Page 4 of Viking in Love

Hmmm. That would provide a distraction. “Nay! Our men cannot be involved,” Breanne asserted. “The less people who know about this deed the better.”

“No matter!” Rashid said. “Ingrith, you stand guard in the scullery. Drifa, up to the ramparts where you will distract the sentries. I, along with Tyra and Breanne will carry the chest down the back stairs, through the scullery, to the outside privy.” Rashid raised his eyebrows at each of them in turn.

He made it sound so easy. Breanne knew it would not be.

Still, they all nodded.

Silence permeated the room then as they contemplated the formidable, almost impossible, task ahead of them.

Why do my sisters and I always manage to land in the most ungodly trouble?

“Mayhap we should pray?” Vana suggested in a small voice.

“To which god?” Ingrith snorted.

It was a good question. Many Vikings practiced both the Christian and Norse religions, and then there was Rashid’s Moslem heritage. They all bowed their heads for a moment.

“Prayer is well and good,” Rashid said then. “Even so, trust in Allah, but ride a fast camel.”

Camels again!

All Breanne could do was give a mental shout, which was more like a squeak: HELP!

And then they all said, as one, “Good-bye Earl.”

CHAPTER TWO

Home, home on the range…uh, motte…

He was almost home.

After nine long months in the king’s bloody service, which was supposed to have been only six sennights, Caedmon could almost see Larkspur in the distance through the morning mist. His hauberk creaked as he rose in the saddle. They were still too far away to get a clear view over the rise.

Two of his fellow knights, landless nobles who had chosen to remain in his troop, rode beside him. Behind him followed four dozen hirdsmen and various others that served a warrior’s needs…armorers, blacksmiths, cooks, and stable hands leading ten war horses. The great destriers—worth their weight in gold, including his own Fury—were a fighting man’s best friend in battle but too high-strung for regular riding. There were even several women who had attached themselves to some of his men.

“By the rood! You reek, Caedmon,” Geoffrey, his best friend and chief hirdsman, said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Well I know it. I had to nigh hold my nose when I slept yestereve.” He glanced over to his right at the blond-haired, lean-limbed knight, who was too pretty by half. Women were known to swoon over his handsome looks, a bounty he took full advantage of, without apology.

“You are a bit aromatic yourself.” This from Wulfgar, on Caedmon’s left, who craned his neck to see Geoffrey. As fair as Geoff was, Wulf was the opposite. A giant with black hair, dark eyes, and a gruesome scar running from forehead to mustache and bearded chin, causing his upper lip to lift slightly. Still, women favored him, too.

And, truth be told, Caedmon attracted his fair share of women. He had no complaints.

“All of our garments will no doubt fall off our bodies in rot once we remove our armor,” Caedmon remarked.

“I cannot remember the last time I bathed. Mayhap it was last month in Wessex. Or was it the month before in Norsemandy?” Geoff grinned at him, his white teeth stark against his stained leather helmet with nose piece and eye guard. “Methinks my brynja will leave half circle marks all over my body. The women will love it. Like the tattoos those Scots warriors favor.”

“You are a lackwit,” Wulf proclaimed.

“There are three things I will order once we arrive at Larkspur,” Caedmon informed them on a long sigh. “A tun of cool mead. A warm bath. And a hot…”

“…wench,” Geoff finished for him.

“Amen,” he and Wulf agreed with a laugh.

Those men riding close behind them, who overheard, laughed, too.

Caedmon shook his head with mock dismay. “Actually, I was going to say hot fire to warm my weary bones. Then, I would like to sleep for a sennight in a bed with clean linens and a soft pillow.”