Kingdoms of Caelum; Autumn of the War Queen

Chapter 2

Voices and laughter from the great hall echoed through damp walls and corridors of the castle, blending the sound into one muffled noise until it reached the bed chamber. It was early morning; the sweet smell of the courtyard orchards brought a welcome, fresh scent on the breeze as Katla awoke. Under a mass of pelts and furs, she peered to the bed next to her, her younger sister Amya was already awake listening to the din.

"Do you think father's returned?" she asked, big green eyes sparkling with anticipation and fear. Katla shared her eyes, they were their mothers and she was glad for it. She would often look at her reflection and squint, pretending she could see her still.

"Of course. Do you think the great oafs would gallivant happily if he had not?"

Amya laughed. She liked it when her sister belittled the Clans men. Even though they were the warriors of Roskilde, powerful men with money and status, they had never phased Katla.

"I will go see how the battle fared." Katla sighed. She hated the post battle celebrations as much as the battle, but it would be the only chance she would get to see her father before duties distracted him once again. Besides, it kept her away from Amya's wet nurse, a plump, joyless woman who threatened to keep her numbed with tedious hours of embroidery and dress making.

Katla slipped on her grey, woollen tunic and fastened it with a leather belt. Her high boots finished off the look, as did the side plait and red ribbon. She did not look like a Chief of Clans daughter, more like a shabby stable boy. The only thing that allowed her to dress so disgracefully was her incredible beauty. The green eyes, black hair and pale complexion came alive with the red ribbon, a beautiful gift from her mother, with a little jewel encrusted in the middle. Every time she wore it, she thought of her mother's memory with much love. But now, as she walked through the cold corridors, she knew she would be entering the bear pit; a world of men and their ambitions.

"Father!" she called, picking him out from the balcony, but above the noise he couldn't hear her. Hallvarder stood at the head of a lengthy wooden table, made for feasting the leaders of the Clans. The fierce helmet stood proudly on it and he was laughing hard, throwing his head back so his black beard reached for the ceiling. She smiled, taking wooden steps two at a time. The great hall was packed with cheerful men and wet dogs, but neither paid Katla any attention as she pushed through.

"Twas six hours before the yellow rats scurried back to their nests!" Hal boomed laughing, embracing Katla when she reached him. Amongst his colossal bear-fur coat, she hugged him tightly, breathing in the scent of sweat, fur and sweet mead.

"Have they done much damage?" she asked, releasing the grip. He held her shoulders and grinned, big brown eyes smiling down at her.

"The rats had tried to build a wall to protect them, a bloody wall!" He chuckled, and the men who stood nearby let out laughter too, "Brambles and dead cows!"

Howls and laughter rose. Katla looked around at the faces, the heads of the Clans; big men in tunics and mail. Muscular, dirty with missing teeth and battle scars. They adored her father as much as she did; and it was hard not to get caught up in the euphoric rush. Knowing her father was safe, she giggled along, only wincing once when he described how he sent his sword through them like butter; she was never at ease with the casual violence of battle. For an age, the men congratulated each other, filling up their tankards and re-living the fight. Hallvarder never took his arm off Katla's shoulder, she felt safe, loved and protected in his presence. She always did. But after a while, when the talking had talked its way out, Hallvarder bent forward to look directly at her, "My beautiful daughter, we have much business to discuss."