Chapter Seventeen #2
“They didnae know yet,” the king confirmed softly upon rejoining us, much to my relief, before the magistrate walked over. A tall, thin reed of a man with a weather-worn face and kindly brown eyes, he welcomed us warmly enough, considering the news he had just received.
Giving us a knowing look, the magistrate gestured at the tavern. “I believe the group of fellow countrymen you seek is inside, as they brought word of rebellious Norse roaming these parts.”
I nearly pointed out how obvious their timing was, given the carnage we had just left behind, but bit my tongue. Now wasn’t the time for me to make accusations, but to allow the king to come to his own conclusions.
The magistrate looked at me in warning. “Whilst we know of you and look fondly upon the Norse who have long been part of this community, this might nae be the best time for you to be dressed as you are, given what they are claiming and what your king just shared with me.”
“Just as I feared,” Declan muttered darkly, shaking his head. “’Tis nae a good idea to—”
“Yet here I am just as my king requested,” I interrupted firmly, showing Alexander the courage he needed to see, determined to meet these traveling Scotsmen who undoubtedly stirred up false trouble.
“And I will continue to do as King Alexander asked of me.” No coward, I stood up straighter, squared my shoulders, and looked from Declan to Alexander.
“I will represent the strength of what I was and now am: a Norwegian shield-maiden who now proudly serves under my new Scottish king, determined to see peace within my new country’s borders. ”
“Aye, then.” Grateful, Alexander nodded at me. “And you have my thanks, Astrid Helvig.”
We shared a look of mutual understanding that this was the best way to handle things and headed inside, turning several heads.
A large building with ample room, the tavern included a second level that served as a wide dining and drinking area overlooking the crowd.
An inviting fire crackled on a sizeable hearth, warming a substantial number of merry-goers, making it clear this particular village saw many travelers.
A flaxen-haired, overly buxom innkeeper greeted us with a flirtatious smile aimed at Declan and Stewart, before offering the king a sloppy little curtsy and a big, toothy smile. “Welcome, my liege. What’ll it be?”
“A round of whisky, lass,” Alexander replied, as his men fanned out in a familiar formation that allowed them to keep watch over him.
Declan, Stewart, and Oksana remained close to me, but I couldn’t help but notice once again how Gustav continued to keep his distance.
Nor how he scanned our surroundings even more warily than Declan, if I didn’t know better.
In fact, I would almost say he eyed things nervously.
Something Declan seemed to notice as well, his narrowed gaze more often than not on Gustav, undoubtedly noting his uneasy behavior. Actions that did not seem to align with how he had acted on this journey thus far. And while the king might think him merely vigilant, we saw more. Understood more.
“Over there,” the magistrate said, low enough that others would not catch it. His gaze flickered from the group of six sizeable Scotsmen dressed as merchantmen back to us. “’Twas them who have spoken of unsettled Norsemen in the area.”
“Those are not merchantmen, my liege,” I said softly, certain I was right, taking in their stronger frames. “Those are men used to the weight of a blade in hand.”
“Aye.” Declan narrowed his gaze in their direction. “And often at that.”
“Then we must greet them, aye?” Alexander suggested, swigging his whisky, as at ease in a tavern crowd, as I suspected he was on the battlefield.
Not just that, but as eager for this confrontation as I was, it seemed, when he looked at me and continued, telling me yet again, he was no fool.
“And thank them for watching out for our Scottish countrymen, village after village. Mayhap, I suspect, in terrible ways indeed?”
“Ja,” I agreed grimly, downing my whisky as well.
I had never been more eager for any confrontation in my life.
Declan, Stewart, and Gustav followed us as we made our way across the room, the king greeting many along the way.
Though some looked my way with uncertainty given what these traveling Scotsmen likely spewed, most had heard favorably of my efforts and, perhaps thanks to being in their cups, smiled more warmly at me than those outside.
The six Scotsmen who had been enjoying their drinks so robustly minutes before quieted upon the king’s approach, eyeing me not warily but with outright disgust, despite the company I kept.
“Greetings, fellow countrymen,” King Alexander boomed, seeming jovial enough, but I knew better.
I had heard that tone when he was silently assessing others.
“I hear you have been most helpful to my cause.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
“Or mayhap we can even call it a ‘crusade’ of late. Either way, I couldnae be more thankful.”