Chapter Three

A woman's scream rent the night air.

It sounded as if Sigurd had brought one of the local trulls back with him. Her name was Faye, a lively whore whose company Ketil had sought a couple of times. Just to be certain he sat up and ventured outside, not bothering to cover his nakedness.

When she spotted him, as drunk as she was, her unusual violet eyes lit up.

"So it's to be a threesome, is it?" she slurred. "That will up the rate."

"Not tonight. Get rid of her," he said to his friend, going back inside.

Miriam was sitting up, her hands caught in the furs, and it didn't escape him that she looked frightened now. She was deathly pale. What he had said to Sigurd could be misinterpreted, he realised.

"It's not what you think," he told her. "Sig brought a wildcat home."

"An animal? I didn't think they roamed this far."

It only demonstrated to him how naive she was.

"This kind does," he said, returning to the bed.

"Oh," she whispered. "Of course, it spoke. I mean, she did." Then, heartrendingly, "I never realised he hated me so much. What did I ever do to him?"

"The same thing I did to my father," he muttered. "Go back to sleep."

Ketil rose at first light and dressed quickly. He bolted the door carefully behind him so as not to disturb Miriam. Asking Magnus to keep an eye out, he made his way to the palace. It amused him to think that, despite everything that had happened, she was sticking to her accustomed 'princess' hours. That was one reason for heading there so early: Daphne would not be about. He hoped the maid would assist him to salvage a few dresses later.

He was still angry, but not with her.

Ketil shook his head and strode on with purpose. A bathhouse soak awaited, but first he needed to obtain the key. He hoped not to have to disappoint anyone today. Sometimes an older woman caught his eye but he hadn't given her any encouragement and now she merely smiled when they were bathing at the same time.

This early he had the place to himself yet did not linger, changing into fresh clothing in the room where he sometimes laid his head rather than return to his hut. Then he sought out Jenna who was already up and about and appeared to be tasked with emptying a chamberpot. Her eyes widened at his approach.

When he mimed his meaning it went better than he could have hoped. It was almost as if she had been anticipating such a request. He allowed the girl to precede him into the room.

It was strange being in Miriam's bedchamber knowing she was asleep in his bed. Sigurd might have been amused at such a notion, but he didn't find it remotely funny. As the maid gathered a bundle of assorted clothing, he took the opportunity to look around.

The simplicity of her private quarters surprised him. There was a lighter patch on the wooden floor which suggested a rug had lain there once. The box bed was functional and had been stripped of sheets and pillows, meaning he couldn't surprise her with one of the latter. A book lay on a small table in the centre of the room but he did not pick it up; he could speak Vercian better than he could read it. The window seat appeared to be well-used and he could imagine her curled up there.

When Jenna held up the hand mirror, he shook his head judging it would only make Miriam sad.

A single tear slid down the girl's plump cheek.

"I won't hurt her," he said.

Jenna nodded, once, to show she had heard and understood but he noticed she did not smile. He shouldered his own bundle, which contained his sweaty clothes, and set off for his own dwelling. The maid followed, almost twisting her ankle at the spot where the ground fell away. It was obvious she had never ventured so close to the outer walls and he could tell she was scared.

Orm was just on his way to guard the treasury. He stopped to have a word, more awkward than Ketil had ever seen him.

"Is she - ?"

"Miriam is fine. Still sleeping," he said.

The younger man looked relieved, making him feel insulted. He seemed to remember she had once bound a wound on his arm. Maybe he had a crush? For some reason the thought annoyed him.

"And I see Jenna is with you."

His friendly grin made the girl blush. That was interesting. He had known Orm had his eye on someone. Was it her?

"She's running an errand for me," he explained. "Anything else?"

Orm hesitated. Though he had been with them from the start they were not related.

"What do you plan to do about her?" he asked, switching to Norse.

Ketil stared at him. "Keep my word."

"That's good. See you later."

He went on his way, adjusting his weapons, his stride jaunty now.

"Do you like him?" he asked the girl.

Jenna smiled, revealing the gap between her teeth.

If only it were that easy with her mistress.

Deciding to head back to the palace once he had consulted with Magnus and unbolted the door, Ketil asked himself again what he was going to do with the former Princess. She was his responsibility now, whether he liked it or not.

The tasks which awaited him would keep. He let out an oath, exasperated when he realised he was still carrying his bundle, and he seemed to remember he had left the bathroom key in the room where he had changed.

She was such a distraction.

Seeing Rebekah in the passage outside the bathhouse, he had little choice but to make small talk with her.

"Fancy that, it's unlocked," she said. "I wonder who forgot to return the key this time?"

"Me," he replied, holding out his hand.

She plucked it from his palm and wagged a finger at him. "What are you doing with that?" she asked, nodding towards his bundle.

"Don't ask," he groaned.

"The little mistress running rings round you, is she?"

Ketil grinned. "Hardly," he said.

Her teasing smile faded. He could smell the sharp tang of citrus which indicated why her lips were so red. She had once told him about that little tip, for no particular reason other than to make him want to kiss her, he suspected.

"The palace will be all the poorer without her," she remarked.

"I know," he said, tightly.

"You couldn't stand by. I understand. Ketil ..."

What she had been about to say was lost as he saw the Princess Royal bearing down on them. Daphne's mouth opened and closed as he beat a hasty retreat but no scathing remarks emerged from her as yet unpainted lips.

"Mistress Ford, I need your advice. You know about herbal remedies, do you not?"

"I do, Your Highness."

"Prepare me a tea, will you? I ache all over this morn."

Imperious as ever, with no hint of concern for anyone else. Not even her own sister. She had looked rather wan, though.

"Ketil, wait for me."

He turned to see Rebekah hurrying her steps as she struggled to catch up with him. He slowed his pace, in no particular hurry. This was more about giving Miriam some space than anything else.

"Is the herb garden no longer safe?" he teased.

The older woman nudged him. He knew her to be a widow who had never remarried.

"I'd rather go to the woodland," she said. His dismay must have been obvious, as she continued, "Willow bark for the Princess Royal. Join me? I promise to behave."

Ketil stood his ground.

"If you have something to say, out with it," he demanded.

"Not here."

That was how he found himself negotiating the streets of the city just as it was on the point of coming to life. Smells from the bakery vied with the sour ones from various alehouses. He half-expected to encounter Sigurd, until he remembered where he had seen him last and who he was with. Faye had a way of exhausting a man and then some.

A bell was tolling in the distance and he heard the bleating of sheep.

"What is it, Becca?" he asked, feeling decidedly out of temper.

"I have a bad feeling," she said, setting down the still-empty basket. Was this a ruse? Some sort of setup? A wild goose chase?

"Still using your wiles on me, witch?"

"It will not be long now," she told him. "If I were you, I'd smuggle her out while you still can."

"What do you mean? Is Vercia under threat?"

Ketil had to ask. It was his duty to know such things, after all.

Her black eyes were solemn now in that lived-in face, the inky hair spilling out from under her lace cap.

"The Princess is in grave danger. Tell no-one," she begged. "Or I will surely burn."