the crowd, and when his gaze fell upon Kadlin, he smiled and held out his hand. She made her way through the revelers and onto the dais. He hugged her and kissed her bruised face.
“Father, this is my wife, Kadlin, daughter of Olav the shipbuilder, mother of your grandson, Hjortr.”
A broad smile deepened Arn’s wrinkles. “A grandson,” he whispered then pulled Kadlin into a warm embrace. When he released her, he cocked his head to one side and studied her. “You look like a warrior fresh from the battle, dear daughter. I cannot wait to hear your triumphant tale. Let us return to the house, tend to your wounds and get you something to eat.”
Kadlin smiled up at him and nodded. It had been so long since someone had called her daughter that she felt as if her heart would burst from her chest.
* * * *
The chamber was even grander than the one Kadlin had been held in. It had been Rowyn and Ginna’s room, and it befitted the heir-apparent. While she washed, three housemaids bustled about, emptying the chests of the former tenants’ clothing and setting the bed with new linens and furs. They worked quietly, casting the occasional glance in Kadlin’s direction. When she smiled and nodded back to them, they nervously averted their eyes and went back to work.
The plump woman who had brought her meal earlier that night came in with a tray and set it on the table near Kadlin.
“May I tend to your wounds, my lady?” she asked. Kadlin nodded, and the woman dipped her stubby finger into a bowlful of thick, brown mush. She touched the poultice to Kadlin’s temple. “I am afraid there will be a scar, my lady. This should make it smaller.”
Once the cut beside her eye had been treated, the woman handed Kadlin a cup and held out an empty basin with her other hand. “It is saltwater with healing herbs, my lady. The girl said that you’ve a cut in your mouth, as well. Rinse with this and spit it out. It will sting for a moment, but you’ll heal faster for it.” Kadlin took the cup and followed the woman’s instructions. She winced at the bite of the medicine and was grateful when the pain began to subside. She spat into the basin and handed the cup back.
“What is your name?”
“I am Erna, the head keeper of the house.”
Kadlin reached out and touched the woman’s fleshy forearm. “Well, Erna, your rinse has made my mouth feel much better. Thank you for your kindness. Please call me Kadlin.”
The woman startled as if she’d been slapped. “I—that is—you are very welcome, Lady Kadlin.” Erna turned to the women who were straightening the room and widened her eyes. They smiled and shrugged in response. Kadlin wondered if they’d ever heard a kind word from their former mistress.
Erna pulled back her shoulders and looked about the room. “Quickly now, girls, Lady Kadlin and Lord Leif will want a fresh place to lay down their heads once they’ve had their supper.”
Beatrice combed the snarls from Kadlin’s damp hair, careful to avoid the puffy bruises that covered the left side of her face. She worked neat braids into the long tresses then held out a handful of beads, waiting patiently while Kadlin strung them onto her fresh plaits.
“May I help you dress, my lady?” she asked with a deferential bow.
Kadlin caught up the girl’s thin wrist. “Beatrice, you must call me Kadlin.” She looked at their reflection in the mirror and saw the uncertainty in the girl’s face. “What is it?”
Beatrice met her gaze in the glass. “You are the lady of the estate now. Will you keep me on? I am a hard worker and… I have nowhere else to go.”
Kadlin turned the idea over in her mind— the lady of the estate. She supposed the girl was correct. They couldn’t go back to the farm now. Bjorn— Leif —would succeed his father. He had responsibilities here, and she would follow him. Kadlin smiled up at Beatrice. She would be dead if not for this little one’s bravery.
“You are not my slave. If
“Father, this is my wife, Kadlin, daughter of Olav the shipbuilder, mother of your grandson, Hjortr.”
A broad smile deepened Arn’s wrinkles. “A grandson,” he whispered then pulled Kadlin into a warm embrace. When he released her, he cocked his head to one side and studied her. “You look like a warrior fresh from the battle, dear daughter. I cannot wait to hear your triumphant tale. Let us return to the house, tend to your wounds and get you something to eat.”
Kadlin smiled up at him and nodded. It had been so long since someone had called her daughter that she felt as if her heart would burst from her chest.
* * * *
The chamber was even grander than the one Kadlin had been held in. It had been Rowyn and Ginna’s room, and it befitted the heir-apparent. While she washed, three housemaids bustled about, emptying the chests of the former tenants’ clothing and setting the bed with new linens and furs. They worked quietly, casting the occasional glance in Kadlin’s direction. When she smiled and nodded back to them, they nervously averted their eyes and went back to work.
The plump woman who had brought her meal earlier that night came in with a tray and set it on the table near Kadlin.
“May I tend to your wounds, my lady?” she asked. Kadlin nodded, and the woman dipped her stubby finger into a bowlful of thick, brown mush. She touched the poultice to Kadlin’s temple. “I am afraid there will be a scar, my lady. This should make it smaller.”
Once the cut beside her eye had been treated, the woman handed Kadlin a cup and held out an empty basin with her other hand. “It is saltwater with healing herbs, my lady. The girl said that you’ve a cut in your mouth, as well. Rinse with this and spit it out. It will sting for a moment, but you’ll heal faster for it.” Kadlin took the cup and followed the woman’s instructions. She winced at the bite of the medicine and was grateful when the pain began to subside. She spat into the basin and handed the cup back.
“What is your name?”
“I am Erna, the head keeper of the house.”
Kadlin reached out and touched the woman’s fleshy forearm. “Well, Erna, your rinse has made my mouth feel much better. Thank you for your kindness. Please call me Kadlin.”
The woman startled as if she’d been slapped. “I—that is—you are very welcome, Lady Kadlin.” Erna turned to the women who were straightening the room and widened her eyes. They smiled and shrugged in response. Kadlin wondered if they’d ever heard a kind word from their former mistress.
Erna pulled back her shoulders and looked about the room. “Quickly now, girls, Lady Kadlin and Lord Leif will want a fresh place to lay down their heads once they’ve had their supper.”
Beatrice combed the snarls from Kadlin’s damp hair, careful to avoid the puffy bruises that covered the left side of her face. She worked neat braids into the long tresses then held out a handful of beads, waiting patiently while Kadlin strung them onto her fresh plaits.
“May I help you dress, my lady?” she asked with a deferential bow.
Kadlin caught up the girl’s thin wrist. “Beatrice, you must call me Kadlin.” She looked at their reflection in the mirror and saw the uncertainty in the girl’s face. “What is it?”
Beatrice met her gaze in the glass. “You are the lady of the estate now. Will you keep me on? I am a hard worker and… I have nowhere else to go.”
Kadlin turned the idea over in her mind— the lady of the estate. She supposed the girl was correct. They couldn’t go back to the farm now. Bjorn— Leif —would succeed his father. He had responsibilities here, and she would follow him. Kadlin smiled up at Beatrice. She would be dead if not for this little one’s bravery.
“You are not my slave. If
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