Page 27 of Viking in Love

Caedmon wagered she would be in Geoff’s bed furs by nightfall.

“The housecarls have not exercised since afore Edward’s death, and reivers have been stealing cattle right and left, as they have at Larkspur in your absence.”

A tricky business it would be if Geoff managed to wed the lady afore the king was able to put his finger in the marriage pot, although Edgar was more like to stick his whole damn hand in, and his cock as well. Hopefully, Geoff could wed and bed her quickly, then afterward approach the king about the earlship, or at least the land rights. Edgar was not going to be pleased.

Thus, it was that only he and Wulf returned to Larkspur two days and more since they had left. He had planned to patrol the north boundary of his lands for clues to the reivers, but decided that it was more important he return home.

“What do you suppose has happened that would prompt the princess’s letter?”

“She must miss me,” Caedmon said. And for some odd reason, he liked that idea. Idiot! She would as soon kick me as kiss me.

Wulf arched his thick black eyebrows at him.

“I am still going to send her and her sisters on their merry way. But first I am going to make her pay for her brassy letter.” Kicks and kisses…hmmmm, that gives me an idea.

“I would like to see that.”

“Really, I have only so much time to get so many things done at Larkspur afore Edgar goes on the rampage again, and I have no need of distractions. If Geoff gains Heatherby, he and I will be able to resist together with two important holdings combined, small as they are, but that is just a delaying tactic.”

“In the meantime…?”

“Among other things, I want to find those Welshmen who served with us in the Franklands a few years past.”

“The three brothers?”

“Yea. Madoc, Merrick, and Morgan. Sons of some Welsh border king, or so they claimed. I swear, at least three of the bratlings running about Larkspur belong to them. Mayhap they are acquainted with your betrothed.”

Wulf snorted his opinion, as if all Welshmen were related or knew each other. “We will ne’er know since I have no intention of meeting the wench.”

“Methinks you doth protest too much betimes, Wulf. Why not go and meet her? She may be a great beauty, for all you know.”

“It matters not to me.”

Wulf’s father, and not the woman in question, prompted Wulf’s stubbornness, though what he had done to cause such a rift Wulf would never disclose.

“Stay and help me then. You are always welcome. But you must know that the roof leaks. The shire taxes are due, and I would not be surprised to see the reeve show up soon with his hand out. I have already been asked to oversee the next shire court, and God knows I am the least qualified to levy punishment for bad deeds. The cotters want seed for the fall plantings. And I am lustsome as a goat, not having had a woman in nigh on three months.”

“Caedmon, your life is a bloody mess.”

He could not argue with that.

Steam heat and then some…

Breanne was in the downstairs solar, which had been converted to a hospitium of sorts for the five adults and four children who lay wheezing in the warm steam.

At Rashid’s direction, hot rocks were constantly being dropped into buckets of water to create the steam, which would clear the lung passages. That heat, along with the warmth from the hearth fire, made the small chamber unbearably hot.

Although most Saxon estates, and Norse as well, had central hearths in their great halls with smoke holes in the ceiling, few had actual fireplaces with chimneys. Larkspur, a hodgepodge of building styles, had adopted the Frankish style of heating and cooking. Not only were there three central hearths in the great hall, there were also two huge fireplaces at either end, an enormous one in the kitchen for cooking, and smaller ones in some of the bedchambers for heat. It was a style that Breanne, with her building talents, liked very much. If nothing else, it reduced the amount of interior smoke.

Rashid had long since removed his Arab attire, wearing only an ankle-length linen under-tunic with the sleeves rolled up as he ministered to those ailing with herbal potions and cool, wet cloths. Putting aside modesty, Breanne wore a thin white summer gunna, which clung to her body in the humidity. But she could not be concerned by that as she held the whimpering Piers.

The first day…Was that yesterday or the day before? I am losing track…. they had lost one elderly goatherdsman. After that all the fevers had risen, then gradually lowered until today, when the wheezing was no longer a death rattle. Piers was the one they had worried about most, being so young.

“Rest, little one,” she crooned, rocking his little body in her arms, “soon you will be running about like a puppy again. Shhh. Do not cry. Shhh.”

He had fallen into a restless sleep. When she was placing him in his pallet on the floor, she felt a draft of air. Caedmon stood in the open doorway. The look of utter shock on his face as he took in the scene was soon replaced by one of thunderous rage.

Then his gaze hit on her. He jabbed a finger in her direction. “You! Come with me! Now!”