The Betrothed Sister by Carol McGrath Page B

out needles and wool for you. And, you, Gudrun, run into the main hall and fetch us a sconce to see by. These tallow candles won’t provide enough light.’
    Once Gudrun returned and the sconce was secured in a wall bracket, they settled on sewing stools to stitch. Waves, oak leaves and dragons, the anchor and a great billowing sail all took on life from the women’s nimble fingers. Thea forgot Padar. She forgot everyone as she drew her needle with its woollen thread in and out through ink-coloured waves, until she remembered other warships that had crossed the narrow seas carrying the duke who was intent on stealing her father’s kingdom. She glanced up at the tiny arrow set in Olaf’s bowstring and cursed the thief King of England and all his kin.
    It was not until she was contentedly tucked up beneath her fur covers that night that she wondered again where Padar had gone and how Ingar and Niels had glanced over at her as they retired from the hall after supper.
    What did it all mean? She turned onto her side and curled up as if she were a small creature like a kitten and fell asleep pondering the mystery. Her last thought was that maybe Padar’s disappearance was connected to her future, though she could not fathom how or why it was a secret. If it was not a secret there would be more explanation and fewer furtive glances between Niels and Ingar when she had asked for him.

9
    Novgorod, Russia, Winter 1068-1069
    There was snow in the heavens. Breathing in the crisp air after a week at sea, Padar huddled into his sealskin cloak and followed the king’s messenger from the ship and along the wharf. He had no idea what King Sweyn wanted with him, though he suspected that this summons concerned Lady Thea.
    His thoughts, as he walked, turned to the girl for whom he was beginning to have feelings, and whom he had left behind in Søderup. ‘Pray God I can return soon,’ he muttered as he trailed through cold streets behind the king’s man.
    He had never felt such interest in a girl before. When he had first spoken with Gudrun a year ago in Exeter she had seemed wise beyond her years, one who thought before she spoke and who weighed her words carefully. In another world she would be betrothed or married already, but her future had disappeared with her father’s death at Hastings and her mother’s demise from a broken heart soon afterwards. Now that Gudrun was growing into a woman he found that he had an affection for her and he did not know what to do about it.
    As he walked through fluttering flakes of virgin snow, a wisp of hope began to surface. There had been women before. They had passed into his life and out again as fast as a candle burned down, a short time snatched and easily forgotten. There had never been time in his life before for love. His had been a life of service to the Godwin family, but now that his life was changing, he was changing too. If Lady Thea travelled to Russian lands to marry one of their princes, since he had promised Countess Gytha that he would look after her granddaughter’s interests, it made sense that he planted roots in that distant land too and, of course, if Lady Thea travelled to Russia her handmaiden would accompany her.
    Almost thirty years old and he was in love, and he wondered at it. Gudrun with her little swelling breasts, her golden hair and eyes that were such a deep blue that they looked like the sea on a summer’s day. St Olav’s whiskers, I could be her father. She is only fifteen to my twenty-nine summers. He drew the hood of his cloak over his head and hurried after the messenger. Her father was a thane and she has nothing now. If times were settled, if I had a trade, I would ask for her. I have nothing. I am just a poet, a warrior and a spy, unless of a sudden, riches fall from the sky and that is unlikely. He sighed as he walked on the wooden walkways through the merchant quarter and past the silent cathedral to the