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by Ariadne..many thanks


Author's Chapter Notes:
thanks as always to those nice folks who take a moment to review. I have answered every one. and Hope you all enjoy the new chapter.
and of course amazing thanks to who ever it was who nominated me for the Cradle of Humaity awards.
Giles had awoken early, just as the women in the hall were preparing breakfast. He had watched as they talked quietly amongst themselves, before nature’s call had made him try a little pantomime to ask where the midden was. One of the older women had laughed, and answered him in flawless Saxon, embarrassing him even further.

She showed him where the piss pot was stored behind a small screen, and left him alone to make use of it. When Brother Giles had finished she brought him a large wooden bowl filled with warm water, and a cloth. Giles had assumed the water was for drinking, but again the Saxon speaker had come to his rescue, explaining to him that it was for washing his face and hands after the night. Giles was a churchman, more used to breaking the ice to wash, and was grateful for the luxury of warm water. He quickly finished his ablutions, keeping the noise down as the women did. Most of the men had drunk far more than he had, in fact he had fallen asleep very early, whilst the drinking games were still continuing. He had wanted a clear head this morning. Every sense he had was telling him to run, that these were demons with no souls and no emotions, but that was not what the evidence of his eyes and ears had told him. He had watched the respect with which the women of the household were treated. The love in Ingimund’s eyes as he watched his wife was obvious. There were younger and prettier women around, but none could hold a candle to the Lady Fritha: she was something special. She carried herself as Queen, and rightly so. She ruled the household with a rod of iron.

Giles watched as the other men slowly woke around him. They all had their own little habits. Some would reach for the woman who shared his blankets, others would scratch themselves, another patted his sword lovingly before sitting up. Giles smiled as he noticed one of the dogs start to lick William’s neck. The youngster mumbled ‘Buffy,’ before rolling over to put an arm around the dog’s neck. Giles wanted no mistakes this morning so moved closer to where Godwin was still sleeping. If William woke with a start the last thing they needed was for Godwin to draw his weapon.
William could feel Buffy kiss him along his jaw line, could feel her tongue tracing the outline of his jaw. The feel of her body next to him hardened his to the point of painfulness. Half awake he wondered how Eirik could not have told him she was here? The kisses changed to licks up and towards his ear. His little lady was getting playful. William smiled to himself, despite the head-nails being driven into his skull.

He turned over to face Buffy, expecting to see her wonderful emerald eyes but he got a face full of fur and wet dog. The bitch he had brought with him was licking his face and neck. She smelt of something disgusting she had rolled in that very morning. It was enough to make a grown man weep.

‘Agh!’ William yelled as he jumped up from his place on the bench, tangling himself in his blanket and waking Godwin as he did so. Godwin reached for his sword, assuming they were under attack, but Brother Giles stayed his hand.

‘Our noble leader has just had a rude awakening,’ he chortled, pointing to the dog on William’s bed.

Godwin had reacted just as Giles thought he would. The northmen turned their heads to the commotion and then the laughter rang around the hall. Eirik watched, still howling with laughter, as William washed the dog saliva off of his face and neck, paying particular attention to his ears.

‘I suppose you found that funny?’ William growled at Giles when he felt the older man’s eyes on him.

‘Well yes, actually I did.’ Giles smiled.

‘You seem to tame all the bitches, William,’ Ingimund said jokingly as he came over to them. ‘My wife says you need feeding up and has told you both to come and sit and enjoy a little something before we all leave the hall for the day’s chores.’

William smiled his thanks at the Great North Lord. Ingimund was a powerful looking man, one you could easily believe took the fight to his enemies. William was relieved to the welcome they had been given in this hall. It would make his job possible; not easy but possible, and he just needed the chance.

The day-meal cleared away, Ingimund signalled to William to sit at the table. It was time for the conversations to start.

‘We’ll talk business now, young man.’

‘Thank you, my Lord. I hope you liked the gifts?’ William asked gently.

‘They were very nice thank you: my wife tells me the fabric is of exceptional quality, and she would be interested in trading for more.’

‘It’s trade I wish to speak to you about, my Lord.’

‘I’m always willing to listen to talk of trade.’

Giles pulled out a scroll from his bag as well as a quill and a pot of ink. He had picked and dried the oakgall himself and all he needed was a little water to make the ink that would record the two men’s words. Looking around he saw the bucket by the kitchen area and using some of that mixed the contents of the pot into a liquid. He stirred it thoroughly with a small stick he kept for that purpose.

Ingimund watched in amusement. He had see ink before but was diverted by the little ritual the churchman was going through. A man’s rituals and foibles could tell you a lot about him, and Ingimund was beginning to judge that Brother Giles was someone who took his position and responsibilities very seriously. An honourable man? They would wait and see. But he was serious and thoughtful and learned. That counted for something in the Norseman’s eyes. He was also brave, oh not battle brave, hoping for a swift death with sword in hand. But it took a great deal of courage to come to a pagan north hall when you preached the word of the White Christ and expect to walk away again.

‘You wanted to talk trade?’ Ingimund started again when Giles had finished fussing over the state of his quill.

‘Yes, my liege lord Athelred bids me greet you and open negotiations with you that would be to mutual advantage and profit.’

‘I love that word profit; not sure about the mutual bit, though.’ Ingimund smiled; it was obvious that William was nervous and Ingimund was intrigued. They rarely got visitors, and this was the first group of Saxon visitors ever to grace his hall.

William smiled at the lightening of the atmosphere. This might actually get easy, he thought to himself.

‘My Lord wants to negotiate with you to allow Norse merchants safe pass to Chester for them to bring their goods straight into that city.’

‘That’s the one with the big walls,’ Eirik added, unhelpfully joining the discussion at the table.

‘So that he can destroy them as soon as they appear?’ Ingimund asked. He wasn’t a stupid man and William had better learn that quickly.


‘No my Lord, in all honesty. He wants you to be able to trade with him in Chester.’

‘Even if I was tempted by the markets on offer, I think the thought of sailing under those walls regularly would make me think twice. Then there are the taxes: I’m certain that Athelred and Athelflaed would want a nice cut of any profit.’

‘There would be taxes, but they are open to negotiation. And it’s not just a market Mercia is offering. He wants to talk about a Norse settlement, outside the walls, near the river. A settlement that combines the best of both worlds, Saxon and Norse. There are other topics to be discussed as well. This is meant to be a reciprocal arrangement, a true treaty between our peoples. We are both supposed to benefit.’

‘I will think about what you have said.’ Ingimund signalled one of the women: ‘a jug of wine here!’ he ordered. William groaned inwardly. He hadn’t recovered from the night before yet, and the drinking was about to start again. He accepted the fine horn cup and watched as Giles and Eirik were given wooden ones. Ingimund held a full cows horn, rimmed in silver and he was filling it to the brim. Even the drinking vessels had rank in this hall.

‘Did you enjoy your visit to the homeland, boy?’

William was surprised by the change of topic. He wondered why Ingimund was questioning him about his time in Buffy’s, no Connor’s, hall.

‘Yes Sir, I did. I found it most informative. I left family there.’

Giles jerked his head up and away from his scroll. He wasn’t used to William mentioning Tara at all and was wondering how the man would react.

‘Yes, she’s well and happy: Eirik was at the wedding.’ Ingimund gestured towards the other man with his horn.

‘How was Tara when you last saw her?’ William asked Eirik.

‘Well and happy. She and Willow had taken over the reins of the hall nicely.’

‘And Buffy?’ William had to ask.

‘Back to her own lands. She said she was going to make the place worth more than Connor’s!’

‘She most probably will, given half a chance and the Norns being with her…’

‘If they’re not, she’ll soon change their minds for them!’

The men laughed at the jokes and passed the jug around again.





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