Chapter Eighteen
In the end, the last few hours at the shieling helped her to feel that whatever had taken place there was truly over.
She packed the linens and blankets to take with them to be cleaned.
After she had washed everything else they had used and made sure the fire was out, Caelin swept the floor for her before he went outside with the cubs.
She took one last look around, then closed her eyes and remembered the way Arne had touched her, looked at her, made love to her.
She sighed and lifted her pack before setting it down, opening it, and quickly changing into the clothes she had been wearing when she had escaped from Alt Clut.
It felt strange to have her hair covered again — she had grown used to the Norse headscarf.
But if they were seen now, it would look more like the Norsemen had found them and were escorting them back to her brother.
She blinked rapidly, refusing to let any tears fall.
Then she picked up her belongings and left the shieling, closing the door behind her.
All the men watched her as she stepped outside, her changed clothing making it clear she was leaving them and returning to her own people.
Ulf nodded, his face set in a grim line.
Caelin was already seated in front of him on his horse, holding the cubs’ basket carefully in his arms. She was reassured to see Ulf held the reins with one hand, and Caelin with the other.
Arne was standing beside a horse, waiting.
He walked the horse over to her, the reins firmly in one gloved hand, then nodded and held out his other hand towards her.
“Let me help you, Princess Maithgemm.” His voice lacked emotion, and it broke her heart, but she nodded stiffly in return.
“Thank you.” She forced herself not to react to his touch.
Others were watching, but it saddened her he didn’t seem to regret the change in their relationship.
He lifted her onto the horse, then mounted behind her, his hands on the reins, keeping her in place in front of him.
Ulf called out, and they set off towards Kirkjaster.
It was strange to have him behind her, so close. She felt the tension in him. He was so different from the lover he had been the night before.
When they reached the edge of the moor, she turned and took one last look at the shieling.
Arne didn’t. As they headed into the woods, she kept her eyes straight ahead.
She needed to be strong for Caelin. She needed to take him home before he forgot where home was, forgot who he was.
And it was up to her to make it happen. Their time at Kirkjaster was unsustainable now.
Her presence endangered them all and hiding risked Caelin’s safety as much as facing her brother did.
She needed to make the best decision for her son. Decisions befitting the king’s nephew.
But how could she do that and guarantee Caelin’s safety?
She didn’t trust Rhun. She certainly didn’t trust Queen Eithne nor Prince Eochaid.
All of them had reason to want to control or even kill Caelin.
The person with the most invested in keeping Caelin alive was Lord Marcant — and he was definitely not to be trusted.
As they rode, she played through each scenario in her head several times.
Staying in the settlement was not possible.
She must go to her brother, demand that she and Caelin be allowed to remain in Ir Ysgyn.
She wasn’t sure what she could do to force her brother to guarantee her son’s safety, but she would think of something.
Only one thing was certain. Her time with Arne was over.
Even though she knew the distance between them was growing with every step away from the shieling, she was still grateful for Arne’s presence behind her.
If he hadn’t been there, she would have been tempted to simply take her son and ride north.
Away from all of this. But now even that was not an option.
Those hunters had been returning north. She didn’t know if they had been seen together yesterday, and if they had, who it was who had seen them.
She hoped and prayed that whoever it had been, news would never reach her brother.
The horses moved through the woods, retracing their steps of only a few days ago.
They would reach the settlement far faster this way than it had taken her to reach the shieling on foot.
The ground was treacherous with melting snow, but her progress with a young child had still been slower.
She sighed. So much had changed in such a short time, and this journey signified so much more than she wanted to admit.
She also knew that in one way Arne’s worst fear had come to pass.
His relationship with her did put his life in danger.
Ulf was correct when he said Rhun would want Arne dead.
Although she had no idea whether he would simply banish her or force her to marry or send her away to a convent.
She shuddered. Aoife had been sent away to a place like that and been miserable.
Punished every day for something that was not her fault.
Gemma did not have any excuse. She had chosen to lie with Arne.
And she didn’t regret a moment of it. No matter what.
Ahead of her, Caelin was chattering to Ulf about the cubs, and she was ready to interrupt if Caelin began to say any more than that they had found them in the woods.
Her cheeks heated when she heard Caelin say he had slept next to the fire with the cubs and was grateful Ulf broke in and changed the topic before the subject of where she and Arne had slept came up.
As they approached Kirkjaster, they heard a baby cry. Gemma immediately felt guilty—she had not asked about Aoife.
She called to Ulf. “Did Aoife have a boy or a girl? Were they safely delivered?”
The four Norsemen who had come to find them looked at one another and grinned.
“Twins,” Ulf said. “A son and a daughter. Safely delivered, but her labour was long. Tormod is very pleased, although I can’t imagine why. From what I have heard, there is always one of them awake.”
So that was why Aoife’s visions had not been able to tell her whether she carried a boy or a girl. Aoife would be relieved her gift was not failing her.
“How is Einar?” asked Arne.
“He could have done with you here, Arne,” Ulf said.
Gemma felt another twinge of guilt that it had been her fault Arne was not there to support his foster son.
“He has not taken the news well?”
Ulf shrugged. “It is hard for him. He idolises Tormod, you know that. And when you were not here… Well, he has been quiet. He realises he will never have the same place in his father’s affections as these children.”
“But he knows I—”
“He knows his mother was ultimately responsible for your scars, Arne. He is also very aware that Tormod does not love him and when he needed you, you were not here.”
“I did not know I would be gone so long. And…”
“Just talk to him.”
“Do they have names?” Gemma asked.
“I believe Aoife and Tormod are still arguing over that.”
“How long will it take Ylva and Bjorn to agree on a name, do you think?” Arne asked, and he and Ulf laughed.
“They have a name already,” Gemma said.
“They do?” Ulf glanced at her.
“Hrafn. After the ravens which followed us when we sailed back to Car Cadell after Bjorn was injured.”
She thought she felt Arne’s grip tighten around her as she spoke, but then decided either she had imagined it or else it had been because of the horse’s movements.
“Another son named after a bird,” Arne muttered.
“If it is a boy,” Gemma replied, attempting to diffuse the tension in the air.
“If Ylva thinks it is a boy, then it will be. She is not one to let the world dictate to her,” Ulf said.
“But surely that is not the sort of thing—”
“With most people I would say no, but Ylva is one of a kind. Not many women become warriors, never mind a great one. Yet I know many men who would not relish the prospect of fighting her.”
“I wish I were more like her,” Gemma said.
“You already are,” Arne said so only she could hear. “I’m sorry, I should have let her teach you how to fight.”
Gemma tried to turn her head to look at him. “Now that you are sure I won’t use those skills to kill you as you sleep?”
“When I sleep from now on, I will not be thinking about you killing me. And you should be able to defend yourself,” he whispered.
“Oh.” For a moment, she thought he might have changed his mind, but it was clear he hadn’t.
Every step brought them closer to Kirkjaster and her leaving him. She wished time would stop, right now, so she would always be here, safe with him. But it wasn’t possible.
“We’re here,” he said as they rounded a corner on the path.
She turned to see Kirkjaster in front of them.
Maybe it was just because of the weather, but there were few villagers visible and a strange quiet about the place.
Bjorn and Ylva approached, tension visible in their bodies.
Bjorn was holding Ylva close against his side—unusually, she was letting him.
“What’s happening?” Ulf called.
“We have visitors.” Bjorn put a finger to his lips and jerked his head towards the great hall. Ulf nodded and Gemma felt Arne tense.
“So, Arne had to rescue you this time, Gemma,” Bjorn said quietly as he reached them. “Will Ulf save you next time?”
“I’m hoping there won’t be a next time,” she replied.
“Princess Maithgemm will be leaving us,” Arne said.
Bjorn and Ylva frowned at Arne, then looked at Gemma.
Gemma took a deep breath and nodded. “Arne is correct. I am grateful for your help, but it is time for us to return home, if Jarl Tormod agrees.”
Bjorn nodded slowly, some of the tension in his body relaxing. “In that case you may be pleased to see our visitors.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Who are they?”
“Soldiers,” Ylva said. “Sent by the king to look for you and Caelin. They are with Tormod in the great hall.”