To Love Again - Bertrice Small [179]
Ragnar’s eyes grew wide at the variety of foods offered him. He was certainly not fed like this in his hall. There was a thick pottage, warm, newly baked bread, hard-boiled eggs, broiled trout, ham, sweet butter, hard cheese, and a bowl filled with apples and pears. “Were you expecting guests?” he asked his host.
“No,” Wulf said. “My wife keeps a good table, doesn’t yours?”
“There is not this variety,” Ragnar admitted, and helped himself liberally to everything offered.
There was silence as the two men ate. When they had finished and the table cleared, Wulf said quietly, “If you thought to retake these lands, Ragnar Strongspear, put it from your mind. They belong to me.”
“Only as long as you can hold them,” the older man said, grinning.
“I will hold them for longer than you have life,” was the cool reply. “This hall and the lands to the north and to the east are mine. I will keep them. Seek out the lands to the south for yourself and your children. You cannot have my estates.”
“You have taken Dobunni lands?” Ragnar was surprised.
“They have given me the fealty,” Wulf told him, a small smile upon his lips. “While you spent the summer months plotting and planning, Ragnar Strongspear, I spent those months doing. Go home, and tell Antonia Porcius to cease her greedy thoughts. I cannot imagine why you took her to wife. She is a very evil woman. If you do not know this, be warned. No doubt she wants her lands back for her son Quintus. She will do what she must to gain her desire. She will even destroy you if she can.”
“You seem to know my wife well,” Ragnar said dryly.
“After Antonia had stolen my daughter and sent my wife into slavery, she told me that they were both dead,” Wulf answered. “She offered herself to me, disrobing in the atrium of her villa and pushing her breasts into my face. I found her singularly undesirable.”
“She can be at times,” Ragnar admitted, “but she is also the best damn fuck I have ever had. I swear it by Woden himself!”
“Then I congratulate you on your good fortune,” Wulf said, “but I still advise you to beware her. There is no necessity for us to quarrel, Ragnar Strongspear. There is more than enough land for us all. Stay to the south, and there will be peace between us.”
His guest nodded in reply. Then he said, “Where is your wife, Wulf Ironfist? I hope she is not ill.”
“Nay, but she is seeing to the preparations for a small celebration of our daughter’s natal day. It is the first time since Aurora’s birth that we have been able to celebrate it together,” he told the other man. “As you know, we did not even realize we had a daughter until several months ago.”
Ragnar flushed. “That was not my fault,” he said. “I believed Antonia when she said the child was hers. She is fair like Antonia. Why should I have not believed her?”
“We do not hold you responsible,” Wulf assured him graciously.
“I must go,” Ragnar said, rising. Wulf’s manner was beginning to irritate him. “I thank you for the meal. I will certainly consider your words, Wulf Ironfist.”
As Ragnar departed Cadda-wic, his thoughts were somewhat confused. Wulf Ironfist had actually given him good advice. The lands to the south of him were rich, and most of the poor souls farming it could not withstand the force of his might. Those lands could be his for the taking, and with little loss of life on his side. He was not afraid of death, nor of battle, but there was something about this Britain that made a man desire peace more than war. He did not understand it, but neither did it make him unhappy.
Antonia, however,