Tykir left then for his ship in Jorvik, gateway to all the world’s busy trade routes—Ireland, the Shetlands, Rhineland, the Baltics and farther. His solitary departure saddened her greatly for she knew not when she would see her new brother again. Picturing the busy market town, she wondered if Tykir would go to some exotic land, or back to his Uncle Haakon in the Norse lands, as his brother had insisted.
” ‘Tis odd,” Girta said at her side, “that you readily accept Tykir as brother but cannot abide the idea of Eirik as husband.”
“Humph!” Eadyth grumbled, walking back into the keep with her companion. ” ‘Tis because I always yearned for a brother, but I detest the need for a husband. Especially a loathsome lout like Eirik.”
” ‘Twas not always so.”
Eadyth shot her a reprimanding look.
But Girta ignored her and plodded along. ” ‘Tis time you lightened up your countenance, girl,” Girta called back over her shoulder. “In truth, you are becoming as sour as the crone you pretend to be. Start looking at the fate God hands you as a gift, instead of a bane.”
“Gift? You call Eirik of Ravenshire a gift?”
“Mayhap,” Girta replied, her gray eyes twinkling merrily.
Eadyth made a clucking sound of disgust. “For shame, Girta! You fall into the same trap as all the other feckless women, succumbing to a man’s silky tongue and roguish looks.”
Girta smiled knowingly, as if Eadyth, too, fell in that category.
* * *
“Is the Lord Eirik truly my father?” John asked later that day. He sat on a stool watching her put candles into wooden containers to be carried to her agent in Jorvik.
“Yea, he is,” Eadyth lied unashamedly.
John’s little face brightened. “He talked to me afore he left yestereve. He said I must needs take care of you, and he told me I could call him Father.”
“Does that make you happy, dearling?”
Her son did not hesitate before nodding his head vigorously.
Eadyth was surprised and immensely pleased that Eirik had taken the time to speak with his new “son” in private. But her pleasure was short-lived.
“All the other boys at Hawks’ Lair have fathers to teach them how to wield a sword, or snare a rabbit, or piss, or—”
“John!”
“Well, ’tis true. Lord Eirik… I mean, Father… showed me how to piss last night so I do not wet my braies. ‘Twas just afore he rode off, out by the stables.”
Eadyth’s mouth dropped open in consternation.
“Men are different from women, you know, Mother,” he informed her as if imparting some superior knowledge. “They have to shake their wicks after pissing. I did not know the proper method ’til Lord Eir… Father showed me. And did you know Uncle Tykir can whistle and piss at the same time?”
Eadyth barely stifled a grin.
“Do you think Father will teach me how to curse when he returns?”
“Certainly not! And I hope you will not be using such coarse words again in my presence.”
“What words?” John asked innocently. “Piss or wick?”
“Both,” Eadyth choked out. “And if you repeat them again, I swear I will soap your mouth.”
“Will you do the same to Father? He says both words. And he knows a goodly number of curses. You should have heard the one he said when Master Wilfrid congratulated him on the wedding. And—”
“Enough!”
* * *
The next day Eadyth set to work. She gathered all the servants together, both free and thrall. Since her departure three sennights, ago, their numbers had increased dramatically, no doubt due to the spreading word of the master’s return and betrothal. In the castle ledger, which Wilfrid handed over to her, she listed all their names and particular talents so she could more efficiently assign them duties.
A much-changed Bertha would continue to rule over the kitchens with the aid of numerous scullery maids, kitchen boys and servers. Britta and two young thralls took over care of the bedchambers. Theodric, another longtime servant of Ravenshire, would rule the great hall with his underlings. Others were assigned to the laundry, dairy, buttery, brew house, poultry coops, stables, livestock, smithy and kitchen gardens.