Page 7 of Hungry Like a Wolf
“I am Olaf of Tillicoulty.”
“Are you the priest?”
“I am the nearest thing our community has.” He smiled and walked forward. “When the Irish priest left, he entrusted me with the Holy Book and the souls of our village.”
“A great responsibility.” She stood, wary of a local who had become convinced that letting a Viking king rule was acceptable.
“One that I am honored to receive.” He came closer and crossed himself before the candle.
“How can you…?” She gestured at the door. “How can you all just let them settle here? They have more than put their heathen feet beneath the table, they have deigned it appropriate to rule and you have let them.” She shook her head.
“They didn’t give us much choice, if you must know.”
“There is always choice.”
“Not if you want to live.” He looked her up and down. “Surely, you must understand that, given your current predicament.”
She scowled and folded her arms. “He is a madman, the one who thinks I am some kind of possession he can just take.”
Olaf nodded slowly. “Orm is…interesting.”
She huffed. “Interesting, if you consider that word to meancrazed, volatile, dogmatic, and blasphemous.”
“It is true, he is all of those things.” He shrugged and his mouth downturned.
“And his face.” Again, she wiped at her damp cheeks. “He makes himself look all the crazier with the kohl beneath his eyes.”
“It is his way. I have become used to it. He has never hurt anyone in the village, even when he did not agree with his brother becoming Christian.”
“So it is true.”
“That King Haakon is one of the Good Lord’s flock? Aye, it is.”
“Good, for that means he will have to answer at the gates of heaven, to Saint Peter himself, about the cruel end he bestowed upon my father.”
“Aye, that could have been more dignified.”
She stared at him, mouth open.
“I guess our king was simply making a point. That Tillicoulty is a new kingdom and not one to be poked.”
“‘Poked’? How can you stand it? These people have taken over.”
“And for the better. For now, we do not have to pay unjust taxes. Now we can farm and work our land and keep the fruits of our labor. Your father worked not a day in our fields. Why should he be rewarded?”
“It is the way of the world.” Again, she bristled with an uneasy feeling floating in her stomach. Was it right just because it had always been? She wasn’t sure.
“It is not the way of our world anymore.” Olaf stood and came close, gently resting his arthritic hand on her shoulder. “You should accept, Princess Carmel, that your life has changed drastically. It is turned upon its head. No longer are you a free woman of privilege. You are a captive of the Vikings. But…” He paused. “Play the game well and you could have a happier future.”
“I doubt it.” She glared at him. “And when my mother, the queen, sends help my way you will not be spared, Priest, for you are in cahoots with the Norsemen. You have been weak and traitorous allowing them to pitch here, sleep with your women, control your borders. You will not be spared.”
“That may be.” He smiled, just a little. “But your rescuers will have to get past our defenses first. As you may have noticed, they are quite impressive.”
Carmel resisted stamping her foot. “We’ll have to wait and see who is right, Priest.”
Chapter Three
“Thrall, get here!”
