Glendalough Fair by James L. Nelson Read Free Book Online

up his cloak and swung it around his shoulders, giving Thorgrim a few seconds more to make a decision. By all rights Kjartan should be included in this council. He was one of the lead men of Vík-ló and had taken part in every other. But then he had just staged a bloody fight for the express purpose of luring Thorgrim in and killing him.
    Or had he? Thorgrim had not yet had time to discover the cause of the fight, and the more he considered his suspicions, the more lunatic they seemed. He did not want the men of Vík-ló rent by further division, and he did not want Kevin mac Lugaed  to see any weakness there.
    “Godi,” Thorgrim said as the big man reached for the door. “Get Kjartan as well.”
    “Yes, lord,” Godi said, and good man that he was he did not question that decision.
    Let Kjartan come, Thorgrim thought. We’ll discover the truth of his loyalty soon enough .
    Godi opened the door and once again the rain blew in, and Thorgrim felt a twinge of regret at sending the man, who had nearly dried himself. out into the deluge once again.
    Ah, you grow old and soft, Night Wolf … he thought to himself. In his younger days the comfort of his men would not even have crossed his mind. He was not certain which was the better man, Thorgrim then or now.

Chapter Six
     
     
    Gauls, Aquitanians, Burgundians and Spaniards,
    Alemanians and Bavarians thought themselves distinguished
    if they deserved to go by the name of servants to the Franks.
    Notker
     
     
    In truth, Louis de Roumois knew exactly how he had come to be standing in the mud, naked and shivering in an alley in some monastery town at the very ragged edge of civilization. It was an unhappy story, if not a particularly unusual one. If he could take comfort in only one thing, it was the fact that this fate was not his fault. At least, not entirely.
    Louis was from the region of Roumois in Frankia, from the city of Rouen on the banks of the Seine, forty miles from where that wide, twisting river emptied into the sea. It was a beautiful county of low, rolling hills and fertile fields, where the weather was mostly good and it did not constantly rain as if God was trying to put an end to His creation.
    The rich soil and the tolerable climate made for a general prosperity among the people of Roumois, or so it always seemed to Louis, who did not in truth have much interaction with the class of men who worked the land. He tended to see them only on those times when he and his warriors rode up to the beaten yard of some pathetic hut and demanded that the terrified farmer or his wife or children find water for their horses. He knew better than to ask for food or ale. Even if the people had it, it would not be anything Louis de Roumois would consider putting in his mouth.
    If the farmer and his family did as they were told, and did it promptly, Louis might reward them with a silver coin and then order his men to remount. They would ride off and leave the people in peace, which was the reward they wanted most of all, though Louis never understood that.
    Louis’ father was Hincmar, the count of Roumois, son of Eberhard, count of Roumois. After the death of Louis the Pious, Hincmar had stood by Charles the Bald, fourth son of the late king, in the subsequent civil war that broke out between him and his two brothers. He stood by Charles during the worst of the fighting, during his struggles with Aquitaine, remained loyal and kept up the fight even when Charles’s army could boast of nothing beside their tattered clothes, weapons and horses.
    Following the Treaty of Verdun, Charles the Bald gained the kingship of West Frankia, which he had in effect been ruling for the five years previous to that. Hincmar’s loyalty, steadfast through the worst of times, was not forgotten by the new king. Hincmar found himself in a very good position indeed: his land, tenants and titles much increased, his position and influence in the court of Charles the Bald unassailable.
    All of this