as they had discovered the morning of their return. The other two villages were called Denetun, because it now belonged to the estate in the valley; and Orrford, which was set by a stream, whose shallow waters made it a perfect cattle crossing for drovers. The hall itself was named Cadda-wic, which meant Warrior’s Estate.
An agreement was forged between Wulf Ironfist and the men in the villages. In return for recognizing him as their overlord, he would lead them, and protect them from all comers. All the lands that had been claimed in the past by the Dobunni Celts were now ceded to Wulf Ironfist and his descendants. The villagers would be given the rights to the common fields, to their kitchen gardens, and to graze their animals in the common pasture.
Their home was theirs, but the land beneath it was not. They had the right to personally own cattle, horses, pigs, barnyard fowl, cats, and dogs. They would toil three days each week for their overlord at a variety of tasks. They would tend his fields and his livestock. Those with special skills, such as the cooper, the thatchers, and the ironworkers, would also contribute their efforts. They would all spend some time in military training for the defense of the lands.
And if war came, Wulf Ironfist would lead them. He would be father, judge, warrior, and friend to them all. It was a different sort of order than they had ever known, but it seemed to Eppilus and the others to be the best way to live now in their changing world. They needed to be united, and they needed a strong leader whom other ambitious men would respect and fear.
The women, Cailin among them, planted the fields. They tended the growing grain and the animals while the men went about the task of building defenses for the hall as well as for the villages. The hall they had left to last, knowing that Ragnar Strongspear had set a man to spy upon them from the hill above. Antonia’s husband was lulled into a false sense of security, as the hall remained undefended by any barriers. Ragnar Strongspear did not know that each of the nearby villages was being prepared to defend itself should he discover them, as he and others eventually would. In midsummer he finally withdrew his spy, deciding the man’s time would be better spent elsewhere than lying lazily on the hill. Wulf Ironfist’s hall would be his when he chose to take it, Ragnar boasted to his wives.
Antonia, her body bruised by a recent beating her husband had administered, shook her head wearily. She was fairly certain she was with child. That at least should stem Ragnar’s irritation with her for the present, and give her time to think. Her Saxon husband was going to lose everything for them if she did not intervene in the matter. Ragnar was not really a clever man. He was more like a marauding bull. And then, too, there was her darling son, Quintus, to consider. These lands Ragnar claimed to have conquered were really Quintus’s lands. She could not allow this self-glorifying Saxon oaf to steal from Quintus.
Meanwhile, when Ragnar Strongspear withdrew his spy, Wulf and his men began to build a defense around the hall. It was an earthworks that they topped with a stone wall. Small wooden towers were set atop the wall, allowing for an excellent view of the surrounding valley. Winefrith worked long hours in his smithy producing doors for the walls. They were made of strong, aged oak, a foot in thickness and well-sheathed in forged iron. There had never been doors like them.
The hall was always busy, and always full of Wulf’s men. There was so much work to do, and even more to oversee. As mistress here, it was Cailin’s duty to provide direction. She seemed to have no time for herself, nor any privacy.
One day, in an effort to escape it all, she climbed the ladder to the solar above the hall. It was not a large room, its wood floor covering only a third of the hall below. There were four bed spaces set into the stone walls. They were bare and empty of bedding, for she and Wulf had been taking their rest below with everyone else.
Cailin sighed wistfully, remembering the early days of her marriage, when he could hardly wait to bed her. Since that wonderful night in Byzantium, they had not found time to couple.