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banner by ariadne


Author's Chapter Notes:
just for fyreburned cause she nagged
Buffy looked at the first proper sunshine of the spring and took a deep breath of the fresh clean air. It was wonderful not to have to be hurrying across the yard to the shelter of the cow shed or dairy, and it was certainly nice to be able to leave the stuffiness of the longhall.

The ground was drying nicely: it was certainly time to start the spring planting. The kale yards had been thoroughly dug over by the simple expediency of letting the pigs into the walled area. They had hungrily dug up every root and weed, and added manure into the soil at the same time, giving the young piglets plenty of food to start their weaning, and a safe place to play as well as saving the back breaking labour of clearing the ground for the new season’s planting. It wouldn’t be long before the boy took the pigs out into the woods for the summer, fattening them all up for next winter’s meat. Then last year’s seeds could be fetched from where they had been kept cool and dry and they could be checked over carefully to lessen the weeds being planted.

Jon could start the tilling in the morning, provided the weather held. She was grateful Connor had let him come with her: he was a hard worker and a loyal servant. Buffy smiled as she watched him: he was supposed to be getting on with his work but he was watching Hella again She was a sweet girl, daughter of the wood-smith that lived in the higher valley. Jon would have to buy his freedom or earn it from her if he wanted to chase there much longer, she smiled to herself. They would make a fine pair eventually.

Jon waved over from the roof of the cow shed where he was busy re-turfing the batons. The roof had leaked during the winter and this was the first opportunity they had had to get up there and check it all over. Buffy waved back and smiled. The young man had worked hard since they had returned to the hall following the birth of Nordlys only four months ago. The babe was growing well, hale and hearty. Her cries, when she was hungry, could be heard across the farmyard, and were often mistaken for a raven. Other children had a delicate cry, but oh no, not her daughter. Her cry could send a man mad or turn milk sour. Buffy had made sure that she was fed very regularly and spent much of her time telling the child about the wonderful man her father was. Nordlys looked up at her mother with huge blue eyes that gladdened Buffy’s heart. Her prayer had been answered and her daughter carried the look of her darling William. She turned her thoughts south and wondered how William was, now that he was back amongst his own people, and wished him well. Then she turned back to the business of her hall and her own life.




William entered the darkened doorway first, leading Godwin and Brother Giles into the gloom. Eirik walked behind them, between the honoured guests and their bodyguard. He knew he should have left the visitors together in one party, but the mischief in his soul wouldn’t let him; besides, he wanted to see how the young man had done over winter, and hear why he had risked his life to return to the Northmen’s fold.

William made his way over to the high seat by the columns that supported the roof of this great longhall and bowed low before Ingimund. He knew him from the year before and the Lord had changed little over the winter. Ingimund indicated that William was to speak and the young lord took a deep, soothing breath and started:

‘Sir, I am bid speak to you by My Lord, Athelred of Mercia, and to treat with you. I bring gifts from my Leige and hope they are to your liking.’

William signalled his men forward. They carried the bundle of woollens. The leads to the hunting dogs were held by Godwin and the hawks sat on two other’s arms well hooded, to prevent them getting upset at the noise. They were fine and kingly gifts but Ingimund showed them little heed. He looked at the young man that was kneeling before him; he remembered him from somewhere, and at least this ambassador spoke Norse, and spoke it well. He stared at the man a little more; he was sure he recognised him from somewhere. He took a deep draft of his ale horn and stared again.

‘You’re William, the one who tamed the Valkyrie!’ he came out with loudly, his voice booming around the hall.

‘My Lord?’ William understood all the words but they didn’t make sense.

‘Elizabeth of Trondheim, you’re Elizabeth’s friend.’

‘Uh, yes my Lord, I know Buffy - Elizabeth.’

‘I thought so. Connor spoke highly of you, so did Eirik here, so come lad, tell me what you want? Stand up when you talk to me, can’t stand all this grovelling they do at your southern halls.’

‘My Lord of Mercia wishes to treat with you and he has sent me as an emissary.’ William pointed out the gifts again. ‘I have brought gifts for you,’ he repeated.

Ingimund looked at the gifts spread out in the firelight for his inspection. ‘Those dogs and birds trained?’ He asked.

‘Yes, My Lord, I brought only the finest.’

The woman beside Ingimund whispered something to the Norse lord who nodded at her.

‘She says the woollens look fine.’

‘They are my Lord, I had my mother help choose them and she is a fine weaver.’

‘You seem to remember what we value at least…’

Giles tried to keep up with the talk, but it was too quick for him. He looked around the hall: they were, naturally enough he supposed, the centre of interest for all those sitting. The monk sent a heartfelt plea up to heaven that they survived the evening’s negotiations. He was not so stupid as to think that he was in the presence of devils, but these men had little respect for the cloth he wore or the vows he had taken.

Giles turned his attention back to William when he felt an elbow dug into his side.

‘The Lord is offering up seats and a bed for the night,’ William explained to Brother Giles and to his men, ‘we will talk more business in the morning. Do not refuse any drink put in front of you, it is considered the height of bad manners, and no drawing any weapon either, it would start a blood bath.’

Godwin looked around his men. ‘I don’t know about you, but there has to be something basically decent about a man who thinks it rude of you to turn down his alcohol,’ he said laughingly. The other men relaxed. If Godwin was at ease with the situation they should be reasonably safe. William smiled. The old soldier would keep the younger ones in check.

Eirik watched in amusement as the strangers were put in amongst the Northmen. Ingimund chose their places carefully, ensuring they sat away from the hotheads, but near to experienced warriors who could take them down if the Saxon’s thoughts turned to treachery. They soon settled back to the important business of getting drunk. The talking could wait until the next afternoon when minds were clearer and headnails gone.





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