Brede is called to order

“Let me see,” Brede whispered.

“No no no,” Estrid repeated, and she embraced him tightly, trapping his hand between the two of them – not a disagreeable place to have it, but it did put a halt to his attempts to open the front of her gown.

He thought he would manage in the end. He had not realized the power he had over her until she had come this afternoon. He had told her to meet him in his room when Sigefrith and Eirik and the King had gone out with their falcons. He was a little sorry he had made the offer afterwards, for he did not think she would come, and he would have liked to have watched them with their birds.

But she had come. To his room!

He squirmed his fingers to one of the hooks and wiggled it open. That made two. But they were not adjacent, and so there was still not enough room for a hand.

“Let me see,” he pleaded.

“No no no,” she said.

“Please?” He kissed her neck, since that was all he had available to him.

Apparently it was as easy as making her jealous. He wished he had thought of it before. He had begun to grow tired of her, or frustrated rather – she had eyes and a laugh that promised more than she gave. There were other girls with such eyes and such a laugh, and more generous, and less well-​​guarded.

Eadgith, of course, had neither the eyes nor the laugh, which was what made pursuit of her interesting. She promised nothing, which strangely gave one the impression that she had much more to give. 

Of course, she was well-​​guarded. Her brother did not seem to mind, since Brede had been nothing but gallant thus far, but the King eyed him like a hawk, or like the dragon he claimed to be when she was around.

Perhaps Estrid, who had only her fifteen-​​year-​​old brother to defend her, was an easier catch. And if she were willing…

“Please?” he whispered again, trying to squeeze his fingers around the hook in the middle.

“No!” she giggled, and she sat up and laid a hand of her own upon his chest to push him away.

He easily opened the hook, and now he could feel the thin linen of her shift beneath his hand. That was the kind of No he liked. But he paused to see what she would say.

“Anyway, you don’t want to look, you want to touch,” she said.

“Or both,” he smiled.

“Oh, no! Only one. You choose. Today you have one, the next time you have the other.”

“Today I shall have… the left one.”

“No!” she giggled. “It’s not what I mean.”

“What did you mean?” he asked innocently.

“I mean, you may look or you may touch, but not both.”

“I may only touch one?”

“No! I mean – ”

“I shall touch one and look at the other.”

“No!” she laughed.

He began to pull on the string that tied the top of her shift, and she clamped him against her again.

“No – first you decide,” she said, laughing breathlessly.

“Let me have just a little taste of both and I shall decide.”

“No no no – Oh!” She jumped as the door flew open and slammed against the wall.

It was Eirik.

Eirik pointed at his sister and said something rather ominous in Norse.

Estrid leapt from Brede’s lap and clutched at the top of her dress, stammering an explanation.

Eirik roared at her a last time, and she fled.

That left Brede. Eirik stood in the doorway. There was no way out. Thank God Eirik did not seem to be armed.

Eirik rushed at him.

Brede stumbled backwards into the small table beside his bed and sent the glass lamp crashing down onto the floor.

Eirik grasped him by the shoulders and pressed his thumbs into the hollow of his throat, and he nearly gagged with the pain.

“It’s a warning,” Eirik growled. “I thought you understand I don’t want you for my sister. This time I make you understand. You understand?”

Brede nodded.

“Next time I don’t talk. Next time I break your pretty face. I break every part of you that touch my sister, so? Your mouth, your hand, anything else. Understand?”

He nodded again.

Eirik released him and stood sneering down at him for a moment before swearing at him in Norse and then stalking out of the room.

Brede still had his hatred, but there was nothing he could do.