The Norse King’s Daughter by Sandra Hill Read Free Book Online Page A

take them hours to get clothed in the morn,” Alrek added.
    “They are too pretty, by half,” Wulf concluded.
    Luckily, all their remarks were low enough not to be overheard, but she suspected that the smirks on her hersirs’ faces told all.
    The senator motioned for the Varangians to step forward. Anticipating her pleasure at meeting some of her countrymen in this foreign land, he smiled and stepped aside, giving her a first close-up view of the colorfully dressed men in the emperor’s elite attire.
    But she did not smile.
    Standing at attention, dead center of the seven Varangians, was a chestnut-haired man spearing her with luminous gray-green eyes, not unlike the much-loved girling, Runa, back at Stoneheim. It was none other than Sidroc Guntersson.
    He, too, was not smiling.

Chapter Five
     
    In the still of the night . . .
     
    A s they were led, Varangians to the front of them, Varangians to the back of them, through one street after another, then one palace corridor after another, Drifa’s head swung right and left, like a copper weather vane of a rooster she’d seen one time atop a cotter’s barn.
    The senator and high priest had departed for the Imperial Palace, where some feast or other was being held, leaving her in the care of the emperor’s guard. Apparently she was not invited, not that Drifa would have wanted to attend in her travel-worn garments.
    A huge Nubian chamberlain with rings of keys hanging from his belt—a eunuch by the looks of his smooth-faced, almost feminine features—was leading them to their assigned rooms in one of the smaller palaces. It appeared as if many of the lesser palaces were connected to the central palace by opened-sided passageways, like spokes on a wheel. Everywhere there were fragrant gardens and tinkling fountains. Drifa couldn’t wait to examine them.
    “I feel as if I’ve entered Asgard, a paradise beyond description,” Alrek whispered at her side.
    “The only thing missing is a few dozen—” Jamie started to say.
    “Valkyries,” the rest of her group finished for him.
    They all laughed, even some of the Varangians. Not Sidroc, though, she noticed, turning to peer at him over her shoulder. Mayhap he took his guardsman duties seriously, never daring to waver from watchfulness, and that was the reason for his sour demeanor. Probably not, though, because when she glanced to his side, his friend Finn winked at her.
    Turning forward once again, her face flamed. She would need to talk to Sidroc soon, and how he would take news of Runa’s—nay, Signe’s—presence at Stoneheim boded ill for Drifa. Her greatest fear was not his fury over her striking him down, but that he would take Runa away from her. But she would not let that prospect dampen her spirits on this great adventure of hers.
    Drifa’s mind and all her senses boggled at the passing scenery. As dusk rose over the city like a gossamer cloak, colors swirled and changed on the marble, glass, and mosaic tiles. All the splendor was highlighted by the gold dome of the magnificent Hagia Sophia cathedral in the distance.
    Finally they entered the Sun Palace, a structure of pink marble flecked with green malachite chips. It was three floors high and built in the shape of a cross, with a huge garden in its center, and a number of smaller gardens or grottos along each arm. She, her four guardsmen, and the four hersirs were assigned one whole arm of the cross on the ground level. If this was a lesser palace, as the apologetic senator had implied, Drifa could not imagine what would be grander.
    “Look at those tapestries.” Thork pointed to one of the walls. “My mother would swoon with envy.” The enormous tapestry in question depicted the Last Supper, the One-God religion’s Christ with his twelve disciples.
    Drifa had met Thork’s mother, Lady Alinor of Dragonstead. She was far-famed for her sheep and uniquely woven wool fabrics.
    “Mayhap you could purchase a tapestry—a much smaller one—to take