Chapter Three #3
Were all Dalgaards contemptible liars? Was there something special about the lad that made his family willing to risk their honor? Hadn’t he made it abundantly clear that he intended to have the boy in his regiment? He eyed Varinn, who simply shrugged.
Diplomacy. Patience. Aaron promptly changed the subject. “Tell me who the other women are seated with your sister.”
“Cousins and the daughters of some of the men who serve my father. Why do you ask?”
“Tis a bad habit . . . I must know who I break bread with.”
Gunter grunted in appreciation. “A wise practice, jarl, but I assure you there is no threat here. My father always protects his guests. We are a peaceful family.”
Drit. The boy was addle-minded. Odin’s warriors aren’t peaceful. Nearly every man at the high table had a replica of Thor’s hammer on a chain around their necks, worn in open opposition of the cross. Erik met Aaron’s gaze as he continued to assess the men around him. Where was Kar?
“I trust you’ve been well entertained, Jarl McNally?” Erik called out.
“My appetite is well satisfied, although I feel a bit neglected in another way,” he replied. “Your middle son hasn’t been very entertaining.”
The subsequent laughter made Erik’s face turn red. “Rest assured I have a surprise.” His sarcasm and confidence made Aaron wary. “If the ladies would retire, we have important affairs to discuss.”
Aaron hated to see his beautiful distraction leave, but there were matters to settle before his departure tomorrow morning.
Once the women were gone, Erik spoke freely. “As you know, milord, you’ve placed me in an awkward position.”
Aaron understood his resistance, but it didn’t change anything. “If you fulfill my request, I’ll be on my way by sunrise.” His gaze didn’t leave Erik, gauging his reaction.
“My brethren will think me a coward if I appease the king without question.”
With less than three hundred men under his command, Erik couldn’t defend against King Olaf’s army. “Reconsider your position, milord, give fealty to Olaf.”
“I do,” he assured dispassionately. “I’m no outlaw. Despite my faith, I recognize Olaf as the legitimate ruler. Why would I disobey my liege?”
“For the same reasons any man does.” Aaron shrugged. “We live in perilous times and the potential for civil war grows. My purpose is to end any rebellions before they start.”
“And Lagenheim is unfortunate enough to be your first stop.”
“Tis the first place I’ve found men worthy of recruitment—nothing less than a compliment to your capable leadership.”
Erik grunted. “Odin will strike me down for assisting a Christian king.”
“And if you don’t, Olaf will, too.” He was hopelessly deadlocked with a man as stubborn as a bear. Conversation amongst the guests grew infuriatingly louder as he waited for Erik’s reply.
Minutes later, a familiar form clad in armor entered the hall.
“Marteinn.” Erik shifted his attention to the imposing warrior. “Demonstrate how well you’ve prepared this boy for combat.”
Marteinn rose from his seat, then walked around the table. He unsheathed his sword and met the lad at the doorway.
“For your pleasure, Jarl McNally,” Erik offered, leaning back in his chair.
Aaron watched with enthusiasm as the two sparred.
Their swords collided and locked at first—the demonstration appearing to be meant as a simple exercise.
The youth thrust wildly, his superior retreating with a smile, a well-rehearsed dance meant to showcase the boy’s talent.
When Marteinn fully challenged Kar, the boy bravely defended himself.
After quite a long time, the lad was visibly tired from the exertion.
The moment he dropped his guard, a devastating blow knocked him on his arse.
The crowd applauded.
“What do you think of my boy, now?” Erik asked.
“My opinion has not changed.” Why would it? Seeing the boy spar again only deepened Aaron’s confidence in him. “I’ll turn him into a man.”
“Can you heal the sick?” Erik asked.
Asking him if he could perform miracles like the White Christ was a blatant insult. He wouldn’t respond.
“Kara, take off your helmet,” the jarl commanded.
For the love of Christ. It wasn’t a lie.
Aaron gaped at the golden-mane and bright sapphire stare cutting into his chest. Kara was Erik’s bloody daughter!
The same seductress who sat at the table flirting shamelessly with him.
Aaron’s blood boiled. Humiliation burned his cheeks. And the crowd didn’t hide its approval.
Aaron snatched a cup of mead off the table and drank it down. Today hadn’t gone well; his instincts had failed miserably. How could he have mistaken a careless girl for a male? He’d made a fool of himself without any help from the jarl and his children.
“Will you still draft my youngest?” The jarl’s body convulsed with laughter. “How did you put it? You have an eye for talent?”
Bastard. Aaron stood. He had no intention of staying here.
He cast long, summoning stares at Varinn and Agni.
They too looked ashamed and followed Aaron outside.
He’d deal with Erik later. What Aaron desired more than anything right now, was time to cool off before he did something he’d soon regret.