Page 124 of Come the Morning

“Still?”

“If you ever fall out of love with your wife, please, my fine laird, come back to me. I’ll be here.”

“You may not be, you know. You may find yourself wed again.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been promised that it’s my choice from here on out. And I don’t see a marriage in my future.”

“The future can change. It remains elusive.”

“Aye, that it does.” She touched his cheeks, lightly kissed his lips. Then she slipped from his arms and left the room, and his heart felt very heavy.

The Celtic custom had been to shave the cheeks, but grow the mustache. Normans tended to be clean-shaven. The old Anglo-Saxons, to Ulric’s mind, were simpletons, growing hair everywhere, but then, the Vikings, as well, tended to long hair and full beards, and he had been bearded when he had last been at Daro’s camp. Therefore, he shaved, and had his hair close-clipped in a Norman fashion, then surveyed himself in a hand mirror and decided he had changed his appearance enough. Those who had been with him before, except for Han, were dead. An acceptable loss of life. As Han had said, Vikings fought for riches and honor. Death in battle was noble. They had made their choices, fighting with him. Perhaps the peasants and farmers he forced into service had not realized the honor of dying in battle, but as they sat in Valhalla, heroes from the field, they would understand.

He dressed handsomely to pay a visit upon his cousin’s daughter, Anne Hallsteader, now wife to Daro Thorsson. The old family in Denmark were nobility; they had ruled areas of Northumberland in Britain, and had Renfrew only seized the MacInnish land and more a decade ago, Ulric’s father would have ruled on the border now, and Ulric would be heir to vast estates. But because of the intervention of one incensed young boy, Ulric’s father had been killed, Renfrew had been killed, and all had been lost. Their followers had been left to eat dirt. Renfrew’s son, Etienne, had spent the last decade rebuilding what his father had lost. It had only been in the last few years,since the trouble between Mathilda and Stephen in England, that barons in the north of England had begun to flex their power again with real force. And though Etienne had been a slim, cowardly youth to Ulric’s way of seeing things, he had grown to be a cunning man, gaining aid from his neighbors through false promises and innuendo. Through marriage, Etienne had gained the rich lands to the west of his homestead. His wife, poor thing, had died after giving birth to their only son. The birth had weakened her and she hadn’t recovered. Some, said, of course, that she had been poisoned so that Etienne could take his second wife, who had brought him the manors of Fiffen and Hoar, and with them, their incomes. Tall, thin, handsome, clever, Etienne wasn’t much of a warrior—he could barely wield a sword—but he could buy hundreds of swords, and through the deaths of many of the knights in his service, he gained ever more property, confiscating that which belonged to the men in his service who left no widows or children, and sometimes managing to take homes and land anyway, insisting that the knights had owed him for their expensive destriers or trappings. Etienne watched and waited. He kept Ulric constantly abreast of what went on at the border; Ulric was aware of every military movement by Stephen, David, or Mathilda. Etienne found the right time and place, and Ulric led sometimes unwilling armies in rebellions that caused David’s forces to remain on the move. Any fighting man worth his salt knew that harassing an army could cause great damage. Draw soldiers south, then plot an attack in the north. Harry the coastline in the north, and wage a major attack in the south. Chip away at morale, kill the bravest and the best.

Ulric had always been a warrior. He had been contemptuous of Etienne, but he’d been eighteen, in the fighting himself, when his father was killed in Lord Renfrew’s attack on the Scottish border. Etienne, seventeen but with his tutors back athis father’s manor, had become Lord Renfrew, and therefore, Ulric had made his bond. Aye, the old Lord Renfrew had hired on Viking mercenaries. Just as the Scots had hired on Norman mercenaries; MacBeth, when king, had hired Norman mercenaries to fight Malcolm and theNormanknights who had come to take his throne during the last century. Men and women, like all other commodities, could be for sale. Almost all had their price.

But though he still thought of Etienne as a poor excuse of a man and respected many of his enemies more, Ulric had learned from him. The Viking way was to attack, to fight hard, to win on one’s own bravery and prowess, or so to lose. Etienne was a thinking man who knew he hadn’t his father’s fighting power. Etienne had taught Ulric the power of chiseling away at his enemies through treachery from within.

And so, this time, when he entered Daro’s camp, he sent a messenger ahead, telling Anne that he had heard of her marriage, that he was delighted with her choice of a Viking husband, be he a Norwegian rather than a Dane. He wished to come and bring a wedding present.

He received an effusive reply from Anne. Of course, she was very happy to see her father’s kin. She was sorry that her mother’s MacInnish family had been so bitter against all Hallsteaders, but they’d heard that Hallsteaders had fought the MacInnish with Renfrew years ago. Since she was now full-grown, a woman and a wife, she was happy to welcome him—as she would continue to welcome her MacInnish kin, as well.

He came to Daro’s camp with a retinue of six men, all splendidly attired, well mounted. Men who had not been near Stirling with him before, but who had earned glory in their skirmishes at the border. They ransacked English villages and laid the blame on the Scots just as they ransacked Scottish land and claimed that the English were guilty. What Ulric could notaccrue himself, he demanded of Renfrew, and Renfrew gave him. Thus, to get into Daro’s camp, he brought his young distant cousin Anne a beautifully forged silver bowl with elegant silver chalices to match.

Greeted outside Daro’s great hall, Ulric was chivalrous, charming, polite. He kissed Anne, and welcomed Daro into the family. He was welcomed into the great hall as kin; he was kin. Vikings supported family, they were loyal, welcoming to one another. He was brought the best food, the sweetest wine. They spoke, they laughed. Anne told him excitedly how Waryk, now laird of Blue Isle, had brought her case before the king himself, and talked Michael MacInnish into allowing the marriage. “It’s a new time, a new age. There will be peace now. We’re all Scottish, even if we’ve come from different places!”

Ulric lifted his cup. “To peace,” he said, and he smiled, knowing that he was lying through his teeth.

This time, he would see to it that Daro Thorsson and Waryk Graham came at one another with their swords drawn.

In truth, he would very much like to kill Waryk himself. The man who had killed his father and Lord Renfew. But he’d learned a lot from Etienne. He wanted Waryk dead, and he wanted Waryk’s wife—and he wanted Blue Isle. Not only would Daro serve him by coming to death blows with Waryk, but he would die himself, and thus would be a possible contender for Blue Isle be taken from the competition as well.

“To peace!” he repeated, and he drank deeply.

Then, of course, he wanted to know about their friendship with Waryk.

“He has married my niece, great Adin’s daughter,” Daro told him.

“I heard the lady was less than pleased with the prospect.”

“Oh!” Anne said, and laughed. “Perhaps at first … but I think she’s very happy now. I’ve just received a message from her, and we’ll see her quite shortly.”

“Oh?”

“Well, she is quite anxious to spend some time with Daro, and talk with him. Daro and Waryk must meet again. There are vicious attacks occurring in which Daro’s name is being cast about, and the problem must be solved!” Anne said passionately.

“Anne!” her husband warned sharply.

Anne waved a hand in the air. “That’s all nonsense. But we’ll see them both soon. Mellyora received word that Waryk is coming north with Peter of Tyne so that Peter may pay homage to the king. And so she plans to come out and surprise him in some special way, and for a wife to plan such a surprise … well, I believe that she must care very much. I knew that she would once she knew him.”

“I can believe that anyone knowing the man would have strong feelings, one way or the other.”

“Oh?” Anne said curiously. “You know him?”

“By reputation, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”