The Titus Chronicles-Viking by Peake R.W

Author:Peake, R.W. [Peake, R.W. ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-20T00:00:00+00:00

Titus was relieved when the men from the Soul Stealer came aboard to take the oars, although it was cramped, and Einarr was anything but pleased at these men he considered interlopers suddenly on his ship. Titus’ side ached abominably, but after what was an admittedly cursory examination, conducted while King Alfred was speaking with Eadward and the Wiltun Thegns, he had to grit his teeth when he first pulled his padded undertunic, then his normal tunic away from the wound to avoid crying out and drawing unwanted attention, he did not think it was serious. Grabbing a rag from his pack, he held it to his side to stop the bleeding, a common mistake made by inexperienced men, which he would be learning in a relatively short amount of time. He was encouraged that the bleeding stopped fairly quickly, but then he was confronted with what to do next, understanding that he should bandage the wound, using a roll of cloth that he did not possess, and he was unwilling to ask for help because it would draw attention to the fact that he was wounded, even if it was minor. His solution was to press the rag to his side, then instead of his mail shirt, he pulled out the boiled leather vest that had been his first set of armor because, now that he had grown, it had become tighter and the pressure it created actually lessened the ache. Alfred’s presence had turned out to be a blessing, because even Uhtric, who could normally be counted on to hover about Titus—this, at least, was how Titus viewed it—was more interested in what was taking place with the monarch and not his brother-in-law. Then the men from Soul Stealer arrived and clambered aboard, they were joined by his comrades, and there was a period of scuffling and bickering that was almost inevitable before Einarr bellowed at the new oarsmen to back the ship out into the river. Once the replacements settled into a rhythm that satisfied Einarr, Eadward ordered that the Wiltun men eat something before they curled up wherever they could find space to get some sleep, despite the fact that it was just noon. Naturally, nothing was cooked or heated, so the men were reduced to gnawing on cold pork or beef and eating bread that was already going moldy. Normally, this never bothered Titus, but when Uhtric thrust a hunk of salted pork at Titus and the younger man demurred, Uhtric stared at him in a combination of disbelief and concern.

“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded. “Name the last time you turned down food!”

“Nothing,” Titus replied. “I’m just not hungry.”

For several heartbeats, Uhtric stared at Titus, but then he mumbled, “I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” then stuffed the hunk of pork he had offered in his own mouth.

This was odd enough, but Titus was unusually reticent, especially after a fight of some sort, yet when Uhtric pressed him for details of how he had slain Sigurd the Bold, all Titus could offer was an evasive shrug.

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