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"Skarthveit is bigger than Gunnarsholm. It was built by our father and inherited by Ulfric on his death.

There are more people there, many thralls and slaves as well as free Vikings or karls as we would call them.

Ulfric is building a granary, and a harbour as he intends to keep his longships there. "

"He has many ships?"

"Five dragon ships. Or perhaps six by now."

"He is engaged in much raiding, then?"

"Yes, but he trades also. And there is a small fishing fleet. The vessel you sailed on was a fishing boat."

"Why do you not live there? I know you and he are close."

"A village requires only one chief or Jarl, and I prefer to live a less rigid existence outside the confines of a Viking community.

Even as the son of the chief, or nowadays the brother, my illegitimate status sets me apart.

In my own settlement I can hunt, trade as I see fit, raid when I wish to.

I answer to none, but Ulfric is my ally and my kinsman.

We are the same blood and are bound together by that. "

"And your sister? Are you close to her also?"

Gunnar seemed to hesitate before replying. Mairead turned to peer up at him.

"Yes," he answered at last, "yes, we are close enough I daresay."

It did not sound so, to Mairead. "Tell me about her. Has she married another, since her betrothed died on Orkney?"

"No, she has not. I wish she had."

Mairead did not comment, merely waited for her husband to elaborate. Eventually Gunnar obliged her.

"Brynhild never quite recovered from her loss, though I struggle to comprehend why. Eirik was a nice enough lad, but not exactly sharp-witted if you take my meaning. He would have made a piss-poor husband for her."

"Oh. You did not approve of the match?"

"No. Yes." He shrugged. "It was an agreement between our father, and Olaf's uncle, the previous chief of their family so of course we all approved.

But Brynhild would have trampled all over Eirik.

She might have been younger but was ever the brightest among us as we were growing up, and would have soon become bored by Eirik's slowness.

She would do better to wed a man who is her equal, a man she can respect, who might even have obedience from her.

There are plenty such men about and she would have no trouble securing a husband for herself.

She is a beauty, much sought after, with a fine dowry to offer.

But Brynhild flatly refuses to so much as contemplate another marriage, declares herself heart-broken over her poor, lost Eirik. "

"She must have loved him very much."

"Aye, you would think so, though she never showed much sign of it whilst he lived. She liked him well enough, we all did. She was happy with the match but the deep and abiding passion she now claims was never in evidence."

"So, what are you saying? That she feigned affection for her betrothed?"

"I am saying that I am baffled. Whatever Brynhild might claim, her betrothal to Eirik Byarkesson was not the love match she insists on reminiscing about, on her side or his.

And now, she wastes her life keeping my brother's house for him and raising his son, our nephew. Brynhild adores the boy, and would make a fine mother herself but that will never be. Not whilst she continues to wallow in the past, awash with self-pity.”

The exasperation in his tone was not to be mistaken

"Perhaps your brother needs her, with his wife being dead?—"

"Ulfric shares my view of the matter. He makes our sister welcome in his longhouse, of course, but would prefer to see her settled in her own.

He has tried to persuade her to consider other potential husbands, would allow her to make her choice if there was someone she took a fancy to, but she digs in her heels. "

"If she is happy?—"

"Brynhild is many things, but happy is not to be numbered among them.

Our sister is beautiful, talented, a fine homemaker and a gifted weaver.

She is also bitter, lonely, and angry, and in recent years has allowed her misery to eat her alive.

If you behaved as she does, my love, your bottom would be ablaze and you would not sit for a week. "

"It sounds as though she should be pitied, not punished."

"She is in need of both." He paused, then, "Brynhild does not lack for pity."

"Ulfric should punish her? Is that what you think?"

"It is what I would do to you. I should add that were you the object of my attention you would also be soundly fucked to ensure you properly understood that you were loved, desired, and mine."

Mairead swallowed hard. "I see. I shall bear that in mind."

"Do, little one. You do that." He bent to kiss the top of her head. "Perhaps you need to be soundly fucked in any case. What do you think?"

"As ever, I defer to your judgement in the matter." She nestled against him, the sensitive folds between her thighs dampening at his words. "I wonder, might an opportunity present itself whilst we are at Skarthveit or shall I be obliged to wait until we return home?"

He chuckled and bent to nuzzle the tender spot beneath her ear. Mairead writhed in his arms and longed for the journey to be over.

"There. Do you see it? The cluster of buildings close to the shore. That is Skarthveit, where I grew up."

Seated now in one of the wagons where she had taken refuge to feed Tyra Mairead's gaze followed the direction Gunnar indicated.

She peered into the mid-afternoon sun and could pick out the settlement.

It was considerably more extensive than Gunnarsholm, particularly if the acres of cultivated meadows ringing the village were also included.

The place had an air of prosperity, of order, and of quiet calm.

Gunnar nudged his horse into a canter. "Come, let us surprise them. We should be in time for the nattmal ."

At the mention of food Donald dug in his heels to urge his mount to keep pace.

The boy was always hungry, it seemed to Mairead.

The karl driving the wagon flicked his whip across the rumps of the two horses pulling it and they picked up the pace also.

The group descended the hillside at a brisk jog, and were soon spotted by those in the settlement.

"They have recognised us. See, my brother comes to greet us himself."

Mairead could easily discern the tall, blond man at the head of the welcoming party and she remembered him with some unease.

Despite her new status, he still scared her.

All of these Vikings did. Under the deceptive veneer of civilisation, they still seemed to her to be wild, powerful, and above all, unpredictable.

She trusted Gunnar, and Steinn perhaps since he seemed affable enough, but that was the extent of it.

Her heart was in her mouth as they traversed the final meadow.

Gunnar slid from his horse to embrace his brother. The welcome seemed both warm and genuine, and the two men turned to pace back into the village, followed by Gunnar's men and the two wagons. Donald reined his horse in alongside the wagon in which Mairead rode and looked to her for guidance.

"We shall just follow Gunnar, and do as he says," she announced with a far greater degree of conviction than she actually felt. "These people are our family now."

Mairead accepted Steinn's proffered hand as she descended from the small cart.

By the time she was on the ground Gunnar was already at the entrance to the largest and finest longhouse in the village, but he paused to look around before ducking his head to go inside.

He met her doubtful gaze, smiled, and beckoned her to join him.

Mairead reached for Donald's hand and stepped forward.

She entered the longhouse a couple of paces behind her husband.

"Ah, Mairead, come in, come in." Gunnar beamed at her, and as she moved to stand at his side he took a now grizzling Tyra from her.

The babe quieted at once. Gunnar usually had that effect.

Her husband continued to smile at those gathered in the longhouse as though nothing at all out of the ordinary was afoot.

"May I present Mairead, my wife. And this is our daughter, Tyra. "

The tall blond Viking halted, eyes widening as he registered his brother's words. She had no doubt Ulfric realised the significance of the name they had chosen for the child. He met his brother’s eyes with a knowing smile but did not remark upon it.

Mairead wished she could shrink sufficiently to crawl beneath the table which filled the central aisle.

The tall, stunningly beautiful blonde woman who had been fussing with the cauldron above the firepit and who appeared to be mistress of this hall reacted more strenuously.

She sank to the nearest bench, her face white with shock at this announcement.

Mairead lowered her gaze, suddenly finding intense fascination in the dusty toes of her stout leather boots.

"We are delighted to make your acquaintance, sister." Ulfric was the first to recover his manners and to Mairead's amazement he stepped forward. He kissed Mairead on each cheek, and even nudged his sister as though to urge her to do likewise, but with no effect. "Mairead, did you say?"

Mairead opened her mouth and would have tried to answer, but Gunnar seemed intent upon doing the talking for her. She was glad of his aid.

"Aye, Mairead, of Aikrig, in Scotland. You will recall my bride, I do not doubt.

And the lad here, for you made a fair enough price on him.

" Gunner beckoned to a bewildered Donald who moved to stand by his side.

She was pleased when Gunnar laid his hand on the top of her son's head, making his status apparent to all.

He was one of them. "Come, Donald, and greet your family. "

"But, she is a Celt." This from the woman, Brynhild, Mairead assumed. She appeared to have rediscovered her powers of speech and was clearly less than delighted to meet her brother's new bride.