Page 39 of Hungry Like a Wolf
Chapter Ten
Carmel stared aroundthe grand home that belonged to King Ravn. It was twice the size of the Great House in Tillicoulty. Long and with shutters that could be opened and closed during the seasons. A lengthy fire trough glowed with embers and the room was sectioned into what appeared to be a feasting area, a food preparation area, and a sleeping area.
There was also a screened section—thin branches wound tightly—that contained a fire and a large low barrel that was half full with water. The wall beside it was crowded with baskets, strips of fabric, and ropes of drying herbs.
“The season is on the turn and the weather warming,” Erin said, bustling past her with a stack of logs in her arms. “So the fires are not lit constantly.”
Carmel nodded.
Erin stooped beside the barrel and began stacking kindling and logs for a fire. “But we must light one now to warm the water.”
“‘Water’?”
“For you to bathe. The king will want to also.”
“He can use the bath.” She stepped away from it. “It is his home. It is his bath.”
“It is yours also.” Erin looked up at her. “That was his specific instruction to me, that you must feel at home here.”
“But I…” She frowned. “Surely, he means for me to sleep somewhere else. In another dwelling.”
“His wife, who is now in Valhalla feasting with Freya after dying in the battle of childbirth, slept in here, so why shouldn’t you?”
A shocked laugh escaped Carmel. “Because I am not his wife.”
Erin smiled up at her and scraped a flint. “No, you are not.”
“I cannot sleep in here.”
“Why not? It is the grandest dwelling in Drangar. The walls are solid, the floor well covered with rugs, and the beds are freshly made and warm.”
“‘Beds’?”
“Ja, there are several.”
She nodded and noticed that through a doorway was a large bed covered in white furs, but also to the left was a small cot, similar to the one she’d used in Orm’s little home.
Erin saw her looking. “That is Thormod’s cot.”
“His son?”
“Ja. Though he spends a lot of time with Helga and his cousins, especially now that the king has taken to raiding again.”
“He didn’t raid on this mission.” Carmel frowned. “It was peaceful.”
“No?”
“No.”
“So what are you?” She paused as the fire sprang to life. “If not the fruits of his pillaging.”
“I am not an object. I was not pillaged.”
Erin didn’t answer. She lifted a huge pot of water over the fire and added several long strands of lavender to it. “This will take a while to heat. Then we can add it into the barrel. I will go and fetch you some food. You must be hungry.”
She left Carmel alone in the large home that smelled of smoke and ash, and herbs and leather. She walked around it, her legs still feeling odd, and studied a table holding several piecesof jewelry. She picked up a brooch in the shape of a wolf’s head, the eye a small, amber gem. Next she examined a necklace, the silver thick and heavy, the pendant a series of triangles set into each other and with another amber gem in the center. Had they belonged to Ravn’s wife? Were they the adornments of a dead woman?
She moved to the right and came face to face with a large, stone statue clutching what looked like a bulky hammer. It had an angular square chin and narrowed eyes. At its base were several skeletons and a scattering of coins.
