Page 35 of The Caged Viking

He arched his brows at her, but after that remained deliberately silent, forcing her to skip to keep up with him. He didn’t let go of her hand, though.

She tried the silent treatment in reverse, but he couldn’t care less, probably welcomed her mute tongue. So, she gave in. “Well, that went well,” she said. “The council, I mean.”

“You talk too much.”

Ah! So that’s what had him out of sorts. “I hardly said anything,” she replied huffily. “I didn’t give any specifics of tomorrow’s battle. I didn’t mention Sweyn’s upcoming untimely death. I didn’t warn him to stay away from horses, especially ones that might cause him mortal injuries. I didn’t tell him about his sons. I didn’t—”

“Like I said, you talk too much.”

“I want my arm rings back.”

“I want to be back at my estate in the Norselands enjoying a warm hearth, a good mead, and my mistress.”

“You have a mistress?”

“I used to.”

“What? You don’t think she’d stick around and wait for you?”

“Are you still talking?”

“And you aren’t talking at all, most of the time,” she pointed out. “Tall, dark, and brooding went out with the Regency novel, Heathcliff.”

“What cliff?” he asked. Then, “Never mind.”

“So, what has your loincloth in a twist, husband? You have every reason in the world to be happy. You’re free of your cage. You’ve discovered a son you’d thought was dead. In no time at all, you and your mistress will be boinking like bunnies. But instead you go all grumpy-faced.”

His lips twitched as he fought a grin.

She was making headway.

As they continued to walk…well, he walked, she trotted…she noticed Bjorn off to the right a short distance, practicing swordplay with some young Vikings. Without appearing to notice, Hauk veered to the right, taking her with him, grabbed his son by the scruff of his neck and dragged him along with them, his sword dragging on the ground.

And God bless Hauk, but he remained silent while Bjorn hollered and called him a long line of colorful insults and threatened all kinds of retaliation. They drew the attention and laughter of everyone they passed.

“Do you really think this is the way to handle your son?” she asked.

He stopped, turned slowly inch by inch, Bjorn dangling with his boots a foot in the air, and said to her, “Stop. Talking.”

Okaaay. It’s his funeral.

When they got to the tent, Hauk directed Egil and Kirstin to do something about a fire and food. “Meanwhile, my son and I are going to have a talk. Isn’t that right, Bjorn?”

Bjorn, who was still dangling, nodded.

Hauk released him, heading in the opposite direction, and Bjorn had the good sense to follow after him. Kirstin looked at Egil then and shrugged. “What should we do?”

“Fire first,” Egil said.

Which wasn’t as easy as it should have been in the middle of a forest. Since so many trees had been felled to make the clearing and were now smoldering away on numerous camp fires, they had to go into the woods to find deadfall which the two of them dragged toward their tent. Once they had enough to start a fire, Egil worked at getting it started while Kirstin made two more trips for extra wood. By now Kirstin’s wonderful reproduction gown designed for Rosestead was looking dirty and bedraggled, and her underarms were beginning to reek, despite her twenty-four hour deodorant, which was hardly noticeable in a field of five hundred or so mostly unwashed male bodies. Later, she’d see about bathing in the stream which apparently ran about a quarter mile away, if she could find a private spot.

Once Egil got the fire going, the two of them went out through the various campsites until they found one where an elderly woman was stirring a broth. She looked relatively clean, which was a big plus for Kirstin. Egil pulled out a small sack of coins and was able to convince the woman to part with several circles of flat, manchet bread and a small cauldron of what was some of kind of rabbit stew…chunks of meat in a broth thickened with oats, dotted with wild onions and carrots, and even a dash of precious salt. The woman even gave them four wooden bowls, for coins, of course. They wouldn’t need utensils since the bread could be used as scoops and the liquid could be slurped.

By the time they got back, Hauk and Bjorn were sitting on the ground before the fire, which Hauk was poking with a long stick. Although they weren’t sitting close together, they weren’t snarling at each other. They appeared to have come to some kind of understanding.

Egil managed to construct a sort of tripod which would hold the cauldron over the fire. Once the stew came back to a boil, Kirstin served everyone including herself. It wasn’t too bad, and the men came back for second and third helpings until the pot was empty.

They talked then, or rather Hauk gave out one order after another.