Cenric considered calling out for her, but that would warn any intruders who were lying in wait for them. “Edric, take the other men and circle around. I’m going to check the house.”
“Alone?” Edric’s scoff said just what he thought of that.
Cenric should probably send someone else. He could see the wisdom of it.
But Brynn…
“Just go. If I send Snapper to you, attack.”
Edric exhaled sharply. “Sounds like a plan.” The redheaded man motioned for the others to follow him, taking them through the treeline around the longhouse.
Cenric climbed the garden fence, keeping to the shadows. The sun was setting and the shadows lengthening. He could hear the usual sounds of work, women’s voices, knives hitting wood, pots clattering.
A male voice drifted through the open door, words indistinct.
Cenric drew his sword. It might be nothing. It might be the old goat had taken his wife hostage. He considered sending Snapper ahead to scout, but if this went wrong, he would need to send Snapper to warn Edric. Signaling for Snapper to hang back, Cenric went first.
Drawing close to the door to the kitchens, Cenric hovered at the edge. He could see the flash of skirts bustling to and fro as the household girls worked. Surely if they were under attack, the girls would have fled?
One of the girls spotted him and yelped, then gasped. “Lord?” She was a thin creature with freckles, clutching a bowl filled with shelled peas.
“Where is Lady Brynn?” Cenric demanded.
The other girls took notice of him, glancing between themselves.
“She’s in the hall.” The voice that answered was Gaitha. The tall woman stood with hands on her hips, a faint look of amusement. “She’s been speaking with our guests.”
Cenric’s eyes narrowed. “Guests?”
“Olfirth dropped by for a surprise visit.”
Cenric had to fight down panic at that. “He has Brynn?”
Gaitha smirked, but only briefly. “I rather think she has him.” She gestured for Cenric to follow. “I’ll show you. Though you might want to put away the sword.”
Cenric hesitated a moment, but he trusted Gaitha. He slipped his sword back into its sheath, but not before he adjusted it to hang at his hip for easier access.
He followed Gaitha into the longhouse. Two girls carrying a spent cask of mead passed them. Cenric bit back his questions as male voices rose from ahead.
Gaitha stepped aside to give Cenric a view of the hall.
Cenric spotted Brynn seated beside the empty space at the head of the table. She was smiling and appeared unhurt.
Brynn handed an overflowing mug of mead to the man across from her—Olfirth.
Thorn crouched by Brynn’s feet, his single eye watching the strangers.
Olfirth sat on his side of the table, his shield and spear leaning against the wall at his back. Cenric counted eighteen other men seated along his side of the table, their shields and spears likewise placed.
Cenric’s relief at seeing Brynn unhurt was almost instantly drowned out by rage. “What is this?” he demanded.
Brynn’s eyes snapped to him along with Olfirth and the rest of his warriors.
The men tensed, ready to lash out. The ones nearest Olfirth looked for direction and those on Cenric’s end of the table eyed him distrustfully.
Brynn rose, easily, airily. “Husband,” she said, her voice too bright, too gentle for this situation. “We have guests.”
“They look like intruders to me.” Cenric glared at Olfirth.
