Chapter Twenty
Arne sat in the great hall eating a meal prepared by his mother using the venison he had brought with them from the shieling.
The flavours made him appreciate the advantages of being at home, although Gemma had done her best. And even Ragna would have had limitations in the circumstances they had been in.
That was not the life Gemma had been born into, but it was the only one he was able to offer her, albeit he was rich enough to afford thralls to help her as his mother did, too.
He wondered about Tormod’s decision to simply admit Gemma had been in Kirkjaster over the winter.
A visit with Aoife was certainly a valid reason for her to be there, and the soldiers had seemed to accept it without question, but it worried him why Rhun was sending soldiers to look for them now.
What had changed? Nothing the soldiers had said explained this.
Arne knew his time with Gemma had run out as soon as Ulf had found them at the shieling, and that she should return to her home—but everything in him was urging him not to let her go.
But what future could they have together?
He couldn’t offer her the life she deserved.
If she stayed with him, either he or Gemma would always be an outsider, no matter where they lived.
He sighed. After initial reservations, most of the population of Kirkjaster now seemed to accept Aoife—even his brother Ulf.
And no one saw Rhiannon as any kind of threat.
But neither of them posed the risk Gemma did.
She was a princess. An important political target—or weapon.
He shook his head. Once King Rhun knew where she had been, what would happen?
Would he be grateful to them for keeping his sister safe or blame them for her disappearance?
Perhaps he was exaggerating the danger. It no longer mattered.
Tormod had decided and now Arne would have to abide by that decision.
But did he want to? For the past decade, his own guilt and anger meant he’d followed all of Tormod’s decisions without complaint—if anything, he had been the most supportive of his brothers, but now…
Arne sighed again, and felt a genuine stirring of resentment.
Tormod had agreed she should leave, but why should he have to lose the woman he…
He froze. Did he love her? Was love preventing him from seeing the situation clearly?
Part of him wanted to go to her and beg her not to leave with the soldiers, while another part was sure it was the right thing to do and once she was gone life would settle back down.
He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed at his forehead.
Life never settled down. Life was never safe.
Why was he trying so hard to make it so?
Was his own safety or the safety of Kirkjaster worth the cost of losing her? Could he risk the lives of others here?
He didn’t know what outcome he had expected or even hoped for.
It seemed as if there was no possible solution.
Especially when he was more than aware his own feelings on the matter had changed so much in the past few days.
When he’d seen Gemma dressed in her Brythonic clothes, he’d been reminded who she really was – and that was not his lover.
He’d realised she planned to leave him. And it had hurt far more than he’d expected.
Gemma was correct that Kirkjaster could be attacked whether she was living in the settlement or not.
If either King Rhun or Marcant decided to attack, they would not care whether the Norsemen had protected her or not.
What would her people think when she returned?
Would Marcant’s supporters seek to recapture her?
Would Rhun want her, or at least her son, dead?
And then, a thought unbidden—what if she remained here?
That could not happen. It was too big a risk, and he’d heard Caelin speak.
The boy fully expected his birthright would be returned to him.
“Arne?” Elisedd’s voice at his side made him jump. Arne lifted his head to see him standing beside his foster brother. Einar stood, chewing on his lip, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.
“Sit,” he said to them, then patted the seat beside him when Einar didn’t immediately do so.
Elisedd had taken the seat opposite him and Arne waited as Einar followed hesitantly.
Remembering Ulf’s words, Arne smiled at the boy.
“Have you seen—” Suddenly he stopped, unable to bring himself to say ‘your brother and sister’. “The new babies?”
“Yes, they are so very tiny,” Elisedd said. “Mama says it will be a long time before they are grown enough to play with and that by then I will be too old to play.”
Arne laughed and turned to Einar, whose shoulders were hunched and whose head drooped.
“They make my father smile,” Einar said.
Arne felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. Unthinking, he reached for Einar’s hand and held it tight. Finally, the boy looked up at him and Arne saw the pain of yet another rejection in eyes so like his own.
“I must take Gemma and Caelin back to the king today, but when I return there is something I need to discuss with Tormod. Something that concerns you.”
Einar glanced at him, then looked down at their joined hands.
“It is a good thing,” Arne assured him, pleased when the boy met his gaze.
“And I hope it will…” What did he hope? That it would make Einar happy?
It might not. It might make everything worse, that he, Arne had allowed his own son to be so miserable thinking another man didn’t care about him.
Tormod may not be able to forgive him for hiding the truth either.
He might gain a son and lose his brothers, lose his own family.
But it was time. Beyond time to confess and live with whatever happened.
Perhaps he would do as Gemma had planned and see if there was a ship sailing for the north, for the land of Thule.
Then maybe Ulf would do something about his feelings for Rhiannon.
“You hope it will…?” Einar prompted.
“I hope it will make you happy,” he said and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Now go and help Rhiannon, both of you, and I will see you tomorrow. You will be sleeping even if I do return tonight.”
The boys hurried off, Einar looking much happier than when he had first approached.
“That is the first time I have seen him smile in a while,” Tormod noted as he came to sit in the seat Elisedd had just left.
“The birth of your children has not been easy for him, or so Ulf tells me. He was angry with me for not being here for him.”
“Then it is good you have returned. You are a far better father to him than I have ever been. Than I can ever be.”
“He is a fine boy, and none of this is Einar’s fault,” Arne said, searching Tormod’s face for any indication that his words held a deeper meaning, that somehow he knew.
It would certainly save Arne the effort of telling him, but he knew if Tormod had worked out he was Einar’s real father, he wouldn’t be accepting any of the blame for the boy’s situation.
“Gemma and her son have become of interest to the Britons once more,” Tormod said. “And while we are not yet sure why, we should remain alert to the possibility that they will be used to disrupt the balance of power. Why did she leave?”
“After the fishermen arrived, she finally seemed to realise what a risk her presence was to Kirkjaster.”
Tormod eyed him. “But we had discussed this, Arne, and you knew I did not agree with you.”
“Rhiannon…” He stopped. Yes, Gemma had told him Rhiannon’s comments had been partly responsible, but he knew where the true blame lay.
“Rhiannon had expressed her fears to Gemma the night before she left, but I think it was my behaviour that was the real reason for her taking Caelin and heading north.”
“Even though it placed their lives in danger?”
“She believed she would reach Tairmbert before nightfall.”
“I see.” Tormod frowned. “So, she was heading north, away from her brother, but is now resolved to return to him?”
“I think she discovered the difficulties associated with heading north and now considers the best hope for their future is for Caelin to try to reclaim his lands.”
“This is quite a change, however, I believe the boy deserves to have his lands restored.”
“He does,” agreed Arne.
“I do not wish to send them into danger, but she is the king’s sister and as she wishes to leave, then this is the best course of action.” Tormod stared directly at Arne. “Is there any reason, any reason at all, that the Britons might turn against her after she returns?”
Arne tugged at the neck of his kirtle and grimaced.
Tormod sighed. “Arne, if there are any repercussions for her…”
“There were hunters. I don’t think they saw her, although… There was one time, we were outside, and after, there were footprints in a place where someone may have been… watching us. I do not know how long for.”
“And what was it that had you so distracted you do not know whether someone was watching you or how long for?”
“We were… It was… a mistake.”
Tormod opened his mouth, but whatever angry words he was going to say, he stopped, his gaze shifting to a spot behind Arne.
Slowly, he turned, both knowing and dreading who he would see.
Gemma. She was staring at Tormod, refusing to even acknowledge Arne’s presence, but he knew she had heard him.
He already regretted the comment. It was true, but not in the way she thought.
Nothing about their time together had been a mistake, it was just not something that could ever last. No matter whether either of them wanted it to or not.
This Gemma looked so different from the woman he had come to know over the last few days. The woman he had suspected then gradually grown to trust and now… now he could tell by her face he had betrayed her for the last time.
“Gemma—” Tormod began.
“Princess Maithgemm,” she corrected, still not looking at Arne.
Tormod stared at her for a long moment, then inclined his head. “Princess Maithgemm. You have said goodbye to my wife? Then I will escort you to the longship.”
“Thank you for allowing me to stay, Jarl Tormod. And my thanks for everything. If I am successful in my bid to return my son to the lands that are his birthright, I will be pleased to make an offer of an extended alliance between Ir Ysgyn and yourself.”
Tormod rubbed at his chin. “And if King Rhun does not agree?”
“I can only promise to try,” she replied. “But I believe it is advantageous for both of us to know we have an ally on the opposite shore of the river.”
“I agree, Princess Maithgemm,” Tormod said. “I am simply not convinced your brother will see it this way. Lord Fergus has shown little interest in dealing with Kirkjaster, although he has not attacked it either.”
“No, Fergus is more concerned with his own comfort than with battles. If he remains as steward, however, I will insist he honours whatever agreement we reach with my brother.”
Tormod stood and leaned towards her. “Only a few days ago you were running from your brother. What has changed?”
“I have been made to realise my limitations. I cannot change who I am. Who Caelin is. And it is our only real choice.”
Arne hung his head, wishing he was able to explain it to her. But it was too late. Her mind was made up, and perhaps this was for the best.
“You claimed before that you thought your brother might kill you or at least your son,” Tormod continued to press.
“Unlike your wife, I do not see the future. I have merely weighed all the options available to me and this is the best choice for my son. For now, whatever my future holds, it is not in Kirkjaster. You have been so kind to me here.” She focused on Tormod as she spoke.
“And I will be forever grateful to Bjorn and Ylva for helping to rescue me.”
Tormod nodded, then turned to Arne as if waiting for him to speak. But Gemma’s decision was made, so he said nothing.
“Very well. Arne and Ulf will accompany you to Perthawc and collect the reward. You will also ensure her safety before you return, Arne. Bjorn did not risk his life before for her to die now.”
“We will speak to King Rhun, and we won’t leave until we have assurances about their safety and their future.”
“Thank you,” Gemma replied.
Arne couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. The only way he could let her leave was to act from now on as if she meant nothing to him. He only hoped he could.