“You are fortunate,” Cailin told her. “I do not know what happened to the child I bore Wulf before I was kidnapped into slavery. I do not even know if it was a son or a daughter.”
“You will have others,” Nuala said reassuringly.
“Not unless Wulf and I can find some privacy,” Cailin admitted with a wry smile. “Our reunion was so swift, and then we escaped Byzantium. We sailed for forty days upon a tiny trading vessel, with no possible opportunity to be alone. Then we traveled through Gaul with Nellwyn always by our side, and all those merchants with us. It has been the three of us on the road here in Britain until we reached home. We have been so busy repairing the damaged caused by that damned Ragnar … There is just no time for us, Nuala! I know that there will be, but when? As for the child lost to us, if it lives, we want it. It is our flesh, and has a heritage to be proud of that we would share.”
“I can understand exactly how you feel,” Nuala replied. “I love little Commius and Morna dearly. If they were stolen from me, I should want to get them back. I would not just let them go.”
“Who is that on the hillside?” Cailin suddenly asked her cousin.
Nuala looked hard, then said, “I do not know, but it could be one of Ragnar’s men. Yes, I think it may be, for he is turning away and riding off. We had best tell your husband.”
Wulf and the others were just refitting new oak doors to the hall when Cailin and Nuala told him of the horseman on the hillside.
“Since we have not yet had time to build the wall, it is good we can at least close off the hall,” Wulf said grimly. He turned to Winefrith. “What do you think? Will he come with a large armed party?”
“This man was probably out hunting and just rode past by chance,” Winefrith said. “There are enough of us here to make it a standoff for now, I think, my lord. I will warn the men to be on their guard until we see what is to happen. Nuala, go into the hall. I do not want you outside should there be any kind of attack.”
“He called you ‘my lord,’ ” Cailin said in a low tone to her husband after Nuala had obeyed her husband’s order.
“Several of the men are beginning to do so,” Wulf said. “It is only natural. I am their leader, lambkin. I intend to be overlord of these lands, and all the lands to the north and east encompassing the Dobunni territory that once was, if I can hold them. I have the right to do it. The first challenge I face is Ragnar Strongspear. He may have the territory to the south and west, if he chooses, but these lands are mine, and I will fight for them.”
“I will be by your side, my lord husband,” Cailin said quietly.
He put an arm about her shoulder. “We will survive this new age, lambkin, and we will leave a great holding for our sons and our daughters. We will not be moved from our lands again.”
“And we will make Antonia Porcius tell us what happened to our child. I did not deliver a son so large that I was torn apart. There is something I am striving to remember about those last moments, Wulf. I distinctly recall hearing the cry of a healthy infant, but there is something more, if I could but remember it. I know our child is alive!”
“If he is, lambkin, we will find him,” Wulf said.
There appeared on the crest of the hill a party of some ten horsemen who began their descent. They were led by a large helmeted man who carried a long spear.
“I remain by your side,” Cailin said, forestalling her husband’s objection. “I run from no man, and especially not on our own lands.”
He said nothing, but he was proud to have her for a wife. She was a strong woman to have survived slavery, and if they could ever find a moment to be together again, they would make strong sons.
The horsemen rode relentlessly onward. Ragnar Strongspear observed the silent couple as he came. The man was a warrior, he was certain, no Saxon farmer to be easily frightened off. The woman was beautiful, but she was not a Saxon woman. A Briton most likely, and a proud wench to boot. She stood unafraid by her man’s side, an almost defiant stance to her body. It was a body, he thought, he could enjoy becoming familiar with, and from the look of her, she was a woman who had both met and enjoyed passion.
As the horsemen drew to a halt before Wulf and Cailin, their helmeted leader said in a deep, hard voice, “You are trespassing here.”
“Are you the savage who tried to burn my hall?” Wulf demanded coolly in reply. “If you are, then you owe me a forfeit, and I’ll have it now.”
It was hardly the answer Ragnar Strongspear was expecting. He glared at his antagonist and snarled fiercely, “Who are you?”
“I am Wulf Ironfist, and this is my wife, Cailin Drusus. Who are you, and what do you do here on my lands?”
“I am Ragnar Strongspear, and these are my lands,” was the reply. “I hold them for one of my wives, Antonia Porcius.”
“These lands do not belong to Antonia Porcius,” Wulf answered, “and they never did, Ragnar Strongspear. You have been misled if she told you so. These lands are the hereditary holdings of the Drusus Corinium family. My wife Cailin is the sole surviving member of that family. These are her lands. I hold them for her. We have been away in Byzantium, and I return to find my hall half destroyed, my belongings either stolen or ravaged, and my slaves disappeared. This is your doing, I assume, or am I mistaken?” Wulf finished, looking hard at the man.
“Do you expect me to just take your word for such a claim?” Ragnar Strongspear said angrily. “I am not a fool. Why should I believe you?”
“Does old Anthony Porcius still live?” Wulf asked.
“Aye, he has a place in my hall,” Ragnar Strongspear said.
“And are his wits still with him?”
“Aye, they are. Why do you ask, Wulf Ironfist?”
“Because he can attest to the truth of my words, Ragnar Strongspear. I will come with you now. You will see I speak the truth.”
“Very well, I am as eager as you to settle this matter,” was the surly reply.
Ragnar Strongspear took in all that had been done to restore the hall. He was impressed by what he saw. He knew in his heart that Wulf Ironfist had not invested his time and effort for naught. He did not appear to be the sort of man who took foolish chances, and the fact that he knew Anthony Porcius by name led Ragnar to believe the warrior spoke the truth. Why had Antonia lied to him?
Wulf and Cailin reappeared now on horseback, surrounded by a group of a dozen armed men. “You will not mind that we are escorted,” Wulf said with a straight face. “I cannot know what we may encounter.”
Ragnar Strongspear nodded. “You do not offend me, but you have my word, Wulf Ironfist, that no harm will come to you from me or from mine this day. I am an honorable man. Let us go.” He turned his horse and moved off with his small party of retainers in his wake. As they rode, Ragnar wondered what else Antonia had told him that wasn’t true. He had stormed across her lands well over a year ago. Finding her unprotected, he had claimed both the woman and her property for his own. He had two other wives, Harimann and Perahta, Saxons both. They were devoted to him, and hardworking. Each had given him two children, a son and a daughter apiece. Antonia had two children as well, a boy and a girl. She hadn’t wanted to become his wife, but he had raped her before her father and servants in the atrium of her villa, making her further refusal impossible.