To Love Again - Bertrice Small [196]
“She never lost her memory,” Cailin told him. “Let me tell you a story that I learned as a child. In ancient times a Grecian king named Menelaeus had a beautiful queen who was called Helen. The king was old, but he loved his wife. The queen, however, was young, and she fell in love with a handsome youth, Paris. They fled to his father’s city of Troy. A war between Troy and several powerful Grecian states erupted over the insult to Menelaeus and his efforts to regain Helen, the beauteous queen.
“Troy, however, was considered impregnable. Enormous high walls surrounded it. There was a goodly supply of fresh water and food. For many years the Greeks besieged it, but they could not take the city. Finally they agreed to cease their war with Troy, and as a gesture of peace, the departing Greek armies left a magnificent large, carved, and decorated horse on wheels behind for the Trojans. The citizens of Troy opened their gates and brought the horse into the city. All day they celebrated their victory over Menelaeus and his allies.
“In the dark of the night, when all lay sleeping, the Greek army, which had secreted itself within the belly of the Trojan horse, came forth and took the city of Troy, showing no mercy. All were killed, and the city destroyed.
“Aelfa was Ragnar Strongspear’s Trojan horse. She allowed herself to be beaten, and she pretended to have no knowledge of herself but her name, so that she might gain our sympathies. Then she set about to fascinate and lure both our gatekeepers because she could not be certain which one of them would be on duty the night she intended to let her uncle and his men into Cadda-wic.”
“Albert and Bran-hard told me what happened,” Wulf said. “I have forgiven them both. They have learned a valuable lesson by this.” He looked out over the hall at Ragnar’s men. “Now I must decide what to do with these men. Shall I kill them, or show mercy?”
“Mercy, lord!” the men cried with one voice. “Mercy!”
Cailin leaned over and whispered to her husband. “Ragnar’s brother, Gunnar, will think to profit from his brother’s death; but his daughter, Aelfa, is, I think, ambitious. She will want her uncle’s lands for Harald, who is to be her husband. Is there not some way in which we might set these men against each other? If they are busy battling one another, they will not have time to bother with us, my lord. And let us not forget our old friend Antonia Porcius. Those lands were hers before Ragnar Strongspear stormed across them. I do not think Antonia is ready to let go of her dreams for Quintus, the younger, yet.”
Wulf grinned at his wife. “Truly Flavius Aspar and Byzantium lost a valuable strategist in you, lambkin.” Then he turned to his prisoners, his look fierce. “Ragnar Strongspear is dead,” he told them. “Harald Swiftsword, will you swear fealty to me? If you do, I will not oppose your taking of Ragnar Strongspear’s lands. You are, I think, your master’s natural heir. His sons are too young to be strong neighbors.”
“What of my father?” Aelfa demanded. “He is Ragnar’s brother. Should he not inherit my uncle’s lands?”
“Why would you want your father to have what your husband could have, Aelfa Gunnarsdottar? If Harald does not claim Ragnar Strongspear’s lands for himself, he will never have anything of his own. If he is strong enough to hold them against your father, why should you mind? Do you not desire to be a great lady?”
“I am strong enough to hold those lands for myself,” Harald bragged loudly, and turned to the other men. “Are you with me?” he demanded, and they cried their assent. Harald turned back to Wulf Ironfist. “Then I will swear to be your man, my lord, and keep the peace between us. Aelfa, what say you?”
“Yes!” she said. “It was decided long ago between us, Harald, and if I would take you landless, I would certainly not reject you when you are about to become a great and propertied lord.”
“Then,” said Wulf Ironfist, “I will free you all!” and they cheered him loudly.
Ale was brought,