Chapter Thirty-one #2
Aoife started to speak and then stopped.
How could Tormod think like this? The villagers did not feel this way about him, she was sure of it.
Why would they have come with him across the sea if they thought he was a weak leader?
The blame for all of this lay with Ingrid, her family, and her lover.
She frowned. Tormod had loved Ingrid, and she had betrayed him—a betrayal that had nearly killed his cousin.
That must have hurt his pride, but surely he was making it worse than it really was?
“But her people, they might have attacked you, anyway. And you would not have become jarl if your people had not believed in you.”
“Yes, they could have tried,” Tormod admitted reluctantly. “But she must have told them where the weak spots in our defences were. Without that knowledge, they could never have got so close. Certainly not as quickly as they did.”
“How did she know the weak spots in your defences? If she only lived there a few months before the attack, then…” she trailed off, a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach.
Tormod sat, silent, tense.
“You told her?”
He looked at her, his eyes hard. “I told you, I was a fool. She said she wanted to know so she would feel safer. Said she was afraid of them attacking the village, but all along she was telling her father how to defeat us.”
Aoife placed her hand lightly on his arm and squeezed it in reassurance. “Your wife is dead, but you must tell Einar the truth. He deserves to know.”
“Arne has promised to do this. But this is not something I can admit publicly,” Tormod said. “If I do, then the village will know I am not fit to be jarl.”
“I thought you said they already knew about the boy.”
“They whisper it behind their hands. None dare say it to my face.”
“Perhaps it does not matter.”
“It should. A man so easily deceived does not deserve to be jarl. And now there is you.”
A cold shiver trailed down her spine. Was he comparing Ingrid’s betrayal of him to her? “Me? I have not betrayed you.”
“Your father fooled me as she did. Making me believe he was willing to form an alliance with us. And yet, it is clear it is your father’s men who have attacked us. He has made a fool of me once again. The villagers may not forgive me twice.”
She couldn’t make her mouth work to say anything. How could she deny it? What he said was true, and she should have told him her suspicions as they rode to the village that first day. Ulf had been right.
She buried her face in her hands. “I am sorry. I believe my stepmother has poisoned my father against me. They would be happier if I were dead if you killed me.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and put her head down on her knees.
He said nothing. Eventually she had to lift her head to see if he was even still in the room. He was so silent.
“Aoife.”
She looked at him.
“You have done nothing wrong. It was I who should have seen through your father’s tricks, not you.”
He was blaming himself for the situation, and she knew he should not.
“You said before you were not relying on my father keeping his word,” she said slowly, as she realised the way he was thinking of the situation made no sense.
“True.” He frowned at her.
“If it is true, then you have not really been tricked, have you?” She could see him considering it, testing the idea in his mind.
“That is not, however, what I led the villagers to believe,” he said, then he smiled, just a little, and pulled her against him.
“They trusted you to try to keep them safe. Despite knowing what had happened before.”
“And I have kept them safe,” he agreed. Then he tensed again.
“It is not only about them, though. From the moment I saw you, I didn’t care whether it was a trick or not.
I wanted you.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, and she could tell it cost him to say this aloud.
She smiled as his words warmed her heart.
“I was happy to have you as my wife, no matter what happened with the rest of the bargain. My people can defend themselves. Allies are useful but not necessary.”
It took her a long moment to fully digest what he was saying. “Then you do not hate me for it?”
“No.”
She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come,” Tormod said, standing and moving away from her.
The door opened and Arne stepped in. “More boats are coming. Not from Cadell’s lands, but from south of the river.”
Aoife frowned. “Ula’s brother, Lord Marcant, rules those lands south of the river.
He petitioned the new king for my father’s lands after Alt Clut.
Called my father a traitor because we left the feast. King Rhun refused, but said he would consider it over time, so there is always the possibility that…
Do you think my visions showed the truth?
Do you think my father has been killed?”
“It is certainly possible. But for now, we must deal with this attack. We should try to burn the boats before they land.”
“A good plan. I will gather the archers,” said Arne.
“Stay here and stay safe,” Tormod said to her, then kissed her forehead.
“Let me come,” she said, gripping his hands tightly in her own.
He shook his head. “Not yet. I will send for you. Or I will come back here for you.”
He ducked out the door and left with Arne.