Page 7 of Viking in Love

“You say that because you have ne’er fallen in love, but someday…”

“Tyra! I am five and twenty. Hundreds of men have passed through our father’s keep. Dozens more I have met here in Britain. If it were going to happen, it would have by now.”

“Someday…”

Breanne held up a halting hand. “Nay, I am realistic. Look at me, sister.” She touched her head where red hair hung in one long braid down her neck, tendrils of the hated curls already escaping. “Didst know that a young squire once likened its color to old rust? ’Twas not a compliment.”

Sympathy immediately flashed on Tyra’s face. “Who was it? I will bash his face in with my favorite sword.”

I already did, with my fist. “You cannot blame someone for speaking the truth,” she said prissily. “Keep in mind, I tower over many men, even if I am not as tall as you are. And I am too slender, with no bosom to speak of. Believe you me, men do not rush to gain my favor, except when they learn of my dowry. Even then they are easily dissuaded.”

“You are too hard on yourself by half. I must admit, I am surprised that you would be satisfied staying home with Father. What will you do when he passes to the Other World?”

“I have plans.” Breanne smiled to herself.

“You have a secret.” Tyra clapped her hands with glee. “You cannot stop now. Tell me.”

“You must keep it to yourself for now, but Father told me that if I am not wed by the time I have seen thirty winters, he will give me my dowry to use as I wish. I intend to buy myself a small manor, or an overlarge cottage, near Jorvik, where I will make my fancy chairs and tables and sell them in the trading stalls of Coppergate.”

Tyra’s mouth dropped open. “A woman merchant! That big vein on Father’s forehead will surely burst with displeasure. You would ne’er do such!”

“Yea, I would. Rare though it be, there are other ladies who have followed such a path. Like your own aunt-by-marriage, Eadyth of Ravenshire. She sells her honey and time-keeping candles in the markets.” Breanne lifted her chin defiantly. “I have already commissioned Father’s agent to look for a suitable place.”

Just then, a horn could be heard blaring outside the keep, announcing a visitor.

“Oh, gods!” Breanne moaned. “Someone else has come looking for Lord Havenshire, I warrant. The flummery begins again.”

Every day as word spread of Oswald’s disappearance, more and more visitors came, expressing their concerns and offering to help search for him. Thus far, they had only been neighbors and distant relatives. With each of them, though, Vana and her sisters had put on a good act, pretending concern and grief as they nigh gagged over such words as the “great loss” or a “kind and generous man.”

Not one of them had expressed outrage on Vana’s behalf over the possibility of Oswald’s visiting a mistress. And it had been their good fortune that the mistress in question was nowhere to be found. Mayhap she had run away from Oswald before knowing of his absence. Would that not be the greatest irony? Whatever the case, her absence made some think there was a connection to Oswald’s absence, as if the two of them were off somewhere engaged in adulterous acts.

“Just so it is not the king.” Breanne bit her bottom lip with concern.

Turns out, it was even worse.

The door swung open and Vana rushed in, tears welling in her eyes. “I have terrible news. Havenshire’s chief hirdsman has requested King Edgar’s aid, and he has just received an answering missive.” Vana paused, her lower lip trembling. “Archbishop Dunstan, King Edgar’s closest advisor, is on his way.”

“Well, we knew the king would send someone,” Breanne said, helping her sister to sit on a wood bench.

“But Dunstan is the worst possible emissary. Didst know he is a raging women hater? Truly, he believes all of man’s woes can be laid at women’s feet, or rather betwixt their legs. Eve was the devil’s handmaiden, thus making all females unclean. I heard him say so.”

“What has that to do with us?” Tyra asked.

“Whether they find the earl’s body or not, he will blame me. I know he will. ’Twill be my luck if the worst thing he does is confine me in a nunnery.”

“Could he do that?” Breanne asked Tyra.

Tyra shrugged. “Many say he is the most influential man in all Britain, more powerful even than the king himself.”

“That settles it then. We must leave afore he gets here,” Breanne declared.

Vana’s pitifully bruised face brightened. “Where will we go? Back to Stoneheim?”

Breanne shook her head. “’Twould be impossible to arrange passage to the Norselands so quickly.”

“To Hawkshire then?” More hope rose in Vana’s face.

Now Tyra shook her head. “I would love to have you all come to my home, and Adam would welcome you, too, but I fear that is the first place the king’s men would look.”