"Enough!" roared Ragnar Strongspear, drawing his engorged organ from her mouth. "This randy fellow wants to seek his proper place!" He began to slide himself down her body so he might couple with her.
She couldn't find it! Cailin's fingers sought desperately. It had to be there! She must delay him in his intent. "Ohhh, my lord," she pleaded prettily with him, "Will you not give me a bit of the same pleasure I have given you? Ohh, please! I must have it!"
Laughter rumbled up from his chest. "Then you shall have your desire, my russet-haired little fox vixen! I will not disappoint you!" Yanking her legs apart, he almost dove between them.
Cailin attempted to block the feel of his wet tongue on her flesh. Frantic, she dug into the straw beneath the feather bed, and just when she was certain that he must have found it and removed it earlier, her hand was sliced slightly by the blade she sought. Relief pouring through her, Cailin grasped the weapon, ignoring the pain of her wound. "Ohhh! Ohhh!" she cried, remembering he would expect something of her for his obscene efforts. "Oh, it is good! I am ready for you, my lord!"
Wordless, Ragnar Strongspear positioned himself.
"Ohh, kiss me!" Cailin cried to him, and when he leaned forward to cover her mouth with his, she plunged her knife several times into his back. With a surprised grunt, he rolled off of her onto his back. He was wounded, but not mortally so, she saw. "Bitch!" he growled at her. "You'll pay for that!"
Cailin quickly straddled him, grasped his head by the hair, and yanking it back, swiftly cut Ragnar Strongspear's throat. The look of total amazement in his eyes faded so rapidly that she wasn't even certain she had actually seen it. She scrambled off of him and stood shivering, staring down at the dead man, not even sure he was really dead. She was afraid for a long moment that he would jump up, but no. He was dead. Very dead. She had killed Ragnar Strongspear. She had killed a man.
Cailin began to weep softly with relief. When at last her sobs subsided, she became aware of the fact that she was covered in blood. His blood. She shuddered with distaste, and forcing herself to function, moved across the solar, poured water into a basin and washed, washed, washed, until finally she was clean again. Being clean and having fresh garments seemed to help a little. She avoided looking across the room to the bed space where Ragnar Strongspear lay sprawled in a widening pool of his own blood. Instead she sat down by her loom, eventually dozing with exhaustion, until the birds, twittering excitedly in the predawn, roused her. Starting awake, Cailin remembered what had happened the previous night.
What was she going to do? When Ragnar's men discovered that she had killed their master, and they certainly would, they would kill her. She would never see Wulf and their children again. Nervous tears began to slide down her pale cheeks. No! She would not allow herself to be slaughtered like a frightened rabbit.
Perhaps she could escape Cadda-wic before Ragnar's body was discovered. It was very early, and no one was stirring in the hall. She could climb down, and then she would hide the ladder to the solar. Everyone would assume Ragnar was sleeping off the excesses of his night's sport. She would rouse the other women, and together they would all slip through the gates on one pretext or another.
No! It simply wouldn't work. There were too many of them not to seem suspicious. She couldn't leave the other women behind to face the violent wrath of Ragnar Strongspear's men. She would go and fetch the two girls hidden in the bake house. They would join the other women beneath the grain storage barn. Yes! That was a far better plan. No one would find them there, and surely Wulf would come soon.
Cailin pushed the chests from atop the door and, sliding the bolt, opened it, and lowered the ladder before her. Drawing the door softly shut after her, she swiftly descended into the hall. Where would she hide the ladder? Cailin wondered. She would throw it down the well! She could never go back into the solar again. Not after what had happened to her there last night. A hand fell heavily upon her shoulder, and unable to help herself, Cailin screamed softly with her terror.
"Lambkin! It is I."
She whirled, heart pounding, and Wulf Ironfist stood before her. Beyond them in the hall, Ragnar Strongspear's men stood shackled and surrounded by their own people. "Ohh, Wulf," she sobbed, collapsing with relief into his arms. After a moment she stiffened and, pulling away from him, she queried, "How did you get into Cadda-wic? Were the walls not manned by Ragnar Strongspear's men?"
"We got in the same way our men got out the other night. There is a small trapdoor in one of the gatehouses. It leads to a narrow tunnel beneath our defenses, lambkin. I sent Corio back for the men. They departed the other night by means of that tunnel. Then they told me in detail of Ragnar Strongspear's defenses. We returned this dawning the same way and took back Cadda-wic."
"Why did I not know of this tunnel?" Cailin demanded, outraged. "I had to hide our women in the cellar beneath the grain barns to keep them safe from these intruders. Why was I not told of it?"
"Corio sent Albert to look for you, lambkin, but you had disappeared. Albert had no choice but to go with the others," Wulf explained, but Cailin would not have any of it.
"He might have told one of the women," she insisted, forgetting that she herself had hidden the women away for safety's sake. "I had to barricade myself in the solar to escape the unpleasant attentions of Ragnar Strongspear. Would you have had me wandering the hall, playing the gracious hostess to that savage pig?" She was furious.
"But you did not escape my uncle last night," Aelfa said meanly, coming forward, a nasty smile upon her beautiful face. "You look quite well, considering the active night you must have had beneath my uncle."
"I will kill him if he has touched you!" Wulf Ironfist said angrily.
"I already have," Cailin told him bluntly, and Aelfa grew pale at her words. "He did not rape me, my lord, though he sought to do so."
"How could you have killed so large a man, lambkin?" her husband gently inquired. Was she truly all right? he wondered.
"I slit his throat," Cailin said tonelessly.
"With what?" he asked. The gods! She was so pale.
"The voice within would not stop nagging at me," she began. "I do not know why I did it, but when you departed to visit our villages, I put a knife beneath the feather bed in our bed space. When he climbed atop me, I found it and I killed him. There was so much blood, Wulf! I can never sleep in that solar again. Ever?'' She began to weep.
He comforted her as best he could, and when she had ceased to sob, he told her, "I have much news, lambkin, and it is good." Then seeing the darkling stain spreading across her tunic dress, he cried out, "Lambkin, are you injured?"
Cailin looked down and laughed weakly. "I need Royse," she said. "My breasts are overflowing with my milk."
"Nellwyn will have him here shortly," he promised her, and put a loving arm about her. "Aurora too."
"How devoted you are to each other," Aelfa sneered, "but what is to become of us, I should like to know?"
"Her memory has returned, I take it," Wulf said with a small attempt at humor. They walked into the hall and seated themselves at the high board. Aelfa followed, but positioned herself next to Harald.
"She never lost her memory," Cailin told him. "Let me tell you a story that I learned as a child. In ancient times a Grecian king named Menelaeus had a beautiful queen who was called Helen. The king was old, but he loved his wife. The queen, however, was young, and she fell in love with a handsome youth, Paris. They fled to his father's city of Troy. A war between Troy and several powerful Grecian states erupted over the insult to Menelaeus and his efforts to regain Helen, the beauteous queen.