Chapter 8 Cenric
Cenric
Cenric had not been in such a good mood since the summer he and his men had sailed to Ufma for a day of trading and a night of debauching.
He had what he wanted. He had a powerful, beautiful Istovari wife who seemed genuinely interested in Ombra and was already getting along with his people as best he could tell. Thanks to the king, he had enough salt, wine, and spices to get his people through winter. Not only that, but the king would be sending the rest of Brynn’s significant dowry north in wagons come spring.
Cenric looked forward to a night of eating, drinking, and then tumbling into his own bed—with Brynn. She was no longer the cold, mournful woman he had met in Aelgar’s hall. Already, she had warmed to him and no longer stayed rigid as a meat skewer when he touched her. She’d even started teasing him back.
She was awkward at times, almost like she didn’t know how to tease, but he didn’t mind teaching her.
Yes, he had high hopes for this evening.
They climbed the hill to his longhouse. Servants carried the food to the half-underground storehouses at the bottom of the hill.
Brynn walked beside him, carrying a satchel since that was all he had allowed her to carry. She was lady of this house, and he wanted her to meet her new servants without looking like one herself.
Word had spread through the village and the household, and the relief that he was back was almost palpable. He’d been gone for less than a week, but that could have been plenty of time for Valdari raiders.
Barking rose from up the hill. First yips, then howls.
Pack! Snapper’s thoughts cried. Pack!
Cenric looked up to the house as the dyrehunds came bounding down to meet them. The fluffy creatures came running out of the longhouse, running in circles as they greeted him and the men with wagging tails.
Snapper’s thoughts were drowned out as dozens more thoughts rose from the other dogs.
Cenric!
Cenric home!
Mostly the dogs excitedly repeated his name along with impressions of the smells they picked up on him and his companions. They were simple creatures, loyal and affectionate.
Brynn’s maid yelped, shrinking back. “Lady, are those wolves?”
“I don’t think so.” Brynn sounded unsure. “They’re too small.” She glanced to Cenric, a question on her face moments before they were mobbed by the creatures.
“Dyrehunds.” Cenric grinned as the animals gleefully hopped in around them, tongues lolling, tails lashing wildly.
Like Snapper, they were grey and fluffy with triangular ears, an echo of the wolves their ancestors had been, but as Brynn had noticed, they were smaller, stockier.
A large female bounded up, pawing at Cenric’s legs. “Ash!” Cenric rubbed the female’s sides, making her tail wag harder. “Did you guard the house for me? Did you keep everyone safe?”
Ash whined and barked in excitement. Cenric!
All the dogs were loyal to Cenric as they had always been loyal to his family. Snapper was his dog, the one that had bonded most closely with him, but they were all Cenric’s dogs.
The dyrehunds had been another gift to his family from the goddess Morgi. Legend said they had once been fierce wolves large enough to ride, but these days, they settled for being excellent companions.
Ash paused, leaning against Cenric, noticing Brynn. Stranger? Ash sniffed at the air in Brynn’s direction even as the other dogs gathered around her. Most the dyrehunds didn’t often meet new people.
A large male with a coat more grey than black stood rigid, facing down Brynn. It was Thorn, an old dyrehund with one eye who was sire or grandsire to most of the dyrehunds now living in Cenric’s hall
Brynn’s maid shrank back, seeming frightened. She kept her gaze up, not making eye contact with the dogs.
Brynn knelt, offering the back of her hand to Thorn. “Here, boy.”
Stranger, Thorn sent to Cenric, aggression in the word.
Thorn had been his father’s dog. He had followed Wulfram into the war and refused to leave his master’s body even after he had been wounded. Wulfram’s thanes had found Thorn with a bloodied face, standing guard over his corpse.
Cenric hadn’t really known Thorn before, but these days he was the most bad-tempered and suspicious of all his dyrehunds.
Thorn sniffed Brynn’s hand. Stranger, the dyrehund patriarch repeated. A low growl rumbled in his throat even as Brynn made a chirping sound, beckoning the old hound toward her.
“Thorn, be good.” Cenric stepped forward to intervene, but Snapper bounded to Brynn, getting there first.
Friend! Snapper sent toward Thorn. Friend!
To prove it, Snapper flopped down on his back and wiggled around Brynn’s feet like a beached fish, entire body thrashing in time with his wagging tail. Brynn crouched down to scratch his belly, and he leapt up, paws on Brynn’s shoulder and slopped his tongue over her cheek.
“No!” Brynn cried out, even as she laughed.
Thorn’s tail swayed begrudgingly from side to side. Friend?
Friend, Cenric and Snapper answered in unison.
The other dyrehunds joined in then, mobbing Brynn with kisses and thrashing tails in exchange for pats and scratches. The younger dogs came first and then the older ones. Only Thorn hung back, but he wasn’t the affectionate sort.
Cenric had to pull Brynn up by the arm before the animals dragged her to the ground. “Back!” he shouted, shooing them away. “Down! That’s enough attention for you greedy curs.”
The dogs backed off, respecting their master. Their tails slowed, but their gazes still focused on Brynn. She’d probably have them at her beck and call within a week.
Brynn laughed, her head covering askew and muddy pawprints marked her dress, but her face was flush and bright with the most beautiful smile.
Cenric realized it was the second time he’d heard her laugh. “You like dogs, then?” He hadn’t found a way to broach the topic before.
Brynn was still smiling, even if her eyes lowered a little. “I suppose so.”
“Come. Let me show you to the house. Then you can play with them again.”
Brynn looked to Snapper. “They’re good dogs.”
Good dog! Snapper agreed, hopping up and down as he recognized the words. Brynn had just paid him the highest compliment possible.
Brynn looked happy surrounded by Cenric’s dogs. Far happier than she had looked surrounded by the majesty of Ungamot.
With a strange tugging in his chest, Cenric realized he wanted her to be this happy always. He wanted to be the reason she smiled and the reason her face flushed with delight. At least she would never want for friendly dyrehunds.
“This way.” Cenric led her up the path to the longhouse.
The main doors at the end were open, as were most of the side entrances that let in light and air during the warmer months. Come winter, all those side doors would be sealed and packed with straw until spring came once again. Wooden beams supported the outside of the walls and fresh shingles covered the roof.
“What do you think?” Cenric asked as he pulled her through the entrance.
Brynn looked up at the ceiling as they approached.
Beams crisscrossed the roof, most of the timbers had been blackened with age, but some were new, replaced by Cenric and his men this past summer. Tables and benches took up a good portion of the hall, but there was also a massive pit at the center for cooking fires and braziers for smaller fires in the winter.
Come winter, many of Cenric’s people would come here, especially on the colder nights. They’d pack in for warmth and spend the late nights around the fires, sleeping, but also singing and storytelling while the women spun wool, and the men repaired tools or sharpened weapons.
This was definitely not what Brynn was used to, but…
“What’s this?” Brynn’s hand brushed one of the wooden pillars that supported the roof of the great hall.
Shapes had been carved into the pillars, runes that appeared in threes, twos, and some lone symbols. Some of the runes had begun to wear away, but others were fresh. They were Valdari runes, made of straight lines, characters originally meant to be etched in stone.
“Honors from my guests, though some are from my father’s guests, or even his father’s.”
Brynn looked to him in confusion, calling for more explanation.
“In the north, if we are received well, we leave the mark of our names on the pillars of our host’s hall.” It was an old Valdari custom, one of many that had crossed the sea and been adopted by the people of Ombra over the years, even before Cenric’s birth.
“I see.” Brynn looked toward the ceiling, where the marks had been scratched all the way to the top of the first two pillars. “You’re running out of space.”
“I am,” Cenric chuckled. “My son’s guests may have to use the next row of pillars.”
Brynn smiled, though this time it was tinged with sadness.
Edric and the rest of the men came, carrying the trunks and barrels, and boxes, and various packs of belongings.
“Where do you want these, lady?” Kalen asked, carrying one of Brynn’s trunks.
“In the head room,” Cenric said. “Put all her things there.”
Brynn looked around the longhouse. Her expression shuttered, becoming hard to read again. She was retreating, drawing back behind a barricade of neutrality.
Disappointment flickered through Cenric. He wanted her to be pleased. Had he said something wrong? Was Ombra disappointing her after all? “Come, lady. Let me show you the rest of your servants.” He glanced around. Everyone would probably be outside tending the animals, but just the same…
“Lord! Welcome home.” A slender woman with her hair pulled back under a kerchief bowed to Cenric.
“Gaitha,” Cenric inclined his head to her. “I trust you’ve managed the household well.”
“Right as you left it, lord,” Gaitha said.
“This is Lady Brynn of the Istovari. My wife.”
Gaitha bowed to Brynn. “Welcome, Lady Brynn. I have run the household for the past few weeks, but I understand you will be taking that over.”
“Yes,” Brynn answered, voice wavering just enough Cenric caught it. “I will be.”
Gaitha bowed again. “It will be good to have a lady of Ombra. I can only civilize these savages so much on my own.”
“We’re plenty civilized,” Edric laughed, grabbing her from behind. “Miss me?”
Gaitha whirled on her husband. “And welcome home to you, you great fool.”
The smaller man cast her a wicked grin. “And how was the past week without me?”
“Splendid. I finally got a full night’s sleep without your snoring.”
“Oh, I can promise that it won’t be my snoring that keeps you up tonight.”
Brynn watched their interaction, then looked to Cenric in question.
He shrugged. He had never understood Edric and Gaitha’s relationship—but that was their business.
“Gaitha, show my wife to our room. Then you can continue berating your husband.”
“Best jump to it, love,” Edric quipped. “I know how much you love to berate me.”
Gaitha swatted at Edric, and he laughed. “At once, lord, but you should know that your aunt sent word for you.”
Cenric braced himself. “What now?”
“One of her girls came to the longhouse yesterday and said she had Nettles locked in her barn.”
“Nettles?”
Nettles had been the dyrehund bonded to Cenric’s older brother, Godric. Thorn had taken the loss of his master badly, but Nettles had taken it worse.
Death was difficult for the dyrehunds to understand, but they usually grasped when people or other animals were gone.
Nettles didn’t seem to understand that Godric was dead. Thorn would often linger by the family graves, guarding the silent mounds. He must know that was where his master lay now. But years later and Nettles still often waited by the riverbank, her thoughts calling Godric’s name. Sometimes she disappeared for days or weeks at a time and Cenric thought she must be looking for him. Perhaps it was that Godric had left her behind in Ombra when he had sailed south for the war. She’d been a pup, so perhaps she hadn’t been able to recognize the rotting corpse as him.
Nettles had disappeared at the start of harvest and Cenric hadn’t seen any signs of her for months. Cenric had feared she was gone for good.
“It didn’t make much sense to me, either,” Gaitha admitted. “Old Aggie said the mules were safe, but that her sheep were now trapped in the cold. She wants you to come deal with the dog.”
Cenric’s good mood shattered. His aunt might have Nettles trapped in her barn or it might be a badger.
Last time Aegifu had sent for him, she’d sworn a mountain lion was carrying off her geese. It had turned out to be a young lynx barely bigger than a barn cat.
“Go tomorrow,” Edric said. “If Old Aegifu has survived one night with the beast, I’m sure she can survive another.”
Cenric grimaced, thinking. It was at least three hours to his aunt’s home in the hills, two if he took horses. That would still mean he wouldn’t arrive until sunset.
If the stupid old woman would move closer to the longhouse, they wouldn’t have this problem. But she had been given her farm as part of her dowry and swore she would die there. As her lands had been a gift from Cenric’s grandfather, then the alderman of Ombra, it was Cenric’s duty to honor their agreement. Part of that agreement was that the family would always see that her needs were met.
Her son had died in the war between Aelgar and Winfric as had her husband and Cenric’s father and brothers. Her daughter’s family had moved into the south long ago. Cenric was her only relative within three hundred miles.
And if he started breaking the contracts of his fathers…well, he wouldn’t do that.
Brynn looked between Cenric and Edric, probably trying to guess what was happening.
“Brynn, I will be back tomorrow.” He touched her shoulder. “Gaitha and Edric will see that you have anything you need.”
Brynn swallowed and he could swear disappointment flickered across her face. “I understand.” She angled her head down. “Never fear for me, lord. I shall be fine.”
She had gone quiet again, making herself small. Keeping his family’s promises to his aunt felt like he was breaking his own promise to Brynn.
Cenric wished he didn’t have to leave her alone. “Kalen,” Cenric called. “You’re coming with me. Get my horse ready and meet me at the stables.”
Kalen hastily set down a barrel he’d carried up. “Yes, lord.”
“Bring whatever we need to stay the night.”
Kalen was already out the door as his next “Yes, lord” carried on the breeze.
“Brynn?” Cenric turned back to her.
“Yes?” Brynn’s eyes had sunk to the floor.
Cenric rested a hand on her shoulder, tugging her around to face him. “I’m sorry.”
Brynn shook her head, still not quite meeting his gaze. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Cenric caught her chin, tilting it up to bring her gaze to meet his. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, stroking his thumb along her chin.
Brynn inhaled a deep breath. “It’s alright.”
It didn’t feel alright. Cenric rested his forehead against hers. From the corner of his eye, he saw Edric open his mouth, but Gaitha elbowed her husband, cutting off the interruption.
Brynn tensed for just a moment, like she hadn’t expected that. Then she seemed to relax, easing into the closeness with him.
That odd feeling in his chest twisted once again. Her trust in him was such a tentative thing, just now putting down roots. Cenric wanted to cultivate it, protect it, but just now he had to leave her, if only for a day.
Cenric almost claimed her mouth, but instead pressed a kiss to her forehead, just over the space between her eyes.
Brynn softened against him, a slow exhale escaping her lips. Her fingers found the front of his wool mantle, clenching into the thick fabric, careful to squeeze just the fabric.
It was so innocent, so sweet, and yet so timid. Brynn was always nervous when she touched him, like she feared his response every time. Just what had her first husband done to her?
Cenric cradled her cheek as he pulled away, reluctant to let her go. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“I will wait for your return.” It was a soft vow, patient and meaningful.
He held eye contact with her for a long set of heartbeats to make sure she meant what he thought she meant. She bit her lip, just the edge, her eyes falling to his mouth again.
Cenric silently cursed his aunt as he pulled away. What difference would it make if he took his wife to his bed for an hour or so, and then set out? But no. Some things shouldn’t be rushed.
“Edric, Gaitha, look after her. See her settled in. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Cenric stormed out of the longhouse. If his aunt’s captive dyrehund turned out to be another badger…