"Ah." Liv nodded. That, she understood.
Like all entrances in Nidaros, Earl Eyvind's faced south. The bulk of the large home shielded Hamnet Thyssen and Liv from the Breath of God. Even so, the knocker had frozen to the door. Hamnet had to tug on it to free it.
Eyvind Torfinn opened the door himself—no hired bravos. "Your Grace," he said to Hamnet, and then, to Liv, "My lady." He remained polite to her. Maybe Gudrid hadn't told him everything that happened at the reception. Just as well if she hasn't, Hamnet thought.
"Your Splendor," he and Liv said together. They smiled at each other, the way people will when they do that.
"Come in, come in," Eyvind Torfinn said. "You are both welcome here ... in spite of your foolishness, your Grace."
"I thank you," Hamnet Thyssen answered. "I don't look at it as foolishness, you know."
"Yes, I do," the older man told him. "It makes you the only one in Nidaros who doesn't."
Liv squeezed Count Hamnet's hand. "No, your Splendor, it doesn't," she said firmly in her new, slow, precise Raumsdalian.
"I stand corrected, my lady." Earl Eyvind bowed to her. He bowed more readily than he would have before setting out for the Gap and the lands beyond the Glacier; he'd lost most of the comfortable paunch he'd carried then. Hamnet guessed he would get it back soon enough, but he hadn't yet. As he straightened, he went on, "I should have said, the only Raumsdalian in Nidaros who doesn't."
"Oh, there must be some sot in a gutter somewhere who hasn't heard the news," Hamnet said with a wry smile.
"You make light of it, but you shouldn't." Eyvind's smile was just as sour. "Well, come along, come along. We will celebrate what you have done and hope you may yet do more in days to come if you return to your senses."
"I'm not dead yet. I don't plan on dying any time soon, either," Hamnet Thyssen said in some annoyance. "By God, I'm doing what I think is right."
Trasamund was already in Eyvind Torfinn's reception hall, drinking wine and gnawing on a leg cut from a roast goose. His belly was thicker than it had been before he got down to the Empire. He enjoyed the good things of life when he could get them. He sent Hamnet Thyssen something more than a wave and less than a salute. "You are a brave man," he boomed to Count Hamnet. "To put yourself in my hands, you must be."
"I'm going north anyway," the Raumsdalian nobleman answered. Liv smiled. Trasamund laughed. Audun Gilli watched in wide-eyed fascination. Ulric Skakki's face was unreadable; he was better at keeping it that way than anyone else Hamnet had ever seen. Jesper Fletti plainly thought Hamnet had lost his mind—but, with a cup of wine in one hand and a mutton rib in the other, he didn't seem to care much. If he hadn't gone north, he never would have been able to get an invitation to Eyvind Torfinn's home.
As for Gudrid .. . She had on almost as little as she did at Sigvat Us ill-fated fete. Was she reminding Hamnet of what he would be missing?—not just her, but also a city such as Nidaros, where there were dressmakers who turned out gowns like the one she was almost wearing.
Liv made a small noise, deep down in her throat. A lioness spotting prey might come out with a sound like that. If Gudrid had heard it, she would have been wise to take herself elsewhere as fast as she could go.
But she didn't. She swayed toward Hamnet Thyssen, a smile on her reddened lips. She leaned forward and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. Liv made that noise again, louder this time. Gudrid ignored it, saying, "So you're going away, are you? Well, I hope you enjoy the bugs and the smells."
Had some of her paint come off so he was branded to the eye as well as to the touch? He would wipe his face . . . soon. For now, he said, "I can put up with them. And I'll be where I need to be. And"—he put his arm around Liv—"the company is better."
Gudrid didn't lose her smile. Her face went ugly for a moment all the same. "Who would have thought someone like you would run away for love?" she said. Someone boring like you but hung in the air.
Hamnet shrugged. "I'm not running away. I'm running toward. You met the Rulers. You know what they're like."
"Ah, the brave hero, sure he can charge off and save the day where nobody else has a chance. You sound like someone out of the romances dear Eyvind can quote for hours at a stretch." Gudrid jeered at her present husband, too.
"I'm not sure of anything of the kind," Hamnet answered steadily. "I'd rather not pretend there's no trouble, that's all."
"Really?" Gudrid tilted her head to one side. "Since when?"
"You ought to know—you taught me the lesson." He kept his voice even. "Will you excuse me, please? I'd like to get something to eat and something to drink."
"So would I, please," Liv said.
Gudrid had to notice her then. "How could I say no to you? Who knows what would happen if I did?"
Liv shrugged. "How do I know there is no ... no poison in the food and drink?" She had to search for the word she wanted, but she found it.
Hamnet Thyssen watched Gudrid closely. If Liv's sarcastic comment turned out to be not a sarcastic comment but the truth, he thought his former wife's face would betray her, if only for a heartbeat. But Gudrid just shook her head. "I wouldn't poison you. You're going back to your tents, and you're taking Hamnet with you. That's a better revenge than poison ever could be."
Instead of answering, Liv walked away and got a cup of wine. Count Hamnet lingered long enough to say, "We're going off to fight the Rulers, and this is the thanks we get?"
"As if you care a fart about the Rulers," Gudrid said. "You're going off to screw yourself silly—sillier—and to collect lice and drink sour smetyn. And you're welcome to every bit of it, too."
He growled, down deep in his throat. But then he turned away. Gudrid looked . . . disappointed? If he'd hit her, there in front of everybody, he would have stirred up a terrific scandal. Was that worth getting slapped? Gudrid would probably think so.
He gulped the wine a polite servant gave him. And then, out of the blue, Liv said, "She's jealous of you." She used her own language, so most of the people who might overhear her wouldn't understand.
"Who? Gudrid?" Hamnet Thyssen didn't laugh in her face, which was a small proof of how much he cared for her. But he did say, "You must be joking."
"No. No, indeed," Liv said seriously. "You're doing something important. And you've found—I hope you've found—someone who matters to you. Whatever else she is, she is no fool. She has to know all this"—her wave took in Eyvind Torfinn's mansion—"is empty. We don't have so much up in the Bizogot country." Scorn edged her voice. "We don't have so much, no, but we know what we need to do."
Count Hamnet glanced over toward Gudrid again. She was laughing and flirting with Jesper Fletti. Hamnet wondered if Liv was right. He didn't want to argue with her, but he couldn't believe it. Because the Bizogot shaman had such a strong sense of purpose, she thought everyone else did, too. She couldn't grasp that Gudrid really was as shallow as she seemed.
Well, why should she? Hamnet thought. I had to get my nose rubbed in it before I understood.
"Having fun?" Ulric Skakki had that gift for appearing at someone's elbow—and for disappearing just as readily.
"Me? No. But I knew I wouldn't," Count Hamnet answered.
"Why did you come, then?" Ulric asked.
"Well, I didn't want to disappoint Eyvind Torfinn. He's doing something nice to see me off, and he's a pretty good fellow, even if—" Two words too late, Hamnet broke off.