“Tell Ragnar Strongspear the land is mine,” she said to him.
“I can do that, Cailin Drusus,” he replied, and then he turned to his Saxon son-in-law. “The lands she claims are her family’s lands and belong to her. Antonia had no right to them at all. She claimed to me that she was holding them for Aurora, but I know that is not true.”
Ragnar Strongspear nodded. “Then it is settled,” he said.
“It is settled,” Wulf Ironfist answered him. Reaching down, he lifted the little girl into his arms. “I am your father, Aurora,” he told the child. “Can you say ‘Father’ to me, little one?”
She nodded, her eyes huge and blue.
He grinned. “I would hear it then, my daughter.” He cocked his head to one side, as if listening hard.
“Father,” the little girl whispered shyly.
He kissed her cheek. “Aye, sweeting, I am your father, and I will never allow you to be harmed by anyone again.” He turned to Cailin and their two companions. “Let us go home now.”
“You will not stay the night? I have some fine mead,” Ragnar Strongspear said jovially. “And there is a boar roasting on the hearth.”
“Thank you, but no,” Wulf Ironfist replied. “The last time I left my hall, some damned savage came through and burned it. I will not take any further chances, Ragnar Strongspear.”
“There is the matter of our slaves,” Cailin prompted her husband.
“I do not know about that,” the burly Saxon answered.
“I can separate the Drusus Corinium servants from Antonia’s,” the elderly Porcius said.
“Then do so, old man,” his son-in-law said, “and see that they are sent back with as much haste as possible. I want no quarrel between Wulf Ironfist and myself. We are to be neighbors, after all.”
When Wulf and Cailin and their party had departed, Antonia Porcius said angrily to her husband, “You were a fool not to kill him, and Cailin Drusus besides, Ragnar. Wulf is no coward, and he will not let you steal back his lands. You will be fortunate if he does not take ours!”
He slapped her hard, sending her reeling. “Do not ever lie to me again, Antonia,” he told her. “I will kill you next time. As for Wulf Ironfist, I will have his lands eventually,andI will have his wife as well. She sets my blood afire with her beauty.”
Antonia clutched at her aching jaw. “I hate you,” she said fiercely. “One day I will kill you, Ragnar!”
He laughed aloud. “You have not the courage, Antonia,” he said, “and if you did, what would you do then? Who would protect you, and these lands I took from you? The next man might not care if you lived or you died. You are no beauty, my dear. Your bitterness shows in your face, rendering you less than attractive these days.”
“You will regret your cruel words,” she warned him.
“Be careful,” he responded, “that I do not throw you, your sniveling whelp, and your old father out into the cold, lady. I do not need you, Antonia. I keep you because you amuse me in bed, but eventually even that charm of yours is apt to fade if you remain shrewish.”
She glared at him and walked from the hall. Making her way through the courtyard, she moved to the gates and stopped. She could see Wulf Ironfist and his party in the distance, and she cursed them softly beneath her breath. They would pay. They would all pay.
“We are being watched,” Cailin said as they rode.
Wulf turned a moment, and then turning back, said, “It is Antonia.”
“She hates us so terribly,” Cailin said. “To have done what she did, and stolen our child.” She kissed the top of Aurora’s head. The child was settled before her on the black mare.
“Antonia’s venom is not what I fear,” he said. “I do not believe Ragnar Strongspear will be content until he has wrested our lands back for his own. He is a fierce man, but I will contain his ambitions.”
“He will wait for us to plant the fields and harvest the grain before he attacks us,” Winefrith said. “But that will give us the summer months to strengthen our defenses.”
“Why would he wait that long?” Cailin asked curiously.
“Because if he attacks after the harvest, he can destroy the grain and hay, thus starving us and our animals over the next winter.”
“Is he that strong?” she wondered.
“We do not know yet, lambkin,” Wulf said, “but we will. Then, too, there is the chance Ragnar will align himself with another warlord.”
