Page 11 of Hungry Like a Wolf
“What battle?”
“Come, get your men from the boat.” Haakon looked down at the weapons. “If you have truly come peacefully, I will feed you before you go on your way.” He gave a last look out to sea. The pyre was way out in the distance, only a small glow now, and he raised one hand before turning away from it.
“Thrall. Thrall. Come with me.”
Suddenly, Orm was before her, bouncing like an excited puppy. “You have much work to do. You must serve the king and his brother, also a king. You are indeed privileged to have such a duty.”
“I will send my thanks to God,” she muttered.
“Anna,” Orm said, reaching for Anna’s hand and drawing her knuckles to his mouth. “My sweet Anna, will you ensure my thrall goes to the Great House and then show her where the heather ale and the ham are? We will feast and regale each other with sagas of battles and of our father until late into the night.”
“I am sorry,” Anna said. “About your father, Orm.” A line formed between her eyebrows.
“Do not be sorry. He lived a good long life and now is with the gods, who always looked upon him favorably. Well, they did until I refused to be a sacrifice at Uppsalla.” He cackled. “But who is laughing now? I am here to feast in our new kingdom and he is not.” He clapped and spun around, racing back to his brothers and sister with sand kicking up behind him.
“I have never met anyone like him,” Carmel said with a frown.
“Neither have I.” Anna sighed. “Come, the snow is about to fall.”
As she’d spoken, a fat, white flake floated down. It matched the new arrival’s cloak and a tremble went through her as she thought of the size and strength of his Viking body beneath those layers of clothes.
Chapter Four
Soon, Carmel wasin the warmth of the Great House. A big, round dwelling that appeared to have one large bedroom with a fire at the back and the rest used as a meeting place with a fire trough, flame baskets, and a banquet table. Two large chairs sat the head, sealskins hung around drying, and the walls were adorned with wooden crosses, antlers, sprigs of pheasant feathers, and bundles of drying herbs. Several barrels of ale were set in the corner.
“It’s warm in here,” Anna said. “Better for you.”
“Why are you being kind to me?” Carmel asked. “I’m a prisoner. I was fighting your people yesterday.”
“You are a fellow Christian and woman of Lothlend.” She nodded at the cross that hung from a hoop in Carmel’s ear—a gift from her father on her thirteenth summer.
“That is true.”
“And God says we must be merciful and find forgiveness in our hearts.” She touched the cross. “Don’t you agree?”
“Aye, I guess I do.” Carmel shuffled to the barrels and began to fill jugs with the frothy, sweet-smelling liquid. “The woman with the red hair who lit the pyre. Tell me about her.”
“She is the king’s sister. Her name is Astrid and she has been gone for weeks, only just returned with news of your father’s army approaching.”
Ah, so that is why Tillicoulty had been prepared for their attack. They’d been seen camping in the valley. It made sense to Carmel now.
“And the man, with the red hair, he is the queen’s brother, Hamish,” Anna went on. “He disappeared at the same time as Astrid. Bryce—that’s our friend—and I, we guessed he had gone to Astrid. Ever since she arrived he had this stupid soppy look in his eyes whenever she was around.”
“From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t exactly exude gentleness and forgiveness.”
“You’re right.” Anna set out a plate of ham then reached for bread and a knife. “She is a shield-maiden. Skilled and brave. She taught us to fight the best she could in the time we had before your army arrived.”
Carmel nodded, preferring not to remember the carnage that she’d been forced to join in with, even though she was not a warrior—the screams of agony as the spiked fence had been brought up on charging men. The dirty ditch that had been a trap and left them with no hope as spears and swords were driven downward. The heads on spikes beside the watchtower.
“How did you find out about King Haakon?” Anna asked.
“A wanderer.” Carmel shuffled to an ale barrel and began filling tankards with the cloudy liquid.
“He’d been to Tillicoulty?” Anna carved the bread.
“Spoken to the king himself. Or so he said.”
“Do you recall his name?”
