Chapter Two #2
Again, that inkling in the back of his mind that he should know the voice. Rand rubbed the back of his neck and hoped that they had not met in his misspent youth. Ever since the attack that had forced him and his cousin to flee, great holes existed in his memory of the time.
‘Sigmund Sigmundson will want to speak to me. There are things the high King wishes him to know about Drengr’s sons’ current whereabouts and the threat they pose to the region’s peace. I need to know he understands the precise nature of the threat.’
‘He doesn’t want to speak to you. Trust me on this. Nothing but strife for you exists here.’ She inclined her head. ‘Forgive me for being blunt, but it’s best you understand the precise nature of the situation. I’m simply Lord Sigmund’s messenger.’
‘And you are?’
‘Svanna Guthardottar, the dowager Queen of Agthir’s foster-daughter.’
Rand instinctively touched the puckered scar.
The dowager Queen of Agthir’s foster-daughter.
According to rumours, the dowager Queen had taken Maer as her foster-daughter when she’d married the late King’s son.
The only other daughter he’d ever heard about was the golden-haired beauty whom he’d been unjustly accused of kissing.
The ice princess in front of him and the Queen’s daughter were probably about the same age.
Her name had been…he concentrated and dredged the name up…
Ingebord. Were they the same person, or was something else going on?
If so, he could use it to his advantage to get this treaty negotiated with terms which would be acceptable to his King and allow Thorarinn to keep his head on his shoulders.
But now he knew where he’d heard Svanna’s voice before—during that unlamented sojourn in Agthir.
Ingebord calling for her dog. Odd how his brain recalled the sound when he couldn’t remember having spoken to her as she was closely guarded and sat at the top table during the feasts, but it showed how little things could become embedded.
It bothered him that he should remember that voice but knew his late wife’s crystal-clear tones were fading with each day.
‘Svanna Guthardottar, I will bear that in mind,’ he said, inclining his head. He would reveal his knowledge of her true identity when it suited him. ‘But I must insist on speaking with Sigmund Sigmundson. I am prepared to wait.’
‘Lord Sigmund authorised me to speak for him.’ Svanna Guthardottar spoke with great finality, as if she expected obedience without question.
‘Leave in cordiality. Inform your king that Lord Sigmund has never sought war with Eire or indeed Tara. He looks forward to this peace continuing for a long while.’
‘Are you his wife? Is that why you are authorized to speak for him?’
‘Married? No, no.’ She took a step backwards. ‘He instructed me to tell you this. My foster-mother and I are visiting. Lord Sigmund and the Queen have been friends for many years.’
Rand gritted his teeth. As if he would give up that easily. This woman was about to learn a few hard truths about playing games with him. She had no standing. Unmarried? What was wrong with her if she was indeed the Queen’s foster-daughter?
‘It will be worth his while,’ he said, making a bow and attempting to ensure his words were laced with honey. ‘The high king of Eire has sent me as his emissary. What I have to say is for his ears alone.’
‘I doubt that very much.’
‘Why?’
‘Because once a message is told, others hear. If he wanted to speak to Lord Sigmund himself, he would have travelled here, rather than sending someone like you.’ Having delivered the pronouncement with a slight curl of her lip, she started to turn away.
‘If the desire for a strong alliance is the only message, I fear you will be destined for disappointment.’
‘What?’ Rand tilted his head to one side and stared at her, incredulous at her brazen dismissal. ‘You doubt my word? Why do you claim that right? Why do you think you know how the game of high politics is played? A strong alliance is in both Islay’s and Tara’s interests.’
‘Sigmund Sigmundson will parley with the high king when the time is right and not before. They will parley as equals, Lord Sigmund will not be subservient.’ She inclined her head.
‘You can inform your king of that little fact if you wish, but I believe he already guessed this. He sent you on a fool’s errand for reasons of his own, not to better relations between the two countries. ’
‘Now, having never met my king, you claim privy to his innermost thoughts.’
‘I believe we are done here.’ She held out her arms in dismissal. ‘I wish you a pleasant return journey, Randolfr Fullrson. You are welcome to return but I cannot guarantee that Lord Sigmund will ever receive you.’
She turned on her heel and started to walk away.
He caught her arm. She gave him an ice-cold look and he slowly released his fingers.
‘I made promises to the high king of Eire. I intend to keep them.’
‘The promises you gave fail to concern me.’
‘One of those promises was to speak with Sigmund Sigmundson personally and deliver the message for his ears alone.’
‘Why should I grant this request? The high king of Eire’s writ does not rule here. Nor is it ever likely to.’
‘But Islay does trade with Eire. Islay wants to remain safe and at peace.’ He gestured to the coracles and willed her to stop being stubborn.
He would speak to Sigmund Sigmundson one way or another.
‘Several petty kings in Islay, including the king of Gruinard, claim kinship to my king and would be distressed to hear how his emissary was mistreated, particularly by a member of Northern nobility. Do you wish to cause a rift within Islay, my lady the Queen’s daughter?
Is your position with Lord Sigmund that secure? ’
She worried her bottom lip, turning it the colour of an Irish autumn dawn.
She was truly lovely in a marble statue sort of way, which made her unmarried state all the more interesting.
Why? What was wrong with her that no man had won her hand?
Did she fancy capturing Sigmund herself?
Rand was tempted to enlighten her that Sigmund had confided that he intended to remain single for the rest of his days.
Apparently, his heart belonged to a woman who had betrayed him.
But Rand also knew this Svanna would learn soon enough.
‘Islay wishes to remain at peace,’ she said at long last. ‘Lord Sigmund will ensure that this happens.’
‘Good to know, but you are asking the wrong question.’
Her brow knitted. ‘The wrong question?’
‘Not if Islay is at war with anyone, but does anyone wish to make war with Islay and Tara? And if so, will the kings require a strong commander to lead the men of Islay or will they give up without a fight, seduced by promises of golden treasure from Dubh-Linn?’
‘Peaceful trade is beneficial to both Islay and Dubh-Linn,’ she said, tilting her nose in the air. ‘Why should it be in peril if you do not speak directly with Lord Sigmund?’
He could feel the conversation slipping away from him.
Perhaps she truly did not know who was now in charge of Dubh-Linn and why they bore the new nickname the Dark-Foreigners or Dubhghaill.
It had nothing to do with their appearance and everything to do with the black-hearted brother Drengrson.
Turgeis had been particularly ruthless in his dealings with some of Tara’s people, including a suspected poisoning of one of Rand’s closest friends at court, a few months back.
He knew he had to give her part of the king’s message and hope that she wasn’t already aligned with the trio who had given him much trouble in recent months.
‘You know about the Dark-Northmen, the ones who have taken over Dubh-Linn? The ones we call the Dubhghaill, or Dark-Foreigners. They have no love for Gaels of any sort.’
‘The need for trade remains. The great whirlpool swirls to the North, making passage difficult, particularly in the winter months. Islay controls the safest route.’ She sent him a condescending smile, confirming Rand’s suspicion that she knew little about what had happened in Dubh-Linn and cared less.
She was the sort of woman he generally loathed—ice-cold, complete with an exaggerated sense of self-importance and political acumen.
‘A far more serious and ruthless threat to peace than any Northmen before.’ He willed the Ice Maiden to comprehend the danger that would descend on them if they ignored this threat.
‘You wish to unsettle me.’ She gave a firm nod. ‘Dark-Foreigners indeed. Who are they, precisely?’
‘The Sons of Drengr is what they call themselves.’
She swallowed hard and put her hand to her throat. ‘The three sons of Drengr?’
‘The very same. Turgeis is reputed to be the brains and the other two the brawn.’
‘I…we all…had assumed they had gone east to make their fortune,’ she whispered.
‘Obviously not.’ He paused, allowing her to absorb the news. ‘My king considers the news vital for Sigmund Sigmundson’s prospects.’
‘He does?’
Rand carefully shrugged. ‘Máel Sechnaill sent me to warn him. A personal message from me, someone Sigmund once knew intimately.’
‘Why don’t you trust me?’
He looked her up and down, allowing his gaze to trace her curves. ‘Do you expect me to answer that?’
Her cheeks flushed, proving that she was human after all. ‘I suppose not, but Halfr—that is to say Sigmund Sigmundson—will be busy for a long while yet.’
The fact that she had nearly called Sigmundson by another name intrigued him. Unsettled, she had made a mistake.
He put his hands behind his back and concentrated on breathing. One mistake often led to another, and he needed an advantage, given the debacle of the elopement. ‘We’re in no hurry and are prepared to wait.’
‘Some of the petty kings have cause to fear the Northmen.’