Chapter Six #3
You should have seen the sinister relish in Gustav’s eyes as he spoke about his plans for Astrid, my friend.
‘Tis impossible to convey the depravity.
His sheer insolence. I will not go into the details as I am a God-fearing man and dare not even utter them upon paper.
Suffice it to say, he fully intends to claim that she divulged some fabricated falsehood about her people.
He would have to think on it, but at the very least, she would have revealed she expected many more attacks by her countrymen.
That her beloved Norse would take back their rightful land, and the Scots here would allow it or suffer the consequences.
“That would give him the excuse he needed to do what the king was unwilling to do here and now,” I murmured, reading those words aloud, roiling with disdain at the man.
He intended to go on a rampage and scourge these shores of all Norse once she divulged whatever fabricated falsehood about her people he had imagined up.
As I fumed at the lengths a man I’d once called a friend was willing to go, it occurred to me that I, too, had felt the same before Astrid came into my life.
Felt the same, despite the Norse villagers I had grown up around.
And now, despite my understanding of where Gustav’s hatred came from, it occurred to me I no longer agreed.
Not entirely.
Not enough to risk the lives of so many who were nothing more than innocent tradesmen or farmers nowadays.
Did I agree we should do away with the Norse who intended to rise against our people?
Of course. But how many of them actually did?
One would think they’d have fled by now, given how outnumbered they were.
“Well, then?” my father prompted softly, taking the missive from me and handing it to Astrid to read.
“Will you see through my request now so I might have peace of mind? I dinnae doubt you and Astrid will, by example, show King Alexander that the Norse who have been here for generations are no threat. That you two, working together, will see through what already lies within our king’s heart, may it be resurrected for the innocents out there despite this recent battle. ”
“And if we try and fail because I dinnae have the king’s ear as much as Gustav clearly does these days?” I wondered, already knowing my answer, no matter how much good reason fought it.
My heart was winning.
Too much heart for a woman I barely knew…yet.
“’Twill take action rather than words,” Astrid murmured after reading the missive.
“’Twill take precisely what your father says.
” Her gaze rose to me. “We will need to prove my people are no longer the Viking raiders of old, as King Hákon made it seem weeks ago. That they are loyal to Scotland and want to remain here peacefully, as this is their home.”
It seemed a tall order, yet the determination in her steady gaze spoke to something deep inside me. A sense of belief in Father’s convictions. Her convictions.
Those of my mother, who had loved Astrid’s people.
But did I need to marry? Was there no other way? “Why not present this scroll to the king this verra night, Da?” I wondered. “Straight away, in fact, so he knows Gustav’s true intentions? So he knows one of his most trusted men cannae be trusted to see through his wishes?”
“Because the missive is dated,” Astrid said softly, picking up on something even I had not, but then, in my defense, Father had thrown a lot at me since I entered this chamber.
“The only possible way Lachlann could have returned here so swiftly from that date,” Astrid went on, “which his people can prove if asked, is by ship to these very shores.”
“At precisely the time the merchant boat you traveled in washed ashore with Soren’s boats before the Battle of Largs,” I realized, cursing under my breath. “Which puts you there alongside Soren and his men.”
“Aye,” Father said grimly. “With nothing but my word that I saw no one there before making my way back to our castle.” He shook his head.
“I certainly couldnae say I did, then didnae send word to King Alexander straight away. Not when combined with our king having put a bounty on Soren’s head when he vanished post-battle, after many swore they saw him cut down. ”
“So now you are trapped by your own act of kindness,” I said, sighing. “Having no choice but to try countering Gustav’s foul intentions without ever showing the king this missive.” I shook my head as well. “Or should I say, I am trapped, at least for now.”
Yet, somehow, it felt like a trap I was glad to be in when that should have been the last thing I felt. In some strange way, although a trap, it freed me from having to push Astrid away anymore for the sake of my father, my clan, but above all, my anger at her homeland.
More specifically, on some level, for my mother's untimely, brutal death.
For my fury at King Hákon’s relentless prodding of my country’s shores and those refusing to release their grip on land that was never theirs to begin with.
Instead, as traitorous as some small part of me thought it, a larger part reveled in the idea of Astrid being mine, bedamned the consequences.
Of knowing she would never belong to another, even if it could cause more trouble for all of us than we might be able to handle.
Trouble that Astrid would very much be part of, too, and could easily cost her life.
With that in mind, I met her eyes and asked her where she stood, blasphemously hoping she felt the same way I did.