Free King Hereafter by Dorothy Dunnett

Duncan brushed into the water his brother’s neat, folded cloak. It lay blown on the waves for a moment, and then the river drew it away, the one exquisite brooch glinting as it swirled below and was gone.
    Earl Thorfinn paused, saying nothing. Then he stepped down and sat by his brother, followed, despite his intentions, by Sulien. Such seats as there were, at either end of the boat, had been taken. Unnoticed, Sulien stood and listened to the prince Duncan, in the Celtic tongue, baiting his brother.
    ‘Your poor, old-fashioned cloak with its cheap pedlar’s brooch!’ said Duncan cheerfully. ‘How can you forgive me, you lout? You must let me buy you another. Two. And a Thor hammer for feast days. They tell me that’s when you breed on the mares.’
    There was no interpreter within earshot. Clearly, he thought himself safe. He waited, smiling up at his brother, preparing for some futile sentiment in the Norse language.
    Earl Thorfinn turned his head. ‘It’s better, I suppose, than breeding on midgets,’ he said in resonant Irish-Gaelic. He had good lungs.
    Across the deck, King Malcolm’s head made a small movement and checked. Near at hand, Duncan had, it seemed, forgotten to breathe. His eyes moved to where his grandfather was.
    ‘Go on. Tell him,’ said the Earl of Orkney. His expression was not unamiable. ‘You don’t have to be polite to me any longer. I have, I hope, made it quite clear that I don’t belong to this family, nor do I propose to be adopted into it at moments of conveniences.’
    Now Duncan was breathing quickly, and there were spots of colour high on his cheeks. ‘That’s new,’ he said. ‘You kept running to us for help over Orkney.’
    The Earl Thorfinn considered. ‘Six years ago, yes. Don’t you wish you had given it? I should hold all of Orkney; you would be my accredited ally, and we could both ask Canute for anything we wanted, and get it.’
    ‘Or the promise of it. Do you imagine he trusts you?’ Duncan said. ‘The moment he fails to take Norway, you switch back to King Olaf. If you ever left him.’
    ‘I should be a fool if I didn’t,’ said his brother. ‘And so would Canute, if he didn’t realise it. Get Crinan your father to explain it to you. He didn’t have much to say in there, did he? Don’t you get on with one another?’
    ‘He remarried when I was two years old,’ said Duncan. ‘You at least ought to know that. He found he could make more money in England.’
    ‘I’ve seen some of it,’ Thorfinn said gravely. ‘Doesn’t he have a daughter? How would you like to have me in the family twice over?’
    He could have been serious. Duncan said, ‘I think my lord Crinan has a match a good deal more important than that arranged for Wulfflaed. Why not a thick Danish wife, or a fine, dung-smelling Wend? King Canute would find you someone suitable. Or maybe your Viking friend has a niece or a daughter in Dublin? What a pity,’ said Duncan, getting reckless, ‘that Sitric’s mother is too old. She married everyone in Ireland in turn, didn’t she? Even your father, if he hadn’t got himself killed trying to win her. I wonder what our late mother thought of that?’
    ‘What woman minds sharing her husband if he brings her the chance of a kingdom? The Lady Emma came back to marry King Canute on exactly those terms.’ The boat bounced as it crossed someone’s wake, and the glare of the sun on the red Roman walls doubled itself in the long, running furrows that spread to the bank.
    Even out of his hearing, it was not wise to speak thus of King Canute. Sulien, glancing about, caught sight of the stalwart figure of Eachmarcach making his way towards the brothers as if he had heard them. They saw him, and knowing him for a Gaelic-speaker, Duncan fell silent.
    It was Earl Thorfinn whom the Dubliner wanted. He called to him as he came. ‘Skeggi says you can do Olaf Tryggvasson’s trick.’
    That, certainly, King Canute heard: his head turned. The other King