Ragnar the Just (Ragnar the Dane #3) Read Free Page B

anyway. He was always in trouble, leading to his final act of murdering Eadbald and running away with the Jarl’s wife. It amused Lini to see such behaviour.
    When Kjartan returned and fought off the wolf cult with his friends, he changed from a villain to a hero, but Lini kept watching him.
     
    *   *   *
     
    At the fighting school, the numbers of pupils slowly grew and even some of the Englishmen sent their sons. Kjartan and Lini got used to fighting each other to demonstrate and had great fun. When Lini ‘killed’ Kjartan, he would ‘die’ quickly, but when Kjartan ‘killed’ him, he repeated the dramatics of the first time, with endless variations, thrashing about until his tunic nearly came off.
    The wiry amber smith soon became the usual victim. Kjartan admired him for his lack of concern about looking foolish, playing up to him and always acting the villain, and making dire threats while Lini begged for mercy.
    Lini had a range of voices as well - sometimes the old man again, sometimes a woman, sometimes a foreigner - and a range of reasons why Kjartan shouldn’t kill him, but he always did, pretending to cut his throat with a flourish. Then Kjartan would make some point about what the boys should or shouldn’t do when fighting and Lini would scramble up. He’d bow to them, and then to Kjartan, who could never keep a straight face.
    It was silly, but at least the boys remembered every lesson. Sometimes everyone was laughing so hard they had to stop fighting. It was so long since Kjartan had laughed as much as that, his stomach often ached for some time afterwards. He was so pleased he’d got to know Lini. He couldn’t have done any of this without him.
     
    *   *   *
     
    “I’m happy with our students’ progress,” said Kjartan one evening as they sat together after tidying up. “For a murderer and a craftsman, we’ve done pretty well. They’ll be ready for Huskarl training in good time.” He was too hot from fighting so took his tunic off, struggling to pull it over his hair, which had come undone from its usual plait.
    Lini smiled. “We should celebrate.”
    “How? Gods, my hair!” He said, trying to get it in order with his fingers.
    “I’ll do that, if you like.”
    “Thanks. Wish I could cut it all off, but short hair’s for slaves.”
    Lini took a comb crafted of bone from his belt.
    “You’re well prepared.”
    “Always.” The amber smith sat behind him and began combing the pale tresses with some difficulty. “What have you been doing with this? Weaving?”
    “Yeah, that’s right, weaving. Not working my arse off stopping the boys killing each other by accident.”
    “Keep still! Do you want a plait like before?” His pale hair was even lighter than the hay being harvested in the fields at the moment.
    “Please.”
    Lini’s slender but strong fingers worked on all the knots, the comb being too delicate. It was soothing and Kjartan relaxed, his eyes closing, his breathing slowing.
    Lini carefully teased all the knots out then combed through the hair, starting the plait at the base of his skull. It felt like a ticklish, gentle massage as he worked over the long length of hair down Kjartan’s bare, weapon-scarred back.
    The hot, spicy smell of sweat radiated from Kjartan’s skin and Lini breathed it in, wondering what would happen if he just licked him. Common sense told him if he did, his head would be seve red from his neck in a moment, s o instead he just finished plaiting his hair.
    “There. Better, yes?”
    Almost disappointed he’d finished, Kjartan examined the braid with approval.
    “That’s the neatest I’ve ever had it. Even Mildrith … ” He stopped, realising he’d only ever let his wife touch his hair like that before.
    He jumped up.
    “Better clean the weapons.” He hastened towards the swords and spears, avoiding Lini’s eyes. Taking a cloth, he began wiping the biggest sword, stroking along the wooden blade. It wasn’t really dirty, there was