To Love Again - Bertrice Small Page 0,167

man,” his son-in-law said, “and see that they are sent back with as much haste as possible. I want no quarrel between Wulf Ironfist and myself. We are to be neighbors, after all.”

When Wulf and Cailin and their party had departed, Antonia Porcius said angrily to her husband, “You were a fool not to kill him, and Cailin Drusus besides, Ragnar. Wulf is no coward, and he will not let you steal back his lands. You will be fortunate if he does not take ours!”

He slapped her hard, sending her reeling. “Do not ever lie to me again, Antonia,” he told her. “I will kill you next time. As for Wulf Ironfist, I will have his lands eventually, and I will have his wife as well. She sets my blood afire with her beauty.”

Antonia clutched at her aching jaw. “I hate you,” she said fiercely. “One day I will kill you, Ragnar!”

He laughed aloud. “You have not the courage, Antonia,” he said, “and if you did, what would you do then? Who would protect you, and these lands I took from you? The next man might not care if you lived or you died. You are no beauty, my dear. Your bitterness shows in your face, rendering you less than attractive these days.”

“You will regret your cruel words,” she warned him.

“Be careful,” he responded, “that I do not throw you, your sniveling whelp, and your old father out into the cold, lady. I do not need you, Antonia. I keep you because you amuse me in bed, but eventually even that charm of yours is apt to fade if you remain shrewish.”

She glared at him and walked from the hall. Making her way through the courtyard, she moved to the gates and stopped. She could see Wulf Ironfist and his party in the distance, and she cursed them softly beneath her breath. They would pay. They would all pay.

“We are being watched,” Cailin said as they rode.

Wulf turned a moment, and then turning back, said, “It is Antonia.”

“She hates us so terribly,” Cailin said. “To have done what she did, and stolen our child.” She kissed the top of Aurora’s head. The child was settled before her on the black mare.

“Antonia’s venom is not what I fear,” he said. “I do not believe Ragnar Strongspear will be content until he has wrested our lands back for his own. He is a fierce man, but I will contain his ambitions.”

“He will wait for us to plant the fields and harvest the grain before he attacks us,” Winefrith said. “But that will give us the summer months to strengthen our defenses.”

“Why would he wait that long?” Cailin asked curiously.

“Because if he attacks after the harvest, he can destroy the grain and hay, thus starving us and our animals over the next winter.”

“Is he that strong?” she wondered.

“We do not know yet, lambkin,” Wulf said, “but we will. Then, too, there is the chance Ragnar will align himself with another warlord.”

“I do not think so,” Winefrith interjected. “I think it will be a matter of pride with him that he overcome you himself.”

“Perhaps.” Wulf smiled wickedly. “We have an advantage our friend Ragnar knows nothing about. We have our villages over the hill. We must decide how we are going to defend it all over the next few days, and then we will implement our plans so that when Ragnar Strongspear comes calling, we will be able to foil him.”

“You will have to kill him, and Antonia, too,” Cailin said bluntly.

“You know this for certain? The voice within speaks to you?”

She nodded. “It does, my lord.”

“Then so be it,” he said quietly, “but we will wait for Ragnar to make the first move. The defense we make is better if it is of our own choosing and not one we are forced into making. Agreed?”

“Aye, my lord!” his captains answered enthusiastically.

Chapter 16

The villages had never before possessed names. In past times they had simply been known by the name of whoever was in charge, which more often than not led to confusion. Now Wulf decided that each village needed a firm identity, one that would not change with every change in leadership. The Britons were no longer a nomadic people.

Berikos’s old hill fort was resettled and called Brand-dun, for since it sat high, it would be the logical place for beacons to be lit. Brand-dun meant Beacon Hill. Eppilus’s village became Braleah, which meant Hillslope Meadow, and indeed it had a fine one,

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