The Viking’s Captive Princess Read online

  ‘Haakon’s brother Thrand and Erik the Black will captain the other ship, but Thorkell has given overall command of the felag to me.’

  ‘You are going to Ranrike.’ She drew her knees up to her chest and her hair hid her face. ‘I will come with you. I will be part of the felag.’

  ‘That is impossible. Women stay in Viken where they can be protected.’ Ivar had told himself all throughout the preparations that this would be the best way. But now, having held her in his arms again, he knew that there would be a gaping hole in his heart until they were together again. But it had to be this way. ‘Women do not take part in felags. Women stay where they can be safe. We protect our women. How can a man fight properly if he is worried about his woman?’

  ‘It is my country you are going to. My family are in danger. I know the countryside. I can help you.’

  ‘Ragnfast and your sister are my first priority.’ Ivar moved away from Thyre and stared out at the lake. The sunrise cast faint pink-and-orange hues on to the surface of the lake. It would be tempting to give into Thyre’s request, but what would happen if she did become hurt? How could he live then? This time, he would keep his wife safe. He would protect her. ‘Trust me. I argued in the Storting to go to them first, before we confronted King Mysing. Peace will be possible if the king honours the frithe he made with King Thorkell, all those years ago.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t?’

  ‘There will be war. Thorkell desires peace with Ranrike, but it must be an honourable peace.’

  ‘If I can’t go on the felag, I want to go to your estate.’ She looked away, making it impossible for him to see her face. Had Thyre paid no attention to earlier words? Edda had died on the estate. He refused to risk Thyre in that way. She was his wife and her duty was to obey him without question.

  ‘Thyre, Thorkell and Asa have agreed to house you. You will stay with them and take your proper position in court. You will enjoy yourself. You can teach the court skald all the Ranriken versions of the sagas.’

  ‘Not the court.’ She rolled her eyes heavenwards and shook her head. ‘Surely I should be going to your estate and taking up my duties there. Winter will be here soon.’

  ‘My steward looks after it well enough.’ Ivar reached for his sword belt. ‘Court is the best place for you. Thorkell agrees. He wants to see his daughter settled. He is enjoying having you there.’

  ‘You might have consulted me. I find it difficult to breathe at court.’

  ‘Why?’ Ivar asked slowly. Surely Thyre had to understand that he could not afford to worry about her when he was leading the felag. The Viken court was the only place for her. Asa would look after her.

  ‘Asa hates me.’ Thyre stared out at the lake. ‘Nothing I do is correct, no matter how hard I try. She finds fault with the way I spin, sew and even the way I hold my shoulders. I will never be part of her inner circle.’

  Ivar hooked his thumbs in his belt buckle, resisting the urge to gather her in his arms. He had told Thyre about how Edda had died. He refused to risk it again. He could not fight battles while he was worrying about Thyre.

  ‘Asa was a good friend to Edda. In time you will realise that Asa does have her heart in the right place. She wants you to succeed at court. You are the king’s daughter.’

  ‘She wants me to fail. Do you know what it is like to have everything criticised? I have been in charge of Ragnfast’s estate since my mother died when I was eight. I know the proper way to spin and embroider.’

  ‘Customs differ.’ Ivar gave a shrug. Thyre might beg and plead, but she would go. It was the only place for her where he could be confident of her safety. He was responsible for her safety now. He refused to repeat his past mistakes.

  ‘I will not be happy.’

  ‘We must all do things we dislike.’

  ‘Not you. You do whatever you please. You are only going to Ranrike because you want to. Thorkell could have easily chosen someone else. You desire this voyage. You want to leave me.’

  Ivar froze. ‘Why do you think I want to go on this felag? Your stepfather needs my help.’

  ‘Yes, you want to go.’ Her blue gaze pierced him and saw into his soul. ‘You cannot wait to go or otherwise you would have told me about it before now. You kept it from me because you knew I would want to go.’

  ‘It is far too pleasant a morning to be arguing. We have little time left.’ Ivar dropped his voice into a caress.

  ‘Then we had best return to Kaupang and our lives.’ She stood up with her hair flowing over her shoulders. The sunrise gave her skin a rosy hue and Ivar used all his self-control not to pull her back into his arms.

  ‘We could linger a little longer.’

  She picked up her discarded gown with distaste and struggled back into it, pointedly not asking for his help. ‘I should not like to be accused of delaying the felag. There are many more important things than us.’

  She went over to the horse and stroked its nose, making crooning noises. Ivar tried to tell himself that it was for the best, but a huge weight had descended on his chest. Somehow, it was not how he had imagined the parting. ‘Thyre, be sensible.’

  ‘I am being sensible. You will do exactly as you please. And that is the end to it.’

  ‘And you object to my going without you and you think by behaving in this fashion, I will agree to take you with me. You are exactly like Edda, Thyre. At least Edda only asked for new dresses and trinkets. I go to war, Thyre. Blood will be shed. And you blame me for wishing to keep you safe.’

  ‘How do you expect me to respond to that?’ Thyre asked with a great weariness in her voice. She drew her brows together and her mouth took on a mutinous expression.

  ‘You do not have to come to the waterfront and wish me goodbye then. I do not want you there. But you will stay in Kaupang. I will not come back to another empty house.’

  ‘Some day, you will see me for who I am, instead of who you think I am.’ Thyre held out her hand. ‘We will say our goodbyes now.’

  ‘It is not goodbye, Thyre.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  She had lied. And Ivar had to have seen through her. Thyre pressed her hands to her eyes, and sank down on the low bed in her chamber in the king’s hall. She had known the lie before the words had spilled from her throat back at the lake. Bitter, ugly words about Asa and the court, instead of begging him to take her on the journey.

  She wanted to be there and to know how Ragnfast and Dagmar were. She wanted to see her uncle’s face when he realised that his scheme to terrorise the Viken had failed. Over the past few weeks, seeing how Thorkell worked, she found it impossible to think her uncle, the king of Ranrike, had not given his consent to Sigmund. Her uncle must have anticipated the consequences. But mostly she wanted to be with Ivar to make sure he survived. It no longer mattered that he might use her to challenge King Mysing for the Ranriken throne. He might worry about coming back to an empty house, but she worried about only having his shield returned to her.

  Now, Ivar had left her at the door to her chamber in the hall, a prison more than a chamber, with little more than a perfunctory goodbye. They might never see each other again, and he did not even trust her enough to let her look after the estate. She was not his late wife. She had run Ragnfast’s steading since she was eight. She knew how to work with the seasons, how to farm, to cook and to supervise. She knew the dangers.

  She sank down beside the bed. Her mother would never have permitted this to happen. She would have demanded until she had her way. Or else she would have run away, a little nagging voice sounded in her head.

  Thyre clenched her fists. She had no desire for war. There might be a way to get King Mysing to listen to Ragnfast’s counsel now that Sigmund was dead. She was not running away from court, but towards her destiny. She refused to give up. Even now, there had to be a way of getting on the felag and going on the boat despite Ivar’s refusal to consider it. He had forced her into subterfuge.

  Asger. Thyre put her hands on her cheeks a
s her mind raced. He owed her a life-debt. All the men on the boat did. They had said so. She would use that life-debt and would reach Ranrike. To stay here would be worse than dying.

  The more Thyre thought, the better the idea seemed.

  She began to tick off the items she would require: a cloak, stout boots, her mother’s dagger, some sort of disguise. A flicker of unease passed over her. If Ivar discovered her too quickly, he would force the felag to return, but she had to hope that by the time he realised they would be too far from Kaupang. All she knew was that she refused to remain here under Asa’s thumb, worrying about him.

  She threw open her trunk and started rummaging through, making a pile of things she might need.

  ‘Daughter, what are you doing?’

  Thyre jumped at Thorkell’s voice and slammed the lid back down. The king stood silhouetted in the doorway. His deep purple cloak and the circlet he wore on his head showed that he was about to depart for the harbour.

  ‘I am merely trying to find…to discover another Ranriken poem. The skald—’

  ‘It is an odd way to discover anything, making stabbing gestures in the air over an open trunk.’ He held out his hands. Thyre rose and greeted him with a kiss on her cheek. ‘I am about to go down to the harbour and give the felag my blessing. Asa and her women are busy dressing. Asa is determined that the men will be given the correct send off.’

  Thyre crossed her arms and refused to panic. ‘I am not going. My gown will not be correct. My gown yesterday…Asa is quite firm about her ladies appearing in the proper attire.’

  ‘Asa thought you would have taken that particular lesson to heart. She sent me to see you so that I could ease my mind.’ Thorkell nodded, inviting her to continue.

  ‘I have no wish to disgrace anyone.’ Thyre hung her head and hoped she looked suitably humble. She kicked the dagger with her foot so that it went under her skirt. When she returned, triumphant, she would apologise.

  ‘It can be hard the first time your man goes off on a felag. I have lost count of the number of women that Asa has had to comfort. It is why Asa invented her rules. They give women an excuse.’ Thorkell put his hand on her shoulder; she put her hand over it and squeezed.

  ‘The truth is best. Ivar only told me about the felag this morning.’

  ‘I know, I know. He convinced Asa that if you knew, you would twist me around your finger and join it. As if I would permit such a thing. Women are to be protected. Asa has worked hard to keep you occupied.’

  Thyre stared up at the ceiling. Here she had blamed Asa and it had been Ivar all along. ‘How truly noble of her. The truth would have been better.’

  ‘Ivar did what he thought best.’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’ Thyre hated the way her voice trembled. Suddenly everything was much harder with Thorkell standing next to her and she struggled to keep from blurting out the truth.

  ‘For appearances’ sake, it would be good if you could come to the harbour. I would have liked my daughter there to wave her husband off. But I can see that you agree with Asa about the seemliness of it.’

  ‘Asa has the most experience with this, but I have no plans to challenge her authority.’

  Thorkell touched her hair. ‘You remind me of your mother. Full of fire and passion. Put it to good use.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’ Thyre tilted her head and glanced up at Thorkell.

  ‘You find court hard, but that is because you are working against it. People behave in different ways and have different customs. Asa does want to help. She will make a good ally.’

  In the short time she had known Thorkell, she had come to respect him and to care for him. He was a father that she could be proud of. She would always be grateful to Ragnfast, but there was something about Thorkell and the way he thought that made sense to her. Her one regret about her scheme was that they would not have any more time together. ‘I do find the ways very different. And I am trying.’

  ‘In time, you will learn. The queen can be a hard mistress, but she is loyal. She wants the best for you because you are my daughter and it was hard on her, thinking up excuses about why you could not see Ivar.’ Thorkell gave a half-smile. ‘Sometimes, I think she sees more than I do.’

  ‘What would you suggest?’

  Thorkell looked at her sharply and she wondered if he had guessed her plan. ‘Follow your heart. It will lead you where you need to go. It is the same advice I gave your mother once.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure, daughter.’ Thorkell kissed her forehead. ‘You are a daughter to be proud of. You and Ivar will end your differences when he returns victorious.’

  Thyre put a hand to her face. In many ways, Thorkell’s revelation changed nothing. She knew Ivar did not want her there. He wanted to sail away and forget that she ever existed. With each breath she delayed, she risked missing Astrid and Asger. Whatever happened, Thyre knew she had to be on the ship. She had to go with the felag.

  ‘Ah, before I forget. Asa has sent you a present.’ Thorkell held out a little pot. ‘She thought you might be able to use Annis’s preparation for softening hands. Apparently your thread keeps breaking and Asa was worried that the problem might be caused by calluses on your hands from when you row.’

  Thyre stared at the little pot. Rowing? The only time she had rowed was…She barely restrained from laughing out loud. The queen had guessed her intention and approved. Did her father guess as well? ‘The queen has hidden depths.’

  ‘Many have misjudged my wife.’ Thorkell gave a pleased smile. ‘Her heart is in the right place. And now I must leave you. The purification ceremony needs to be completed before the tide turns. Ivar is determined that nothing will go wrong with this voyage. He intends to return to you.’

  ‘Goodbye, Father, and thank Asa for me.’ Thyre’s fingers curled around the little pot. She would do it.

  ‘You know, daughter, it is the first time you have called me Father.’

  ‘It felt right.’ Thyre hated the way her throat closed. She had just found him, but she had to leave. Her sense of honour demanded it. ‘I am proud to call you that.’

  ‘That is how it should be.’ He pressed his lips to her forehead. ‘Your mother and stepfather did well. You remind me so much of her.’

  ‘Goodbye, Father,’ she whispered after he had gone. ‘You will be proud of me.’

  Ivar turned his face towards the sea as the waves began to lap the boat. His hand lightly gripped the steering oar. Always previously this casting off had been his favourite part of the voyage, when all possibilities lay before him and the adventure beckoned. But this time, he wished Thyre had been in the crowd.

  She had locked herself away ever since they’d returned, running off before he’d had the horse fully under control. Then when he sought to follow, she had disappeared into her chamber, slamming the door with a loud bang. He refused to be any woman’s lapdog. She had to learn who the master was, and that he acted for her safety.

  He grimaced. Thyre was nowhere to be seen amongst Asa’s ladies. A large part of his heart hoped she would have regretted her harsh words and been there, but it was not to be.

  Ivar had asked Astrid to convey his goodbyes when she brought his nephew to the harbour, but all his sister had done was to glare at him with fierce eyes and burst into copious tears. Asger had hung his head in embarrassment at his mother’s behaviour. After gasping out that Asger should keep his cloak about him as the sea was bound to be rough at this time of year, Astrid had gone and the boy had silently taken his seat.

  Ivar glanced up to where the boy sat hunched over his oar. Asger had obviously taken his mother’s advice to heart as the cloak completely enveloped him.

  Later when they had cleared the harbour shoals, he would relinquish the steering oar to Brami and have a quiet word with the lad about the proper rowing technique. He appeared to have forgotten everything from the last voyage.

  The final horn sounded.

  Ivar narrowed his eyes as the lad reache
d forwards to readjust the oar. The lad’s back was far too shapely for Asger. Immediately he dismissed the thought. Thyre could not have been that foolhardy, nor could she have arranged things that quickly. He was imagining things.

  When he returned, they would start again. But for now, he had to be content that she had obeyed him and was safe in Kaupang.

  ‘Put your back into the oars, boys! Who do we sail for?’

  ‘We sail for Viken’s honour!’ came the answer from all the throats.

  ‘Viken! Viken! Viken!’ The familiar chants rose and swelled around him. The other boats joined in and the chanting echoed backward over the water towards Kaupang and Thorkell’s hall.

  Ivar risked one backward glance. Had Thyre heard the noise? Did she even care? He had thought that leaving would make things easier, but he hated it. For the first time in his life he wanted to stay with her rather than fight the sea, and it frightened him.

  Thyre rested her head against the oar. Sweat dripped down her face and into her mouth with each pull of the oar. Rowing was far harder than she had thought. It had seemed so easy when they had arrived in Kaupang, but now the tempo was far faster.

  Her right palm burnt and she suspected her hand would be badly blistered long before nightfall. She hoped Asa’s ointment would help.

  ‘You have had your fun, Thyre, but now it is at an end.’ Ivar’s hand descended on her shoulder, pinning her to the trunk while his other hand flipped the hood back. Instantly the cool breeze fanned her face.

  Silently Thyre cursed whatever little gesture she had made to alert him. She looked up at his unyielding face and shivered. ‘What happens next?’

  ‘I signal to the other boats. We turn around and head back to Kaupang. Once there, I tear my young nephew limb from limb for being party to such madness.’

  ‘I forced him to do it because of the life-debt he owes me,’ Thyre said before her courage failed her. ‘If you must punish someone, then punish me.’