without his men, a king even less. I value them as highly as the treasure you hold for me and I will need them every bit as much as I need it to take Norway
back.’
‘Then you must keep them as safe as I keep your gold.’
‘I must. Elizaveta . . .’
But whatever he intended to say was lost as a heavy clap on the back sent him sprawling forward and Elizaveta’s father stepped up at her side.
‘Plotting in the shadows, Harald?’
‘Nay, Sire,’ he said, recovering, ‘just taking the chance to offer your daughter two more keys to my treasure troves.’
Elizaveta proffered the parcel but Yaroslav barely glanced at it.
‘My daughter is a treasure richer than any gold or jewels, Varangian.’ His voice was low and Harald bowed to it.
‘That I know, Grand Prince.’
‘Do not presume to what you are not entitled.’
‘Father!’ Elizaveta protested but Harald held up a hand as the Grand Prince nudged them back towards the light of the fire.
‘I presume to nothing, truly, bar her kindness as my treasurer.’
‘Good, though were you to offer her not just caskets but a crown . . .’
Elizaveta’s protests stuck in her throat and Harald simply bowed again.
‘I swear I will rule Norway one day, Sire.’
‘
You
will?’ It was a new voice, a thinner, higher one, and Elizaveta groaned as Magnus joined them. He, like her, had grown in the last year and his gangly frame intruded
awkwardly on their group. ‘
I
am King Olaf’s heir, Harald Sigurdsson,’ the boy said, squaring up to his uncle, though Harald cast twice his shadow against the flames.
Harald looked down at him.
‘How do you know?’ he asked mildly. ‘Were you at his side when he died?’
‘You know I was not. Had I been, I might have protected him better.’
Harald bristled and Yaroslav stepped quickly between them.
‘Come now – you are kin, joined by blood and a shared aim. You must fight your enemies, not each other. You can rule together, as I ruled with my own brother for several
years.’
Elizaveta shifted. Her uncle had been the last of Yaroslav’s eleven brothers to meet an early death and the thought of it made her uncomfortably aware of the harsh secrets of a man’s
world.
‘If you wish to rule,’ Harald said, ‘you need men and for men you need gold. I am gaining gold, nephew, but where is yours?’
‘God will see me safely to my rightful place,’ Magnus returned easily.
Harald growled.
‘I told you, Magnus, God helps those . . .’
‘Who strive for themselves? You did, but maybe, Harald, God helps those who devote themselves to his service? How can we know?’
‘I am sure,’ Yaroslav said hastily, ‘that God loves all men who serve in whatever way they can and I pray that he sees you both safe in your homeland.’
‘As kings?’
‘If it is your destiny, yes.’
‘With queens at our side?’ Magnus looked slyly up at Harald. ‘You are betrothed, are you not, Uncle?’
‘No.’
Harald’s answer was quick; too quick. Elizaveta looked at him but he had let his blonde hair fall forward and his eyes were shaded by it.
‘No?’ Magnus echoed in his stiff little voice. ‘But weren’t you promised to Finn Arnasson’s daughter?’ He turned to Elizaveta. ‘The Arnassons are very
great jarls in the north of Norway, Princess. They hold much land and much power.’ He smiled thinly and Elizaveta shivered.
‘Then it will be a useful alliance for you, Prince,’ she said stiffly to Harald.
‘There is no alliance,’ he replied, pushing back his hair and looking straight at her. ‘There is no promise. Magnus knows not what he is saying. It was talk, nothing more
– you know how it is?’
Elizaveta drew in a long breath as she considered this. Her father was always dangling betrothals before the young men of the
druzhina
, as he had indeed just done with Harald.
‘I know,’ she agreed quietly and her fingers clasped tight around her keys and the little black charm. ‘And now, you must
back.’
‘Then you must keep them as safe as I keep your gold.’
‘I must. Elizaveta . . .’
But whatever he intended to say was lost as a heavy clap on the back sent him sprawling forward and Elizaveta’s father stepped up at her side.
‘Plotting in the shadows, Harald?’
‘Nay, Sire,’ he said, recovering, ‘just taking the chance to offer your daughter two more keys to my treasure troves.’
Elizaveta proffered the parcel but Yaroslav barely glanced at it.
‘My daughter is a treasure richer than any gold or jewels, Varangian.’ His voice was low and Harald bowed to it.
‘That I know, Grand Prince.’
‘Do not presume to what you are not entitled.’
‘Father!’ Elizaveta protested but Harald held up a hand as the Grand Prince nudged them back towards the light of the fire.
‘I presume to nothing, truly, bar her kindness as my treasurer.’
‘Good, though were you to offer her not just caskets but a crown . . .’
Elizaveta’s protests stuck in her throat and Harald simply bowed again.
‘I swear I will rule Norway one day, Sire.’
‘
You
will?’ It was a new voice, a thinner, higher one, and Elizaveta groaned as Magnus joined them. He, like her, had grown in the last year and his gangly frame intruded
awkwardly on their group. ‘
I
am King Olaf’s heir, Harald Sigurdsson,’ the boy said, squaring up to his uncle, though Harald cast twice his shadow against the flames.
Harald looked down at him.
‘How do you know?’ he asked mildly. ‘Were you at his side when he died?’
‘You know I was not. Had I been, I might have protected him better.’
Harald bristled and Yaroslav stepped quickly between them.
‘Come now – you are kin, joined by blood and a shared aim. You must fight your enemies, not each other. You can rule together, as I ruled with my own brother for several
years.’
Elizaveta shifted. Her uncle had been the last of Yaroslav’s eleven brothers to meet an early death and the thought of it made her uncomfortably aware of the harsh secrets of a man’s
world.
‘If you wish to rule,’ Harald said, ‘you need men and for men you need gold. I am gaining gold, nephew, but where is yours?’
‘God will see me safely to my rightful place,’ Magnus returned easily.
Harald growled.
‘I told you, Magnus, God helps those . . .’
‘Who strive for themselves? You did, but maybe, Harald, God helps those who devote themselves to his service? How can we know?’
‘I am sure,’ Yaroslav said hastily, ‘that God loves all men who serve in whatever way they can and I pray that he sees you both safe in your homeland.’
‘As kings?’
‘If it is your destiny, yes.’
‘With queens at our side?’ Magnus looked slyly up at Harald. ‘You are betrothed, are you not, Uncle?’
‘No.’
Harald’s answer was quick; too quick. Elizaveta looked at him but he had let his blonde hair fall forward and his eyes were shaded by it.
‘No?’ Magnus echoed in his stiff little voice. ‘But weren’t you promised to Finn Arnasson’s daughter?’ He turned to Elizaveta. ‘The Arnassons are very
great jarls in the north of Norway, Princess. They hold much land and much power.’ He smiled thinly and Elizaveta shivered.
‘Then it will be a useful alliance for you, Prince,’ she said stiffly to Harald.
‘There is no alliance,’ he replied, pushing back his hair and looking straight at her. ‘There is no promise. Magnus knows not what he is saying. It was talk, nothing more
– you know how it is?’
Elizaveta drew in a long breath as she considered this. Her father was always dangling betrothals before the young men of the
druzhina
, as he had indeed just done with Harald.
‘I know,’ she agreed quietly and her fingers clasped tight around her keys and the little black charm. ‘And now, you must
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