Page 47 of A Shield Maiden's Earl
“Yet he’s not hers,” I reminded. “Any more than she is his.”
“No,” Freya murmured, still gazing at the two of them in the distance. “Not yet, anyway.”
“So you think the Norns will lead them to each other?”
“I couldn’t say other than there’s something betwixt them that will make her wedding his father difficult,” she replied. “’Twas clear enough in the way they looked at one another when they thought the other wasn’t looking.” A twinkle of amusement lit her gaze when she looked at me. “Not just that, but he no longer called you a heathen by the time you left but a Norseman,and I don’t think that had anything to do with liking you any better.”
“’Tis doubtful,” I conceded.
Rejoining our men, I let them know of my plans to seek out the king, and all agreed it was a sound decision. They had no more interest in battling on Scottish shores than I did, but we were proud Norwegians all, and it was unwise to be out of the king’s favor, so we set sail for the Hebrides only to learn much-welcome news.
Chapter Nineteen
Freya
When we arrivedat the Hebrides, we learned King Hákon had decided to overwinter in the Orkney Isles, so we set sail soon after, in hopes he would not need Soren and his men until next spring. If that were the case, we would head home for the winter if he allowed it.
By the time we arrived a few days later, everyone was ready for a few days ashore, and we soon learned we were a more welcoming sight than we had anticipated. In fact, not only did our men who survived the Battle of Largs greet us on the docks to much fanfare, but King Hákon himself.
“As I live and breathe, is that really you, Soren Dahl?” he boomed, grinning from ear to ear. Although not as large as Soren, he was a sizable man with light brown hair and dark, olive-green eyes.
“’Tis, my liege.” Soren introduced me. “Thanks to my lovely wife and good fortune, I survived the battle.”
“I would say you did far more than that.” He clasped Soren on the shoulder and grinned at him. “You have returned from the grave a hero.” His attention turned my way. “Thanks to your lovely wife. ’Tis a pleasure meeting you, Freya Helvig, now Dahl, for I have heard a tale or two about you in my time.” He glanced from Soren back to me. “And now here is yet another heroic tale you two can share around the campfire for years to come.”
“And what is this tale?” Soren wondered.
“That you and a handful of brave souls held an entire Scottish army at bay,” King Hákon praised, “allowing most of us to leave unscathed.” He eyed Soren with pride. “And though we didn’t make headway this time, ’tis considered a victory given so few lives were lost, and we will return in the spring.” He kept smiling at Soren and shaking his head in amazement. “’Tis something else that not one but two Norwegian heroes went up against a Scottish army and lived to tell about it. ’Tis truly a testament to our countrymen.”
Soren looked confused as everyone roared in approval at the King’s words.
“And who is this other hero, my liege?” Soren wondered, as curious as I.
“Well, Leif, of course,” King Hákon exclaimed. His eyebrows swept up, and he kept grinning. “I take it you thought him dead?”
“I did.” Soren met his grin. “The last I saw, he went down in battle.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine how he could have survived that.”
“As ’twas for you, his courage was rewarded with good fortune,” the king said. “He was injured, but one of his men managed to get him out of there. The last I saw of him before sending him and his men home for the winter, he was recovering well.” He gave Soren a pointed look. “You should send word to him when you can, Soren, as your loss truly saddened him. He carries guilt that he was unable to remain by your side until the end.”
“Indeed, I will,” Soren said, his voice hoarse with emotion, speaking to how grateful he was that his friend had survived.
“Why don’t we go inside, warm ourselves by a fire, and toast to well-fought battles?” the king suggested. “And to friends lost, may they forever dine by Odin’s side.”
In full agreement, we joined our fellow tribesmen and King Hákon to enjoy good food and drink. To be expected, we toasted the handful of Norwegians who had fought alongside me and Leif to keep our countrymen safe many times over. Though I knew it frustrated Soren because he hadn’t wanted to be on Scottish shores to begin with, he kept it from his face.
When I did not toast with ale but boiled water as ordered by the gods, and the king wondered why, Soren revealed that we had a child on the way.
“’Tis good news, indeed!” The king toasted to us again, noting Soren’s sometimes-tentative movements as he took care to mind his healing wound. “’Tis a miracle you survived, Soren. Now you two must tell us your tale for ’tis no small feat surviving a gut wound on Scottish shores.”
“’Tis not,” I agreed, having discussed with Soren how we wanted to go about this, opting to be somewhat truthful in hopes the king might soften his stance on invading Scotland again. “But the gods were with him and delivered him into my sister’s hands. The same gods that urged me to seek him out on the western shores of Scotland.”
“Your sister?” he exclaimed. “Pray tell, how is it you have a sister there?”
“My father wished it so that we might forge a marital tie and mayhap find peace betwixt the few Norse left living there and their fellow Scots,” I said. “A tie that could help going forward during these ever-changing times.”
Soren told him the rest of our tale, omitting a few things. He refrained from sharing which clan had taken him in to protect the Mackays, lest rumors get back to King Alexander, and how Soren had only wounded rather than killed the Scots he’d fought. The rest he shared, in hopes that perhaps King Hákon might realize how merciful some Scotsmen could be. Realize that resuming diplomatic talks might not be such a bad idea.
“’Tis quite the tale,” the king granted afterward, saying little more about it as he toasted us one last time and the evening’s celebrations resumed.
