Chapter 4 Cenric
Cenric
Cenric spent the night drinking with Ovrek, Hróarr, and many other friends he hadn’t seen in years.
Most of them commented on his trimmed beard and all of them made at least one joke about Hylden, but each one congratulated him on retaking Ombra.
And they all complimented Brynn. His wife might not have understood the praises given by the Valdari warriors, but she seemed to guess by their tones and expressions.
Cenric complimented their wives and concubines in turn as was the custom. Brynn stayed close to him the whole night, declining an invitation from Vana when several of the women went off together for a short time.
Snapper wandered in and out of the hall, getting pets and scratches where he could, exploring new smells. He and a few other dogs from Ovrek’s household tussled over bones on the floor.
As the night wore on, Ovrek announced it was time for gifts.
It was custom for a jarl to give gifts to his warriors at a feast. Some nights he might only be expected to provide choice cuts of meat to his favored men, but the size and number of gifts was dependent on the jarl’s wealth and how much he wished to reward his followers.
It seemed that Ovrek had become a jarl of jarls in many ways. Tonight was a special occasion, and the king handed out gifts of finger rings, jeweled daggers, silver coins, and silver brooches, many of them taken directly from his own person.
Ovrek drifted about the room, speaking with the jarls and chieftains and warriors gathered through the hall. Some of these men had been bitter rivals last time Cenric had been here, but one would never know it now. Ovrek placated his enemies with treasure and rewarded his friends with double.
Sifma, Ovrek’s wife, was a quiet woman, as stern as her husband was gregarious.
She occupied the seat beside Ovrek in her white furs, draped in silver, precious stones, and stamped fabrics that could only have come from beyond the southern seas.
As her husband distributed wealth among the men, Sifma gave out gifts to their wives and female companions.
Queen Sifma spoke no Hyldish, but with Cenric as translator, she gifted Brynn a bright blue headscarf made of silk. The fabric was dyed the deep hue of the ocean under a summer sky and must have cost an exorbitant amount even back in its country of origin.
Brynn bowed to the queen, expressing her thanks through Cenric. Despite the language barrier, he noticed her watching silently, reading interactions between the various jarls, their warriors, and their women.
“Cenric!” called a female voice.
Brynn’s hand clenched tighter around his arm.
Cenric turned to see a magnificent woman with silver temple rings, dressed in dark, rich blue. Her hair was mostly covered by the veil of a married woman, but it was the same copper red her father’s had been before the white took over.
“Lady Tullia,” Cenric bowed. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you.” Mischief glinted in Tullia’s eye. “Who is this pretty thing on your arm?”
“This is my wife, Lady Brynn, daughter of Eormenulf.” Cenric switched into Hyldish for his wife’s benefit. “Brynn, this is Lady Tullia, daughter of Ovrek.”
Tullia clasped both of Brynn’s hands as if they were old friends. “Your father was Eormenulf? I have heard so many tales of him.”
Brynn blanched, surprised to hear Hyldish from the other woman. “Thank you, lady.”
“Very good, Cenric,” Tullia beamed. “I am so proud of you.”
Cenric smiled wistfully. “I did nothing to deserve her, I fear. She is my wife only through the gods’ generosity.”
Tullia laughed at that, leaning toward Brynn as if to share a secret. “You have him well-trained, I see. That is good! Cenric always did need a firm hand.”
Cenric’s brow furrowed at that.
“But we made a fine warrior out of you.” Tullia looked Cenric over with something like fondness. Tullia was much like Ovrek, so magnanimous and friendly, one could almost forget her legendary temper.
“Lady Tullia,” Brynn repeated the name slowly, as if committing it to memory. “Am I saying it right?”
“Yes! It’s strange, I know. My father named me after a Kelethi lady he knew.
” Tullia let off a little laugh. “In case you haven’t noticed, my father is obsessed with his time in Kelethi.
” She sighed, releasing Brynn’s hands. “I am so pleased you are here. Both of you! I must host you in my house some night and hear all about how our dear boy managed to wed such a fine lady.”
“We would be honored,” Cenric said.
“Do you have an interpreter?” Tullia asked Brynn. “A servant, perhaps?”
“I was going to find her one tomorrow,” Cenric explained. “Vana is helping me with that.”
“No need.” Tullia waved her hand dismissively. “I have several Hyldish girls in my household. I will send one to you. If she serves you well, you can keep her.”
Brynn’s eyes widened in surprise, but if she was scandalized at being given a Hyldish thrall, she had the good grace to hide it. “Thank you.” She bowed, hiding her face. “I appreciate your kindness.”
“I must go.” Tullia pointed to Cenric. “But I will expect to see you again. I demand it.”
“Of course.” Cenric inclined his head one last time.
Brynn watched Tullia go, people moving out of her way as she marched across the hall, two maids in tow. “Did you ever—?”
“No,” Cenric cut her off before Brynn could finish asking the question.
“But she’s beautiful.”
“She’s also Ovrek’s daughter and even then, I wasn’t fool enough for that.” Cenric kissed Brynn’s temple. Tullia had been like an older sister to Ovrek’s young warriors—a domineering older sister who it was best not to offend. “Let’s find a seat, love.”
Brynn followed him as he led her through the crowd. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Cenric found them a spot at one of the many tables, guiding her to a place on the bench beside him.
“I know I have been anxious these past days. Not myself.”
Cenric had noticed. He stroked up and down her arm. “I love you.”
Brynn flushed, ducking her head.
“Do I not say it often enough?” He lifted her chin back up to meet his gaze.
“No—yes.” Brynn cleared her throat. “It’s just that anyone could hear.”
“I don’t mind.” Affection for one’s spouse was in no way required, but it was hardly forbidden. “Most of them wouldn’t understand unless I said it in Valdari—I love you.”
Brynn licked her lips. “That’s how you say it in Valdari?”
“Yes.”
Brynn shifted. “I’ve heard you say that quite often when we’re…”
Cenric raised his eyebrows. “When we’re what, love?”
Brynn’s cheeks pinkened and she ducked her head. “We’re in public.”
“Ah, but now I’m thinking about having you in private.”
“Cenric!” Brynn covered her face with her hands.
Cenric fought back a laugh, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You delightful creature.”
Brynn giggled despite everything. “You should teach me Valdari.”
Cenric rocked back a little at that. Pleasant surprise flushed through him. “You’d want to learn?”
“I would,” Brynn murmured. “We deal with them often and I expect…” She paused. “I expect you’ll want our children to speak it.”
Warmth spread throughout his chest. Cenric had assumed that Brynn, like most of Hylden, merely tolerated his Valdari half. He thought she did it exceptionally well, but he’d tried to stifle that part of himself with her the way he did with everyone else.
But she wanted to share this side of him? She wanted their children to keep his ties to Valdar?
It was such a simple request and yet, Cenric didn’t believe he’d ever been so completely accepted before. His friends and kin in Valdar had never been able to accept he was part Hyldish. The people in Hylden were always wary of him being part Valdari.
Brynn had her own fraught history with Valdari, but she was trying. She was trying as no one ever had.
“I’d like that.” Cenric fought the sudden urge to sweep her up and kiss her in front of everyone—that might embarrass her too much. “I should have started teaching you sooner.” He leaned in, mouth curling with mischief. “Though I have been busy teaching you other things.”
Brynn’s face flushed even deeper. “Cenric.”
He nuzzled her cheek so he could whisper into her ear. “You’ve been most eager to learn.”
Brynn tried to fight her giggle and failed. “Your cousin is heading this way, and he will understand what you’re saying.”
Sure enough, Hróarr lumbered up to their table, sliding in beside them. Vana displayed her silver torque and had what appeared to be a new fur draped around her shoulders.
“I haven’t seen some of these men in years,” Hróarr sighed. He was a brute most times but spoke in Hyldish so Brynn could understand. “Talk, talk. So much talk.”
Cenric chuckled. “I’ve seen you do your fair share of talking yourself.”
“I have good stories to tell!” Hróarr protested. “Been across the sea and down the coast. Most of them have just been farming and trading in the same place.”
“I thought we agreed there was nothing wrong with staying in the same place?” Vana’s words sounded innocent, but Hróarr tensed.
It was brief, but Cenric knew his kinsman well enough to see it. When neither of the couple elaborated, he changed the subject.
“I’ve heard that Tagel died,” Cenric said. “I was sorry to hear that.”
Hróarr grunted. “Man was too young. Had only daughters, too.” He lowered his head to take another gulp from his cup. “His neighboring jarls will be dividing up his lands.”
“Women can’t inherit in Valdar?” Brynn asked, sounding curious.
Hróarr laughed. “Not these days. Women jarls aren’t much good to a warrior king.”
Brynn blinked at Hróarr, seeming confused.
Vana elbowed Hróarr and muttered something too quiet for Cenric to catch.
Hróarr cleared his throat, though he didn’t sound exactly sorry. “Ovrek gives you land, you owe Ovrek service in times of war. That’s the agreement.”
Cenric almost reminded his cousin that Brynn and her sistren had been the ones to put the king of Hylden on the throne. But something in his cousin’s words nagged at him. “Ovrek gave you land.”