The vassal stammered something completely incomprehensible, bowing so low he was almost touching his own nose on the floor. “I meant no offense, my lord,” he added in a squeak.
“Then do not speak it!”
Still bowing, the stout little man eased himself away.
“Our lord is in a quandary.” Ivo spoke quietly, not wishing Radulf to overhear him and deal him the same fate. “His lady is safer in the south, locked up at Crevitch, but without her visible presence her lands in the north will continue to seethe. And while the north hovers on the brink of war, Radulf cannot go home to her.”
Sweyn chuckled. “I see his problem. Will he send for her, do you think?”
Ivo shrugged. “If he cannot make peace soon, he may have no choice. The king will want to know what is amiss, and ’tis doubtful he will scruple to bring the lady north.”
“Women are not as fragile as we think, although it pleases some men to treat them thus.”
“Perhaps it would be better if it were the truth,” Ivo retorted. “If they said aye and nay and did what they were told, I for one would be much happier.”
Sweyn measured his friend with sparkling blue eyes. “You speak of one lady in particular?”
“Aye.” Ivo glowered.
“Is she not biddable enough for you?”
“She plays a deep game, but soon enough I will have all her secrets from her.”
“Perhaps her sister will be easier to unlock?”
As he spoke the words, Sweyn’s smile faded and he shook his head. It was as if the thought of Mary unsettled him in some way.
“What is it?” Ivo asked curiously. He had never seen Sweyn unsettled by a woman before.
“She is young, untried.” Sweyn hesitated, and then laughed at his own thoughts. “I grow strange, my friend, pay me no mind. You know that I am never serious—life is a jest, to be enjoyed and gambled upon, and women are sweetmeats to make its passing more palatable.”
But the words were spoken with an effort, and full of self-mockery. As if Sweyn made fun of himself.
“Take care, Sweyn, that you do not fall headfirst into my lady Mary’s dark eyes and drown!” He frowned. “At least she seems sweet and gentle. Her sister is a frustrating baggage. Hot tempered, stubborn…”
And just as her songs had tugged at his heart, the brave tilt of her chin made Ivo want to ride out and slay dragons for her.
“Has she told you yet what game she plays?”
Ivo shook his head. He had told Sweyn he knew that they had once been the daughters of an important man, but not who that man was. Sweyn had shrugged and said it mattered not to him, as long as Ivo did not involve him in anything treasonous. Ivo had forborne to answer, for that may well be the case.
“While I was waiting for you at the market today, Mary told me where she and her sister lived.”
“And?”
“Does the address interest you?”
“You know it does. Tell it to me, Sweyn.”
Sweyn rubbed his brow. “I have so many things to think of, I may have forgotten it. What will you give me to remember?”
Ivo glowered at him. “Tell it to me or face me tomorrow in the training yard.”
“Now I am afraid,” Sweyn mocked, ostentatiously loosening the muscles of his shoulders and rolling his arms. “I am half inclined to refuse to tell you, just so that you have to fight me for it. And you would, Ivo, we both know that.” He grinned at his friend’s angry expression. “Do not strike me down. I will tell you where your songstress lives. ’Tis a place by the river. The houses are old Viking dwellings, and they are falling down, although the one they have chosen seems sturdy enough. Still…’tis not a good place, Ivo. The staithes are closeby, and such locations are rife with cutthroats.”
Ivo shook his head in disgust, his hand clenching on the hilt of his sword. Briar, in such a place? He had the wild urge to ride there right now and bring her to safety. But he knew if he did such a thing she would refuse him, and abuse him, and enjoy doing so. Frustrated, he ground his teeth, and then a thought occurred to him. He turned to stare at his friend.
“How do you know about the state of their abode, Sweyn?”