The Briton by Catherine Palmer Read Free Book Online Page B

wintertime, as they say.”
    “That it is,” Martin concurred. “I don’t envy your master on the high seas in the midst of it. Here now, Enit, put this dry blanket about you. I’ll have some hot drink for you in a moment.”
    Jacques shook his head in bemusement at this act of kindness toward a servant. That Martin had chosen such a deferential path in life perplexed him still. The tall man placed a thick blanket around Enit’s shoulders, and Bronwen accepted a cup of the steaming brew that bubbled in a pot on the coals.
    When Martin announced that the meal was ready, he called those in the room to rise. Jacques remained in the shadows, yet he stood as Martin lifted his hands and began to pray.

    Catherine Palmer
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    “Bless us, oh God. Bless these gifts which we receive from Your bosom, and make us truly thankful. In the name of our Savior we pray. Amen.”
    As Bronwen seated herself again, she addressed Martin.
    “Good sir, may I ask which god you serve? Or do you make prayers to all of them?”
    Martin smiled at her as he began to pass around slices of the dripping meat. “I am a follower of the one true God. I serve His only Son, my Lord Jesus Christ.”
    “Christ?” she said. “Then you are a Christian?”
    “Indeed I am. This party travels to London, that I may join believers in obedience to His Spirit through service to Jesus.
    Those who live at the monastery make it our mission to preach the good news of the Kingdom of God.”
    “Strange words,” Bronwen said. “I have heard tales of Christians. Is it true you worship only this one God and give no homage to the spirits of the trees and mountains?”
    Martin smiled. “God fashioned the earth and all that dwells upon it. We choose to worship the Creator rather than His creation.”
    “But surely your God has a dwelling place?”
    “He abides in the heart of every true believer.”
    “Only in the heart of man? Why should this Spirit not also wish to inhabit the rest of His creation? Surely man is not solely blessed with the presence of the gods.”
    As the two spoke, one of Jacques’s men rose and carried a slab of venison to him. Without pausing in the conversation, Bronwen turned and peered into the corner where he sat.
    She was opening her mouth to speak when Martin handed her a bowl filled with chunks of meat and steaming vegetables. He gave her a brief nod and then turned to Enit with another bowl.

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    The Briton
    “Putting the feast on the board is the best invitation,” the older woman cackled.
    Bronwen smiled at her nurse before returning to Martin.
    “The venison is tender and succulent, while the turnips and onions melted away like butter. I daresay I have never tasted such a fine meal or been so warm. Again, sir, we thank you for sharing your dinner with us.”
    “I am honored to be of service, my lady,” Martin replied.
    Haakon, the Norseman who had been consuming his portion in silence, tossed an onion over his shoulder before speaking up. “Tell me, holy man, where did you slay this deer?”
    Martin and the others stopped their eating to eye the Viking. Jacques stiffened. Setting his meal aside, he again touched his knife. Clearly Martin’s generosity meant nothing.
    Haakon wanted to know if the deer had been poached from his father’s land.
    “Where Christopher bought his coat, as they say, sir,”
    Martin answered.
    Haakon glowered at him. “I asked you a question, man. I expect an answer.”
    “We got the deer where ’twas to be had.”
    The burly Viking stood and pointed a thick forefinger at Martin. “You play games with me, do you? That deer belonged to the lands of Olaf Lothbrok, and you—”
    “And you have kindly fed his wife and her attendant,”
    Bronwen cut in. “We appreciate your generosity, Martin. Do we not, Haakon? You, too, have filled your belly. Would you now turn against your provider?”
    Wife? Jacques could hardly believe he had heard aright. Was it possible she had wed the old man already?