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"Uncle! I knew it must be you. I told you, I told you, mama, that it was my uncle."

Mama?

Njal flung himself against Gunnar's leather-clad legs and hugged him, only now catching sight of Mairead. "Is Donald here too?"

"He is, somewhere..." Gunnar turned to peer into the group of Vikings who had gathered at the foot of the steps behind them. "Ah, there he is. Donald, come and greet your cousin."

His step-son bobbed forward eagerly and the boys soon disappeared into the crowd, the Viking ranks having been swelled by a gaggle of curious villagers.

"Will he be all right?" fretted Mairead.

Gunnar privately felt that the boy was not the one to be most worried about, but saw no merit in sharing this. "Aye, he will be fine," he assured her. "So, shall we get on with this talking you were so keen on?"

Gunnar turned to regard his sister. Brynhild stood at the end of the table, her hands folded at her waist. She appeared perfectly calm, though the slight quiver in the muscle at the corner of her left eye betrayed her agitation. None but he and perhaps Ulfric would recognise the sign though.

He cleared his throat. "Brynhild, I am glad to find you well.

And relieved. I had feared for you. We all did, though I am given to understand that perhaps the matter of your disappearance was not quite the mystery we first assumed.

" He spared a glower in the direction of his brother, who had taken the seat at the table beside his wife recently vacated by Njal.

His brother's eye was swollen and he moved with obvious discomfort.

Gunnar took some measure of satisfaction from these observations.

He turned to face his sister once more. "No matter, I am here to take you home. "

Brynhild tilted her chin at him, her eyes narrowing in an expression of belligerent disdain he had seen more times than he cared to recall as he grew up. She glared at him, as though considering carefully what her response might be. At last, she spoke.

"Thank you, my brother. Your concern is noted and I am sincerely glad of it. However, your aid is not needed. Had I desired to return to my homeland, I am quite certain that my husband would have taken me there."

"Husband?" Gunnar wondered if he might choke on his tonsils. What the fuck else had been going on whilst he languished in Gunnarsholm in total ignorance?

"Yes, my husband. Ah, here he is..." She turned to face the outer portal, where the assembled Vikings and villagers parted to make way for a man striding through their ranks. "Taranc, come and greet my brother. You will remember Gunnar, I am sure?"

"I do, yes." The tall, brown-haired Celt approached their assembled group to take his place beside Brynhild.

He slung an arm across her shoulders and she turned to offer him a quick kiss.

Never particularly demonstrative, this was the most overt display of affection Gunnar could remember his sister ever exhibiting.

Taranc's smile was warm as he returned her kiss.

"I am sorry I could not be here to greet our guests earlier, but as soon as I learnt of their arrival I made all haste to join you.

Needless to say, Morvyn was not cooperative.

" He passed the squirming bundle he held in his spare arm to Brynhild.

"Our son is demanding his next meal, my love. "

Son? Gunnar gaped, open-mouthed as Brynhild calmly accepted the baby and sat down to feed him. He remained too astonished to do other than accept Taranc's outstretched hand and allow the other man to greet him properly.

"I expect you have questions. Ah, I see you and Ulfric have already started your own discussions.

" Taranc winced as he eyed Gunnar's bruised features.

"Never mind. Shall we be seated and perhaps we can deal with the rest over a mug of ale and some food.

Fiona, do we have the makings of a feast to welcome our visitors? "

"We do, of course." Fiona trotted off in the direction of what Gunnar assumed must be the kitchens. She spared her husband a warning glance before she left. Ulfric responded with a shrug.

For want of a better plan at that precise moment Gunnar stepped forward to accept Taranc's offer of a seat. As he passed before the older man who had thus far remained silent, Dughall of Penglas rose painfully to his feet. Gunnar paused before him.

Dughall peered intently at the tall Viking, his eyes dimmed by the cloudiness which so often afflicted the old. Gunnar began to wonder if, perhaps...

"You. I recognise you." The old man pointed directly at him and Gunnar bowed his head politely.

"Lord Dughall." He bowed respectfully and scrabbled about for something polite to say. "I must thank you for your kindness to my sister whilst she has been here."

"Brynhild is most dear to me," replied the Celtic noble.

With slow, unsteady steps he made his way around the table to stand in front of Gunnar.

Once there he tipped his head back to looked up into the Viking's face as though studying every detail of his features.

"You were here before, that other time, on the steps of this very house. "

"I—"

"Aagh!" Gunnar's response to his elderly accuser was cut off by a scream from his wife. Mairead bent double and clutched her belly. Gunnar was at once by her side.

"My love? Is it the baby...?" He pulled her into his arms where she grabbed at his tunic and groaned loudly.

"I do not know. I feel... Oh, I need to lie down. Is there somewhere...?"

Gunnar snatched her up into his arms. "My wife is indisposed. She is pregnant, and?—"

"This way." Brynhild stood and beckoned her brother to follow. "She may rest in the solar." Without waiting for his response Brynhild marched across the hall in the direction of a doorway in the far corner, her baby still at her breast.

Gunnar strode after her, his wife cradled in his arms. Mairead continued to moan with dramatic, and to Gunnar, quite terrifying, effect.

"Ask Lady Fiona to come at once." It was the old man's voice Gunnar heard as he exited the great hall, issuing instructions to a hovering servant, "And tell her to bring refreshments for the lady."

Brynhild led him through the lord's private sitting room into the master bedchamber where Gunnar deposited his now less vocal wife on the bed. He crouched beside her.

"I should never have brought you here. I knew it was too much, too soon..."

Mairead glanced past him, to the door. Only Brynhild had accompanied them. Seemingly satisfied that they were in private, or as near as made no difference, she smiled at him.

"Hush, my husband. I am quite all right. I merely thought a short diversion would be helpful. A moment to collect our thoughts, and perhaps for you to speak with your sister privately for a few moments."

"What? You are not ill? The baby...?" After the revelations of the day Gunnar had thought not much else would surprise him. He was wrong, clearly.

"As I said, I am perfectly fine." She pushed herself up into a sitting position and reached out her hand to her sister-in-law.

Brynhild, too, was peering at her suspiciously as though not quite able to comprehend this latest twist of events.

"It is so pleasant to see you again, Brynhild.

And what a lovely child. He is a fine, strong boy, I see. Is he not, Gunnar?"

"Er, yes. Very strong," agreed Gunnar, never taking his eyes from Mairead. "And you, wife, are a cunning, scheming woman who deserves a spanking. You may be sure, I am keeping count. I believe you just shaved a good ten years off my life with that stunt."

"My apologies. And to you too, Brynhild. I meant no ill, just?—"

"What has happened?" Fiona burst through the door, a jug in her hand. "I brought mead, and we have some good wine if that might help." She rushed to the bed, set down her pitcher and reached for her friend.

Mairead grinned at her from the bed. "I simply suffered a momentary upset.

I am quite all right now, thank you. But since we are all here, perhaps you two can aid me in convincing my husband that there is no immediate cause to further sully his reputation with Lord Dughall by shedding yet more blood on the steps of his manor house.

Are we to gather that you have arrived at an understanding with Taranc, Brynhild? "

"An understanding? 'Tis more than an understanding has produced this outcome." Gunnar gestured to the baby. The little one had now sated his appetite and was beginning to fret for further attention. Brynhild set him on the bed beside Mairead and sat beside him.

"Yes, Taranc and I have been able to settle our differences. We are wed and... I am happy."

"Happy?" Gunnar could not contain his exasperation. "But how can this be? He abducted you, did he not? Or so we were informed."

"He did," Brynhild acknowledged, "but that was ... a misunderstanding. It is all cleared up now and we have a good life here. I... I have a new family, and?—"

"A new family?" prompted Mairead. "You mean Dughall? And Fiona?"

"Yes, and Taranc of course. And my little Morvyn. He is a great joy to me."

"Of course. Children are such a blessing, do you not agree, my husband?"

She knew exactly where to wound him, Gunnar reflected as he regarded the gurgling infant. His nephew kicked his feet and offered a toothless grin as Mairead picked him up and nestled him to her chest.

Mairead crooned at the squirming child. "Morvyn and our little Tyra will be playmates, perhaps. Just as Njal and Donald are..."

"That will be nice," agreed Fiona. "You will be remaining with us for a while, then?"