Chapter Forty-five

"I told you to give it back!" she heard, his voice tight and strained, a voice that she recognised.

She could just about see him around Ivar's arm as they stepped up to a long, large building with double doors, that familiar bundle of braids on the top of his head catching the flames of the large fire pit he was standing in front of and shining almost orange.

"Tyr," was all Ivar said, and Tyr looked up, that scowl on his face tight and fierce, the axe in his hand dropping at the sight of them.

Enid heard a thud, the patter of feet running towards them and a little voice calling, "Far!" Jarl Knut opened his arms, patting the back of a young boy as Tyr stood there, his arms folded across his chest, that scowl growing darker.

"He wasn't listening to me," Tyr said, and Enid felt it then, that cold bite of fear as it gripped her stomach, as everyone besides Ivar turned to look at the Jarl, their eyes wide and expectant.

She didn't know exactly what a Jarl was, but it was clear he was not like them. He'd made Ivar come here, he'd ordered the attacks on Jarl Sigurd's land and paid for all the men, and now Tyr had threatened one of his children, Little Tyr, Ivar's son, a farmer's son. She held Frigga closer, her free hand reaching out to push past Ivar and get to Tyr, but then she heard a laugh, a laugh that was soft and low, and Jarl Knut bent over, lifting his son in his arms and poking his chest.

"I told you to listen to Tyr," he said. "I thought you were old enough to follow orders."

"I am, far! But-,"

"Then you should have listened," Jarl Knut cut in. "I hope they weren't too much trouble, Tyr."

Tyr turned his head, flicking his braids over his shoulder and tutting. "Not all of them," he said.

"Gorm wouldn't share, far," said a voice, so soft and light, and Enid saw her then, her little hand clutching at Tyr's arm, the other pressed to her lips.

"Hhmmm…" was all Jarl Knut said, shaking the boy in his arms once before he put him down. "Come," he said, turning to Ivar. "I'll show you to your room. Gro is with her family until tomorrow so ask the slaves if you need anything until she gets back."

He stopped when he reached Tyr, his eyes flicking between his face and his daughter's behind him before he bent down, sweeping the girl up in his arms and making her laugh, and Enid sighed, letting out the breath she had been holding and followed behind Ivar. How desperately she wanted to hold Tyr to her chest then, how deeply she wanted to run her fingers all over his face and check if he was alright, but Ivar gripped him by the shoulder, shaking it a few times and squeezing before he dragged him along beside him.

The room they were in was much longer than it was wide, at the end opposite of the double doors were two thrones and Enid had to push past several stools and chairs before they could climb the few steps to walk behind them. Ivar held open the thick, leather curtain, letting the children and her pass before closing it, and his eyes somehow shone in the darkness as they stared at the Jarl's back, his face now a blank, stiff slate.

"Our rooms are down there," the Jarl pointed. "And yours are down here," he said, brushing past Ivar to show them.

They weren't really rooms, more like one large one with a curtain to close off the sleeping area from a small kitchen and table, but Enid couldn't help but stare at the bed. It was so large, with thick wooden posts at the head, carved and chiseled into strange serpent-like beasts and littered with furs. To one side of it was a lower bed, still covered in thick, lush furs and on the other, a wooden cradle, round woollen shields and rattles tied between the posts that jingled whenever it moved.

"There's a shed round the back for the slave or you could keep her her," Jarl Knut shrugged. "Have her speak with Gro when she gets back about duties."

"She looks after the children," Ivar said, and the Jarl stared at Ivar, his eyes unblinking, his head tilting to the side, and then he shrugged again.

"She should still speak with Gro," he said, but Enid didn't like it, not the way he looked at Ivar or the chill that seemed to run through her every time she saw that light in his eyes, and she didn't like the sound of Gro.

She held Frigga closer, bouncing her in her arms and trying only to look at the little girl's face. Would Gro take her away from the children? No, surely Ivar would be able to stop that from happening, that was his only reason for needing her, the only thing he truly asked of her.

But then she saw Ivar nod.