Chapter 2 Cenric #2
Old times? He had fought alongside Edric, his cousin Hróarr, and many others to bring Valdar under Ovrek’s control. Proud and stiff-necked Valdari had been forced to bow before the new king. Cenric’s heart thrummed as he considered the possibilities of why Ovrek would want to see him.
“If I go to Istra,” Cenric said, “and stay through the Althing, that will be six weeks of absence. During the high raiding season.”
“There will be no raids,” Berdun promised, with a little too much certainty.
Cenric wasn’t sure he believed that. Raiding might sometimes be taxed by jarls and powerful men on the islands, but it wasn’t uncommon for individual communities to take it up discreetly, too.
A few farmers with spears and a boat might come to steal extra sheep, grain, or iron from undefended settlements along the coast.
Ovrek might be powerful, but Cenric didn’t believe for a second he had the power to stop raids altogether. Not unless he had gained omniscience in the past few years.
“Your cousin will be there,” Berdun added. “He extends his invitation as well.”
Edric folded his arms across his chest but remained silent.
“Ovrek hopes you are on good terms,” Berdun pressed. “And he hopes that his gifts prove he is still your friend.”
Just as Brynn had predicted, there had been an ulterior motive. Cenric glanced up the hill to the longhouse. Brynn wouldn’t like this, but could he really refuse?
Even if Ovrek was a foreign king to him these days, he lived nearer to his lands than Aelgar did. It would be unwise to insult such a powerful man who lived so close.
Cenric’s first impulse was to accept. Since his goddess Morgi had not sent him any warnings since the arrival of Ovrek’s gifts, he supposed that was likely right.
“I will accept, but I will have to return before midsummer.” That was next month, and the sheep would be ready to shed their fleeces. The Althing could last for weeks. “I will also need time to prepare for the journey.”
“Excellent.” Berdun’s answering smile was broad, genuine. He had not wanted to return to Valdar with news of failure. “We leave in a day’s time?”
Edric cast Cenric a hard look.
“Three.” Cenric would need that time to prepare his people after he told his wife.
Berdun glanced over his shoulder. “What if we settled on two?”
Cenric wasn’t expecting that. Habit urged him to leap to obey, to do as his former lord commanded, but a voice in his head that sounded like Brynn told him to be firm. “Not enough time.” Cenric tempered the words with an apologetic smile. “I must ready my people.”
“Three days, then.” Berdun exhaled, lip curled in disappointment, but he did not press the matter. “It will be good to have you back in Istra. We have missed you.”
A large part of Cenric was already looking forward to the visit. “I will send servants to see that you are fed and refreshed.”
Berdun inclined his head. “We thank you, lord.”
Lord? Cenric had been called that for years now, but it felt strange from Berdun’s lips. This man had once cursed him to the heart of the Dread Mother for not holding his shield high enough.
“I need to speak to Brynn.” Cenric turned. “Edric.”
Edric waited until they were out of earshot before questioning him. “What are you doing?”
“It seems I’m going to see Ovrek.” Cenric exhaled.
“Why do you think he wants to see you?” Edric asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Perhaps it’s simply a whim,” Edric muttered. “Perhaps he wants to take you hunting for giant bears.”
“You’ll run the shire in my absence,” Cenric decided. “Unless you’d rather come with me to Valdar?”
“I’m not going back there,” Edric clipped. “I’ll have your ship readied, lord. Ten men?”
“That should be fine.”
Edric veered off into the village.
Cenric headed back up to the longhouse. People rushed him, asking questions, bringing their fears and concerns. He waved most of them away with wooden assurances. Yes, the Valdari were friends. Yes, they would be leaving soon.
He reached the longhouse and found Brynn in the garden, surrounded by sprouting plants. She sat on a stone by the wall, watching as Guin played with several of the larger dogs.
Brynn had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, but strands of hair hung free, worked loose from her veil. The tendrils danced in the wind, brushing her cheeks like a caress. A soft smile shaped her face as the puppy hopped and jumped, wrestling with Thorn and the others.
Brynn was beautiful. He could stare at her forever, that slight smile on her face, finally looking at peace. Maybe even happy.
Brynn must have sensed him coming in that sorceress’ way of hers. She straightened, her whole body shifting toward him. “Husband?”
He liked it when she called him that, when she claimed him. “Wife.” Cenric came nearer and Brynn’s brows drew together. He sat beside her, and she shifted, making room for him.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice was quiet, small.
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Are you lying?”
Cenric hesitated. “Yes.”
Brynn clasped her hands in her lap, not taking her eyes off the roughhousing dogs. “Tell me.”
Best to get it out, then. “Ovrek has invited me to the Althing.”
“Ovrek?” Brynn shot him a look. “Althing?”
“It’s a meeting.” Cenric paused, considering for a moment. “Most people of the islands gather once a summer to exchange news, trade, and make laws.”
Brynn’s brow furrowed. “Like the meeting of the Witan?”
“It is similar, yes.” The main difference was that the Witan met to advise a king, and the Althing had been a place for landed men to make decisions together.
“So, he did want something,” Brynn sighed. It was not a question.
“Yes.” Cenric braced himself, not sure how she would take it.
Brynn fell silent again.
He had expected her to argue, expected resistance. Somehow, this was worse. “Brynn?”
“You’re going?”
“I told his messenger I would.” He braced himself a second time, but she remained silent. “Ovrek is my friend.”
“We’ve just returned home.”
“I know.”
“Aelgar will not like this,” Brynn cautioned.
“Probably not, but it isn’t as if he can stop me from meeting with my neighbors.”
Brynn took a slow, deep breath. “People already see you as Valdari. I’m trying to make them see you as Hyldish, too, but this will not help.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Cenric was forever caught between two peoples, two countries, two kings.
They jostled him back and forth, like dogs fighting over a bone.
“I will try to return quickly.” Cenric followed her gaze to the dyrehunds.
“The fields are planted, and I have a promise that there will be no raids while I am gone.”
“The shire should be fine.” Brynn sniffed.
Cenric touched her arm. “Look at me.”
Brynn shifted, facing him though her eyes stayed down.
“Either I accept Ovrek’s invitation and explain to Aelgar, or I decline the invitation and insult the fiercest warrior I know.”
Brynn seemed to consider that, her lips pursed together. Finally, she met his gaze. “When do we leave?”
“We?”
“If you’re going to Valdar, I’m going with you.” Brynn spoke the words softly, but matter-of-factly. “When do we leave?”
“Valdar is hardly the place for—”
“For what?” Brynn’s tone remained soft as she tilted her head to the side, a challenge gleaming in her eyes.
Cenric had been about to say she was a lady but thought better of it. He knew she had fought in the bogs and the killing fields of Hylden, but it didn’t fit with his image of her.
“Is it that I am a sorceress?” Brynn cocked her head. “Or perhaps that I am Aelgar’s niece?”
Cenric grimaced. “Your uncle will not like you going any more than me.”
“No,” Brynn agreed. “He will hate it, I suspect. And he’s right to.” She adjusted her hands in her lap. “He will wonder if you are conspiring against him.”
“Do you think I’m conspiring against him?”
“Are you?” Brynn’s tone still held no judgment, no hint as to how she might feel about her uncle being betrayed.
“I don’t know why Ovrek wants to see me. It could just be to discuss trade routes.”
“It could be.” Brynn did not sound any more convinced than him.
Cenric studied his wife closely. He was in love with her and often told her as much.
They were happy together. But they’d known each other for less than a year.
This thing between them was precious, but new—a sapling made of gold.
He didn’t know how much weight it could bear just yet.
“What will you do if Ovrek does not want to discuss trade routes?”
Brynn gripped his hands, tangling her fingers through his. “I’m coming with you.” The words were soft, yet spoken like a pledge.
Cenric held onto her, raising their enmeshed hands so he could kiss her knuckles. “We’re leaving in three days.”
Brynn’s shoulders relaxed. She didn’t complain about the short notice. “I will prepare the household. And I will be ready.” She leaned over and brushed her lips to his. “Thank you.”
Any remaining doubts he had were pushed out by the gratitude shining in her eyes.
Brynn rose and headed back into the longhouse. Guin noticed her departure and bounded after her, woofing. Brynn paused in the doorway to lean down and pet her head, rubbing behind the puppy’s ears.
Cenric couldn’t help smiling as he watched her go. Brynn had known grief, betrayal, abandonment, and pain of every kind, but she had kept her gentleness. She remained soft in defiance of a hard world.
But if it came down to it, if Brynn had to choose between him and Aelgar, would she still choose him? All his life, Cenric had been torn between two countries. It had cost him many things over the years, mostly respect and friendship. He didn’t want it to cost him Brynn, too.
Ovrek might be inviting him to Istra, but once he was in Istra, within the king’s center of power, who knew what other invitations he might have to accept?
Perhaps Brynn would be able to help him with that. She was adept as a politician, and if she wouldn’t be able to help him, perhaps she would at least be able to forgive him.