Page 61 of The Caged Viking

It had been five years since he been back to his birthplace. His father had been alive then, and the fight they’d engaged in had turned physical. The subject of the argument was long forgotten, but, no, Hauk recalled that his father had been considering the purchase of several slaves to farm a parcel of land on the western portion of his property. A futile venture as many landowners had learned in this region over the decades. It was slaves, not farming, they’d argued over that day. Hauk had vowed never to return. According to Egil, his father had never gotten around to the slaves, thank the gods for that at least. Mayhap he’d brought up the subject just to provoke him, which had been like him.

Now that he was approaching Haukshire, he felt an odd lightness. Not the usual heart-clenching dread he experienced on coming home. And he realized that it was because his father would not be there. No tiptoeing around to avoid his volatile temper outbursts. No hiding when a beating was threatened. No criticism of every single thing he did.

With this realization that he was free to view Haukshire in a different light, he found himself seeing for the first time the stark beauty of his land. It was not pretty as some southern estates were, with lush lawns and vibrant colored flowers. Still, there was a beauty in the stately evergreens and sharp-edged cliffs, the sparkling water of the fjords, the icy blue skies. It was a harsh land which bred strong men.

He looked to Kirstin at his side to see how she reacted to their surroundings. She had not spoken to him in two days.

“’Tis the silent treatment,” Egil had informed him last night when he complained about her continuing anger over his effort to give her more time by bringing her to the Norselands. “When men or women are upset with each other in her country, they use the silent treatment until the other person surrenders or makes things right.”

Was he supposed to say he was sorry for bringing her to his home, even if he was not sorry at all? As for making things right, that would mean returning her to Winchester, which Hauk could not…would not…do. Not yet, leastways. Instead, he’d continued his conversation with Egil. “What kind of weapon is silence?” he’d asked. “A Viking woman would hit her man over the head with his battle shield. Or screech to High Valhalla about all his deficiencies. Or slap his arse with the flat side of a broadsword.”

“Well, she is a modern Viking woman,” Egil had pointed out, as if Hauk didn’t know that. If Egil had used the word “enlightened,” Hauk might very well knock him over the head with a nearby oar.

Actually, he was beginning to see how painful silence could be. He wanted Kirstin to forgive his clumsy efforts. He wanted her to like his home, even though he’d had no fondness for it himself, which would change now…he hoped. He wanted her to give him a second chance at…something.

“This is Haukshire land we travel through now,” he told her now.

She raised her chin and said nothing. But she was looking intently, her head turning right and left, then upwards to the land.

“Over there is where I shot my first deer with a bow and arrow I made myself. I was only ten at the time. Of course, my father proclaimed it a sorry excuse for a kill, scarce big enough to warrant butchering.”

She looked at him as if she had something to say on the subject, but still said nothing.

“I learned to swim in this very fjord, when I was three.”

“Yer father tossed ye in the waters, as I recall,” Egil said from Kirstin’s other side. “It was either sink or swim, and the bastard didn’t care either way, damn his sorry soul.”

Kirstin pressed her lips together tightly to prevent her voice escaping.

“I see plenty of fish down there, master,” Egil said, leaning forward to speak over Kirstin. “Once we are settled in, we must set lines and nets to catch what we can afore the fjord freezes over.”

Hauk nodded, adding fishing to the jobs to be done right off, although it was possible to fish through the ice betimes. It was not a pleasurable experience, though, in the ballocks-frosty air.

And then they arrived at the Haukshire wharf. He noticed two of his other longships still upended on the far bank to the left. Apparently, work hadn’t been done to caulk and waterproof the vessels after their last voyages. Someone would have to answer for that.

Once Sea Wolf was tied off and the anchor dropped, the crew began to disembark, carrying their sea chests on their shoulders. Friends and family were there to welcome them home with hugs, claps on the shoulders, laughter, and good cheer.

By the time Hauk and Egil were ready to leave the ship, with Egil leading Kirstin, and Hauk helping Bjorn to walk with an arm around his waist, he was surprised to see there was still a sizeable crowd standing by. He hadn’t expected this kind of loyalty from the people of Haukshire, especially after serving under the harsh hand of his father. There was Halfdan, the longtime steward, and Frida, the cook, along with some of the household staff he recognized. The longbeards had to have been here in his grandsire’s day.

But then, at the forefront, he noticed Zoya, his mistress, or former mistress. She was dressed in finery more fitting a royal event, certainly a sharp contrast to the others here.

“Uh-oh!” Egil said, and made quick work of changing places with Hauk so that Bjorn was being helped by Egil, and Hauk stood next to Kirstin. When Hauk tried to wrap an arm over her shoulder to show her importance to him, she shrugged him off and told him, “Don’t even think it!”

At least she was talking now.

And he was thinking, all right. Thinking it was time to put this woman in her place. He placed his arm around her shoulder again and this time he held on tight. “Behave thyself, wife. I must needs introduce you to my people.”

“Does ‘your people’ include that glowering, black-haired witch with the half-exposed boobs?”

He was fairly certain he knew what boobs were, and, yea, Zoya’s gunna was cut very low in front. She glared at Kirstin but then she smiled coyly at him, licking her lips in a manner meant to be seductive but only appeared to him as if she had dry lips. He had the good sense not to smile back.

He walked up to where Egil stood talking with Halfdan. Putting his free arm around Bjorn’s shoulder, whilst maintaining a hold on Kirstin with the other, he announced to the crowd. “Greetings, everyone. It is good to be back at Haukshire. There is much for all of us to do before winter, but tonight we celebrate.”

There was a loud cheer from the crowd.

“But, first, let me introduce you to my son Bjorn who fought bravely in Sweyn’s battle against the Saxons and sustained some injuries from which he is still recovering.”

There was more cheering, this time for the valiant son.