Runes and Red Sails (Queenmaker Book 1)(47)

With a deep breath, Ceolwen stood, squared her shoulders, and strode up the aisle next to Eyrun. All eyes followed her. She took her place beside the Jarl.

Harald explained all that had transpired to bring the Earnfoldings to his hall. Tidings of Osred’s death drew out little reaction from the crowd, but news of the Oescans and their designs on the kingdom had a marked effect. The audience seethed as whispers coursed outward in tendrils through the assembly.

Jarl Harald arrived at his point: the Thrym could scarce afford losing influence with their southern neighbor, and he would do everything in his power to prevent that. If the other Jarls would join with him to put his cousin, Ceolwen, back upon her throne, both Thrymgard and Earnfold would benefit from a closer bond.

Rising from his seat, Jarl Sindri, the Ulfing, broke in to Harald’s speech. Kolbrun translated his words for Aelfhild.

“And why, brothers,” he shouted, “should we spill our blood to put a lost waif upon a throne so very far away? We had little good from Osred in his time, I see no cause to put faith in another of his line.” He tipped his head toward Ceolwen.

There were stomping and calls of approval from the gathered men, especially those in grey.

“Jarl Sindri is perhaps too young to remember our battles with the Oescans of old,” Harald replied, taking no pains to hide his disdain, “but I know his father would never have flinched from a chance to meet our old foes on the field.”

The Leifing side of the cavern erupted in jeers.

And so they dance, thought Aelfhild. The Leifings and Ulfings couched their dispute here in civil words, but there was little doubt that this was just another skirmish between the two clans.

Sindri’s counterblow was swift. “And glad I am that my father is not alive to see such a barefaced, greedy play for land and power.” He pointed an accusing finger at Harald as his voice grew steadily louder. “For surely we would not be blamed for thinking the Leifings would put one of their own blood on the throne, only so their Jarl could rule all the lands from the Trollsmork down to Suthscir?

“For surely we would not be blamed, brothers, for asking which lands such a man would turn his gaze to next?” Rising to a fever pitch, Sindri spun to face each other Aett in turn. “Would he come for your lands then, or yours, or ours?”

Shouts rose with the Ulfing’s words, drowning out any further speeches. Men in red and grey were on their feet, howling and shaking fists. The Lawspeaker was forced to hammer the stone platform with his staff repeatedly before order could be restored.

Harald spoke once more. “Those of us old enough to grow hair on our chest remember the bitter quarrels we had with the Oescans in years past,” he cried out, “and some of us cannot run and hide to our own little islands when the enemy marches upon us. When Fornhofn burns, when the walls of Herjarsborg are pulled down, what then will you do? Watch over the waves as their legions pick us off, one by one? Hide in the cliffs, squabbling over the last fish in the sea?”

Harald turned toward the other two Jarls. Now he was quiet, the reasonable man, older and wiser than his opponent. He shook his head, and sighed.

“How heavily the crown weighs upon me.” Aelfhild could almost hear the line. She grinned, for she had seen this act before; old Osred had been a master of it and many a headstrong nobleman had been taken in.

“You know I have no more lust for power than any man here. We act as one in this, or not at all. Now is no time for trifling feuds. I call for a vote.” With that, he took a seat next to the other Jarls.

Sindri lingered for a moment, looking suddenly uncertain, then sat down without response.

That was the trap, and he had fallen headfirst into it. If he continued shouting, the others might think him petty to so bully an old man. But ceding the last world to Harald was equally unwise. With more experience, Sindri could have sidestepped, but youth did have its pitfalls. Aelfhild fought the urge to stand and applaud her Jarl’s performance.

Jarls Hafdis and Runar withdrew to their respective huskarls and thanes to hear council. Harald, bathed in the calm of the ever-graceful victor, sat beside Ceolwen atop the central platform, while Sindri set to pacing back and forth in front of his men. The boy had much to learn.

And so they waited, and waited. The shadows in the cavern lengthened as the sun continued in its fiery arc across the heavens.

Hafdis was the first to retake her seat.

Runar was arguing with a pair of his huskarls in a flurry of waving arms and pointed fingers. He stamped his foot to end the discussion, then hurried back onto the dais.

The Lawspeaker hobbled to the platform’s center. “Jarl Hafdis, what say you?” the old man called.

Hafdis stood, armor clinking. “The Skjoldungs stand with the Leifings,” she said.

Those in red nodded in approval, letting slip a few sighs.

“Jarl Runar, what say you?” the Lawspeaker called once more.

Rising from the bench, Runar tugged at the end of his vest. He was silent for a long time as the sweat beaded on his bare pate. “The Eldings stand with the Leifings.”

Cries of dismay rang out from those in grey.

The white-robed elder turned to Sindri. “Jarl Sindri, what say you?”

Sindri sat with his hands upon his knees, face a grimace. He did not look up from the floor as he spoke. “The Ulfings will stand with the Leifings, but with one condition.”

The Lawspeaker nodded for the Jarl to continue.