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The homes of the farmers were little more than crude huts. Deserted now, they lined the muddy path with a sorrowful, vacant silence. “Where is everyone, André?” Celiese looked around, wondering where the women and children might be at that hour of the day, since she had seen no one working in the adjacent fields.
“Forgive me, but I did not know it would be you aboard the Viking ship, and all our loved ones are hidden.” With an embarrassed gesture, he showed them to the small house he called his own.
“How clever of you, André. Have there been many attacks?” She stopped to warn Mylan to be careful, but he had had years of practice in entering homes through doors not made to accommodate men of his size and had already slipped through without mishap. There was a small table, two rickety benches, and a bed alongside the wall. The fire on the hearth was cold, but the smell of fish still pervaded the one-room structure, and Celiese thought André must catch most of his food and hoped he did not often have to go without, but the village did look like a very poor one. She took a place upon one of the benches, and Mylan sat down beside her ready to leap up should his weight prove to be too great, but the old wood held together with only a slight moan.
André produced a flask of the promised wine and three wooden cups. Taking a place opposite his guests, he poured them a small sip of the beverage and apologized for having no more. “It was a great tragedy we lost the vines, but they are all gone, burned beyond recovery, and no one has been able to travel inland in search of cuttings we might cultivate to begin our vineyards anew.”
When Celiese translated, Mylan thought the tragedy a slight one after he tasted the deep red wine, for it had a most unpleasant aroma and taste. Celiese smiled sweetly as though it were delicious and he attempted to do the same. As always, she seemed to have the finest of manners. He could well imagine Olgrethe refusing to enter such a humble abode let alone sample the wine, but Celiese appeared quite at home, the most gracious of guests no matter what her surroundings.
“I have lost count of how many times our land was ravaged, our possessions stolen, our women raped, our sons murdered. Now King Charles has handed over to that rascal Hrolf what little we have left. It seems we cannot escape the greed of the Danes, except in death.” Glancing toward Mylan to be certain his words were not understood, André continued. “There are many who would fight the king’s decree, many who recall the proud name of d’Loganville and would rally to your side should you wish to lead them.”
Taking a deep breath, Celiese asked pointedly, “How much belongs to Hrolf now, exactly how much does the man have the audacity to call his own?”
“All of Neustria, dear lady. The lands on both sides of the Seine are his.”
Worried by the frantic troubled glances passing between his companions Mylan interrupted. “What are you two discussing so earnestly that you have no time to describe it to me?”
Celiese brushed away the tears flooding her eyes and spoke proudly: “It seems the king is the coward you thought him to be, for he has given Hrolf the entire province, not only my estate but dozens of others, as well. André thinks many would fight, however, were there someone to lead them.”
Knowing only too well who that someone would have to be, Mylan shook his head as he issued a stern warning. “Raktor is a playful child compared to Hrolf, Celiese. Do not encourage this man in his belief Hrolf can be defeated by peasants wielding pitchforks.”
Celiese had seen as much as Mylan. This village was not simply poor, but destitute, and despite her own rage she would not risk the lives of the few surviving inhabitants on a quest to regain what was hers. She would have to reclaim it by means other than a fight, but knew not what it could be. Finding the close confines of the small home suffocating, she thanked their host warmly for his wine and asked to be excused, explaining, “I would like to see what is left of the house. There is still light, and the way cannot be far.”
“I will come with you.” André rose to his feet, pausing to shut the door as they left his home, more to keep out the chill should he not return before nightfall than to protect any valuable possessions.
As they left the house a strangely silent crowd surrounded them, the women holding their small children aloft so they might see the pretty lady who had arrived from the sea. Celiese smiled and waved, but she had never expected to be greeted with such awe and was terribly embarrassed.
Mylan, on the other hand, was simply worried. He knew how little it would take to set Celiese on a trail of revenge that would lead all too swiftly to her death, and he took her hand to draw her near as he whispered, “It is always far wiser to listen than to speak. Do not make any promises to these people you cannot keep.”
“I want only to see what is left of my house. It was all in flames when I was carried away, and I am curious, that is all. Besides, what can I promise these people that would have any value?”
“Sometimes a name is all that is required to start a war, and I do not want it to be d’Loganville, dear wife.” Clasping her hand all the more tightly, Mylan walked with care down the edge of the muddy road. The peasants were still following along, and that he had not thought to bring someone to guard his back pained him greatly, for he did not want to meet his death on French soil, either.
The walk was farther than Celiese had remembered, but at last they reached the top of the gently sloping hill where her family home had stood. Little remained of the once elegant structure. The stone walls had not been completely destroyed by the fire that had swept through it, but many of the carefully gathered stones had been carried off by the peasants who had used them to rebuild their own homes. Celiese did not think such vand
alism a crime, for the stones would probably have laid upon the ground for decades had they not been put to a more useful purpose. She was glad to see the house had been serving someone, at least, since she had had no use for it.
Mylan surveyed the ruins of the house, roughly gauging the proportions from the walls that remained standing. “It is clear you cannot live here until some reconstruction has been done, but what Hrolf will have to say to that prospect I don’t care to speculate.”
“You think I should ask the man for permission to rebuild my own home?” Celiese asked indignantly. “I plan to speak to him, all right, but I’ll not beg for what is rightfully mine, including the right to construct a home upon my own land.”
Smiling at the assembled crowd, who still regarded them with rapt interest, Mylan whispered a stern warning. “Do not involve these wretched souls in your battles, Celiese. If you care so little for your own life, then think of these people and how diligently they have obviously struggled simply to survive.”
“As if my survival were a small matter?” she responded defiantly, taking only a moment to enumerate a few of the wrongs she had suffered. “My parents were slaughtered, my home destroyed, my lands stolen, I was kidnapped, and you think I should calmly walk away?”
“Yes!” Mylan responded, trying to keep his voice low so it would not be obvious they were arguing, but he could tell André was greatly amused by their animated conversation. “Let us go back to the Falcon, and decide what we want to do from there.”
“Couldn’t we sleep here tonight, Mylan? What is left of my house provides more in the way of shelter than we’ve ever had on this journey. Couldn’t we please stay here?”
Mylan was certain the screams of ghosts would keep him awake all night, but if so small a concession would please her he would agree. “If that is what you want. The ground is dry, the nights still warm.”
“Thank you.” Celiese hugged him tightly, her display of affection for the Viking startling the crowd, but she had no reason to hide the love she felt for a man she had introduced as her husband. She could not imagine what she would tell everyone when he returned to his homeland without her, however. Turning to André she explained in a few simple sentences, “We will rest here for the night, for my memories of my parents are so dear here, far outweighing the nightmare of their murders.”
Raising his hands to the heavens, André exclaimed excitedly, “But you do not know! I buried your father’s body myself, but your mother is alive, living in the convent at Yvetot! Forgive me for not telling you immediately, but I am an old man and sometimes forget.”
Mylan saw Celiese grow pale and stepped forward to catch her before she fainted in a heap upon the ground. “What has happened, tell me!”
She looked up into his eyes. The golden flecks seemed to be spinning among the brown, and she wondered how he managed to do that, but his rapt gaze was so intense she came to her senses swiftly and struggled to stand without his help, “I am sorry, but André has just given me a great shock. My mother is alive, it seems, and living in a convent nearby.”
