Eirik nodded, with a smile. Their father’s friend Selik had looked over them protectively after their father’s death when they were only boys. Later, he’d married their half sister.
“Those two breed babes like rabbits,” Tykir continued to grumble. “Five of their own, including the one in the oven, and dozens of orphans.”
“Yea, the noise in their orphanage is enough to make one’s ears bleed, but I give them credit. Selik and Rain seem to love each other as much as the day they wed almost ten years ago.”
“Mayhap if they loved each other a mite less, Jorvik would be a little less crowded.” Changing the subject, Tykir asked, “Have you noticed how well my leg has healed since Brunanburh? I have only a slight limp now. And the maids seem to like it greatly.”
Eirik shook his head in mock despair and gave his brother a playful shove on the arm. God’s Bones! He wished Tykir would be more careful. After all, other than his daughters, Tykir was the only close family he had left. He corrected himself immediately. Nay, he had other family now. He had a wife. And a son.
Would they be a blessing or a curse? he wondered.
“You asked if I am happy in my match with Eadyth. The answer is nay, but I have resigned myself to the marriage in the three sennights of Eadyth’s absence,” he said warily. “You know the true reasons for my decision to marry.”
Tykir nodded. “Do you think you will ever be able to put Steven and his evil misdeeds behind you, brother?”
“Not ’til the worms are eating his putrid flesh. Not ’til his soul languishes in hell.”
“Selik was able to give up his quest for vengeance. Why cannot you?”
“Would you?”
“Nay, but I am the bloodthirsty brother. Remember?” He flashed a teasing grin, then turned serious again. “Will you use the boy as bait to lure Steven out into the open?”
“Yea. Steven apparently needs a son to ensure his Odel rights to his grandfather’s lands in Frankland. I truly believe John will be the means for Steven’s downfall. But, Tykir, do not think I would sacrifice the child. John is not to blame for his father’s evil. I will guard him well.”
“And what of your new wife?” Tykir asked with casualness, deliberately changing the subject as an odd little smile twitched at his lips. “Does her age not bother you? Or her, well, less than comely attributes?”
Eirik was wary. He knew his brother too well, and the secretive gleam in his sparkling eyes bespoke mischief.
“Her age and physical appearance do not bother me over-much. You know I married a young, beautiful maid of pure reputation once, and soon discovered utter misery. This time I made a choice based on logic.” He shrugged. “Even so, ’tis sore hard to accustom myself to the unpleasantness of Eadyth’s nature. Does she have to scowl constantly? And her voice! Its shrillness makes my hair stand on end.”
Tykir choked on the mead he had been drinking, and Eirik tilted his head in suspicion once again. Tykir was hiding something. What could it be? Did it involve Eadyth and that laughing fit Tykir had just engaged in?
Hesitantly, he went on, “I find myself touched that she has taken some care with her appearance today. Hell’s Flames! You should have seen her three sennights ago. Ugly as a mud hen and twice as mean.”
“And now?” Tykir raised an eyebrow with exaggerated interest.
“Now, leastways, her silk gown is obviously newly made, and the odd head-rail adds a girlish attraction to the garment, especially when she pulls it over her lower face. Dost think she is basically shy under her arrogant exterior?”
Tykir’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Hah! More like an houri in an eastern harem I once visited.”
Eirik smiled at that unlikely comparison and shook his head woefully. “Eadyth, a harem slave? Hardly. She would, no doubt, cause a revolt within a week.”
“Eirik, do not be too harsh in judging your new wife,” Tykir advised in a suddenly serious tone. “Despite her facade of strength and self-sufficiency, I sense a deep hurt inside.”