“There is a loose board beneath my pallet,” she told him softly. “I will hide our hoard beneath it, but there must always be someone in the cabin so that we are not robbed. This, and my jewelry, is all we have to make our way with once we arrive at Massilia, and when we reach home we may need what remains to start again. I trust the captain, but the two mates are another thing. I do not like the way they eye Nellwyn.”
“Nellwyn is a foolish little rabbit,” he replied. “If she is not careful, she will be eaten by dogs. She is your slave. Speak to her. It is not my place to do so.”
“Why are you so irritable?” she asked him. “You are like an old cat with a stiff paw. Are you not happy we have been reunited?”
“I cannot believe our good fortune,” he said honestly. “I thought you dead, and then found you alive. You chose to return to Britain with me over marrying a wealthy and powerful man. But we have not been alone since we found each other, and we are not likely to be for months! You are beautiful, Cailin, my wife, and I desire you!”
“You will have to learn patience,” she said serenely, then giggled mischievously, “and so will I, Wulf Ironfist!”
When they finally docked at Massilia, the captain was thoughtful enough to tell them that parties of merchants traveled up the Roman roads of Gaul toward the coast facing Britain on a regular basis. Wulf would find the respectable travelers at an inn called the Golden Arrow. “You don’t want to try to go it alone, sir. Too many bandits, and you’ve got the women to consider. A big, strong fellow like you will be welcome in any party. If the women are willing to help with the chores, so much the better.”
Wulf thanked the captain for his advice, and their bags of coins and Cailin’s jewels safely hidden, the trio departed the ship. Both Cailin and Nellwyn were plainly garbed, and their hoods were pulled well up over their heads. They kept their eyes modestly lowered, following Wulf Ironfist as they made their way through the bustling port’s streets to the inn where Wulf inquired about caravans departing for the northern coast of Gaul.
“There are several leaving in a day or two, sir,” the innkeeper replied. “How far are you going? Will it just be yourself?”
“We need to get to Gesoriacum,” Wulf told him, “and my wife and her servant will be going with me. We have come from Byzantium.”
“And are going to Britain, I’ll wager,” the innkeeper said.
Wulf nodded. “I’m a big fellow, as you can see,” he told the innkeeper, “and I have served my time in the legions. I’m a good swordsman, and my wife and servant can cook. We’ll be no liability.”
“Can you pay?” the innkeeper asked. They didn’t look like beggers, but still, one could never tell in these days.
“It must be reasonable,” Wulf said slowly. “We’ve not a great deal left. Our passage from Byzantium was dear. Will not our service be enough? But then if we must pay, I’ll expect to receive our food in exchange.”
“You’re in luck,” the innkeeper told him. “There’s a large caravan of merchants leaving tomorrow that will go all the way to Gesoriacum. Some of the party will stop at other towns along the way, but the main caravan is going to the northern coast. I know the caravan master. He is the big red-haired fellow drinking in my courtyard right now. He can always use an extra man. Tell him that Paulus recommends you. You must do your own bargaining.”
“I thank you, sir,” Wulf said. “Can you rent me a room for myself and my wife and servant for tonight? And we need to be directed to the public baths. Then I must buy horses for our journey.”
“I have no private rooms, but your women can have pallets in the loft with others of their sex. You will have to sleep down here like all the men do who stop at the Golden Arrow,” the innkeeper said.
While Cailin and Nellwyn bathed, Wulf went to the market and purchased two horses for them. One was a fine, strong chestnut-colored gelding, and the other a sturdy black mare strong enough to carry both women upon her back, should it be necessary. He returned to the bathhouse where Cailin and Nellwyn were waiting for him. Their precious hoard and the horses remained in their charge while Wulf washed the forty days at sea from his skin. Then they made their way back to the inn, where Wulf introduced himself to the caravan master, who was named Garhard. The bargain was soon struck between the two men, for Garhard was a man who made quick decisions. Their places would cost them two folles apiece. Wulf would help to protect the caravan, and the two women would be expected to help with the meals. In exchange they would travel in safety and be allowed to eat from the common pot.
“If you want wine, bring it,” Garhard said. “You supply your own plates and spoons. I don’t want your women whoring for extra coins. It causes too much trouble among the men.”
“The women are my wife and her servant,” Wulf said quietly. “They do not whore, and if your men look at them askance, or speak to them with disrespect, they will have me to deal with.”
“Understood,” Garhard replied. “We leave at dawn.”
They hurried back to the market, where Cailin purchased newly made wood plates and spoons for them, and a single goblet that they would all share. She found a woman selling freshly stuffed pallets, and bought three along with some blankets.
“We should have a cart,” she told her husband. “The mare can pull it, and it will hold our worldly goods. We cannot carry it all. You are used to sleeping upon the ground, but Nellwyn and I are not. And we will need water bags, and a brazier, and charcoal. It is almost winter, Wulf, and the farther north we go, the greater chance there is of snow. A cart will offer us some protection from bad weather and wild animals.”
He laughed. “You have been living like a young queen in Byzantium. I would have thought you had forgotten such practical matters, but I see you have not. Come, let us purchase what you think we need.”
They left just before dawn the next morning. The two women drove the little cart with its cloth-covered sides and roof. They had carefully packed all their possessions inside, along with extra provisions to supplement the communal pot. The water bags hung from the cart.
The caravan traveled the Roman roads up the spine of Gaul through Arelate, Lugudunum, Augustodunum, and Agedincum, to Durocortorum. They then took the road that turned slightly more north, moving on through Samarobriva, and finally arriving at Gesoriacum, an ancient naval port. It had taken them many weeks to reach their destination. It was already mid-February.
They arranged their next passage with a coastal trader. He would take them across the thirty miles of sea separating Gaul and Britain to the port of Dubris. As the sun rose over Gaul, which now lay behind them, they made landfall in Britain on the morning of February twentieth.
Cailin wept unashamedly. “I did not think I should ever see my native land again,” she said, sobbing, as Wulf comforted her.
“We have been traveling for over four months,” he said. “Would you not like to rest for a few days now that we are back in Britain?”
Cailin shook her head. “No! I want to go home.”
The cart lumbered its way up to Londinium. Cailin looked about her, remembering little of her last visit. Once this place would have awed her, but now it looked insignificant when compared to Constantinople. She was happy to take Stane Street west to Corinium.