Bee Among the Clover (84 page)

R
OMAN walked away from the mead hall, pwalked away from the mead hall, pulling the hood of his cloak
up against the cold. It had snowed the night before, and the pristine whiteness was still unbroken between the main gate and the stand of trees a good distance up the hill. He needed to get out and think for a bit. He
was too enclosed, remaining in Wulfgar’s room the way he had been. He
paused at the line of trees looking down into the yard where Osric was
busy sparring with one of the other battle-lords, Aron looking on as usual, his arms folded on top of the fencepost. Then Aron glanced in his direction, and Roman turned to walk into the trees, letting their silence envelop him.
His mind whirled with all of the changes in the past weeks. At first, he’d been frantic when Wulfgar had started to pay all of his attention to
Aron. His safety and sanity depended on Wulfgar’s goodwill. It would be
different if the thane would just let him go, but he’d never known Wulfgar to relinquish something he considered his. He wasn’t sure he liked this
week’s turn of events either, though. He was back in Wulfgar’s bed, both
of them were, together. In many ways it felt as if Wulfgar had broken his promise not to share him, yet he knew that the thane didn’t see it that way.
What unsettled him even more was ever since that afternoon, Aron’s
behavior toward him had changed. At night when they would return to the
pallet, he had taken to drawing Roman into his arms. It wasn’t the same as when Wulfgar used to keep him in his bed at night. That closeness had
always troubled him, and the pallet had been Wulfgar’s concession to his preference for his own space.
When Aron held him, however, it was bothersome for a whole other reason. He didn’t want to like it, yet he did. He had a kinship with the
young man. Their situations were so similar, and his embrace in the night
was comforting. The resentment he harbored during the day seemed to melt away when Aron pulled him close, wrapping a fur around them both, and he found himself able to sleep easily. That alone was disconcerting.

Roman paused underneath a tree with a low-hung branch and hopped up, pulling himself into the bare, snow-covered branches where it would be hard to spot him. He found his favorite resting spot, a place where two branches came together forming a seat, and settled back, wrapping the cloak tighter around himself.

This country was so different from his homeland. In Rome, it snowed, but soon afterwards it was dark gray, mixed with soot and dirt from people and animals tramping through the streets. It was even worse in Londinium, where most of the streets weren’t paved at all. He had only been at his father’s villa for a few short months when he’d been captured in that ill-fated venture. This was a whole different world. One to which he didn’t belong.

Roman’s thoughts returned to Aron, though he tried to force him from his mind. Aron seemed to be just like the others, and the trouble was, he wanted him to be different. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to talk with somebody who understood his situation or because of another reason he was reluctant to admit even to himself. There was a spark of recognition he rebelled against and tried to deny.

There were a hundred reasons he could give for why he ought to ignore that spark. Despite the fact their circumstances appeared to be similar on the surface, there was still a major difference. He was a slave and Aron was a thrall. If Aron gave him an order when Wulfgar wasn’t around to naysay it, he’d have to obey. He wondered if that thought had occurred to the other man yet. The knowledge that Aron had power over him rankled to his core.

Roman tugged his journal out of one pocket and a stopped inkpot and quill out of another, balancing the inkbottle in another nook on the tree. It was going to snow again soon, but he still had a couple of hours to himself before Wulfgar bellowed or sent Aron after him. The only time he could really lose himself was when he wrote, and he desperately wanted that peace of mind right now.

One of the many reasons he chose not to stray from the hall overmuch was because while most respected Wulfgar and his property, some did not. He’d rather be cloistered for days on end inside Wulfgar’s room with his books than chance running into Osric alone. However, today he was safe. Osric would stay in the yard sparring with the others until dark fell; then he would seek out the comforts of the hall. He was nothing if not predictable.