Deer Haven with her grandsire.
She dressed in the man's clothing she'd laid out on a low chest and tucked her tight braid into a leather battle helmet that hugged her head. She also used a small pottery container of ashes mixed with mud to darken her face.
The hall was quiet except for the occasional snore and popping of embers in the hearth as she crept along to the scullery, where she filled a cloth bag with manchet bread and hard cheese. Only then did she go looking for Torolf.
He was not yet up. So, first she sat near the door, waiting. When he still did not get up, she went looking for him. He was not among those who slept on benches along the wall, though she did find two of his men holding two of her women in their arms. Pretty Boy lay alone; apparently Britta had not succumbed to his charms… yet. At least, these two couples had had the decency to remove themselves to the far end of the hall where their wanton acts would not be viewed by others. In the end, she found a sleepy-eyed Geek and shook him awake.
"Where is Torolf?"
He jerked quickly to a sitting position, pulling out a deadly looking knife.
Luckily, he hesitated, then blinked several times. "JesusMaryandJoseph!" he prayed with a shake of his head. Apparently he had not recognized her in her helmet and darkened face.
"Didst think I was an enemy warrior?"
"No, I thought you were Freddy Krueger on Halloween."
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
"Where is Torolf ?"
He frowned, combing his fingers through his unruly red hair. "I don't know.
Maybe he went to the head… the outhouse."
"Oh." Suspicious, she stormed out of the keep and up to the privy, yanking the door open. There was no one on any of the five holes. "Aaarrgh!" she screamed.
The lout had left without her.
And it took her hours to find Stig tied up in the forest with his favorite bitch. He had made sure that Hilda would not follow him with Stig. The lout!
He
must be laughing at how gullible she had been.
The first day Hilda complained to everyone till none of her women would come near her for fear of being subjected to another of her tirades. The men just laughed.
The second day, when Hilda launched into one of her tirades again, Cage snapped, "Stop the bitchin'. Max did what was best for you and everyone here. Have the friggin' sense to trust that the man knows better than you about some bloody things."
Chastened, Hilda held her tongue, but she still boiled inside at the injustice of being left behind.
The four men—seals, they called themselves, of all things—worked intensively with the women in small groups. From early morning till late afternoon, they kept rotating the groups so that they all got training in archery, knife throwing, hand-to-hand combat, defensive tactics, even the way to move silently when doing surveillance, which meant spying and not being caught. They all ached by the end of the day but had to admit they had accomplished much. For that, Hilda had to be thankful.
That night, with Torolf still absent, Hilda lay in her bed, unable to sleep again. But now, instead of anger, worry began to fill her head. Was he dead…
or
worse yet, captured? Was he at this moment being tortured? She prayed to the gods that he was not. If he was not back by the morrow, there was a good chance he would not come back. To her surprise, the possibility of his death saddened her greatly, not just because of its effect on The Sanctuary, but because…
well,
just because…
Would she go out then to attempt to find him? For a certainty, his men would.
They were ever quoting something about "no man left behind."
The next morning, Hilda continued to participate in the military exercises.
That
afternoon the men brought many dead limbs down off the mountain and chopped them into firewood. Amazing how much easier it was for them! Hilda helped Astrid drain honey from the last of the combs and wash the combs for wintertime candle making. Still others in the scullery were churning goat milk
She dressed in the man's clothing she'd laid out on a low chest and tucked her tight braid into a leather battle helmet that hugged her head. She also used a small pottery container of ashes mixed with mud to darken her face.
The hall was quiet except for the occasional snore and popping of embers in the hearth as she crept along to the scullery, where she filled a cloth bag with manchet bread and hard cheese. Only then did she go looking for Torolf.
He was not yet up. So, first she sat near the door, waiting. When he still did not get up, she went looking for him. He was not among those who slept on benches along the wall, though she did find two of his men holding two of her women in their arms. Pretty Boy lay alone; apparently Britta had not succumbed to his charms… yet. At least, these two couples had had the decency to remove themselves to the far end of the hall where their wanton acts would not be viewed by others. In the end, she found a sleepy-eyed Geek and shook him awake.
"Where is Torolf?"
He jerked quickly to a sitting position, pulling out a deadly looking knife.
Luckily, he hesitated, then blinked several times. "JesusMaryandJoseph!" he prayed with a shake of his head. Apparently he had not recognized her in her helmet and darkened face.
"Didst think I was an enemy warrior?"
"No, I thought you were Freddy Krueger on Halloween."
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
"Where is Torolf ?"
He frowned, combing his fingers through his unruly red hair. "I don't know.
Maybe he went to the head… the outhouse."
"Oh." Suspicious, she stormed out of the keep and up to the privy, yanking the door open. There was no one on any of the five holes. "Aaarrgh!" she screamed.
The lout had left without her.
And it took her hours to find Stig tied up in the forest with his favorite bitch. He had made sure that Hilda would not follow him with Stig. The lout!
He
must be laughing at how gullible she had been.
The first day Hilda complained to everyone till none of her women would come near her for fear of being subjected to another of her tirades. The men just laughed.
The second day, when Hilda launched into one of her tirades again, Cage snapped, "Stop the bitchin'. Max did what was best for you and everyone here. Have the friggin' sense to trust that the man knows better than you about some bloody things."
Chastened, Hilda held her tongue, but she still boiled inside at the injustice of being left behind.
The four men—seals, they called themselves, of all things—worked intensively with the women in small groups. From early morning till late afternoon, they kept rotating the groups so that they all got training in archery, knife throwing, hand-to-hand combat, defensive tactics, even the way to move silently when doing surveillance, which meant spying and not being caught. They all ached by the end of the day but had to admit they had accomplished much. For that, Hilda had to be thankful.
That night, with Torolf still absent, Hilda lay in her bed, unable to sleep again. But now, instead of anger, worry began to fill her head. Was he dead…
or
worse yet, captured? Was he at this moment being tortured? She prayed to the gods that he was not. If he was not back by the morrow, there was a good chance he would not come back. To her surprise, the possibility of his death saddened her greatly, not just because of its effect on The Sanctuary, but because…
well,
just because…
Would she go out then to attempt to find him? For a certainty, his men would.
They were ever quoting something about "no man left behind."
The next morning, Hilda continued to participate in the military exercises.
That
afternoon the men brought many dead limbs down off the mountain and chopped them into firewood. Amazing how much easier it was for them! Hilda helped Astrid drain honey from the last of the combs and wash the combs for wintertime candle making. Still others in the scullery were churning goat milk
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