Page 87 of The Caged Viking

Hauk was only glad that Gorm had managed to fit in with the others. It could be a lonely existence being an outcast of sorts in one’s own home. He noticed one of his men speaking to the tallest of the boys, a hand on his shoulder. Hauk, who’d assumed they were all orphans, decided this must be the father of at least one of them.

Haukshire would survive the winter, that soon became clear. Leastways, they would not starve.

The three boys preened with pride when Hauk told them they could help carry the weapons. Not that they contributed that much, but that was not the point, of course.

As they walked the last distance to the keep, Hauk wanted to ask about Kirstin, what she was doing, did she appear happy, had she mentioned him, but he feared what he would reveal of his feelings, or, gods forbid, what the bratlings might reveal. No doubt she had been putting them to work, and that was why they’d escaped to come meet the hunting party.

Despite how busy he’d been these ten days, Hauk hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Kirstin. Their last night together had been nothing less than amazing, and in the end, her declaring her love, his doing likewise…well, what man wouldn’t be anxious to continue the relationship, whatever it was? He couldn’t wait to see her again.

But first, there was chaos when the hunting party arrived in the back courtyard and began to unload their animals. No time for thinking of anything else. Makeshift tables had already been set up when the small game had been cut up and prepared for preservation earlier that week. So, they laid out the deer first. The men did the cutting under Signe’s supervision. He saw Frida point to a haunch of venison, and one of the housecarls carried it inside for her.

Hauk was pleased to have missed the processing of the birds. Didn’t matter if they were turkeys or geese or smaller quail, plucking the feathers was a distasteful, tiresome business. There was no worse smell than scalded feathers. To him, leastways. Not that he’d ever done much with fowl, that being women’s work.

Several dozen people, men and women, worked together efficiently at assigned tasks, including those from the hunting party who wanted nothing more than to bathe and relax in the hall with a mug or five of mead. He saw Bjorn and Thorkel carrying a large sow. “Hear you did well with the fishing,” he said, squeezing his son’s shoulder.

Bjorn grinned at him. “Yea, and it was fun. I’m thinking of going again tomorrow, up near the entrance to the sea. Someone mentioned seeing a shark.”

“Mayhap I’ll go with you,” Hauk said.

The smile Bjorn gave him then made him feel both wonderful and awful, knowing how many years of these kinds of opportunities he’d missed by his own neglect. Oh, well! There was always the future.

A short time later, Hauk looked around, then looked again more closely, and realized Kirstin was not there. His hands and tunic were grimy from handling the wild game. So, he wiped his hands on his braies, then headed toward the back door of the keep. Kirstin must be inside, helping the cook ready a feast to celebrate the success of all the hunting, trapping, and fishing expeditions. He was a mite offended that she hadn’t come out to greet him, but then he shrugged. Mayhap she wanted their reunion to be a private one. He could appreciate that, he thought with a grin.

On his way, he noticed several people staring at him oddly. Almost like trepidation. Or was it pity?

On entering the keep, he glanced around the kitchen and saw only Frida, who was cutting the deer meat into small pieces and tossing them into a cauldron, which he presumed would be some kind of stew. It was too late in the day to roast such a large haunch for the evening meal. “Frida! Where is my wife?”

“Ye doan hafta yell,” she said.

“Sorry. Where is she?” He began to walk toward the hall.

“She’s gone.”

Hauk stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to stare at the old lady who was wringing her hands nervously. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”

Frida shrugged. “A sennight or so ago, when Egil was leavin’ fer Hedeby, she disappeared.”

“She’s not here, at Haukshire?” he said dumbly.

“That’s what I jist said, isn’t it?”

He narrowed his eyes at her tone of voice.

“Sorry, but I been worried ’bout how to tell you. Everyone has.”

“Disappeared!” he muttered. “How long ago?”

“Since the day Egil left, I already tol’ ye that.”

Hauk groaned. This must be a jest of some kind. He hoped it was. With a grunt of disgust, he turned and stomped into the hall which was mostly empty, then went to all the bedchambers, which were also empty. After that, he did a more thorough check of his bedchamber and the guest one he’d been sharing with Kirstin. The first was a mess of tossed linens and upended chests, thanks to Zoya, he assumed. The other was alarmingly neat and tidy, as if no one had slept here for days.

He frowned with confusion and went back outside to find Signe, who had been somewhat of a friend to Kirstin. He found her standing with Thorkel who was hunkered down a bit so they were eye level. Laughing, he appeared to be trying to convince her of something to which the wench was shaking her head. “Leave off, Thorkel, and go help Ketil with that moose. Your seduction can wait till later.”

“You call that seduction?” Signe scoffed at Thorkel. She turned to Hauk then and explained, “He said he dreamed about me this past sennight. In particular, he dreamed of my feet.”

Thorkel grinned. “In my defense, I dreamed of her feet up in the air whilst I made love to her.”

“Hmpfh!” Signe said.