Chapter Twenty-Seven
Torben sighed with relief when they crossed the border into Klavik lands. The journey home had been spent in a stony silence, which Wynflaed had given up any attempt to mitigate. Instead, she rolled her eyes so deeply Torben had concerns over the stability of her slender neck from the exaggerated movement. He grinned when she mumbled to no one in particular about her arse being numb. He cast a glance at Freydis and saw her disposition remained unchanged. Head held high and chin jutted with wilful determination.
What can I expect? She is an Ulfson after all, he thought, as he recalled all the times his father had cursed his own pig-headedness.
Suddenly the energy shifted, so he lifted his right hand to halt Freydis and pulled his horse to a stop. A raven flew overhead then swooped down to eye level. It held Torben's gaze for a moment and squawked before it flew away.
"Torben, what is wrong? You are tense," Wynflaed whispered.
"I have a sense of foreboding. We must get back to the settlement now."
"Did the raven tell you that?" Wynflaed asked.
Torben squeezed his thighs and Bein began to sprint.
"A raven is a sign, Wynflaed, it can be good or it can be bad," Freydis shouted out to her, the hooves of her own horse pounding beside them.
"Whatever it is, when we arrive I expect you both to heed what I say," Torben shouted to them both even though he knew it was a futile comment, and he cast his eyes to the sky.
Odin, above all–protect them .
As they got closer to the settlement, three warriors rode up to greet them.
"What has happened, Vorund?"
"All is well for the moment. As a precaution, we have moved the people into the longhouses closer to town. It is Guthred. He arrived with a handful of men and says he only wants to talk. But he is asking after Freydis."
"For all that is holy, or not holy–I do not even know if I mean God or the gods when I curse now–will we ever be rid of this hateful Viking?" Wynflaed yelled angrily.
Freydis said hopefully, "Guthred? Has he come for me?"
"Freydis!" he and Wynflaed now shouted in unison.
"Vorund, keep the women safe and away. I am going to talk with Guthred."
"Women? Women?" Wynflaed yelled at Torben's retreating figure, as he spurred Bein on quickly.
Vorund stared at her. He kept opening his mouth, but no words came out. He waved his hands up and down in the air and, in any other instance, Wynflaed imagined this would be quite amusing. In this instance, she was furious. She and Torben were meant to be a team, unified in all ways!
"You are not going to be ordered about in this way, are you?" Freydis questioned from behind her. Wynflaed spun around so fast that her hair–grown out somewhat since Hilde had chopped it to protect her from Guthred–slapped her in the face.
"The irony!" she yelled, even though no one else would understand. Ha! And he was back.
"Freydis, do not think for a moment I am not wise to your true motives. But no, we shall not wait." She turned to Vorund.
"You said Guthred only has a few men?"
"Yes, yes, but the Chieftain said–"
Wynflaed halted his speech with the palm of her hand.
"Torben shall make his peace with my disobedience, I am sure we will have many more times like this in the future. Now let us go. Freydis, stay close to me and for all our sakes, keep yourself cloaked and just listen."
Wynflaed could hear Torben and Guthred slinging strong words at each other. She could not understand them all, but the vehement undertones were clear. They stood near the mouth of the bay where the ships docked. Guthred spied her first and that large, cold smile spread across his face. The one that did not meet his eyes.
"Torben, Torben, here is the lovely Wynflaed. I heard she had returned to Klavik with you. The cold air and ocean spray agree with her."
She went to stand beside Torben and straightened up as tall as possible so her head reached the top of his shoulder.
"Why did I think you would listen to me, Elskling?" Torben muttered with exasperation but clasped her hand all the same.
"We are one, Torben. And I have an idea." Wynflaed squeezed his hand and turned to stare at Guthred. She met his sinister gaze unflinchingly.
"What are you doing here, Guthred?"
"This woman, she speaks for you?" He turned his gaze to Torben with lifted brows.
"She speaks for us both."
"Well then, Wynflaed," Guthred said slowly and turned his eyes back towards her, "I have come to renegotiate my marriage to the fair Freydis."
"That will not happen. Ever," Torben growled with a menacing step forward. Wynflaed squeezed his hand again.
"What makes you think Torben would ever agree? Or that Freydis would agree?" she asked him.
"Freydis and I have a soul connection, we have been fated by the gods themselves. And it is not Torben's decision or yours. You had a choice, did you not? Torben gave you options. Why does Freydis not get the same? Bring her here before me!" His voice had grown louder with each word, and he now pointed a finger to the ground in front of him. Demanding. Menacing. Wynflaed saw a raven out of the corner of her eye, watching her intently.
"You forgot the beginning of the story, Guthred. How I came to have these choices. Was it not you who ripped me from my homeland? Upon threat of death? And for what purpose except to sell my people and I as slaves?"
When all he did was shrug his shoulders and say, "It is the way of the Viking," Wynflaed had to fight back the urge to furiously attack him.
"Then what Wynflaed speaks of is true?" Freydis spoke softly as she stepped forward, but everyone watching heard her.
"Freydis, my fair beauty," Guthred said in a syrupy tone with a sweeping bow. "How fortunate I am to gaze upon your beauty once again. Do not let what you have heard sway you, it is not how it seems. Your brother has done his best to keep us apart, and now his she-wolf–not even one of us–comes to stand between us."
"Guthred, in my heart of hearts I refused to believe any bad word spoken against you. I, too, believed we were fated by the gods."
Wynflaed searched her face for a sign that Freydis was coming to her senses. Her disillusion over this swine must come to a head now, otherwise it never would.
"Freydis, you are my sister, my blood, a piece of my heart." Torben spoke the words softly, but with gruffness, and Wynflaed’s heart ached for him. Everyone waited for Freydis to speak. Only the tittering of birds and rustling wind could be heard. The energy she felt from Guthred was palpable and, whatever her choice, this could easily end in bloodshed.
"I have heard enough. I choose…I choose family. You are not who I thought you were, Guthred." He stepped forward and started to speak but stopped when he saw Ragnav and Leif step forward.
"I am sorry, Torben," she cried and ran to embrace her brother.
"Hush, all will be well," he said as he let go of Wynflaed’s hand and moved Freydis behind him.
"You have your answer now. Your final answer. You will leave my lands, or we will settle this feud now, Guthred–you and I." Torben drew his sword and let it hang loosely at his side. Wynflaed’s breath stuck in her throat when she saw Guthred move his hand to his axe, but then he stopped.
"I am not fool enough to fight you one-on-one, Torben 'Hel-Bringer' Ulfson. I shall go. But we shall meet again one day, my old friend. You, too, Wynflaed."
"Be gone with you, Guthred," Wynflaed said with a satisfied smile "You have lost."