"What is so funny?" she asked.

"He is wed to you, Mama. He is allowed to kiss you," Katia snickered mischievously.

"Yes, he is. Now, which one of these beauties do you want to hold?"

After Lida had a long talk with Ylva, she felt differently about the new arrangement. Ylva had been treated well by Sigurd, who's wife's milk had dried up early since her next babe was already on the way. Ylva had been able to mourn her lost child but also had cherished the time with little Hagen. She had found it very difficult to leave her charge and asked Lida for permission to visit the babe. That small request told Lida so much. Ylva loved children, all children, and Lida knew she would make a worthy addition to her sisterhood of maids.

The women spent the hour bathing Lida and her three children, combing her hair and dressing her in a gown of the finest silk to meet the king. The mood was lighthearted, with a pulse of excitement for the privilege of meeting the monarch.

Ylva demonstrated a six-strand braid to Katia, and her daughter agreed to let Ylva try it in her hair. A few hours later, before the feast began, Lida descended the stairs with her procession of maids and babes.

Magnus stood at the hearth with the king, horn of ale in hand, his chest expanding with pride as his family approached.

The king handed off his tankard of ale to a servant. "Cousin, we have been invaded by Freyja and her band of goddesses. This explains everything."

"Mistress of Tronscar, Friherrinna Lida." Magnus announced as the king approached Lida with an overly eager smile. Lida and her servants dropped into a deep curtsies, even those with the babes in their arms-wholly unnecessary, in Magnus's opinion.

The king took his wife's hand and kissed it. The hound better not take this too far if he knew what was good for him. "Friherrinna Lida, you have made the journey from Gtaland well worth the effort. My, my, cousin, where did you find this creature?"

"At your bishop's in Turku," Magnus said. "This is my daughter, Katia, by way of my wife's previous union, and these are my sons, Hk and Stl."

"They are most impressive, Magnus. I must say you set a goal for yourself and you certainly see it through." The king turned and addressed the rest of the room. "My cousin said to me last year that he wanted a wife and an heir by this summer. Magnus, you've outdone yourself-two sons and a daughter. A little greedy if you ask me. I think you should give me at least one by way of tax to your king. What about this one? She has a pleasing smile and smart braids." His cousin reached to pick Katia up. His daughter shrieked and dove for Magnus's leg, wrapping around him like a kitten.

His cousin laughed from his belly and slapped his leg, filling the hall with his cackling. Katia buried her face into Magnus's side.

He untangled her limbs, raising her high into his arms. Her little arm quickly locked around his neck. "Only the king thinks his jests are funny," he whispered in her ear, patting her back.

Already deep into his cups, the king continued to roar with laughter, and so began the feast. The packed hall drank and ate the long day away.

For most of the evening, Katia sat quietly on Magnus's knee. The babes had returned above stairs with the nurses. Katia nibbled on her sweet cake and he realized with pride that she was unquestionably his child-his feeling for her was strong as for his sons. He ran one of her braids through his fingers and smiled at her.

"I like your braids, daughter. Did your mother force you to wear them to please me?"

"No, she never forces me. Ylva has the same braid in her hair, and I thought it looked pretty, so I asked for it."

"My thanks. You look very smart for our guests." He was about to return his attention to the king when he saw her looking up at him strangely. "What is it?"

"You are not my father, Jarl Magnus. You made a mistake. I will not tell anyone."

"You are my daughter. I wed your mother, therefore you become my daughter."

"I have a father. He is buried beside a lake, beside a big rock in Finland, in Lylasku. My mother told me. He died fighting with your cousins. I am glad I only have girl cousins. Boy cousins always seem to get in trouble for fighting." She looked over at the king.

"How did you get so wise for someone so small?" He tickled her side.

"My grandma always says, 'Things will look large or small to you equal to whether you are large or small.'" She continued to giggle, squirming, drawing attention from those seated closest to them.

"I beg your pardon, Jarl Magnus. My I inquire, who is the child's grandmother?" Count Charles Flander sat on the other side of Magnus, because of his royal position. The Danish diplomat was an elderly man with a sharp nose and of few words, whose cousin was the new king of Denmark.

"My wife's family is from Finland, Count," Magnus answered. "Family name is Starkka."

"May I ask the child what other expressions her grandmother says? I confess she has caught my ear." The count smiled warmly at his daughter.

Katia smirked shyly. "'Mighty things grow from small beginnings, like the mustard seed,'" she said sweetly in Danish.

Magnus and the Dane laughed.

"Does your grandmother have any more pirated works of philosophy?" Count Charles asked.

"Um . . . 'If you steal something small, like a calf, you are a thief and hanged. But if you steal something big, like a country, then you are worshipped and called a king.'" She smiled and the table fell deadly silent. That is, until his cousin slapped the table, his boisterous, roaring laugh breaking out again.

"That decides it, poppet," his cousin bellowed. "I am firing all my council and stealing you back to Gtaland." He grabbed her up off Magnus's knee, and Katia shrieked.

"Nay, you cannot! Jarl Magnus said I am his." Quick as a cat she climbed back to Magnus's lap, flinging her little arms around his neck. He patted her back with pride.

The table roared again, all except for the Danish count sitting next to him. He was silent, staring at the child. "Where in Finland is your wife from?" he asked, the smile fading from his face.

"Turku," Magnus said. "Our union was blessed by Bishop Henry." He raised his chin. Was the count challenging him?

"Your wife, the child, they . . . they are familiar." He continued to look hard at Katia and then down the table to his wife, who was engaged in conversation with the king. Magnus's unease grew at the attention the count paid to his family. "Katia, does your grandmother have any other wise sayings?" the count asked.

"She has things to say all day long, but no more sayings about small things . . . or maybe I forgot them."

"What other things does she like to say? What is her favorite?" This Dane was walking on thin ice with his suspicious manner.

"'Love is not in our choice but is our fate.' She told me that one over and over, sometimes twice a day. She said I would not understand until I grew up. I think it is funny because I choose to love all the time: my dog, my new uncle, my new chamber, my new cat spot cloak. I guess my love for my brothers is my fate. Is that what she meant, Jarl Magnus?"

"I do not know." He stroked her flushed, soft cheek. "Your grandmother sounds too wise for me."

"Excuse me, Jarl, King Birge." The count tripped on his chair in his rush to depart.

"Tero!" Magnus summoned his steward.

"Yes, master."

"See after the count. He may be ill."

"At once, master." Tero nodded.

"Are you getting tired, my little Kat?"

Katia rested her head against his chest. He enjoyed the feel of her sleeping in his arms, but an itch scratched at the back of his mind. Instinct warned him that an unspecified threat had been delivered by way of the count's questions and strange reaction to the answers. Would the count try to use his wife's lowborn status against Magnus and his position? History did have a pattern of repeating. His gut told him treachery from the Danish shore was now in play.

Chapter 24.

Lida leaned forward and closed her eyes as her husband rinsed her hair. "I think you should go," she said, more firmly this time.

"I should not have asked you. I will decide." He scrubbed her scalp harder with the soft lavender soap.

"Magnus, it will only be for a month. I promise to not burn down your fortress while you are gone."

"Hold your breath." He poured water over her hair. Lida tied her clean hair in a knot to keep it out of the soapy water and turned her face up to kiss him. The price for having her hair thoroughly washed.

"I have changed my mind. You should quit your role as jarl and be my official hair washer until the end of time. Who has time to do both?" She deliberately rubbed her breasts against his chest to tease him.

He snatched her up out of the tub.

After the twins' birth, Lida's body had remained sensitive in a few secret places. Her husband had become very creative in caring for them. The result was a softer, more sensual time together. They had opened their martial bed to all manners of pleasure. The countless ways Magnus worshipped her body made Lida all the more eager to return his affections in kind. She admitted that having the babes sleep in the nurses' chamber a few nights a week was quite wonderful. However, she did not get much more sleep.

With her lustful desires now satisfied-fully, more than once-Lida lay naked and sweaty in her husband's arms.

They both needed another bath. She stroked her hand across his mighty chest, in continual awe of the power and strength he possessed. Her mind wandered back to the lengthy arguments and conversations between her husband and his aggressive cousin.

War clouds hung heavy in the air. The king had a hobby of crusading, which came at a steep price-heavy losses of men, weapons, and gold, plus frequent land disputes. Factions in the Dane, Saxon, and Swede courts plotted against them, hence the urgency of the king's visit to Tronscar in need of her husband's support.

One of the vocal opponents of the Dane-Swede alliance had been the very man the king had dragged to Tronscar, Count Charles Flander, the top advisor in Demark. The king had wanted the Danish count to be impressed by Magnus's strength and ability to trade with his raw steel, forged weaponry, and battle-ready troops. Regrettably, the opposite had happened-Count Charles disappeared the day after he arrived, leaving behind a letter stating that he must return directly to Denmark.

"I think you should go," Lida said. "I feel terrible, Magnus. I was distracted with the children. I was not a proper hostess. Perhaps the count was offended?"

Teetering on the verge of sleep, her husband mumbled. "Are you trying to be rid of me, wife?"

"Aye, that is exactly what I have been doing for the last hour. Trying to get you to flee from my bed." She tickled under his rib, a place she had found a while ago. He wiggled and twisted away until his big arms came crushing down on either side of her head, pinning her to the bed. He kissed her until she was nothing more than a sack of bones beneath him.

"You should not test your man in such a way. He will not let you sleep while he inflicts punishment."

"Sleep is overvalued." She slapped his backside. "Besides, I have three maids to help me steal a short slumber midday."

He went strangely still, turning serious and looking down at her so intensely she wondered if something was amiss.

"I do not think I can leave you or our children," he confessed quietly. His face would have looked angry to anyone else, but Lida found she could finally accurately read his expressions. This was his look of wanting and concern. He wanted her, and it pained him to admit it.

"Then hurry home. I will be waiting, impatiently."

He shifted his eyes back and forth, as if he would say something more, but then the look was gone. He lay back in the bed and pulled her into his arms.

Reclined with one foot up on the bench opposite her, Klara balanced on the back legs of her chair and let the unexpected good news sink in slowly. It seemed too convenient to be true.

Her sons and collection of servants huddled around the table. "You swear, his ship sailed south, down the coast, not directly across the gulf?" she asked her youngest son.

"He will be in Sodermanland in four days," Casper answered.

Klara let out a satisfied breath. Her plans of war had begun. "Eat your meat, son. We sail for your sister's at first light." Finally, she would have the result of her months of planning. She would be comfortably housed where she belonged by winter, if not sooner.

"Are you certain, Mother?" Axel asked. "You wish war for Tronscar? Many good Norrlanders will be slaughtered."

"Isn't that the point, Axel? What do you think we do up here in the north, make steel sticks to love-tap our neighbors with? Bloody hell. Mikko! Send a message to Hakon that I want to see him in my private chamber immediately. Warn him to not keep me waiting," Klara instructed.

"Aye, mistress." Mikko bobbed his head like a puppet and left.

"Go see the witch at gray rock," Klara told Dag. "Your sister will most likely be running low with her supply. Tell the old crow that I want the same as last time, and do not let her cheat you on the price."

Finding enemies to align against the Finnish whore had been nearly effortless. Casper had returned from Turku with all the information she needed. Janetta was a lazy lack-wit, but her body was sound, and she had paid attention to the trade of a domina, earning her way into the principal house of the chieftain within a month of arriving in Lylasku. Janetta now ruled over the spineless Valto, Urho's brother, who had wanted to marry Lida after his death. All Klara needed now was for Magnus to leave Tronscar, and she would have the opportunity to smoke out the false friherrinna.

The well-timed gift of the disappearance of Hk was yet another asset to Klara's plan.

Klara slapped the back of the head of her son. "Dag, shut your mouth when you eat. You are full. If you eat more, you will be as bloated as your sisters." Her son turned tail and departed to see after his duties.

Klara sat alone and savored a rare moment of satisfaction. She raised her wine to the empty chair and toasted the ghost of her traitorous dead lover. "I will come for you yet, Knut. You dare toss me aside as a used-up whore? We'll see who rightfully remains. In a hundred years, no one will remember your precious son Magnus. Only those of my lineage will rule this land." Her near-victory was so sweet, she could taste it on her lips.

Lida strolled the lush green south fields, her skirts dragging behind her, catching on small, fragrant wildflowers. Squinting in the bright sunlight, she raised her hand to shield her eyes. Far ahead, Katia skipped to a stop and launched herself into a perfect cartwheel.

"Mama! Did you see that one?" her daughter called back. Lida waved, cheering.

They were outside, soaking up the fine weather of a Swedish summer. Lida held Hk, Ylva held Stl, and the fledgling lovebirds, Brita and Arne, trailed farther behind.

"She reminds me of myself as a girl in these hills. Before I first fell in love," Ylva said wistfully.

"First love is a devil of a thing. How old were you?" Lida asked.

"Fourteen," Ylva said. "He was the son of the master forger. Oh . . . he was a fit lad. Always giving me little gifts. He knew my place with my uncle's family was tenuous and promised to save his earnings and make me his wife. 'Twas a very sweet summer." Her friend sighed longingly.

"What happened?" Lida asked.

"Oh, I gave him my maidenhead and then he started to give his small gifts to my cousin," Ylva said unsentimentally. "They have four children now. You know Sonja?"

"Sonja stole your sweetheart?" Lida gasped.

"She did not steal him. He was in love with her the whole time. He was paying attention to me to get her attention, which he did."

Astonished, Lida asked, "And you are still friends with them?"

"A girl in my situation cannot be overly picky with her friends." Ylva softly patted Stl's bottom. It seemed to Lida that sweet Ylva had been searching her whole life to be loved and belong. She held no bitterness in the way she told her tale. Gazing down at Stl adoringly, she said, "Klara was the closest thing I ever knew to a mother. She made me think that she was doing me a great kindness by allowing me to be one of her chosen girls. I never knew the other women in the village were disgusted with me. Klara praised me for my beauty, gave me a new gown, a cloak. She would . . ." Her head hung lower.

"'Tis alright, Ylva. You need not say it if it pains you." Lida touched her shoulder.

"Nay, I want you to know. Serving you and the jarl makes me feel useful and secure. I've never felt that way before. Klara would lavish her praise on one of us at a time, but she would threaten to expel those that were not pleasing her. To be without her approval left you scared all the time," Ylva said, with tears forming in her eyes.