A woman's scream rent the night air.
It sounded as if Sigurd had brought one of the local trulls back with him. Her name was Faye, a lively whore whose company Ketil had sought a couple of times. Just to be certain he sat up and ventured outside, not bothering to cover his nakedness.
When she spotted him, as drunk as she was, her unusual violet eyes lit up.
"So it's to be a threesome, is it?" she slurred. "That will up the rate."
"Not tonight. Get rid of her," he said to his friend, going back inside.
Miriam was sitting up, her hands caught in the furs, and it didn't escape him that she looked frightened now. She was deathly pale. What he had said to Sigurd could be misinterpreted, he realised.
"It's not what you think," he told her. "Sig brought a wildcat home."
"An animal? I didn't think they roamed this far."
It only demonstrated to him how naive she was.
"This kind does," he said, returning to the bed.
"Oh," she whispered. "Of course, it spoke. I mean, she did." Then, heartrendingly, "I never realised he hated me so much. What did I ever do to him?"
"The same thing I did to my father," he muttered. "Go back to sleep."
Ketil rose at first light and dressed quickly. He bolted the door carefully behind him so as not to disturb Miriam. Asking Magnus to keep an eye out, he made his way to the palace. It amused him to think that, despite everything that had happened, she was sticking to her accustomed 'princess' hours. That was one reason for heading there so early: Daphne would not be about. He hoped the maid would assist him to salvage a few dresses later.
He was still angry, but not with her.
Ketil shook his head and strode on with purpose. A bathhouse soak awaited, but first he needed to obtain the key. He hoped not to have to disappoint anyone today. Sometimes an older woman caught his eye but he hadn't given her any encouragement and now she merely smiled when they were bathing at the same time.
This early he had the place to himself yet did not linger, changing into fresh clothing in the room where he sometimes laid his head rather than return to his hut. Then he sought out Jenna who was already up and about and appeared to be tasked with emptying a chamberpot. Her eyes widened at his approach.
When he mimed his meaning it went better than he could have hoped. It was almost as if she had been anticipating such a request. He allowed the girl to precede him into the room.
It was strange being in Miriam's bedchamber knowing she was asleep in his bed. Sigurd might have been amused at such a notion, but he didn't find it remotely funny. As the maid gathered a bundle of assorted clothing, he took the opportunity to look around.
The simplicity of her private quarters surprised him. There was a lighter patch on the wooden floor which suggested a rug had lain there once. The box bed was functional and had been stripped of sheets and pillows, meaning he couldn't surprise her with one of the latter. A book lay on a small table in the centre of the room but he did not pick it up; he could speak Vercian better than he could read it. The window seat appeared to be well-used and he could imagine her curled up there.
When Jenna held up the hand mirror, he shook his head judging it would only make Miriam sad.
A single tear slid down the girl's plump cheek.
"I won't hurt her," he said.
Jenna nodded, once, to show she had heard and understood but he noticed she did not smile. He shouldered his own bundle, which contained his sweaty clothes, and set off for his own dwelling. The maid followed, almost twisting her ankle at the spot where the ground fell away. It was obvious she had never ventured so close to the outer walls and he could tell she was scared.
Orm was just on his way to guard the treasury. He stopped to have a word, more awkward than Ketil had ever seen him.
"Is she - ?"
"Miriam is fine. Still sleeping," he said.
The younger man looked relieved, making him feel insulted. He seemed to remember she had once bound a wound on his arm. Maybe he had a crush? For some reason the thought annoyed him.
"And I see Jenna is with you."
His friendly grin made the girl blush. That was interesting. He had known Orm had his eye on someone. Was it her?
"She's running an errand for me," he explained. "Anything else?"
Orm hesitated. Though he had been with them from the start they were not related.
"What do you plan to do about her?" he asked, switching to Norse.
Ketil stared at him. "Keep my word."
"That's good. See you later."
He went on his way, adjusting his weapons, his stride jaunty now.
"Do you like him?" he asked the girl.
Jenna smiled, revealing the gap between her teeth.
If only it were that easy with her mistress.
Deciding to head back to the palace once he had consulted with Magnus and unbolted the door, Ketil asked himself again what he was going to do with the former Princess. She was his responsibility now, whether he liked it or not.
The tasks which awaited him would keep. He let out an oath, exasperated when he realised he was still carrying his bundle, and he seemed to remember he had left the bathroom key in the room where he had changed.
She was such a distraction.
Seeing Rebekah in the passage outside the bathhouse, he had little choice but to make small talk with her.
"Fancy that, it's unlocked," she said. "I wonder who forgot to return the key this time?"
"Me," he replied, holding out his hand.
She plucked it from his palm and wagged a finger at him. "What are you doing with that?" she asked, nodding towards his bundle.
"Don't ask," he groaned.
"The little mistress running rings round you, is she?"
Ketil grinned. "Hardly," he said.
Her teasing smile faded. He could smell the sharp tang of citrus which indicated why her lips were so red. She had once told him about that little tip, for no particular reason other than to make him want to kiss her, he suspected.
"The palace will be all the poorer without her," she remarked.
"I know," he said, tightly.
"You couldn't stand by. I understand. Ketil ..."
What she had been about to say was lost as he saw the Princess Royal bearing down on them. Daphne's mouth opened and closed as he beat a hasty retreat but no scathing remarks emerged from her as yet unpainted lips.
"Mistress Ford, I need your advice. You know about herbal remedies, do you not?"
"I do, Your Highness."
"Prepare me a tea, will you? I ache all over this morn."
Imperious as ever, with no hint of concern for anyone else. Not even her own sister. She had looked rather wan, though.
"Ketil, wait for me."
He turned to see Rebekah hurrying her steps as she struggled to catch up with him. He slowed his pace, in no particular hurry. This was more about giving Miriam some space than anything else.
"Is the herb garden no longer safe?" he teased.
The older woman nudged him. He knew her to be a widow who had never remarried.
"I'd rather go to the woodland," she said. His dismay must have been obvious, as she continued, "Willow bark for the Princess Royal. Join me? I promise to behave."
Ketil stood his ground.
"If you have something to say, out with it," he demanded.
"Not here."
That was how he found himself negotiating the streets of the city just as it was on the point of coming to life. Smells from the bakery vied with the sour ones from various alehouses. He half-expected to encounter Sigurd, until he remembered where he had seen him last and who he was with. Faye had a way of exhausting a man and then some.
A bell was tolling in the distance and he heard the bleating of sheep.
"What is it, Becca?" he asked, feeling decidedly out of temper.
"I have a bad feeling," she said, setting down the still-empty basket. Was this a ruse? Some sort of setup? A wild goose chase?
"Still using your wiles on me, witch?"
"It will not be long now," she told him. "If I were you, I'd smuggle her out while you still can."
"What do you mean? Is Vercia under threat?"
Ketil had to ask. It was his duty to know such things, after all.
Her black eyes were solemn now in that lived-in face, the inky hair spilling out from under her lace cap.
"The Princess is in grave danger. Tell no-one," she begged. "Or I will surely burn."
Miriam was astonished to see Jenna and even more overwhelmed to see the array of shifts and drawers. At least none of them were transparent, unlike some of Daphne's. No stays, but perhaps that was for the best. She had never liked being confined anyway.Choosing a white one as if to make a point, she wondered what had happened to her gowns, though was relieved to see her choker. She touched the pale green ribbon beneath the single plait she had managed to fashion herself and felt a sense of achievement. Had she been transformed into a new person - Mia - overnight?Cautiously, she ventured outside to see about breakfast. Cooking wasn't hard, it was the preparation which could be time-consuming. She had used a cauldron before, when she took a donation of food to a poor family only to find that their mother had fallen ill. It was mortifying to discover that a seven year old knew more than she about the chopping of vegetables and the girl had glowed under her praise, earning a special hug
Fortunately, Magnus himself arrived at that point. The sight of a familiar face was bittersweet, given the circumstances. It only became worse when they exchanged a few guttural comments in their own language, and she began to regret her unguarded words. Miriam hadn't meant to insult Ketil, though she'd seen a flash of something akin to pain before he pulled up his emotional drawbridge once more. "I have to be somewhere. Magnus will stay here with you, seeing as you cannot be trusted." "Do you trust him with me?" she asked, and began to wish she hadn't. She was doing it again, turning into the Princess Royal. Ketil went out without saying another word. Miriam twisted her fingers in the single garment which was all that stood between her and her underwear. The greybeard spoke first. "This is a sorry state of affairs." "I did not mean it, what I said," she told him. "I know." "He's angry with me and I keep saying the wrong thing." "Princess, he's not mad at you. Trust me. I've
Emerging in the red shift, which was unlikely to be of much use if the customary April snow shower materialised, Miriam dared to make a request. She reckoned she had him at a disadvantage now and two wool dresses would make all the difference to her severely depleted wardrobe.Ketil was of a mind to grant her wish, though he seemed moody, so she decided not to push her luck and ask if anything could be done about Ruth as well as Jenna. As far as she knew, the latter was still in danger of being sent to the mines, though she hadn’t seemed unduly upset when she brought her the clothing. It was difficult to tell, given her own circumstances.Were they both making the best of things?The trip to her former chamber brought its own despair. She looked out of the diamond-paned window, a lump in her throat, and remembered her lady mother. It would be her birthday next month. At least, it would have been.Choking back her grief, she hoped Queen Eleanor would guide her in this difficult choice.
Ketil could not take his eyes off his ‘slave’ as they shared a communal feast later in the empty hut which had once been occupied by Ulf. It had become something of a tradition to toast the absent warrior, who must be drinking with the gods in Valhalla now. He doubted he would be waited on by as lovely a Valkyrie as this one. His thoughts turned to Astrid. Sigurd’s little sister was always sobbing over something and agreeing she felt better afterwards. What had she been, fourteen, when they left? Ketil hoped she was safe wherever she was. It was odd how they hadn’t been able to find her, and perhaps just as well given the secret he had kept for so long. Still, he couldn’t save everyone. As he watched, Miriam smiled at Magnus and poured him more beer. She seemed to be struggling with the heavy jug. Those hands were meant to stitch tapestries, pluck harps, or arrange flowers not to do heavy peasant work. He wondered how they would feel around his cock and had to check himself. That wa
Miriam was panting as well as soaking wet when she reached the hut. It was a haven, though not, she suspected, for long. She searched frantically for something to wear before subsiding in a kind of daze. More than likely, in this mood, Ketil would only rip it off.Why was he being like this with her? Belatedly, she realised he had been naked. She must have been in a kind of brain fog when she entered the water. That had soon woken her up.Common sense prevailed. She needed to dry herself, perhaps on an old chemise, and maybe wear the peach dress which was currently lying on the floor. It could well be covered in insects by now.On hearing the creak of the door, she snatched it to her for the minimum of covering, only to see Magnus.“Are you all right, lass?” he asked, adopting the local vernacular.She managed a nod before she found her voice. “I fear I have killed a robin unknowingly,” she said. “All this bad luck.”“Speaking of which,” he began, and sighed. “I am the bearer of furth
The table in one of the lesser Halls was already set for supper. Shocked gasps greeted their entrance. Miriam held her head high, her carriage royal as she made her way to the seats reserved for the guards and their wives or women.“Touting for business?” Daphne hissed, her voice carrying a long way.“I leave that to you, dear sister,” Miriam replied, placing a napkin on her lap.“We are here to negotiate,” Ketil said, helping himself from a platter of cold meats.“Seeing as you have my choker now, Daphne, I feel it only right you return those jewels which were – no, are – mine.”“What is she talking about, Dee?” Lady Rutherford asked.“I know not. Something trumped up between the pair of them, no doubt.”Miriam waited to be served with wild mushroom soup, before continuing, “And I will have my gowns.”“What need have you of those now?”The scorn almost had him reaching for his dagger.“They are hers by right.”“You cannot deny it, my lady,” Magnus said. He had arrived early, and no S
Ketil could hear the others going about their morning tasks – the clink of weapons, the filling of the cauldron with water – and still he made no move to stir. The smell from the cooking fire was both comforting and tempting, though not as wholly satisfying as the woman sleeping beside him. Miriam. He wanted to be there when she woke, not to taunt her or force his attentions on her, but to reassure her in case she felt shame for behaving the way she did, something which had not been wholly her fault given his encouragement. He did not regret a single thing about last night. She had been so receptive, so responsive and not, he judged, from either fear or compulsion. Was she really so set against the idea of him finding her a noble husband? If Jenna was unable to vocalise her feelings – and Orm had hinted she may not be wholly dumb given their nightly activities – Miriam was a whole other matter. The breathy gasps had been followed by shrieks which turned to screams as she jerked and
Miriam screamed when she saw the armed intruder. Unbelievably, King Gregory himself was not far behind. She was only thankful she had snuck out for a quick wash after Ketil had gone. It would not do for her sovereign lord to suspect what had happened to his youngest daughter last night. As if he cared. Of one thing she was certain: Prince Renaud would not have measured up. Ketil had certainly stretched her, even after she relaxed and began to enjoy her first time. The kissing had been her favourite part. This man was no groper. She felt like she had been worshipped – everywhere. Why she had ever feared him was a mystery. Maybe it was because of his overt masculinity. She had a bad feeling now. Why was her father just standing there, his mouth opening and closing? There had been a horrible smell emanating from the direction of the palace and the village was strangely quiet. Were they keeping indoors, just as birds stopped singing when there was a sparrowhawk about? Miriam sank into