"Go on," Runa said to her girls, placing her basket of wool on the dirt path. "It seems Konal wishes to speak with me."
"And so I do." Konal bowed with a wry smile. Even with half his face distorted with scars, he still projected the same swagger and confidence she remembered of old. "But if this is inconvenient, I will find another time."
The girls, many no older than Gunnar, did not know how to react to Konal who was still a stranger to most. Runa noted how a few stepped back and how others furtively touched their necks as if frightened. It provoked an odd reaction in Runa, and she suddenly felt keenly annoyed with her girls. Konal's scars had not turned him into a troll.
"In fact, this time is perfect. You girls go to the hall, and take my wool with you. I will be along shortly."
"Will you be all right, Lady Runa?" one of the girls asked with wide, brown eyes.
Runa stared at her, and not finding a kind word, restrained herself. At length, the girl gathered Runa's basket and joined the others as they moved down the track. Konal drew to her side as they both watched the girls leave, a few glancing back as if being chased.
"My days of impressing the girls are long done," he said with a sigh. "I rather liked the one with the big brown eyes."
Almost laughing, Runa reset her expression of annoyance. "What could you possibly want in returning here? Don't you remember what I told you when you left the first time?"
She folded her arms and Konal mirrored her, only his smile broadened. "I do, but I doubt you remember or you would not have asked me."
Hot shame flooded into her cheeks and she recalled encouraging him to return to his family to be a father and husband, and not to look back at her. "I meant leaving our relationship in the past. I'm sorry about your family. I have not had a moment to tell you so."
He shook his head. "Family is what I wish to discuss. Do you think it wise to speak here, where a dozen curious people pass us every moment?"
Regarding him levelly, she pointed with her chin at the track. "Walk with me and help me draw water from the well."
"The jarl's wife draws water from the well?"
"There is always work to be done and I can't abide sitting on a chair all day while others treat me as if I am made of straw."
They began to stroll as people hustled through their midmorning routines. A chicken wandered into their path, and fluttered and cried as the two drove it to the side. Neither looked at the other, and Runa felt her pulse quicken knowing full well what Konal intended to ask.
"So you no longer wear a sword and pants? I remember you swearing to bow to no one on that matter."
Runa laughed, a tense and nervous sound that made her wince. "When I ruled in Nye Grenner, I did as I pleased. Everyone knew me and understood why. Here, I have few friends and no understanding. I still practice my swordplay, and that is barely tolerated. I sometimes believe all the Franks need do to destroy this fortress is put all our women in pants. Every person would die of fright and the walls would collapse."
Konal's gusty laughter was warm and familiar, a soft touch of a time fast fading from memory. Despite the horrors of those days when he had dwelt with her, now with all of Fate's designs completed, she remembered them with fondness. Gunnar still had been a boy who clung to his mother and sometimes slept in her bed. Now things were so different.
Laughter fading as Runa grew pensive, Konal clasped his hands behind his back. "You practice still? That is good, but not so useful without a sword at hand in time of need."
"How little you know me. I keep a long knife strapped to my leg, beneath my skirt. I learned to draw it from a false pocket without it catching on the material. Without it, I feel as though I am naked."
Again he laughed, and Runa smiled with satisfaction. Her hand sought the knife handle at her left hip. The skin beneath the sheath had grown rough and thick, but it was a fair trade for protecting herself and her children.
"I pray the gods you won't draw it on me. You are a strange woman, Runa, and that is why I have always liked you."
Even such a banal comment cooled the air between them. She found herself stepping away. They continued farther in silence, until the hall came into sight.
"The well is just behind it," Runa said.
Once at the well, she positioned herself for an easy exit. Konal felt like the man she had once known, but if age had taught her anything it was that people change and not always for the good. Her hand again sought the blade beneath her skirt and Konal's eye was drawn to it.
"You really do carry a weapon under your skirt? I thought it a jest."
Runa stared at him blankly, until he withdrew his cowl and revealed his whole head. Up close, his scars were fiercer and angrier than when softened in shadows. He returned her blank stare, as if allowing her to see him the first time.
"No more idle talk, then. You asked why I returned. Ulfrik asked me the same. Here is my answer. I returned because I have no family left in this world. Kell's death has left me floating, and I need an anchor stone. I need a purpose."
"Justice for your family is not a purpose? Revenge? That is what honor demands, is it not?"
"Honor demands much. Revenge will come in time, but my enemy is strong. Imagine he is like the king of the Western Franks, Odo. He sits in Paris behind impenetrable walls with hundreds at his command. How would a handful of men avenge themselves upon him?"
"Sneak inside and kill him."
"Only to die in the attempt?"
"Won't you join your father and brother in Valhalla?"
"Would that be your hope for Ulfrik? Should he die in an attempt to avenge your death?"
"Is that not what men call glory?"
"So it is. And what if it were your son? Gunnar? Hakon?"
"Enough." Runa turned her head aside as her argument faltered. "You wanted to speak of family?"
Konal stood straighter and Runa turned a stern eye to him, her stomach tightening and her hands cold. She folded her arms across her chest, tucking them underarm to both warm them and conceal their trembling.
"Your son, Aren, has a peculiar look; would you agree?" Konal raised an eyebrow that tugged on the thin flesh of the burned side of his face. Runa did not answer, but folded her arms tighter as she listened. "When I left for home he was a babe, so small and sick that I feared he would not survive. But somehow I knew he lived. He is bigger now, and he reminds me of someone I once knew."
"Stop this, Konal. He is Ulfrik's son."
"Then why should Aren have my father's face? Why should he stand and walk like him? And most of all, why should I know in my heart that the sick child I left behind still lived?" Konal stepped forward as he drove his points, and Runa backed away with her hand falling to her hidden knife. Seeing this, he stopped and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm.
"Forgive my excitement, but I know my own blood when I see it. I have always felt the lives of my kin. Remember how I knew Kell survived the storm that wrecked me on your island? It is a gift of the gods."
Runa's heart beat against her ribs, feeling like it would burst through the root of her neck. Whether she believed in his gift was inconsequential; she believed Aren was Konal's son. She had always carried the burden of that doubt with her, and Ulfrik saw her struggle with it, but never had the words been given voice. Konal stared at her with his chin titled up as if to defy any challenge, though his eyes shimmered with emotion. She spun around to put her back to him.
"You had best control your excitement," she said quietly. "I am none too pleased that you have returned, and further vexed that Ulfrik allowed you to stay."