To Love Again - Bertrice Small [191]
“What shall we do, my lady?” Albert asked her nervously. He was more than well aware how close to disaster he himself had come.
“Do not resist,” she told him, as she had the others, “unless, of course, your very life is threatened. Go about your daily duties as you normally do. Wulf Ironfist will come soon, and he will drive Ragnar Strongspear back to his own lands. Do not fear. Nellwyn will raise the alarm, and Ragnar Strongspear’s only advantage was in surprise. He no longer has that advantage.”
Cailin moved on. In early afternoon she gathered the women about her, telling them, “I will not allow anyone to abuse you. Hide yourselves in the cellar beneath the largest grain barn. Do it as soon as you can, and remember to bring water skins. Do not come out until morning, when I shall come to fetch you. Hurry now!”
“But what of you, lady?” one of the serving women asked.
“I will not be harmed,” Cailin assured them. She had already decided what she must do. If she could not deter Ragnar Strongspear from his lustful intent, then she must kill him.
Her breasts were beginning to ache dreadfully, and looking down, she grimaced with irritation. Her milk was beginning to leak through her nipples and stain her tunic dress. Royse last nursed in the early morning. Nellwyn would have found a nursing mother for him at Braleah, and Cailin knew she would have to do something to rid herself of her milk.
Cailin took bread from the bake house and a small cheese from the dairy. The servants would have put several pitchers of water in the solar, as was the usual practice. Entering the hall, Cailin saw that Ragnar Strongspear was not there. With a chuckle she climbed up to the solar and, pulling the ladder behind her, bolted the door fast. There was no other ladder available that would reach the chamber. She would be safe for a time. Removing her tunic dress, she sighed at the sight of her soaked camisa. She pulled it off, too, and then expressed the milk from her swollen breasts into an empty basin. Immediately she felt better, and washing herself off, she put on clean garments.
She could hear fresh activity in the hall below. She had given her menservants orders to serve the evening meal as usual, and deny the intruders nothing in the way of food and drink. She had to keep Ragnar Strongspear and his men as content as possible until Wulf Ironfist returned. Cailin had absolutely no doubt that her husband would come, and when he did, he would regain Cadda-wic. No one was going to take this land from her, from them. She had been born here, as had ten generations of her family. They would live on through her children. No one would take these lands from her again! Not Ragnar Strongspear. Not Antonia Porcius. No one.
“Lady? Are you in the solar?” She heard Ragnar Strongspear calling up to her. “Lady, I would have you join us at table. Come down.”
“I am ill,” Cailin answered him. “The excitement of today has been too much for me, Ragnar Strongspear. I must rest. It has been but a short time since I gave birth to my son. I am yet weak.”
“You would feel better, lady, if you ate. It will help to build your strength up. Come down, my little fox vixen. I will feed you dainty morsels of meat from my own plate, and give you sweet wine to ease your distress,” he told her in dulcet tones.
Cailin smothered her giggles. “I think not, Ragnar Strongspear. I am best left alone,” she replied, and then made a series of rather convincing noises to give the impression that she was retching, and quite close to vomiting. “Ohhhh,” she moaned, sounding quite desperate.
“Perhaps you are better alone,” he agreed nervously, and she heard him hastily moving away from below the solar door. “I will see you tomorrow, lady.”
Nothing, Cailin thought with a mischievous grin, discouraged a lustful man from his chosen path more than a woman threatening to disgorge the contents of her stomach in his lap. She tore a chunk of bread from the loaf and sliced a wedge