Broc’s chariot horse was feeding herhead off in the paddock to the south.She had proven uselessbetween the shafts of cart or plough, rearing and kicking in a fitof royal rage to match Fen’s own.Cai had expected from day to daythat Aelfric would order her slaughtered and salted away for wintermeat, but there she was, looking glossy and bored in the sun.Shecame when Cai whistled, as if he might at last have somethinginteresting for her to do, and bumped her chestnut muzzle hardagainst his chest.As far as Cai knew, she’d never been tried as asaddle horse—not that Fara, or indeed Broc’s stronghold, ran tosaddles.He clambered the drystone wall and took her by thehalter.
The Viking sat up straight at thescrape of hooves in the courtyard.He pushed his hood back, hisface becoming keen and intent.“Roman,” he declared, as Cai led themare up to him.“Yes.Roman, with two hundred years of your Britonpuddle-jumpers mixed in, and…” He pushed upright, pain and weaknessforgotten.“And a strain of the Barb.You won’t know what that is,monk.You think the world ends at the OceanusBritannicus.”
“I do know.My abbot Theo told usof places far beyond that—Barbary, Arabia, where men called Berberslive in silken tents and ride about the desert on beasts that cangallop as easily on sand as soil.What does avikingrpirate know of horseflesh,though?”
“It’s true that we aremasters of the sea.”Fen ran a thoughtful hand down the mare’sflank.“And the ponies we use for raids are scrappy beasts, notlike this.They take us to the battle, then we fight on foot, ourstupendous skills in warfare bearing all before us.This explainswhat I saw in your weapons barn.I thought it a feverdream.”
“The chariot?”
“Yes.What does a Christianmonk know of those?”
“I told you—my father is noChristian.He’s a Roman warlord, or he likes to think he is, and hegave me this beast and the chariot to help me defend Fara againstmonsters like you.”Cai paused, distracted.The morning breeze wasfull of the scent of kelp and thyme, too pleasant in his lungs tofuel hostility.“You really think she has the Berberstrain?”
“Mm.Look at her highforequarters, her crouped rump.”He leaned stiffly, patting herfetlocks, and Cai crouched beside him to take a closer look.For amoment monk and Viking dropped away and they were simply men, headstogether over an intriguing piece of horseflesh.“Her hooves arerounder than the Roman breeds.What’s her name?”
“I don’t know.I don’tthink she has one.”
“You should always namethings—beasts, ships, swords.It brings down the spirit upon them.Speaking of which—where is my wolf’s-head blade?”
“Safely locked up.”Caitook a step back, renewing the distance between them.This man washis enemy.He had forgotten.“Out of bounds to you.Listen—whileyou’re healing, I can treat you like any other sick man.But onceyou’re well, you’ll be a prisoner here.You’d better behave likeone, or…” Cai fell silent.He had to have imagined the flicker ofhurt in those dark eyes.“Here.I’ll give you a leg-up.”
“I can manage for myself.”Fen grasped the horse’s mane just in front of her withers.Hebraced to spring up.Then his knuckles whitened, and he let go agasp that would have been a scream from a lesser man.He rested hisbrow on the mare’s flank.Cai reached for him, but he flinched awayand scrambled, grey-faced, to stand on the low wall that boundedthe well.“I can do it from here, if you will hold her.”
Cai held the mare’s halter while shedanced and sidled.She wasn’t used to a weight on her back, but Fensat quietly, and after a moment she settled, head high, exhaling inwide-nostrilled snorts.
Cai led her out of the courtyard.Onceout on the wide sweep of turf, the salt wind warmly buffeting hisface, he was ashamed.“All right,” he said, not glancing to see howhis magnificent prisoner looked on horseback.“What is its name,then?Your wolf’s-head sword?”
“Blóðkraftrdauði.Themighty blade of blood and death.”
Cai shook his head.“It wouldbe.”
“And I shall call thishorseEldra—the fire.”
There was no one else at the bathingpools when Eldra had picked her way down the cliff path and ontothe rocks.Cai was relieved.He knew that every kindness shown toFen was an insult to the memory of his slain brethren, and more soto the living ones who had to witness it.He looped the horse’sleading rein round an outcrop of rock in the shade, then turned toFen, who had remained silent for the last part of the journey.“Iknow you wouldn’t let me help you up there.But I think you’ll haveto let me help you down.”
Fen regarded him blankly.“Yes.To myundying mortification.”
“For God’s sake.All right.Swing your leg over her forequarters, not her rump.It’ll pull yourstitches less that way.”
“It is an unmanly way todismount.”
“So is landing on your facein the kelp.Come on.”
Cai held his arms up for him.Reluctantly Fen consented to be aided down, slithering into Cai’sembrace, where he stood for a moment, trembling.“Enough.I canstand now.Let me go.”
“Iseverylittle thing a matter of life-and-deathViking honour for you?”
“Of course.”
Cai led him down to the pools.Thetide was rising, as it had been on the day when he’d come herealone, yearning for the earthly pleasures Leof had just renounced.The water in the rocky basin was bright with the same green-bluereflection of sky.But Cai’s world had ended since then, burned tothe ground and grown back again in a shape he still could barelycomprehend.Who had that boy been, stretched out in the pool withnothing more on his mind than the hungry tension in his loins?Allsuch needs had fled from him.In the few short hours of sleep hegot, his cock remained quiescent, and the idea of his own touchscarcely occurred.
Ironic that he’d achieved his monasticideal in such a way.Leof would have said it didn’t count, if hewas no longer tempted, but that was one of the many nuances ofChristian thinking Cai had never understood.Achieving the resultwas surely good enough.“Take off your robe and get into thewater.”
“Into the…”
“Yes.Come on.It’s not toocold on a day like today.”
The look Fen gave him could have beenbottled and used as a wound-cleansing liniment.“My whole body?Into that?”
