“Well, I once swore that if you died fighting, I’d die with you.”
“You have Gaitha to consider. And the people.”
“Gaitha can take care of herself,” Edric scoffed. “Who do you think saddled my horse? And Theodren has gathering the cattle under control.”
“We might be going to our deaths. If Olfirth doesn’t kill us on sight, the sorceresses might.”
Edric rested his spear on one shoulder. “Ready when you are, lord.”
Cenric stifled his grin at that. He took Bada from Gannon and used a stump to mount the chestnut stallion.
Bada snorted, prancing under Cenric as his rider mounted. He heard the jangle of mail and recognized the battle sound.
“Do you know the way to Olfirth’s farm?” Edric muttered.
Cenric had only been there a few times, but he knew it was somewhere along the main roads. “This way.” He turned Bada toward the southeast and nudged the stallion into a canter.
Go!Snapper cried with glee, loping alongside them.
Edric followed close behind.
Olfirth’s longhouse was massive, aged, and weathered. Cenric had to admit, begrudgingly, that it was fine even compared to his own.
At the sight of two warriors in full battle regalia charging along the path, Cenric heard shouts of warning go up. Gritting his teeth, he reined Bada into a walk.
Edric slowed his horse behind him. The animals snorted, tails wringing.
Olfirth’s longhouse was situated atop a hill overlooking a collection of homes surrounded by a wooden palisade. The gate was open, probably so farmers and household servants could go about their work. It was still the middle of harvest season, after all.
Cenric rode all too slowly up the path to Olfirth’s home. He came to a stop in the yard before the main entrance, surrounded by the thane’s barns and grain stores.
Unlike when Olfirth had ridden to Cenric’s hall, this was still early in the morning. The men had not yet left for the fields. Cenric felt Olfirth should see that as a courtesy, but from the way the old man glared at him, Cenric doubted that was the case.
Olfirth stood on the steps of his hall, arms crossed, feet shoulder width apart. He had no armor, but his axe rested on the ground, leaning against his hip.
Younger thanes surrounded him, carrying swords, spears, and axes. They might not be armored, but they did outnumber Cenric and Edric almost ten to one.
Predictably, Snapper rushed up to them, tail wagging. The men ignored him.
“Young wolf,” Olfirth grunted, raising his chin. “I believe my invitation was for more than a week from now.”
Looking at the old man’s face, Cenric almost changed his mind and turned around.
But this was for Brynn.
Cenric wasn’t sure what to say, so he acted instead.
He dismounted and handed his reins to Edric. Turning back to Olfirth, he removed his helm, tucking it under one arm.
An armored warrior on horseback was nearly untouchable. A bareheaded man on foot was much less so.
Olfirth’s brows rose, arms still folded. “I cannot wait to hear your explanation for this.”
Cenric gritted his teeth, holding back every retort that sprang so readily to his tongue.
Brynn.
His dead warriors.
