Chapter Twenty-Three
As Arne and Ulf strode along behind Gemma to the great hall, he noted the strange atmosphere in the royal residence.
For a building filled with so many people, it was oddly quiet and the few people they encountered on the way stopped and waited in silence until they passed.
What worried him was that he didn’t think it was only their presence causing the atmosphere.
It felt as if the whole place was holding its breath, fearful something was about to happen.
The Britons stared at them, suspicion on their faces, and in front of them, Caelin looked up at Gemma often for reassurance.
Gemma may have decided to return here, and Arne agreed with her decision, but now he was here, he was worried.
The tapestries and furnishings were luxurious and suggested a much higher standard of living than he’d seen at their last visit after Marcant’s trial.
Rhun was clearly trying to restore his fortunes after the destruction of Alt Clut and, by all accounts, he was succeeding.
No wonder the people were struggling to pay taxes.
Everything was new, as nothing had survived the sacking of Alt Clut after the siege.
Arne could never offer Gemma this standard of living.
But the atmosphere was far from pleasant.
He remembered the way he had felt in the shieling.
As if the rest of the world had ceased to exist and the two of them could simply be themselves and be happy.
She had gifted him with the knowledge he was still physically capable of bedding a woman, and now he found the only woman he wanted there was her. But it would never be.
When the doors to the great hall swung open and the guard announced them, Arne watched as she swept forward into the hall and all the men except the king stood.
He was glad she had changed into her Brythonic clothes.
The shocked look on her brother’s face would have been so much greater had she approached him now dressed as a Norse woman.
But even though she looked like a Briton, with every step she took, Arne couldn’t shake the feeling she didn’t belong here.
The captain preceded them and bowed low to the king. “King Rhun. We have been successful in our quest and discovered your sister, Princess Maithgemm, at the Norse settlement in Kirkjaster.”
“You are dismissed,” the king said to the captain. There was silence for a few moments as the man bowed and left the hall. Arne took the time to observe those present and see if the reason for this meeting became apparent.
Rhun was, indeed, meeting with many of his nobles and their advisors, but Arne’s breath caught at the sight of only one. One who should not have been there.
Lord Marcant.
Arne sensed his brother had seen the man at the same moment and reached for him, then gripped Ulf’s sword arm tightly to prevent him from drawing his weapon.
Behind him, he heard the door thud shut, and the guards draw their swords.
It seemed like everyone in the great hall held their breath, waiting for someone to make the next move.
After a moment, Rhun waved at his guards and the tension eased.
“There is no need for bloodshed today, Norseman,” said King Rhun.
Then, to Gemma, “Welcome, sister.” He waited for her to approach him.
To do so, she had to move past Marcant, and Arne had to resist the urge to grab her and take her away from this place, this life full of traitors and deception and murderers.
“Why—” Gemma began, glancing from her brother to Lord Marcant.
“You seem well. We were worried about your safety. Lord Marcant told me that for a while you were at our childhood home, but then you mysteriously disappeared. It seems clear what happened to you.”
“Does it, brother? And what do you think happened?”
“That you were kidnapped by the Norsemen and held captive in their settlement,” Rhun said, glaring at her. “I should never have accepted their offer of an alliance. This gives me good reason to end the alliance and see them thrown off our land forever.”
There were murmurs of agreement from around the great hall. Arne looked at Cenydd, but he was one of the few who was not agreeing.
“The Norsemen have never held me prisoner,” Gemma stated. “Which is why I wasn’t in Kirkjaster the other day. I had left of my own free will.”
“Then why were you with them?”
“I was visiting with my dear friend, Aoife, until a few days ago. Then I decided to head north, but Caelin and I were delayed by the storm. The Norsemen kindly sent warriors after me when they heard you were looking for me. Caelin and I had taken shelter on the moors and they brought me back here to you, brother, in order to collect the promised reward.”
Rhun frowned. “You have been missing for months, sister.”
“Lady Aoife was glad of our company after her recent tragic losses,” Gemma said, glaring at Marcant as she spoke. “Were you not worried about us? For months you sent no one at all to look for me. In fact, your delay in searching for us is why I chose to head north with my son.”
"Why did you not simply return here? Why wait for me to search?” Rhun shot back.
Gemma shook her head. “You were the one who sent us away, brother. After we were kidnapped on the road to Car Luel and taken to Alt Clut — by Britons, not Norsemen — I felt the wisest course of action was to remain in safety with Lady Aoife.”
“Kidnapped?”
“Yes, perhaps Lord Marcant can tell you more as he was also present in Alt Clut during the time I was held there.”
Marcant shook his head. “But it was not I who kidnapped you, was it, Princess Maithgemm?”
Gemma inclined her head, as if acknowledging there was a possibility what he said might be true. “Maybe not, but we were forced to spend last summer in the ruins of our childhood home, held prisoner by a group of holy men. Were you not the man on the rock whose existence they tried to keep secret?”
She saw Marcant hesitate, but only for a moment. “I was indeed, but only because I too was a prisoner there.”
“Really?” Gemma scoffed, then turned to stare at Rhun. “What made you look for us now?”
“Lord Fergus tells me the Norsemen rescued a fishing boat just before the snows,” Rhun said, indicating Lord Fergus, where he sat at a table on her left.
He did not look happy to see her. “One of the fishermen was sure he had seen you at the settlement. I sent soldiers to enquire after you as soon as I heard. At that time the jarl said you were not there, but I didn’t believe him and sent them back today.
How surprising that they found you.” Rhun lifted his drink and swallowed it.
“The snow forced us to return, brother. The jarl didn’t lie to you, although there is someone here who might be. When I was sent to Car Luel, I thought Lord Marcant was to be executed by Lord Cenydd upon his arrival here.”
Rhun scowled. “During his trial, I was not aware of all the relevant information. But with the passing of time and a greater understanding of his motivations, I have seen fit to pardon Lord Marcant.”
Arne and Ulf exchanged a look.
“You will, of course, relay this information to your jarl.”
“We will,” Ulf agreed. “My cousin will be most intrigued to know what has prompted this development and what it means for our alliance.”
“At present, our alliance holds, or you would not be standing within my great hall armed as you are.”
The hall grew silent. Arne watched as many of the nobles as possible, ensuring no one was moving from their seats, nor signalling for others to attack them. He knew Ulf would be doing the same. He glanced behind them, towards the door. Thankfully, their exit remained clear.
A chair scraped back on Arne’s left. Lord Cenydd slammed his hands onto the table in front of him and stood. “He murdered my uncle.” Everyone looked first at Cenydd, then back at Rhun, who merely inclined his head towards Marcant, who stood and faced Cenydd across the hall.
“Lord Cadell was a traitor. His daughter is now one of them. King Rhun has forgiven me, because he now realises I merely fight for our people, not these foreigners. Princess Maithgemm, we are glad you have returned to your family rather than living in exile amongst the Norse. Your son should not have to pay the price for your poor decisions.”
“Then my brother must restore Caelin’s lands.”
Beside him, an older man pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. “I must disagree, King Rhun. Lord Caelin is too young to control his own lands.”
“Don’t worry, Fergus. You will remain as steward,” King Rhun said, waving a hand dismissively at the man.
“I sent you to Car Luel for your safety, Maithgemm, not because I had removed Caelin’s rights to his own lands.
They are still his and if you wish to return to them, then I will arrange it.
Unless you would prefer to return to the Norse settlement?
In which case, Caelin’s lands will be forfeit, as I will not have them controlled by my… ally.”
Arne and Ulf exchanged another glance. King Rhun had been going to say enemy and he wanted them to know it.
“There is nothing for me with the Norse.” Gemma remained facing her brother as she spoke, and Arne knew her mind was made up.
He steeled himself against the disappointment.
It was for the best. He couldn’t offer her son a title, nor lands, only wealth.
And that would never be enough. They were better off here.
Arne was sure Cenydd would ensure their safety, even if the prospect of allowing another man to do so caused an irrational feeling of resentment towards Cenydd.
“Your son’s lands will be restored, sister. Do not fear. Now, if that is all, Norsemen.” King Rhun flicked his hand, dismissing them. Arne was surprised when Lord Cenydd spoke.
“And what of justice for Lord Cadell? It seems wrong to allow the man responsible for his murder to regain his position like this.”