Viking Sword: A Fall of Yellow Fire: The Stranded One (Viking Brothers Saga Book 1) (40 page)

“Yes, and they name him Bjarki. Are they nicknames from childhood?”

“Aye. Snurre means ‘unruly one’. Gríss is ‘piglet’ and Bjarki is ‘bear’.

She giggled. “I have heard tales of these ‘bear’ creatures. It is said they are large, ferocious and furry. The name is fitting, for he is certainly big and fierce, and furry animals can be cuddly, which he can also….”

Her words trailed off. Turold’s bark of laughter sent a wave of acute heat rising in her face. “Forgive me, my friend. I should not have said such a thing.”

He controlled his mirth and gave her a quick hug. “Ah, but we
are
friends, and may, on occasion, remark of things we feel without fear of censure. Worry not, fair maid. None shall hear of your…
indiscretion,
from me.”

He offered a bow of his head and left her.

Shortly after, Brandr strode to her. “What did you say, lítill blóm, that so amused the skáld and brought such lovely pink to these fair cheeks?”

He bent to place a kiss upon each one.

“You saw that?”

His brows spiked. “You wish I had not?” He grinned. “You are blushing again. You will explain!”

“I would rather not!”

“You have as much to learn about wifely obedience as you did about being a dutiful thrall.” His chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Not that you ever achieved it as a thrall. Come, what is so mortifying you cannot share it with your future husband?”

She saw no way around it. His stubbornness would never relent until she told him. She might as well get it over with. “I said you were cuddly.”

His face blanked. “Cuddly? You believe I am
cuddly?”

She winced and dropped her gaze to his chest, not wanting to see the anger that must be building in those so very blue eyes. “It is because of your nickname, you see. I have heard bears are furry, and many furry animals, like cats, are cuddly, and so, well….”

“Cuddly.” He sounded strangled. “I do not believe I have ever been named such, not even by my mother.”

“I am sorry, Brandr. If it helps, I also agreed you were very large and fierce.”

“I see.”

Something in his tone alerted her. She found her courage and raised her gaze. Though the lines of his face were somber, she knew him sufficiently by now to recognize that particular light in the azure depths. He was laughing at her.

“Oh, you!”

The amusement burst forth in gales. Those around them glanced at them with curious smiles. He took her in his arms and hugged her with all the ferocity of his namesake. When he could speak again, he told her to finish making ready to travel.

“As you see, all wait upon us,” he said as he made a sweeping gesture to the waiting, grinning party.

She blushed again.

He sent her off with a proprietary swat to her backside.

A short while later she was seated in front of him on one of the horses, clinging to him with both hands. Never had she been this close to an animal so large, much less atop one. The ground was at least a league below their perch.

He was surprisingly adept at riding, and soon put her at ease.

She peered over her shoulder at him. “Where did you learn to ride?”

“I have been interested in horses since childhood. When Father displaced the Saxon thegn in Ljotness, he took possession of his stable, and then purchased more. We were all taught to ride. Father cares naught for the horses themselves. His pride in them—and in the ability of his sons to ride well—stems from his view of horses as symbols of his wealth and status as a jarl. His sons, however, find the beasts themselves worthy of attention.”

Brandr?”

“Já?”

“I do not think I like your father very much.”

The pressure of his hand at her waist tightened. “Neither do we, lítill blóm.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

As Brandr, and now Nicolaus, as well, led the group east, heavy forest began to give way to open woodland and scattered areas of marshland, which they skirted by catching the old Roman road from Lundenwic to Colneceaster. A great many of Guthrum’s troops were garrisoned in Colneceaster, including Nicolaus and his war band. No more than a day and half’s ride from their current position, the fortress was a strong one, well fortified behind ancient stone walls. It was also important to regional economics, for it was the hub of many trade routes, linked as it was to the rest of Guthrum’s kingdom by the ancient road and the River Cólne with its access to the sea.

Riding alongside Hakon a few paces back from the head of their odd column, their horses held to a walk, Brandr glanced at a sky that had grown progressively darker since morn. “Am I correct, Gríss, in thinking we have but another four or five days of travel before we arrive in Ljotness?”

“Já, if we do not have to stop for the weather.” Like Brandr, he eyed the clouds. “But I think if we do not soon find shelter, we will get wet. You know I have a powerful aversion to being rained upon.”

Brandr tried not to sigh. So close, they were! To have to stop for rain ate at his restraint. If it were not for the women and Alwin, he would ride on until he came to the longhouse of his family, and turn a deaf ear to Hakon’s complaints.

This is part of what it means to marry, to become responsible for the needs of others, and not only myself. It is a strange feeling. No longer can I follow only my own path, without thought for Lissa or my children.

He thought about it for a while, and a slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

I believe I can accept this new duty, though it be set for the length of my life. Já, this task holds no terrors, and more, it offers compensations for the loss of the freedom to call my life, my own.

He thought of Lissa in his bed every night, and decided some ‘freedoms’ were worth losing.

Hakon cast him a curious look. “What has you so restive? You behave as if you sit upon thorns.”

Unbelievably, he felt the touch of heat rise in his face, which his brother eyed with growing amusement.

“Never mind. I suspect the answer to that question walks not far behind us.” He laughed outright. “So. I will be the first then, to offer my approval of your wedding to the lovely Lissa.” He sobered. “The others but need time, Bjarki. They will come around. As always, we will stand between you and Father, and we will watch out for the safety of this woman you love. It is the way of it, with us, is it not?”

Brandr met the warmth of his brother’s gaze. No words were needed. Hakon reached to lay a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, then grinned and tightened his reins to fall back. “Go talk to Snurre about shelter, for ‘food and warmth the traveler craves who has wandered the rimy fell’. If I get wet, I will see to it you take a dip in the next river—with your clothes on!”

Brandr chuckled as his mount responded to his touch and trotted forward to come alongside Nicolaus. He waved a hand in a vague skyward motion. “Already Gríss murmurs about the rain that has yet to begin. I have been threatened with the usual dire fate if we do not find cover before it falls.”

Nicolaus slid a glance at him from the corner of his eye. “We will soon approach a track leading off the road. It goes south. If we follow it, we will come shortly to a village. A goodly mix of Saxon and Danski live together there, in peace. The innkeeper, Beornred, is a friend—more than that, he owes me his life and his livelihood. He will make room for us as long as we have need. I had intended to stop there for the night, but we will have to pick up the pace if we are to keep our brother dry! How fast can these pilgrims of yours run?”

“Only the woman, Bryda, would have difficulty. She is with child.”

His brother’s head snapped in his direction. “You have journeyed the breadth of Westseaxna ríce with a pregnant female? Thorr’s blood, Bjarki! You are a braver man than I. What about the youngling?”

“Sindre will make sure he gets there.”

Nicolaus stopped and swiveled in the saddle. “Ho!” At his call, the whole company halted. “We run for shelter. It is not far. The women will ride.”

“Nei,” Siv called. “My legs are long and strong. I will run, and I will not tire.”

“Well and good. Sindre, she is your task. See to her, and the boy.” He watched as Bryda and Lissa were raised to the saddle. “Onward!”

Brandr listened with brotherly tolerance as Hakon, immediately behind him, loudly made much of the fact that the first raindrops were falling before they made it to the settlement.

When they reached the inn, an old structure with whitewashed walls, sturdily constructed in the timber frame style, about which eight cottages were scattered in haphazard fashion, Brandr dismounted and lifted Lissa to the ground. He called Oswulf and Sindre, who refused to get nigh a horse, to his side. “Take the women and Alwin inside and let the innkeeper know we are here. Make mention of Nicolaus.”

“Aye, leóf,” Oswulf said. He hastened to the door and vanished within. The women and Alwin went next, followed by Sindre.

Satisfied his uncle’s presence would quell any potential trouble from the patrons, he trailed after Nicolaus to the back of the building. His eyes widened at sight of the stable, which shared the inn’s back wall. It was exceptionally large and substantial. All two and ten of the horses fit in the stalls with room to spare, a fact he found astonishing. Inns were not known for providing good shelter for horses. Of course, oft they did not provide such for people, either. He made mention of it to his brothers.

“This is one reason I always make for this inn when I am in the area,” Nicolaus said, as they stripped the gear from the animals and brushed them down for the night. The innkeeper’s son moved among them, insuring each beast had fresh water and oats. “Beornred is a shrewd man. With so much traffic on the main road, much of it by king’s men and wealthy merchants who travel by horseback and with heavy wagons, he deemed it wise to invest in a good stable. There is always fresh hay and plenty of fodder, and the roof does not leak, though I cannot say the same for the inn’s common room. He takes better care of the animals than of his patrons, a detail every good horseman appreciates.”

“I am impressed.”

“So you should be, Bjarki. The man has fared well enough to purchase a horse of his own,” he pointed to a far stall where a draft animal stood, its head down, apparently asleep, “which he rents—for an exorbitant fee—to any who has need and can pay.”

Brandr grinned. “I begin to like this innkeeper.”

“As do I,” Hakon agreed from the other side of Nicolaus.

Nicolaus gave his animal a final pat. The horse snuffled, but did not raise its head from the grain bin. “For all that he is Saxon, Beornred is as enterprising as any of our people.”

Outside, the sprinkles burgeoned into a deluge, but a back door opened to the inn’s kitchen, through which they tramped to reach the common room.

“Ahhh,” Hakon said on a sigh. “I remain dry, Bjarki, so no unwilling swims for you.”

“And I am hungry,” Nicolaus said, “and it smells good in here.” He stopped to flirt briefly with the innkeeper’s wife, calling her by name. She flushed at the outrageous compliments he made, and shooed him away, saying the stew would burn and it would be his fault.

Brandr entered the common room, his eyes automatically searching for Lissa. He found her, still standing, waiting for him.

Beornred, a delighted smile curving below a nose far too large for his face, seemed genuinely happy to see Nicolaus. Thin and wiry, he bowed again and again. “Well come, leóf, well come! It has been too long since you have visited my fine establishment. Be seated, I beg you. There are benches enough for all if your men will aid in dragging two extras from the stable.” He pointed to the door through which they had just come. “Guthild!” He shouted for his wife. “Is the food ready? Our guests are hungry and thirsty.” He thumped Nicolaus on the back. “Be seated, my friend. I will bring the drinks.”

Curving his hand around Lissa’s arm, Brandr looked for a seat.

“This place looks large from outside,” she said, “but with all of us in here at once, I fear it is rather crowded. It is a good thing the innkeeper sent his other patrons home. They were not many, and they were all local, but had they stayed, we would not all fit.” She wrinkled her nose. “The smell upset Bryda’s stomach, but Oswulf took her to the privy, and she is better now.”

Unconcerned with the state of Bryda’s belly, Brandr guided Lissa to a corner, where he nabbed a bench of a size to fit only the two of them.

He grinned at her. “We will watch the mayhem from here, where it is safe.”

She giggled. “Nicolaus’ men are rowdy.”

“So is Nicolaus.”

“Yes, I have noticed.”

Amid much noise and confusion, all the tables were set up and everyone found a seat. The meal set before them was hot, hearty and tasty, and ale, beer and mead flowed freely as water in a flooded stream. A crackling blaze in the central firepit infused warmth and cheer into the gloomy space, and despite an occasional drip from the thatched roof, it was dry. The rain, the laughter and the good-natured chatter lent cheer and a cozy ambience usually found only in a family setting.

The evening was well advanced when Brandr looked up from laughing at some jest from Lissa and noticed three empty spaces at the far end of the tables. He frowned, set down his beer, and blinked, trying to focus through the smoke and shadows. He peered around the room.

“Lissa, look around. Tell me if you Sindre, Siv or Alwin anywhere.”

Half asleep, she leaned forward and then back, trying to see around all the bodies. Then she stood, and counted with her finger. She shook her head and sat back down. “They are not here.”

“That is what I thought. Snurre!” His shout rose above the din, catching his brother’s ear.

“Ho, Bjarki, why do you bellow?”

“Where is Sindre?”

“Have you lost him? Shame on you! How can you misplace someone as big as our uncle?”

Brandr raised his eyes to the ceiling but it made him dizzy, so he stood and banged on the table with his wooden tankard. The room came slowly silent except for the occasional pop from the fire. “Has anyone seen Sindre? Or Siv or Alwin?”