Wulf gave the order to empty the hall of their possessions, and as it was being done, he climbed to the solar. Ragnar Strongspear lay spread upon his back, naked, and as white as a fish's belly. There seemed to be blood everywhere. Gingerly, Wulf pulled the man's head back, for it had fallen upon his chest. His eyes were wide and sightless, and there was a look of surprise on his face. The gaping wound shocked him. Ragnar Strongspear's throat was deeply slashed from ear to ear. How had she done it? His delicate lambkin did not seem capable of such a savage act, but he could not deny the evidence of his own eyes. It was certainly a most mortal wound, and hardly the sort of death a man would want to face. At best, a man died in battle. At worst, of old age in his bed. To die at the hands of a frail woman was shameful. There would be no Valhalla for Ragnar Strongspear. He would likely haunt this place forever. Cailin had been correct. They could hardly sleep and make love in the place where Ragnar had attempted to rape her, and where she had killed him.
"Is the hall cleared yet?" he called down.
"Aye, my lord," a voice answered him. "We are ready to fire it."
"Hand me up a torch," Wulf Ironside said. "We will start here." When the torch was given to him, he set fire to the bed space where Ragnar Strongspear lay. Then tossing the torch aside, he climbed down into the hall and directed his men to set the rest of the building alight.
He exited the burning hall, to find Cailin awaiting him, already mounted upon her mare. Aurora was seated before her mother, and Nellwyn was settled in the cart, Royse in her arms. He looked at his wife, and their eyes met in silent understanding. He looked at his children and smiled. Aurora and Royse and the children who would come after them were a bright future. He no longer feared a dark destiny. Whatever happened, the years ahead would be golden with their love and the hope of a better world to come.
Mounting his stallion, Wulf Ironfist smiled at his wife, and Cailin smiled back at him. With his love to sustain her, she thought, she could face any obstacle and overcome it. "I love you," she said softly, and was thrilled when he responded, "I love you, too, lambkin." Together they rode away from the bleak past and into a shining tomorrow.
Author's Note
The Celtic tribes of Britain faded into history as they intermingled their blood with that of the newcomers. Only in Cornwall and Wales could any strong evidence of them be found again in Britain.
The Saxons, the Jutes and the Angles poured into Britain in increasing numbers seeking land and a decent future for their peoples. For the next six centuries their combined cultures spawned kingdoms with names like Northumbria (which combined Bernicia and Deira); East Anglia, Mercia, Kent, Essex, Sussex and Wessex. Kings with names like Albert, Ethelred, Edward, Aethelswith, and Edwin ruled. Britain became England, the land of the Angles.
Then in 1066 the Normans arrived to take England by conquest. Once more another culture combined, and mingled itself and the blood of its people with that of those who had come before them. This is the way of the world even today. Nothing remains the same… ever.
I hope you have enjoyed To Love Again. Next year Ballantine and I will bring you Love, Remember Me, the story of Nyssa Wyndham, the daughter of Blaze; and her many adventures in the court of Henry VIII, and two of his queens, the clever and witty Anne of Cleves, and the charming, but foolish, Catherine Howard. Until then I wish you much Good Reading!
Bertrice W. Small
Southold, NY, and, soon, Tryon, NC
Bertrice Small
