“Oh,” she said with pleasure, moving closer. She had seen such exotic birds from the East in the marketplace of Jorvik, but never up close.
“Wicked wench!” the bird shrieked. “Would ye like to see me arse?”
Eadyth jumped back with a gasp at the vulgar words. She turned to the two brothers. “Whose coarse-tongued animal is this?”
“Yours,” Tykir said with a laugh, patting her on the shoulder. ” ‘Tis my wedding gift to you.”
“Mine?” Eadyth asked hesitantly, not sure she was pleased with the gift, and reluctant to accept it. “What would I do with such a foul-mouthed bird? Did you teach it to speak?”
“Wicked wench!” the bird opined in what almost seemed a dry tone of human voice. It had a particular talent for mimicking the voices it heard, especially Eirik’s.
She looked at the bird suspiciously. Surely, the feathered lump had no intelligence.
Tykir laughed. “The men on my ship passed the hours during a recent trading voyage teaching Abdul such words. Do not blame me. Leastways, I am sure you can persuade him to more genteel language. Do you accept my gift, sister?”
Eadyth eyed the bird warily, not so sure the animal could be refined. Abdul lifted its beak and stared back at her arrogantly. When she finally softened and nodded her head, the bird said roguishly, “Show me your legs.”
Eadyth had to laugh then.
“Do I not at least deserve a sisterly kiss for my gift?” Tykir asked with mock shyness.
“Yea,” Eadyth agreed, moving closer. ” ‘Tis a fine gift—a most unusual one, to be sure, but one I think I will grow to enjoy.”
Before she had a chance to react, Tykir lifted her by the waist so she was at eye level and kissed her lightly on the lips. Then he hugged her so hard she could barely breathe.
“Enough,” Eirik said finally, pulling his wife from Tykir’s arms forcefully. “Go play your games elsewhere.”
When Tykir grinned mischievously at his brother, Eirik told him to take the squire with him. “I wish to speak with my lady wife. Alone.”
The instant the door closed, she turned to her husband, being careful to stay in the shadows, out of his range of vision. “What is the meaning of this?” She waved her hand to indicate all the battle raiment laid out for him.
“King Edmund summons me to his side.”
Eadyth frowned. “This night?”
“Yea. He sends me on an important mission. ‘Twould seem I cannot delay.”
“Of course, you must go if you are needed.”
Eirik frowned, obviously displeased by her easy acceptance of a separation on their wedding night.
“Will Tykir go with you?”
Eirik made a rude sound. “Not bloody likely. King Edmund would just as soon lop off his head as welcome him to his court.”
“Then he will stay at Ravenshire?”
“Nay, I want him to return to Norway immediately. Anlaf and Orm and Wulfstan brew much trouble here, not to mention my uncle Eric Bloodaxe. The instant King Edmund dies—and it could be any day if his assassins persist—fighting is sure to erupt. I have urged Tykir to stay out of the battle this time.”
“And you?” Eadyth asked, strangely concerned that Eirik might be placing himself in danger, as well. “Will you be able to stay out of the fray?”
“I doubt it,” he admitted wearily.
“Is that why the king summons you?”
Eirik’s face deliberately closed into a blank expression, betraying nothing. Eadyth realized then, sadly, that he did not trust her wholly.
“I do not wish to speak more on Edmund’s plans. I have too many other things to tell you.”
He went on to explain that he would take only a few men with him. “Wilfrid will stay to defend the keep in case of danger. Also, I have begun reconstruction of the castle walls. Let the stoneworker you brought from Hawks’ Lair continue with that work. He will know how to proceed.”
She nodded, listening carefully to all his instructions about the everyday running of the keep.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I cannot be sure. I hope no more than six sennights.” Eadyth nodded. “Mayhap, if the opportunity arises, you may get Edmund’s approval on our marriage, plant the seeds of your paternity for my son.”