‘Sense from my Skadi.’ He dropped a kiss on her lips.
Ceanna hated that her heart turned over. She knew in that heartbeat that she loved him and wanted to be by his side for the rest of her life. He hadn’t asked for her love and she had little idea how he’d react if he knew he had it. The marriage had been foisted on him, after all.
Ceanna stabbed at Sandulf’s sketch with her finger. ‘You have drawn the square, but not the whipping post. Whoever this man is will be tied there, waiting for justice. We need to go there and see who this poor unfortunate is, before they tear him apart.’
‘I am hoping to pass unnoticed.’ He jammed a hat he’d procured from the monastery down on his head. ‘Ready to brave the howling mob?’
‘Try to shuffle like a peasant rather than striding like a warrior.’
‘Always the practical one.’
‘Always.’ She covered her head with a shawl and hunched her shoulders. ‘We will succeed, won’t we?’
He regarded her for a long heartbeat. ‘We leave Vanora here. The fewer questions, the better.’
Ceanna chucked Vanora under the chin. ‘She is rather memorable, isn’t she?’
Ceanna motioned for Vanora to stay by where the ponies were tethered. The dog gave her a baleful look, but settled down with her head on her paws. ‘Shall we have at it, then? Find out what’s going on?’
Sandulf led the way through the baying throng. It seemed to part in front of him as if people sensed that he was not the sort of person to cross. Several people gave them curious stares, but no one stopped them.
Sandulf’s muscles relaxed, but he couldn’t help keeping an eye on Ceanna’s slow progress. With her body swathed in a thick cloak and the hood pulled firmly down so her face was shielded, she walked more like a pregnant duck than a lady. A few people shoved her, buffeting her about, but she kept her lips pressed tightly together.
When she noticed his stare, she made a little circle with her hand to tell him to turn around and concentrate. Ceanna was being sensible and there was every chance this man could be ignored until they had dealt with the true problem—Feradach and his brother.
‘They are bringing him along this way towards the square,’ Ceanna murmured, sidling up to his elbow. ‘We should get a good vantage point there.’
She pointed to a little alley in the shadow of two houses. The crowd was thinner there. And a disused barrel stood to one side.
They ducked into the alleyway. The crowd surged past with the prisoner. Sandulf lifted Ceanna up on to the barrel to improve her view, then he turned his attention to the prisoner, a man more dead than alive.
Despite the dirt and the evidence of the beating, the cut of his fine woollen clothes proclaimed him as being a Northman like himself. His blond hair hung about his face as he was dragged along, his legs bumping on the ground. Every muscle in Sandulf’s body tensed. His mouth went dry.
What in the name of everything was Danr doing here?
He pressed his hands to his eyes and hoped he’d seen wrong. Perhaps he was the one with the over-active imagination now. A trick of the light. There was no way the prisoner should be Danr. He was safe in Éireann with Sandulf’s other brothers.
Then the man screamed in Gaelic that he’d never seen this lady of theirs and a dagger of ice went through Sandulf.
He gave a low moan in the back of his throat. Danr had obviously come in search of him, only to find himself caught up in the mess Sandulf had left behind in Dun Ollaigh.
A great red mist descended. Rurik had obviously told the others, a counsel of war had been held and Danr had been dispatched to bring the incompetent brother back to the family in disgrace, except it had not worked out as they had planned. But he’d make good—starting with Danr’s rescue. This was the chance he’d been waiting for his entire life. He’d demonstrate once and for all time that he was indeed worthy of being their brother, one of the fabled Sons of Sigurd.
He stepped forward. Someone grabbed on to his tunic, hauling him backwards. He looked at Ceanna in incomprehension. He put up an arm to knock her away. ‘I must get out there. I must. Do you understand?’
‘Sandulf!’ Ceanna jumped down from the barrel, grabbed his arm with fierce fingers and pinned him against the building. ‘We’re here to watch, not to act without thought, remember? Who is that man? One of your countrymen?’
‘Danr.’
‘Your brother?’ Her grip loosened. ‘Oh, no, Sandulf, how can that be? What is he doing here?’
‘I can’t tell for sure. I haven’t spoken to him since I left Maerr.’
‘But what are we going to do about it?’
‘There is no we. I alone will do it. I have to. My brothers turned their backs on me after what happened in Maerr and this is my chance to redeem myself in their eyes, to prove I am a man, that I am worthy of being their brother.’
Her hands clawed at his arms. ‘You have to remain with me until you start thinking logically. I refuse to allow you to do something which will endanger everything and everyone.’
‘You will stop me?’
‘By physical force if necessary. I’ll sit on you and pin you down.’
‘Sit on me?’ The red mist cleared and he let out a small laugh. He saw her stricken face peering up at him. She had prevented him from making a mistake of immense proportions, the kind that had got him his reputation with his brothers in the first place. He put his fingers about her face and whispered in a softer voice, ‘Let me go. I have to go.’
‘No. You have to remain here. With me
