Chapter 2 #3
“Alas, no.” Elstan appeared amused himself, as if he’d known all along that this was not to be taken seriously. “Alberic spoke to me in the street as I was leaving to come to you. I haven’t seen Gytha yet but as I’m with you now, I thought I might just ask. Do you have any explanation?”
“I cannot say I do.”
“Well, then, I will just have to assume that Alberic was in his cups. Which wouldn’t surprise me in the least. The man’s a fool. Excellent mead, by the way.”
“Thank you. My friend’s son, Eirik, was kind enough to give me a cask the other day. Be sure we appreciate the gift at its full value.”
The reeve finished his cup with decision. “I’d better get back home before it’s too late. I’ll let you know what the men I sent to ask for Osberga have discovered.”
“Thank you.”
After one last handshake, Wolf walked him to the door.
Haakon had fallen in deep musings while the two men talked. “I think I might know what this nonsense about the man’s daughter being set to marry one of your sons was about,” he told Wolf once they were alone again.
After the first moment of incredulity, he’d pieced it together. This Gytha had to be the Saxon woman he’d met in the forest three days ago, the one with the green eyes and the short temper, the one whose friend had claimed was his betrothed. The one who had begged him to kiss her.
Though no one had mentioned Wolf’s name at the time, the vile Saxon had gotten confused. In his mind, one Norseman was as good—or rather, as bad—as the next. Having no doubt heard of the Icelander, he had assumed a man his age might be his son.
“You do? Please tell me. I’m all ears.”
Haakon told Wolf what had happened that day in the clearing and then later on in town. Once he’d finished his explanation, his friend was laughing so hard he could barely talk.
“Well,” he concluded, slapping him on the shoulder. “Gytha is a lovely girl. You could do much worse.”
“We are not truly betrothed,” Haakon reminded him. Why did he sound so disappointed? He didn’t want to have anything to do with a Saxon woman, much less be betrothed to her, even in jest. “But I didn’t feel I had much choice but to go along with the lie and ensure her friend’s safety.”
Her father must be none other than Alberic, Elstan’s neighbor.
“No, of course.” Wolf sobered. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I reacted like that. This is no laughing matter. From what you said the man sounds dangerous. It was kind of you to ensure the two women were not harmed.”
“What else could I do?”
“Nothing,” Wolf agreed. “But if Eadhild’s father is so set against her marrying a Norseman, I dread to think what will happen when he finds out she is about to become Halfdan’s wife.
I should go speak to him. If he really means to marry her, then this wedding had better be celebrated as soon as possible so she can come live here, where we can protect her from harm.
” He clenched his jaw, clearly displeased.
“I married Merewen more than thirty years ago. At the time I had to face strong disapproval from the local community. I never let it bother me, and thank the gods, neither did she, but I cannot believe that we are still at the same point. Will people never learn?”
Haakon could only nod.
His Saxon father had had it easier than the Saxon women married to Norsemen of the village, that was for certain.
For some reason, even though a couple involved two people, it was always the women who faced the harsher criticism for their choice of partner.
Was that why he’d always fancied himself married to a Saxon?
Because instinctively he felt that a woman who was strong enough to ignore prejudice and stand by her love for him would be a trustworthy partner? Perhaps.
Whatever it was, he couldn’t deny that they had always held an appeal for him.
Except that, as he’d reflected the other day, he’d never had any luck with them.
The first one he’d tried to seduce had told him in no uncertain terms she would never sully herself by bedding a filthy Norseman.
Perhaps an acquaintance of Eadhild’s father, he thought bitterly.
Cwenthryth, though much nicer in her refusal, had never looked at him twice, instead preferring Steinar’s brooding personality to his youthful enthusiasm.
Matilda, who’d caught his eye when she’d arrived at the village six months ago, had found love with Inga, the butcher’s daughter.
After her forced marriage to Gundulf, she had sworn men off and fallen for the woman who had welcomed her under her roof while they investigated her daughter’s whereabouts.
Eahlswith, who’d already been head over heels in love with Sven, had not even seen him.
Worst of all was Edita, his friend Eirik’s cousin. Two weeks ago, when she’d arrived at the banquet given for the birth of Eirik and Freyja’s daughter, he, his friend Arne and a few other men had been struck by her beauty.
She’d appeared bathed in the evening light, claiming she was looking to settle in the village now that her husband was dead, and he’d thought his dream had finally come true.
Here was a woman who was not averse to marrying a Norseman, only a few years older than him and pretty as a picture.
She was also, as he’d quickly discovered, a veritable harpy.
A woman like her, arrogant, selfish and mean, would never bring him any joy, only problems. Arne, or anyone else, was welcome to her.
Unfortunately, she seemed to have decided that she wanted him as her next husband, and no other.
She’d been pursuing him relentlessly, cornering him every opportunity she got.
The irony was not lost on him. Had he still been of a mind to have a Saxon wife, he could have had one by now.
But he had decided only three days ago that he was done chasing his stupid dream and he meant to never end up married to a Saxon, no matter what Alberic or anyone else thought.
Once Wolf had left to see Halfdan, Haakon decided to go spend a moment with his father. The two of them had a similar sense of humor so he would enjoy hearing about his fake betrothal.
He found him at his working bench, a gold circle in hand.
“Good afternoon, son.”
“Are you making a ring?” Haakon asked, amused. It seemed oddly apt, considering what he had come to tell him.
“Yes. Why?”
“Well, I thought you’d like to know that apparently, I’m engaged to be married.”
His father stilled, chisel in the air. “Anyone I know?”
Haakon couldn’t help a laugh. That was precisely the right question to ask. “No. No one I know either.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He explained what had happened in the forest, and then with Alberic getting confused as to the identity of the Norseman.
But for a reason he was not sure of, Haakon kept to himself the kiss he had shared with Gytha in town.
It would have been an amusing addition to the story.
Mm, yes, but that was precisely the problem.
That kiss had been anything but amusing.
It had been passionate. It had been confusing, to the point of being potentially problematic.
It had been everything it shouldn’t have been, and he’d found himself thinking about it far more often than was wise over the last three days—and nights. A woman who kissed like that would be…
Trouble.
Trouble he’d resolved only the other day to stay clear of. Whatever else she might be was of no relevance.
“Well, whatever you do, do not let your mother hear this. She will only start hoping that you marry the girl one day.”
“Yes, I know.”
Indeed, his mother was an indefatigable romantic and she knew about his love for Saxon women and his ambition to marry one—his former ambition he should say.
If she found out what had happened in the forest, she would probably think there was more to it than he had revealed, she would somehow guess that the two of them had kissed.
To give her her due, however, though she knew Edita was looking for marriage, she had never tried to press him into proposing to her, even if she had once walked in on her trapping him against the wall.
In fact, her intervention had been what had saved Haakon.
He had been racking his brain to find a way to push Edita out of the way without hurting her.
Just as if she had heard they were talking about her, his mother entered the forge, a basket in hand.
“Haakon.” She gave him a kiss. “Will you stay with us to eat?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He had better stay, otherwise he would only end up alone in his hut, reliving the kiss he should never have shared with a woman he would likely never see again.