Edyth and her women were forced to serve their conquerors and whilst the Viking king kept a tight rein on his men, there were still plenty of presumptive hands and lewd threats. Far worse than such petty pestering, however, was the knowledge that within walking distance their own men might be lying mortally wounded and they could not go to them. Earl Torr, a gaunter, darker, even more predatory version of his previous self, prowled after Edyth and she was spared – if spared it was – only by Hardrada. ‘I was so sorry to hear about your husband,’ the Viking king opened as if this were no more than a social dinner. ‘That is, your first husband. Do you make a habit of marrying your husbands’ conquerors? I do hope so.’ ‘You are married already, Sire,’ she replied stiffly. ‘As was King Harold.’ Edyth gasped and Hardrada looked at her curiously. ‘You knew her? She was a friend perhaps? Ah, you women – you are so fickle.’ ‘At least we do not kill each other.’ ‘You think?’ His words were as sharp as his blade and he was a man who knew how to hunt down weakness.
