Page 41 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 4

Absolon delivered the next day’s rations without engaging in anything remotely resembling conversation. No shadows darkened his eyes but the stooping of his shoulders, the lank fall of his blond hair, revealed more about his state of mind than any words. Absolon had always been obvious. No matter how much Ragnar goaded him into talking, peppered with gentle and caring questions about his wellbeing, Absolon completed his tasks like a ghost locked in the work of a doomed eternity.

Old buckets taken out, new buckets brought in, loaf of bread delivered, staler than the day before and dotted with holes where Absolon’s thick fingers had penetrated too deep. With the work done and Absolon about to leave, Ragnar ordered him to stop.

And he did, but the set of his jaw showed how much he hated that he had.

The soldier was still in there. How many times had he barked orders at Absolon only to have them eagerly completed? How many times had he spoken quiet but hard in his ear for him to roll over, to raise his hips, to touch himself, to not touch himself?

“Thank you for what you have brought me, and I know you are trying to make this as comfortable as you’ll allow, but it has been a few days and I would like to bathe. Even horses get groomed daily.”

“You are not a horse.”

“Exactly. I am a man.”

Absolon chuckled. “You are a viper and spit only venom.”

“That may be the same, but the stench coming off me must be worse than any poison. Bring me a change of clothes and a few extra buckets of water so I may wash.”

Absolon’s mouth twitched. “You think you can make these demands?”

“They’re requests. You’re in charge. I know that.”

He narrowed his eyes. Those words would have sounded false to anyone, but it was nevertheless what Absolon wanted to hear. He was in his power, but though he suspected a trap, he’d consider himself strong enough to outplay it.

“Please, Absolon, I know I will die for what I did to you and the pain I have caused you. I am prepared to wait, but surely you can permit this small allowance.”

He grunted by way of response, committal neither one way or the other, and left. If he didn’t return, Ragnar would keep at him until he relented. Or made a mistake. The idea of washing had not been one he had planned on, desperate for anything to keep Absolon talking, to find where the boundaries stood in what he would permit. But now the idea was out it seemed as good and as useful as any. An opportunity to wring of potential. Could he convince Absolon to remove the manacles? Could he get close enough to steal the keys or to wrestle Absolon to the ground and best him? The last seemed impossible but desperate men were sometimes blessed with untold strength, and he was becoming desperate.

His plotting was interrupted by the unlocking of the door. Absolon’s booted foot kicked it open and he marched in with a barrel full of water held on one hand and balanced with the other and advanced towards Ragnar as if he meant to throw all of it at him. Ragnar retreated, his arms up.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. Please, Sol.”

Absolon stopped. “What did you call me?”

“I’m sorry, forget it.”

“What. Did. You. Call. Me?”

Ragnar swallowed. “Sol.”

Absolon growled and dumped the barrel on top of him. A few hundredweight of icy water drenched him and forced him to his knees. The water flooded the floor.

“You don’t get to call me that,” Absolon snarled. “Ever again.”

It was a mistake. He hadn’t wanted that far too familiar name to cross his lips. That had been his name for Absolon, the one he’d whispered in the dead of night to soothe his worries. It had felt sacred then and profane now.

Absolon marched for the door.

Ragnar’s teeth chattered loudly. “You can’t…leave me…like this.”

Absolon sneered. “You’ll dry.”

“I’ll die…of…the chill…before…you kill me.” And he believed it. His skin grew taut and gooseflesh rose across his body. He hugged himself for some warmth but that squeezed out more water. He was going to die from this.

Absolon grumbled and vanished. Ragnar tried to look up, but he was shivering too badly. There had been frost on his water ration that morning and his coat was already struggling to keep him warm. One night like this and he’d freeze.

Booted and dry clothed legs appeared in front of him. “Stand up.”

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