Tomb for an Eagle (Orkneyinga Murders Book 1) by Lexie Conyngham

Author:Lexie Conyngham [Conyngham, Lexie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Kellas Cat Press
Published: 2018-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

FIMTÁN

XV

Ketil sat in the sun, his leg stretched out. It was well bound up, and he could feel that it was healing, whatever Sigrid’s concerns. But it had only happened yesterday: she was probably right that he should not have walked to Ragna’s house just now – and anyway, he had other plans.

He thought again of Snorri’s corpse, lying there filthy and blooded in the sty. He had not asked about any family Snorri might have had, but skalds were wanderers, staying for a while at any court that paid them, moving on when the inspiration ran dry. Trouble-makers, many of them, sweet as honey to the lord they flattered, but insinuating themselves into court politics like a lever between rocks, ready to break allies apart. Had Snorri done that? He had certainly caused trouble with Hlifolf and Hrolf, and no one had seemed much surprised. But Snorri was also by necessity a watcher, an outsider, particularly when it came to the ball games and mock fights. What might he have seen amongst Einar’s or Thorfinn’s men that he had planned to tell Ketil? Or had he planned it at all? But then, Ketil thought, Snorri had at least been in the place they had arranged to meet. It looked as if he really had intended to tell Ketil something. But was that why he had died?

Ketil was no further in his thoughts when he heard footsteps, and a cheerful whistle. Gnup had appeared at last. The boy rounded the corner of the longhouse, and started when he saw Ketil propped comfortably at the doorway.

‘Hallo!’ he said, though there was a wary look in his face which assured Ketil. The boy had indeed been hiding something. He jerked his head. ‘Sigrid inside?’

‘Sigrid’s away,’ said Ketil, expressionless. ‘Sit down a moment, will you, Gnup? I want a word.’

He was right: the boy was nervous, much more nervous than when they had first met. Gnup hesitated, his gaze anywhere but Ketil’s face. Ketil waited, silent and still, and Gnup sat, almost as if his legs gave up.

‘I don’t know anything!’ he said, his voice trembling.

‘Then this won’t take long,’ said Ketil. ‘We spoke yesterday about that rumour you had heard. About Rognvald’s ghost?’

Gnup, confident young man, had shrunk back to boyhood. He clutched his knees against his chest and nodded, though it was hard to see it.

‘I’d like to be quite clear where you heard that rumour.’ He waited. Gnup said nothing. ‘Was it at your home? At Bjarni’s house?’ Again he waited, this time allowing time to pace past one slow step at a time. Gnup’s eyes flickered to Ketil’s hands, loose on his lap, and he mumbled something.

‘What was that?’

‘I don’t want Sigrid to marry Bjarni,’ Gnup said. He glanced up quickly at Ketil’s face, to see if he understood. ‘If Sigrid marries Bjarni, I’ll have to go home. I hate home. I want to work here. With Sigrid.’

‘Right …’ Ketil tried not to show his puzzlement. At the same

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