“Have you spoken to Varin?” she asked the question to change the subject, she did not like the way he was looking at her.
“Not yet,” he replied. “It has been difficult to speak with him when there are no other eyes watching.”
“Does my brother have him followed?”
Bersi nodded and wiped his hands on a linen cloth. “He was released from custody, but not released from suspicion. Jarl Hallvard is concerned that Varin’s loyalty only extends a short distance from Jarl Arnd.”
“And not far enough to satisfy him,” Torunn murmured.
“It would seem so.”
Hallvard had always been slow to trust people. Trust was difficult for him, and his vengeance for perceived slights and betrayals was swift and brutal. Varin had made a grave mistake when he gave in to his anger toward Solva. Solva had paid for it with his life, but Varin would be punished for his loyalty to her father in other ways.
“You must speak to him,” she said. “Something does not feel right in Skaro. I do not know what it is…”
Bersi nodded. “I have felt it, too. Skaro is not my home, but there has been a change since your brothers returned home.”
Torunn could not disagree, she had felt it every day since the boats had been pulled ashore. Life in the village had returned to normal far too quickly. The mourning period for her father had seemed dimmed… even false. She could not even be certain that the proper rituals had been performed. She had spent too much time injured and bedridden, and the thought that things were not as they should have been had unsettled her in a way that she was not certain she could mend.
“There are a great many new landholders in the village,” he said. “You should come to the hall to see their presentations to the new Jarl. I do not think I have seen it empty since their return. Feasting. Drinking. And Jarl Hallvard at the head of it all.”
Torunn’s mouth dropped open. “But there is no need for such celebrations,” she choked out. “Our winter stores will not survive such excesses.”
“Someone should explain that to the Jarl,” he said.
Her lips pressed into a thin line of anger and Torunn snatched her cloak from a hook on the wall. “Someone will.”
She fastened it around her shoulders and stormed out of her chamber. Bersi followed close behind, but he struggled to keep up as he pinned his cloak and pulled it around his shoulders. Snow had begun to fall again, and Torunn steeled herself for the blast of cold as she stepped through the doors and into the streets of Skaro.
“Wait!” Bersi hissed from behind her, but Torunn wasn’t listening. She strode through the village with no intention of stopping until she reached her father’s mead hall. She could hear the noise of celebration as she approached. Shouts, curses, and cheers from those winning and losing drinking games and gambling rounds.
The smell of cooking meat made her stomach rumble and tighten, but Torunn swallowed hard and kept walking. She felt sick as she thought of all the people who would go hungry as the winter supplies were depleted in a matter of weeks. What would they do when they ran out? The winter herds had moved on, and any deer brought down were lean and hungry. The bears were deep in their hibernation, and any other available game had moved and would not return until the snow began to melt away.
Bersi grabbed for her arm, but Torunn pulled her elbow out of his grasp. “Stop that. I will speak to my brother.”
“It is a mistake—”
She ignored his plea and marched down the street toward the hall. The great doors were open, and she could see men inside drinking and eating while her brother sat in their father’s great chair. The pale haired woman poured mead into his cup and Hallvard smiled as she came to the door.
“Torunn!” he cried. “So good to see you out of bed, and with your rebel slave behind you.”
Laughter rippled through the hall, but Torunn ignored it and lifted her chin slightly. “Brother, you have been busy today.”
He spread his arms and smiled broadly. “My warriors have earned a little celebration, do you not agree?”
“But they have been celebrating for weeks,” Torunn snapped. “Do you not think this food should be enjoyed by all of the people of Skaro?”
Hallvard’s smile faltered just a little and he leaned forward and took a drink from the cup he held. “Now, Sister, is this not a conversation we could have had in private?”
Torunn glared at him and she could feel the dark eyes of the pale-haired woman on her. The days when she could have spoken to her brother in private were long past. “No. I do not think so.”
“Come. Sit by me,” he said loudly. “Let these men celebrate without your judgements hanging over them.”
She wound her way through the crowd of warriors and ignored their stares and leering glances as she passed. Iri stood in the shadows, as always, watching and waiting for his opportunity. She was angry with him. He should have told her of this sooner, but he held a cup of ale in his hand, and she suspected that he had been enjoying the generosity of the new Jarl alongside his fellows without a hint of regret.
She would deal with him later.
Hallvard pointed to a chair and gestured for the woman beside him to bring another cup of mead. Torunn took it from the woman’s hand, but did not meet her eyes or thank her for it. She did not drink from it, either.
“Now, Sister, you have been absent from my hall,” Hallvard said sweetly. “I should be glad to have you here, and yet your face makes me think that I should not be so pleased to have your company.”
“You are cursing our people to starve,” she hissed. “All of this food, all of this excess—where will the people get the grain to bake their bread? Where will the salted meat come from to see them through the hardest months to come?”
Hallvard drank from his cup and held it out to be refilled. He did not seem drunk, but that did not mean much for her brother. His eyes had a fevered light in them, and she did not like it.
“You worry too much, Sister,” he said with a smile and Torunn flinched slightly as he reached out to lay a hand upon her arm. “I am pleased to see you looking so healthy and full of vigor. I had worried that Solva would have taken you to Valhalla with him.”
He chuckled but Torunn did not smile.
“Varin saw to the revenge I should have taken,” she said. “I am happy to see that you released him from your… care.”
“A courtesy only,” Hallvard said. “To keep him safe. Solva’s brothers did not take kindly to his death, but all has been forgiven now.”
Torunn narrowed her eyes as she looked around the room. Solva’s brothers had never been trustworthy, and she had a feeling that any oaths they had made would not be honored for very long.
They were watching her, the ugly brutes, and she raised her cup to them before looking back to her brother.
“As you say.”
“It is as I say, Sister,” he snorted. “Have you forgotten that I am Jarl of Skaro now?”
“I have not.”
Hallvard leaned back in his chair and glanced at Bersi who stood just behind her chair. “Do you regret your decision to keep the rebel alive?” he asked. “If he has proven to be a poor slave, he can be replaced. I am certain that there are many who would leap at the chance to make him pay for the damage he did to the relationship between Skaro and Laxa.”