Chapter Five
Eirik watched Tykir and his wife suspiciously. She relaxed with his brother in a way she never had with him, as if they shared some great secret.
He had worried sorely over Tykir’s fate these past nine years since he had almost lost his leg in “The Great Battle.” And then word had filtered to Eirik earlier this year in Frankland that King Edmund had invaded the Celtic kingdom of Strathclyde and overrun all of Cumberland. In the end, Edmund had instilled Malcolm as the new ruler of all Scotland on the condition that Malcolm help him fight the Norse invaders on sea and land. And if anyone could be called Norse invader, it was his brother Tykir.
Thank the Lord, Eirik had been across the channel and able to avoid fighting at his Saxon king’s side at Brunanburh and then again in Strathclyde. He had pledged his loyalty to both brothers, Athelstan and Edmund, and had proven himself in many a battle, but he refused to fight his own kin.
Well, Tykir’s limp was barely noticeable now. Eirik was delighted to see his brother, though he’d been as surprised as his wife when Tykir interrupted their wedding ceremony.
His wife! Bloody Hell! The words had an awful ring, like a death knell. He turned back to her with a frown, knowing he had avoided this moment too long.
“Eadyth, ’tis time. Get the boy and bring him to me. And Larise, as well.”
He saw a look of alarm sweep across her face, but she forced back her fear bravely and nodded her assent. Her eyes scanned the hall and found her son John sitting below them at the first table, his head nodding with sleepiness. Eirik’s eight-year-old daughter, on the other hand, who had come with Earl Orm, was enjoying every moment of her first night-time feast. Her head swiveled back and forth on her birdlike neck as she tried to soak in all the wondrous sights around her, and she talked like a magpie to the uninterested young knight at her side.
Tykir slid into Eadyth’s chair as she walked stiff-backed off the dais to fetch the children, snubbed by the highborn people she passed on the way. Eirik had already spoken with his knights and vassals about the respect he expected them to show his wife. But Eirik could not control his guests, and he noted the way they eyed Eadyth condescendingly, making no pretense of their disapproval. The women snickered behind their hands as she passed; the men eyed her with disdain.
Eirik’s eyes narrowed angrily. There would be some prices to pay when this wedding feast was over, he vowed.
“So, my brother,” Tykir drawled, “now that I have spoken with Eadyth, I better understand your change of mind about marriage. Are you happy in the match?”
Eirik raised an eyebrow skeptically at Tykir’s approval.
“Did you notice the sway of her hips when she walked in front of us through the chapel doors this morn?”
“Sway! Your mind must be muddled with mead. That woman never swayed a day in her life. Besides, she has no hips to speak of.”
“And her lips! By all the gods! They certainly look kiss-able.”
“Did our father perchance drop you on your head when you were a babe?”
“Oh. Mayhap I was mistaken.”
Eirik could see the spark of deviltry twinkling in his brother’s eyes. “What are you up to now?”
“Me? You wound me, brother, with your mistrust.”
“Hah! I would wound your head if I thought ‘twould shake up your senses. Where in bloody hell have you been these past years?”
Tykir shrugged. “Here and there.”
“I have been worried, you lackwit, especially after I met up with Selik in Jorvik last month. He and Rain told me you were raiding in the midlands with Anlaf. Canst you not stay home in Norway where you belong?”
“Home? I have no home.” Tykir’s face turned somber.
“Tykir, I have told you repeatedly that Ravenshire is your home if you do not want to live in Norway, but—”
Tykir put a hand up to halt his words, then forced a lightness into his voice as he commented, “Did you know that Rain is breeding again? Hell’s flames! Selik walks around like a lackwit all the time with a smile plastered over his face. You would think he had invented the making of babes.”