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I said, “For that, I will not complain, this is wonderful. Perfect, my husband, the Albannach loves me, that’s all I need.”
Torin drained his ale and dropped the mug to the side. Then he pulled over the bag with our money in it and shoved it under the straw as a pillow.
I drained my ale and put my mug beside his and watched him pull another bag over, looking inside and putting it half hidden in hay under his elbow.
“Why are you hiding it?”
“I daena even ken what is inside but it must be verra valuable. Tis a message from a Prince tae his father, I hae tae keep it safe.”
He got the straw around him to fluff a bit to give me some padding. I huffed as I laid down. “Fine, one complaint, this bed is a medieval torture device. I have never been more uncomfortable.”
He chuckled and slowly we fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, I woke with a start when Torin said, “Who goes there?”
I had my eyes wide, but could barely make out that Torin had jumped to his feet. He was crouched over me, his hand on my shoulder. My heart dropped, I went small and quiet.
There was silence, but then a voice. Torin spoke in Gaelic, sharp and barking, forceful. The other man returned a few words and then there was quiet again.
I asked, “Is he gone?”
“Aye, ye can go back tae sleep.” He dropped back to a sitting position, and with a hand on my hip. “I will stay awake for a bit.”
28
ALEXANDRIA
1308 - A CASKET BELONGING TO THE WOLF KING
Islept. In spite of the cold, and the rough surroundings, I slept rather soundly through the night. Then the next morning when we got up, I asked, “How are you feeling today?”
“Much better, now, as well as m’left foot feeling good, I also feel good in m’right knee.”
“Almost perfect then.”
“Aye.”
“Did you get enough sleep?”
“Nae, but tis fine. I am rested, that is all that is important.”
“How long do we have to go?”
“A full day of riding.”
“And then we are there?”
“Aye, except for the riding the next day as well.”
I sighed.
He pulled a bag over and lifted out the silver box and set it in the straw. “Tis a verra fine casket.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“Aye.”
It was looking incongruous, too luxurious to be in a medieval stable. Kind of like us, a Princess and her hero, sleeping with the horses.
