‘All we have to do is deliver Ingrid’s Valkyrie,’ she said. ‘It should be a quick crossing for me.’ At Sandulf’s look, she said quickly. ‘I can’t ask Mother Mildreth to stay longer than necessary.’
Her heart pounded. She longed for him to reach out to her and understand what she was asking. She knew he wasn’t the hero of her childhood fantasies, but she loved him with her whole heart. But he had refused her love when she had offered it and she was not going to make that mistake again.
‘I understand.’
‘Then we had best get about it. The sooner it is done, the sooner our lives can begin.’
He bowed correctly over her hand. ‘As my lady requests.’
Her heart broke little by little. She knew that by forcing him to go to see Brandt, he would be welcomed back into the fold with open arms and she was going to lose him for ever. But she loved him too much to keep him.
Sandulf’s stomach was knotted tight as he entered his brother Alarr’s new hall. They had arrived during the main meal, but had been ushered in.
To Sandulf’s surprise, his reason for being there was not questioned. He wasn’t even sure that the guardsman took down his name properly. He and Ceanna were simply ushered into the main hall with men standing at either side.
Sandulf glanced at Ceanna, who gave him a nod and squeezed his hand before stepping away.
I believe in you, she mouthed.
He nodded back. He was grateful that she was there to witness this and had not left to return to Dun Ollaigh.
He walked over to where Brandt and Alarr sat. Both had aged considerably since he had last seen them. Brandt’s expression had settled into harsh and forbidding lines. He seemed like a far harder version of their father. However, both faces instantly cleared when they saw him.
‘Sandulf?’
He knelt in front of Brandt and laid Lugh’s sword at his feet. ‘The sword of the man who killed your wife, Brother,’ he said in the language of his childhood.
A flicker of something crossed Brandt’s face. ‘I told you there was no need.’
A sense of anger welled up in Sandulf. Despite Rurik and Danr’s assurances, still his eldest brother dismissed him as if he was nothing. ‘There was every need.’
Brandt raised a brow. ‘We shall have to disagree on this.’
‘Listen to Sandulf. He has been through much to achieve this for you. He has come to make amends, not ignite old rivalries.’ Ceanna held up her hands to silence his brothers. Her entire frame quivered as she spoke in badly accented Norse. A lump rose in Sandulf’s throat; she was truly his Skadi, even if a coldness had sprung up between them on the journey. And he knew who bore the blame.
Alarr raised his eyebrows. ‘And you are?’
‘Sandulf’s wife, Lady Ceanna, the mistress of Dun Ollaigh. Hear him out or this will truly be the last time you encounter your brother.’
His brothers glanced at each other, both their mouths dropped open and their eyes widened. Sandulf normally did not think of them as looking alike, but their shocked expressions were identical.
Alarr’s wife, Lady Breanne, rose and shooed everyone else out.
‘Sandulf, you are always so quick to take the bait,’ Alarr said when the family was alone. ‘I see you are well matched with this woman. She may be small, but she is ferocious and determined to protect you. And she can speak our language, after a fashion.’
‘Someone has to be,’ Ceanna said in Gaelic, lifting her chin. ‘I’ve heard what his brothers are like.’
‘Ah, Sandulf, I’ve missed you for the entertainment,’ Alarr said. ‘Come, Brother, let us not quarrel. My wife sets a good table.’
Sandulf grabbed Ceanna’s hand. She squeezed, but let go. This time she stayed by his side rather than retreating. It gave him hope that their troubles could be solved. ‘I agree, Brother, it appears we both have been fortunate in our choice of wives.’
‘We can see that.’ Brandt’s features hardened, reminding Sandulf of his father just before his temper exploded. ‘Continue, Sandulf. Don’t keep us all in suspense.
‘In addition to the sword, I have retrieved this for you, Brandt.’ Sandulf held out the carved wooden box they had discovered in the abbey. ‘It belonged to Ingrid.’
A muscle twitched in Brandt’s cheek. ‘My wife never owned a box like this.’
‘Open it, please, before you reject it out of hand,’ Ceanna said. ‘Much blood has been spilt to get you this.’
Brandt lifted the lid. The colour drained from his face.
‘Ingrid’s morning gift?’ The lines on his face became harsher. ‘She despised it, you know, and kept it hidden away in a secure place. I haven’t thought about it in years. Thank you for returning it, but it wasn’t worth one drop of the blood that was shed for it.’
‘Father insisted she wore it to the wedding feast as you were away. Danr said that she had been looking for it just after you left, but she obviously found it as it is there. The assassin Lugh always took one thing from his victims.’
‘And this is what he stole from my Ingrid.’ Brandt started to pick up the figurine, but his fingers stilled on the cloth. ‘Did you know this was in here?’
‘What?’
He held up a Thor’s hammer pendant on a broken chain. The gold gleamed in the light and bounced off the walls of the hall.
‘Neither of us noticed it at the Abbey at Nrurin when the box was last opened. It must have been wrapped in cloth or wedged at the side of the box and come loose during our travels,’ Ceanna said. ‘Is it important? Is that worth the bloodshed?’
Brandt clutched the pendant so tightly his knuckles went white. ‘It belonged to my late wife. She claimed she always wore it over her heart, but when I couldn’t find it after she died I thought...’
‘Her final words make sense, then.’ Sandulf went over to where Brandt sat
