“Watch closely,” said Heidir the Bold to us, “and be wary of the cousins, for any of them could be after fair Lady Alena’s gold. And if you see anything whatsoever amiss, tell me immediately.”
Thus as the sky darkened over the wheatfields we watched each of the guests with narrowed eyes. Snotty Prince Artem and his mother were the first to withdraw to a chamber - with only one bed, we noted and raised eyebrows at each other - then followed stout Prince Kiryla and his dark-haired wife Princess Natalla. Next Lady Taciana and Lord Zmicier Blackhorse, and their two slender daughters Julija (in red) and Nastassia (in blue - or was it the other way around?). By the time Cousin Jan and Cousin Viktar rode in on their handsome stallions we had all completely forgotten who was who.
Lady Alena, fortunately, had not.
“Viktar! Jan! Get down here, yer sorry two, what time do ye call this? We’re starting momentarily. Ye won’t have time to get dressed, well, ye would have had time if you’d been prompt, so whose fault is that? Let me take a look at ye. Jan, yer hair is a mess. Let yer aunt fix it up. Stop wriggling!”
“This does not sound like an untrusting woman who thinks her nephews are about to steal her money,” said Gufa, who spoke only a little Rus but was astute enough to hear the truth in her voice.
“Perhaps these are not the nephews she was worried about,” said Orvendr.
“Who, then?” said Hrjota. “I didn’t like the look of those Blackhorse girls. Too skinny. Probably planning something.”
But whatever they were planning would have to wait. The feast was starting, and everyone who could fit was crammed onto long benches in the hall as the cousins took their seats around the Lady Alena at high table. The air was already thick with sweat and they hadn’t even served the wine yet.
The Lady Alena stood.
“Shuddup, yer louts. Now we’ve got plenty time to sing the praises of my dear late Leanid, but that can wait til ye’ve eaten, as I know how much ye can complain if ye have to wait for eating. So I’ll say all of ye who are here to mourn and to reminisce are welcome under my roof, as are our brave Northmen who join us for this evening only. Now, eat!”
We’d felt it during the afternoon but never so strongly as this: all the guests looking at us with interest and intent. “Do you think they never saw a Norseman before?” said Torsten.
“No, that can’t be it,” said Sten. “Their Grand Princes in Kyiv are Norsemen, Haskuldr and Dyr.”
“It’s not you they’re gawping at, it’s Alena,” said Daryna, passing with a full jug of wine, when Hrjota asked. “They can’t figure out where she found so many strapping young lads.”
“Torsten is getting on for forty.”
“I meant that figuratively, idiot. She named you almost like you were guests but you’re clearly here to work. So what is your work? That’s what they’re trying to figure out.”
Hrjota wrinkled his nose. “Well, if one of them discovers it, they can come tell me, because I’m dying to know. Right now we’re just standing around while everyone else gets to drink all the wine.”
“Heidir,” said Orvendr, leaning to whisper in his ear. “Important news.”
“What is it?” said Heidir urgently. “Has someone died?”
“No - it’s Prince Artem, see, the sneezy one. He sleeps in the same bed as his mother. That can’t be right, can it?”
Heidir looked nonplussed. “What are you - Look, Orvendr, you idiot, I don’t care who sleeps with who!”
“But you said to tell you if - ”
“I said to tell me if anything important happens! Incest is not important! Theft and murder are important!”
“What about bodily harm,” asked Gufa, who was listening.
“Bodily harm is important. But only serious bodily harm! If one of the locals cuts his finger preparing the stew, keep it to yourself!”
“Sorry, boss - ”
“Look, from now on, if you’re not sure if it’s important, why don’t you tell Sten about it before you come to me. He’ll know what to do.” Sten was across the hall near the door and didn’t hear Heidir say this, but would soon notice Orvendr and Gufa looking at him intently and look confused. “Until then you stay quiet and don’t get us kicked out for insulting the memory of our dear Alena’s Leonot.”
Orvendr and Gufa withdrew from the table. “I think he’s angry at us,” said Orvendr, who was in his own way quite a good judge of character.
Gufa didn’t reply. He was distracted watching cousin Kiryla talk to his brother Viktar in hushed tones as his wife Hanna sipped wine and looked bored. He thought he’d caught the Rus word for “gold” in those whispers, but couldn’t be sure.
Outside, beyond the glow of the torches and the hubbub of the labourers and commoners at the overflow tables in the yard, Birger was keeping his eyes peeled for geese. He’d been repeatedly told by Sten that there was nothing to be afraid of, that the geese were being kept penned until everyone had gone to sleep, but after the previous night Birger wasn’t taking any chances. Every bush that rustled in the wind had a goose behind it; every tree that creaked was a goose waiting to strike. Lind and Smali, the others on garden patrol, were sitting around and chatting about Lind’s relationship problems, leaving Birger on his own to watch for fowl play.
A noise in the undergrowth. A goose! No - wind. Or was it? Too steady to be wind but too heavy to be a goose. Birger strained his eyes but could make nothing out. And there it was again! Unmistakable footsteps. Someone was approaching the house. Several someones. And they didn’t want to be discovered. Birger dashed back to the others.
“It’s like I spend all of my days thinking about her, but when we’re together I’m counting the days until we sail again. Every little thing she does irritates me. I don’t - ”
“Men! Men, in the bushes,” panted Birger.
“What!” said Smali.
“Over there!” said Birger.
“Are you - ” said Smali to Lind.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” said Lind. “Let’s finish another time.”
But when they reached the spot where Birger had been looking there was nobody to be seen.