. Yet her beauty left him cold, like looking at frost-lit night. Pretty to see for a short time, but something much warmer lay elsewhere. He looked again at Asa as she laughed with the men, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. The tunic and pants outlined her slender body, and her long legs seemed to stretch like the fjords through the mountains. Her bare arms were toned and strong and it was obvious she had trained for years. Such speed and accuracy. She would have to make up for her lack of male strength and power.

Estrid slid into his view, blocking his sight of Asa. “So, will you read my runes now, Eirik?”

She was being very familiar, using his name like that. It wasn't proper and he needed to prevent any problems with Magnus. She was fast becoming a problem.

“I'll give you a reading this evening when I do the others. You can be first.” If there were others waiting for their readings, he would have an excuse to cut it short.

She smiled. “First. I like that. I'll be waiting.”

As she slid from the seat, he leaned over so he could see Asa. Estrid stopped, blocking his view again. Her eyes flashed, just for a moment, then she smoothed her expression.

“I wouldn't bother with Asa, if I were you. You'd get more than you bargained for. She won't have anything to do with men below her own rank. She won't even talk to them.”

If he could draw out the information, it might help him understand the puzzle that was Asa. And a little flirting never hurt anyone. He gave her his best smile. “I don't know. She's spoken to me. And she was quite nice.”

“Of course. She's done that before. She's so sweet. She lures men in, then spurns them, telling Magnus they've insulted her. Then he takes revenge. When she doesn't want someone around, it's what she does. And she doesn't like strangers. Oh, she'll laugh and pretend she's a man. But when it comes to outsiders, it can be dangerous for them. Don't make the mistake of having anything to do with her. It will end badly for you, as it has for others. Magnus thought to teach her to defend herself from men, but it's the men who need protection from
her
.”

She smiled and ran her fingers over his hand. “I'll see you tonight, rune caster.”

He didn't watch her leave. Asa walked toward him, on her way back to her room. As she approached, she kept her eyes averted. When she drew near, she did glance his way, and fear glimmered in her eyes. Then she lifted her chin and swept past him, her strides long and graceful.

Could Estrid be right? It seemed as though Asa had a shield around her at all times, and she lowered it only for her brothers and when she wielded her sword.