Page 20 of The Empire and the Wolf King

We had been traveling most of the day only stopping for quick breaks to urinate. We passed small farms, and I stared at them longingly as we passed, my ass aching from the bottom of the cart, but I knew if we stopped we would be guests again, and I would still have to get on a cart the next day.

Finally Magnus said, “I canna bear it a moment longer. I see a village up ahead. We will walk, stretch our legs and hire a carriage from there.”

He spoke at length with the cart driver, sending him away, then Magnus and I walked down the road. We were only a wee bit slower than the cart, and man, it felt good to be out of it. I stretched my back and swung my arms and did a couple of kicks. “Need to get my blood pumping. That was hard.”

Magnus said, “Aye, I couldna bear another minute of it. I thought twould break m’back.”

It took about twenty minutes to get to the small town. We ate lunch in a tavern and then Magnus found a carriage for hire to Charlottesville. The driver was perched right in front of us and we were exposed to the air like a convertible, and although it was still bouncy at least it wasn’t ‘back-breaking.’

Kind of.

We hit a rut and bounced into the air. I gripped the door, “Needs rubber tires and shocks.”

He chuckled. “Dost ye remember when we…?”

“...Had sex in the carriage on the way to London from the party? Oh, I remember, I remember so well. But alas, Master Magnus, that is not going to happen here. We are not in your cousin’s borrowed luxurious covered carriage, we are in a hired cab and it is a bit stinky, and the guy is literally,” I whispered, “Right there.” I pointed at the driver’s back.

Magnus chuckled and whispered, “Aye, I miss the luxury and m’wife on my lap.”

“Dear me, you are incorrigible. Do you think of anything else?”

“Nae, not really.” He grinned. “Especially when I am tryin’ tae keep m’mind off our plight.” He put his arm out along the back of the seat so we could try to relax as we bounced and rocked and shimmied down the road.

CHAPTER 9 - KAITLYN

THE COACHMAN’S REST - 1775

We pulled up in front of a small inn called the Coachman’s Rest, in a wee village not much more than a crossroads. I was exhausted from the day of travel. “How many damn miles was that? If it wasn’t a few hundred I’m going to be pissed.”

“Ye will be furious tae ken that we hae traveled about…” He counted on his fingers. “Twenty miles.” He climbed from the carriage and put out a hand to help me out. “This is not even Charlottesville yet, we hae ten miles tae go on the morrow.”

My eyes went wide. “My ass feels like we should be in California by now.”

He put out his arm for me to clutch and whispered, “Ye might need yer husband tae rub yer buttocks in the room. Twill be a chore for which I am prepared tae offer my services.”

I batted his arm, playfully, and we swept past the driver and the carriage and strode up to the building. It was a two-story inn, with a brick foundation and the top-half framed with clapboard. There was a creaking sign swinging in the front that said simply, Coachman’s Rest, in faded paint. We crossed the small porch, entered, and went directly to the dining room for a meal and a drink before we would go up to our room for the night.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The room was full with about fifteen other travelers, and was dim and smoky, lit by oil lamps casting shadows and dancing light across the wooden tables. There was a comfortable fire in the hearth, adding to the ambiance.

And the food smelled great. Magnus moaned, “Och, ye smell the roasting meat, mo reul-iuil? Our driver said this was the best food for many miles.”

The innkeeper, a portly man with thinning hair and a stained apron, directed us to a table near the hearth, and a serving girl quickly delivered us mugs of ale.

Magnus pulled out a chair for me. “Daena drink m’ale, I will be right back, I need tae secure our room. If the waitress comes by, ask her for the largest meal she has tae offer.”

I laughed. “I won’t drink your ale, promise.”

At a table near us, I noticed a man was writing in a leather-bound journal. I watched him, wondering what he was writing about, wishing I had a pen and paper to begin a list of things to do. But Magnus had our pens, I needed one to keep in my own pockets... then again, I didn’t have pockets, so I would need a bag. I needed to get a bag and some better clothes and... I sighed. I needed to make a list.

I really really wished we had a flashlight. The only one we had was the tiny one in the pen Lochie gave us for his wedding. And it was not enough, it was almost worse than no flashlight, because the light was too weak and probably the battery would die really soon. Too soon. We would likely be stuck here for a time and the thought of being surrounded by unending darkness made me uneasy. I moved the oil lamp closer to my side of the table.

The waitress approached with a basket overflowing with crusty bread — Magnus had already placed our order. I sipped my ale, waiting...

Finally Magnus returned to the table and sank into his chair.

I said, “I didn’t eat without you, that’s how much I love you.”

He raised his ale. “I love ye too, and we hae a room, Madame Campbell.”

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