Page 38 of Hungry Like a Wolf
She looked around at the posse of Viking men and women. They were all tall and strong, their clothes hardy and decorated with brooches and chains. She barely saw anyone without a weapon at their belt. Even the youngest boys had knives sheathed at their waist.
“I have just informed them that you are with me and are of royal blood from a land far away,” he said. “They will respect you.”
“Are you sure?” She caught the eye of a woman who had ink down one side of her face, a detailed pattern that reminded Carmel of a tangle of ivy.
“Ja, I am sure.” He squeezed her closer. “Where is thrall Joseph?” he called.
There was movement in the crowd. “I am here, Your Grace.” An aging man with curly, gray hair, clean-shaven, and withdeep-brown eyes stepped forward. He wore a dark fur around his shoulders that was secured with a strip of leather at his chest.
“Ah, good.” Ravn clasped him on the shoulder. “Meet Princess Carmel. She speaks your tongue, so you will ensure she understands what others are saying to her.”
“I will translate, aye.” He tipped his head and studied her. “I trust you had a good journey, Your Highness.”
“As well as can be expected.” She paused. “You are a slave here, I have been told.”
“Slave?” He paused. “No, I work here in Drangar, for the king and his family.”
“But where are you from? Where is home?”
He laughed. “This is home now. I have forgotten about my old one.”
“The one you were taken from against your will.” She folded her arms and studied him.
“I guess that’s how it happened, yes.” Joseph shrugged.
“Mmm, I see the king’s family has a history of kidnapping.” She tipped her eyebrows at Ravn. “Father and now son.”
Ravn laughed. “I have a history of many things. Some I might tell you about. Some I might not.”
She scowled at him. “Your father took a man of God.”
Joseph rubbed his head as though remembering his tonsure. “It was God’s will that I live this life now.”
“With heathens?”
“With heathens.” Joseph grinned. “Shall I show you where you can bathe, Princess? I am sure after weeks at sea, a hot bath is just what you would enjoy.”
“A hot bath?”
“Aye, the Vikings are very fond of hot baths. It is just one of the rituals I enjoy now that I live a new life.”
“Joseph, there you are. Oh, and King Ravn, welcome home, Your Grace.” A pretty woman with hair in long braids appeared at Joseph’s side.
“Thank you, Erin.” Ravn nodded at her. “This is my princess, Carmel. I trust you will look after her and speak in the language Joseph has taught you, as it is hers too.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Erin gave a funny little bow. “Welcome, Princess.”
“I allowed Joseph to marry Erin before I left for Tillicoulty,” Ravn said. “He wouldn’t take her to his bed until he did and it has been so many years, he has wanted to. That strange Christian tradition of yours.”
“You are married?” Carmel raised her eyebrows. “But you are a monk, are you not? How can you be married?”
“I am not a monk.” Joseph shrugged. “At least not anymore.”
She crossed herself. “What devil place have I come to where monks marry?”
“Don’t look so miserable,” Erin said. “You might just enjoy it.”
Carmel huffed. She very much doubted that.
