Bee Among the Clover (123 page)

T
HE winter was upon them with a vengeance, snow blanketing the
ground, the trees bare of leaves or berries now. The harvesting had long
since been finished, and the hall had descended into the seasonal lull. There was little to be done but wait for spring. And so, when the Solstice
approached and Wulfgar began to prepare for the trip he must take to King Eadric’s stronghold in Dyfed, it was never a question of whether he would
bring Aron and Roman with him.
The purpose of the journey was two-fold. Not only did the thane go
to pay homage and pledge his renewed loyalty to his king, but also to gather his son. Gaeric had been fostered out to the king’s household five
years earlier, at the tender age of twelve, and it was now time to bring him
home, where the skills he had learned would be put to good use. There
was also a grand feast planned for the Sa grand feast planned for the Solstice celebration, should they choose to stay.
Roman knew Wulfgar had already decided they were going to
remain for the celebrations, if for no other reason than the thane loved little more than showing off. And with the addition of Aron to the household, Roman knew Wulfgar wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to
make the others at court green with envy over the prideful thrall. Roman
remembered well how much the thane had enjoyed showing him off when he’d been newly captured. The rare and the exotic, not to mention the beautiful, were obsessions of Wulfgar’s; he relished acquiring and
hoarding for himself those things others fancied.
Out of the corner of his eye, Roman saw Aron cut a glance toward
him. He chose to ignore it, because the last thing he wanted was to draw undue attention. Even before they’d left, the trouble had begun. When
they’d started this journey to see the king, Wulfgar had planned for Aron
and Roman to ride together on the same horse, but Osric had made a complaint of “wasting a horse on slaves” that had made Wulfgar’s face
darken, and before anyone could blink, the thane had ordered a horse for each of them. Roman was grateful for it; he didn’t think he could have handled such a journey with his body and Aron’s pressed so intimately together.
Roman suppressed a sigh. He’d avoided Aron ever since that incident in the cave, even refusing to meet his eyes for the most part, but he wondered how long he’d be able to keep that up. Aron didn’t seem like the sort that would stand for being ignored for long. He’d used the excuse of organizing the trip to avoid giving him any more lessons for the time being, but he’d have no valid reason to avoid it when they returned. At least Aron had the good sense not to act any differently toward him in front of Wulfgar. The thane’s reaction to their indiscretion would be very bad indeed.
From their position just behind the thane and his men, Roman watched as Wulfgar shaded his eyes, looking ahead at another party that was topping the crest. They were no more than a league out from the king’s holding and had already run into other thanes whose lands joined his, exchanging pleasantries. The group rode toward theirs, and Roman suppressed a smile at the way Wulfgar’s normally rough countenance lightened at the sight of the king’s colors on their trappings. Roman was perhaps one of the few who knew how much Wulfgar missed his son, and a pang of homesickness shafted through him as a single rider broke free from the other party and began to ride hard toward them.
“Looks as if they feed him well,” Brandr said dryly, clapping Wulfgar on the back. “He’s going to be the size of a small tree by the time he’s finished.”
The thane made his face solemn as his son drew rein in front of him, but Roman knew he must be almost bursting with pride.
“Welcome, my lord,” Gaeric said a trifle breathlessly.
Gaeric was a handsome boy; from what Roman had heard, he took after his mother quite a bit, though he would have Wulfgar’s size and his tawny hair.
Taking up pace beside his father, Gaeric informed Wulfgar of the recent events as they resumed the last short leg of their journey, telling of the thanes who had already been and gone, the ones who were there still, news gathered from listening to the king’s men. He kept up a running commentary that had Wulfgar’s lips quirking, and Roman had the idle thought that the youth reminded him somewhat of Aron, over-eager and rushing headlong in everything he did.
Wulfgar pulled his horse to a halt, and the others followed suit. The thane glanced over at Aron, who was too busy looking around with wide, curious eyes to pay much attention to him at all. Roman tried not to find his wonderment endearing.
Lucky for Aron, Roman thought, that Wulfgar was in too fine of a mood to be irritated by his inattention. Besides, Roman would reiterate whatever Wulfgar told him anyway, so it mattered not.
“Stay with the group, stay out of the way, and when the tents have been raised, await me in mine. I’ll return afore too long, I imagine.”
Roman nodded solemnly, flicking his eyes to Gaeric, then back to the thane. “Aye, my lord.”
After Wulfgar and the other battle-lords had left, Roman let Aron stare for a little longer while they waited to see where their camp was going to be assigned. Quite frankly, he would rather have not been included on this trip. Wulfgar was going to be busy the majority of the time, and it was probably in their own best interests if they were confined to the tent when he wasn’t there.
“Aron.” Roman sighed as he noticed that Aron wasn’t paying attention to the activity around him, instead concentrating on the keep and the colorful banners that topped the walls.
Piercing blue eyes lifted to meet his, and a wave of heat engulfed Roman. How could such a simple thing as a brief look from Aron cause such a reaction? Tearing his eyes away, he gestured to the king’s aide, who was showing them where they were to make camp. “We have work to do,” he said, turning in the direction that the others had gone. He hoped it would take a long time to set up camp, or it would be an eternity confined in the tent with Aron. It was quite spacious, but not enough for his presence, or for the memories he tried to shove down into that small corner of his mind with everything else.
By the time the tents had been set up and things had been formed into some semblance of order, it was well past midday. Aron sat amidst the furs piled for a bed and watched Roman, one of his favorite pastimes. Roman seemed determined to ignore him and was pretending to be fully engrossed in his small, leather bound book that Aron was sure couldn’t possibly be that interesting.
There was still no sign of Wulfgar’s return, and Aron was becoming impatient with Roman’s ignoring him and the irritation of being cooped up inside the bloody tent when there were a hundred and one things, new and exciting, he could be exploring, if he had permission to do so.
He wasn’t sure why Roman had gone back to his cool, aloof disposition. He had thought their morning in the cave would have cut through that icy exterior, that his darkling would draw him closer, not push him away as he had. It confused him and bothered him on a level he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with.
“Why do you ignore me, darkling? Have I angered you?” If that was the case, Aron could make amends and would do so happily if it meant the slave would smile at him or speak to him more than was absolutely necessary, though he had no idea what he might have done to anger Roman. But then, Roman was a mystery in more ways than one, so the gods only knew what went on in his head.
Roman didn’t answer right away, and Aron was at first worried he would simply pretend he hadn’t heard. He didn’t know why that thought hurt as much as it did. He only knew that he didn’t want Roman to ignore him; he wanted him to notice him.
Finally Roman raised his dark eyes, meeting Aron’s. “I’m not angry with you, Aron.” Aron thought that answer probably would have satisfied Wulfgar. It did not satisfy him.
“If I haven’t angered you, then why have you paid me no mind?” Aron asked, a trifle irritated he couldn’t read Roman’s gaze. Back in the cave, there had been moments when he’d seen emotions flicker in their midnight depths—little flashes of the man underneath the wall—but even those flashes were gone now.
“I’ve been busy.” Roman closed the book and set it aside. Good, Aron suspected he hadn’t been reading it anyway.
Aron wanted to press; he didn’t believe that Roman had been “busy,” and he liked even less that the slave was lying to him. He was angry, Aron was sure of it, or at the least very upset about something. Perhaps it was the same thing that had been plaguing Aron himself: the counter-purposes of Roman belonging to Wulfgar and their tryst. It was probably much more vivid for Roman than it was for Aron himself.
But he was bright enough to know that here, in Wulfgar’s tent with the thane’s men wandering about outside the thin cloth walls and Wulfgar himself due to return any moment, was not the best time to discuss what was going on between himself and his darkling. Though he intended that they were going to talk. Before this trip was over he was going to know Roman’s mind.
At least Roman had set aside his book and seemed willing to talk to him, even if it was reluctant. Aron would take what he could get for now. “You’ve been here before, darkling. Tell me what happens, and will we be allowed to see any of it?”
A look of relief flashed across Roman’s face before he nodded. “Some. I think Wulfgar has the idea of showing us off. So we might be allowed to attend to him during some of the feasts. For the most part, this is the time of year the thanes go to renew their oaths of fealty, but you already knew that.”
Aron nodded, impatient. “I do, but that doesn’t tell me what really happens.” A ghost of a smile on Roman’s lips had Aron’s heart pounding in his chest.
“No, it doesn’t. We’re not allowed to attend those meetings. As a matter of course, neither are the battle-lords, but from what Wulfgar says and what I overhear of other thanes talking, most of what goes on is what usually goes on when men get together. They discuss laws and yields and other matters of import to them, and then they drink and carouse. We won’t be seeing very much of Wulfgar.”
Aron frowned. It wasn’t that he minded in the least the time without the thane and his demands and constant touching of Roman, but he did mind the idea of being isolated in this tent for extended periods of time until Wulfgar decided to pull them out to show them off. “But surely we’ll be allowed some freedoms here? To walk, explore, mayhap meet others?”
Roman nodded. “Yes, within the boundaries of behaving properly and perhaps a bit stricter due to the unknowns of so many strangers about. I doubt Wulfgar will sequester us if we behave.”
Aron was relieved by that at least, having the sudden thought that there were surely many places they could seek out to be alone, where Aron could make amends for whatever transgression had caused Roman to be irritated with him in the first place.
Roman saw the look of eagerness spring into Aron’s eyes and drew his upper lip into his mouth, gnawing on it. He leaned closer to him, his voice urgent. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Aron. You don’t have the same recourse under the law now as you would have if you were still a crofter. Not everyone here will respect that you are Wulfgar’s property, especially when it’s dark out and they have drink in them.” Wulfgar wouldn’t demand recompense either, unless Aron were severely injured or killed, and the weregild for a thrall was small indeed.
“Of course I’ll be careful,” Aron replied brashly, and Roman could see he was irritated by the implication he couldn’t take care of himself. “I’ll take care of us both.” That pronouncement did little to ease his mind.
Before Roman could respond, the tent flap was thrown back and Wulfgar entered, pinning his gaze on the both of them. Roman immediately rose to attend to the thane, retrieving a small basin of water he’d set to the side earlier. Aron stood as well, helping take the furs from Wulfgar’s shoulders and setting them over a bracket near the entrance so that they could dry.
Roman looked up at the thane through his lashes, amusement bubbling at the wide grin on the thane’s face. For all his gruff exterior, Wulfgar, like many warriors, was happiest when he was either in battle or surrounded by those he could regale with tales of his own grandeur. The king’s home was a place for both, though the battles were mock.
“This is going to be a good gathering,” Wulfgar said, washing his hands in the basin and drawing an arm around both of their waists, tugging them closer and kissing them each in turn.
Roman began to help the thane out of his clothes, shaking his head at Aron when he began to do the same, instead nodding toward the trunk and quietly instructing him to bring the fresh clothes that had been laid out for the thane earlier.
Wulfgar spoke as the two of them assisted him into his clean, more formal raiment, making clear his expectations. “We’ll likely be here a fortnight, and as long as the two of you comport yourself befitting your station and remember that you reflect upon me, I won’t restrict you to the camp. Be wary of any not from our lands, and by the gods don’t cause me to look a fool for allowing you to accompany me.” He paused and tilted their faces up to him, thumbs stroking over their cheeks, the warm smile that Roman knew was rare curving his hard lips. “I’m sure you won’t let me down.”
“You’re to return to my tent by nightfall each night,” he continued. “Unless I’ve told you otherwise, I don’t want either of you wandering about after dark.”
Roman nodded his assent. Of course not, they were too valuable for that kind of carelessness. Wulfgar wouldn’t take the chance on another thane or some randy battle-lord attempting to take them in retaliation for an old grudge.
“Aye, my lord,” Roman said, working the comb through the thane’s long, golden beard, easing out the tangles.
Aron glanced up as well, his clear blue eyes lit up with excitement. “Aye, my lord,” he replied.
The thane gave Roman a significant look, and after a moment, he nodded. He tried to hide the discomfort at the silent order. He had no choice now; Wulfgar had made it clear he was to stay close to Aron, to make sure the other man didn’t get up to any trouble on his own. Roman bit back a sigh. There was little chance that he would be able to do anything at all to waylay the young man’s brash and careless enthusiasm.
Roman stood back, tucking the comb away and eyeing Wulfgar critically before nodding in approval. “You’re presentable, my lord.”