Fires of Winter by Johanna Lindsey Page A

ready to leave, but how could she sail it alone? Perhaps she could hide on one when it left to raid her homeland. That would not be until spring. Could she wait that long?
    Brenna descended the stairs and walked briskly to the small buildings behind the large stone house. The grunts of animals met her ears, and she entered one building whose doors were wide open. It was a stable, with four fine horses inside.
    Brenna was delighted. A magnificent black stallion caught her eye and she walked over to him, then gasped in alarm when she saw an old man rubbing the beast down.
    The old man straightened up, groaning, a hand pressed to his back. A full beard covered his face. It was streaked heavily with gray, as was his sandy-colored hair. Mellow brown eyes regarded her intently.

    “And who might you be, lass?” he asked in her own tongue.
    “Brenna, Brenna Carmarham. Do you work here?” she questioned as she put a hand out gently for the horse to smell.
    “Yea, almost two score years now I’ve tended the horses,” he replied.
    “Does no one help you?”
    He shook his head. “Not since the master took most of us to sell when he sailed east. He left me behind since I am too old to bring a goodly price.”
    “You speak of Garrick, the Viking?” she asked. “Is he the one you call master?”
    “Yea. He’s a good lad. I served his grandfather before him,” the old man said with pride.
    “How can you speak kindly of the man who owns you?” she demanded.
    “I am treated well, lass. Garrick is an ambitious young-blood trying to make his way in a hurry, but he is a fair master to us all.”
    Brenna did not pursue the subject. “Are these the only horses?”
    “Nay, there are a half dozen out to pasture. And three others were borrowed by Garrick’s friends, those who sailed with him and have gone to collect their families for the feast. These here,” he pointed to the others horses in the stable, “they belong to Anselm Haardrad, who just came with his family.” He rubbed the stallion’s flanks. “A finer animal than this one I have never seen.”
    “Yea, he is,” Brenna readily agreed. She looked with longing at the sleek animal. The man gently wiped the stallion’s back. The horse had obviously just come from a run.
    “The master brought him home with him. Found him in Hedeby, he said. A fat purse this one cost him, to be sure.”
    Brenna nodded, but her thoughts were no longer on the great steed. So Garrick was at the house, and Anselm with him. No doubt his brother Hugh was there also, that vulgar animal who had dared to maul her before all.
    A frown creasing her brow, Brenna walked to the stable door and stared apprehensively at the stone house. How much time did she have? Was he looking for her already, or would he even bother, thinking she was safely tucked away in that sewing room? And why should he make the effort? He already showed that he had no interest in her, that she was only a nuisance to him. Even Yarmille said she did not please Garrick.
    Brenna preferred it this way. She must keep out of the way and not draw attention to herself.
    She walked back. “What do they call you?” she asked the old man, who was still grooming the stallion with tender care.
    “Erin McCay.”
    “Well, Erin, do you know the girl Janie?” she questioned, her smile warm.
    “That I do. A pretty lass, Janie.”
    “Where can I find her now? She took care of me when I was confined, but I was ungracious and needs must make amends.”
    “You were confined?” He looked at her curiously. “So! You be the one the tongues are wagging over, Garrick’s new—”
    “Yea!” Brenna cut him short, stopping him before he spoke the word she detested.
    “And they have released you?”
    She nodded. “They have. Now, whereabouts is Janie?”
    “The lass is at the big house. She will be busy all the day and most of the night, serving the feast.”
    Brenna frowned. “This feast. How long will it go on?”
    Erin smiled amiably.