Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey
SWEYN fell again, and this time he didn’t get up right away. As he lay in the snow, gasping for breath, the falling flakes began to cover him with alarming swiftness. Though he’d not been badly wounded in the raid, he’d lost his fur cloak and his strength was fleeing his body with its warmth. If he didn’t find shelter soon, he’d freeze to death and leave his bones on this miserable island, never to return to his beloved fjords. A plume of vapor escaped his lips as he cursed his uncle Harald once again for forcing him to make this journey. Sweyn was never loath to make a raid, but it was no great secret that Harald Half-Staff had no great admiration for his peculiar nephew. Now Harald was dead, along with his men, his blood soaking the frozen ground of a hill-fort whose defenders were even more desperate than their starving attackers were. It was madness to have gone seeking gold so far from water, staying so late into the season, until it was an even greater madness to attempt the voyage home. In truth, Sweyn suspected that Harald had hoped to establish a kingdom of his own here. Half-Staff probably thought to use his nephew as a bargaining chip with his half-brother, King Tryg. Tryg would not be eager to send settlers and supplies 2
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey without some incentive, and the ruler was known to be fond of his odd youngest son. The thought that he might not see his father again gave Sweyn the strength to rise to his knees. Tryg was the only man in Sweyn’s life that had ever shown him real respect and, though they were estranged, he would not disgrace his sire by giving up while there was still breath in his body. When he found he could not stand, he began to crawl on his hands and knees, moving doggedly forward in the failing light. Gratefully, he left the stand of green black firs that dropped their burdens of snow down his tunic and entered a grove of bare-branched trees whose type he did not know. Near exhaustion, he put his back against one of the slender trunks and closed his eyes, only to open them immediately. Sweyn stared hard through the trees, searching for the gleam of gold he’d seen as he shut his eyes. There it was again. Some polished object caught the last rays of the westering sun and broke them into glittering needles of light. Mustering his last reserves, Sweyn lurched to his hands and knees again and inched his way toward the beacon of hope. Only metal, gems, or water shone so brightly and where those were to be found, Sweyn knew he would find people. He cared not who they were. Even if they were to kill him on sight, a quick end at the point of a weapon would be a better death for a warrior than freezing. Holding his breath to avoid a telltale puff of white, Sweyn peered over a high drift and saw a single man—a youth, to judge from his size. Wrapped to the eyes in fur, the young man wielded a small golden sickle, cutting sprigs of 3
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey leaves from a large tree the Britons called oak. Sweyn suppressed a groan as he realized he was witnessing a ritual. He had no wish to stir the anger of foreign gods by harming a priest. He would have to count on his appearance to intimidate the native into giving him food and shelter. His fiery hair, braided with small bones, and his towering height were usually enough to daunt simple folk. Through sheer will, Sweyn hauled his mass upright to his full six feet and a bit, and dragged his short sword from his belt. “Who is there?” the priest said without turning. Sweyn hesitated and then plowed forward, holding his blade in front of him. “Food,” he demanded in the native tongue. The Druid carefully set the little golden scythe in the basket on the ground and turned to face Sweyn. The only thing that showed of him was his eyes and they were as dark as jet, gleaming in the frame of pale fur. Slowly, he held his arms out from his body, presenting Sweyn with his empty hands. “There is no harm here but what you bring with you,” he said. Sweyn had always been quicker with words than weapons and he swiftly translated the other man’s speech from his secret store of Brythonic. “Hungry,” he replied. “All but the great lords in their fortresses are hungry this time of year.” “Food!” Sweyn growled, lifting the sword higher.
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey The priest nodded and gestured for the raider to follow. When Sweyn was a few steps closer, the native abruptly lunged to his left and spun about, ending up back to back with the Norseman. Quicker than a striking adder, the Druid grasped the blade of the sword in his leather-gloved hand and yanked it away. Simultaneously, the priest threw back his head, his skull connecting solidly with Sweyn’s, driving the exhausted raider to his knees. The Briton picked up the sword and calmly pointed it at Sweyn’s heaving chest. “You are Norse,” he said. Sweyn nodded, wondering dully why his head was still attached to his shoulders. With the tip of the sword, the Druid lifted the chain around Sweyn’s neck and stared at the amulet. Letting the token drop back to rest against Sweyn’s throat, the priest lowered the sword. “You look as though you could eat a team of oxen.” “Not kill Sweyn?” “You are Sweyn? I am Cathbad, and I will not kill you if you do not kill me.” Sweyn frowned, ruddy gold brows drawing together over bright green eyes. Cathbad’s smile could not be seen under his wraps, but his humor was patent in his gaze. “If you do not try to harm me, I will not try to harm you. Is that plainer?” “A truce then.” 5
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “More of a surrender really, but if your pride demands it, we will call it a truce.” Sweyn’s scowl deepened. “Do you mock Sweyn?” “I am a mocking sort and you are not the first to disapprove. For myself, I do not care for your habit of coming here in ships to kill our men, rape our women, burn our homes, and carry off all we have worked so hard for.” Cathbad paused and when he spoke again, his voice was calm. “Come with me and I will give you food.” Sweyn stumbled after the Druid, expecting any moment to see a cluster of wattle huts beside a stream, but they stopped at a cave with a spring at the entrance. In the rear of the dog-legged chamber, Cathbad had hung thick curtains of deer hide and felt that kept in the heat of the fire in the natural chimney. Sweyn collapsed upon a pelt in front of the rock hearth and his shivering had almost ceased by the time the priest had shed his layers of clothing. Stripped down to a long tunic of supple buckskin, the Druid went to the cauldron over the fire and dipped into it with a wooden bowl. “Stew,” Cathbad said, as he handed the bowl to Sweyn. “Salt-cured mutton and whatever else I could find to throw in with the snowmelt.” Sweyn grimaced at the first overly salty taste, but finished the rest in four big gulps, swallowing without chewing, savoring the feeling of the hot broth warming his stomach from within. He held out the bowl without much hope and was surprised to be given another dipperful.
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “Slowly,” Cathbad cautioned. “You do not wish to make yourself sick. It would be a pity to lose what you just ate.” Sweyn nodded his understanding and sipped at the greasy, briny liquid as though it were the finest mead in the king’s hall. After a few moments, he looked up from his bowl. “My thanks.” Cathbad smiled, his teeth very white against his olive complexion. “I welcome courtesy, but I was not expecting it.” “Why not?” “It is my shortcoming, Sweyn; not yours. Once again, I find myself humbled by my pride. I hope I will someday lose the habit of scorn, but alas, it is not this day. I had the disadvantage of being born royal and have struggled against it to little avail.” “Your speech is…,” Sweyn paused, unsure exactly what it was he wished to say. The Briton’s words were strange, but to Sweyn they made perfect sense. He too had labored under the burden of royal birth. “I tend to make speeches. Another failing of mine. Do you think it is by chance that I live so far from others?” Sweyn smiled. “Sweyn is sometimes mocked for leaving the mead hall to… wander… at the… place where the sea touches the land.” “The shore,” Cathbad said. “I have not heard the keening of the seabirds in a very long time.” 7
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “How long? You have no gray hairs.” “A stickler, are you? Very well. I have not seen the ocean in six years, not since I was a lad of seventeen summers and left Ynys Mon to minister to the people.” “That is long,” Sweyn agreed from the wisdom of nearly two decades on Earth. “But the…ocean is not far.” “I am afraid that if I visit the shore, I will be caught in the sea glamour and abandon my charge.” Sweyn nodded sagely. “The call of the sea road is a strong one.” “Your Brythonic is good for a Norseman.” “Yours is good for a Pictsie,” Sweyn shot back. “Are we exchanging compliments or insults?” “So you admit you are a Pictsie.” “My mother was born of the Ordovices tribe, called Carataca, if you are interested, but my father considered himself a Roman. He was called Septimus and he was counted among the Equites. They met at a feast marking the end of a dispute between the Ordovices and the people of Segontium over access to the road that leads to Ynys Mon.” “Sweyn has seen Mona Isle. Sweyn has felt its magic. Even so big a fool as Harald Half-Staff knew enough to leave it alone.”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “You have also guessed that I am a Drua?” “Sweyn saw you gathering the mistletoe. It is holy to us also.” Cathbad stirred the gray-green stems of the mistletoe with his fingertips. “We call it moly,” he said. “And all-heal and hold it sacred.” “Sweyn saw it above the doorways of the villages that we….” The young Norseman fell silent. “Where are your comrades?” “Dead. All dead.” “As you will be if any of the villagers discover you. Nay, be easy, the folk hereabouts respect the sacred grove and will not trespass lightly. You are safe enough.” Sweyn put down his empty bowl. “Why do you help?” “It is true I could have killed you and left your body for the wolves, but it would go against my beliefs, and honestly, Sweyn, I have been alone long enough to have my fill of it. Company is most welcome this night.” Sweyn looked down at his fingers and counted. “It is Juul night,” he said. Cathbad nodded. “It is the longest night that divides winter in twain. This night the fire must not go out lest the sun not be reborn and doom the world to darkness forever.”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “This we believe also.” “It would be pleasant to have someone to talk to while I keep the Yule log burning.” “Who taught you to fight?” Sweyn asked as Cathbad laid more kindling atop the great log. “A soldier of my father’s house called Astyages. He claimed he had been a Praetorian in Rome and that he had fled the Emperor’s wrath after being caught in a dalliance with a royal concubine. He also claimed to be from somewhere called the Black Sea where he was a prince. He claimed a lot of things.” “Sweyn has never seen fighting like that. Why are you a priest and not a warrior?” “Because I wished it. And I am not really a Drua yet. Though I began my lessons the year I was counted a man, I still have many years of study ahead of me.” “What do you study?” “The stars, the plants and the animals of the Earth, of the air and of the water, and my fellow man. I must also memorize the lore that has been passed down since the beginning.” “Tell me of that.” Cathbad smiled. “I may not, for I am sworn to secrecy with dire oaths. Only to another Drua may I reveal this knowledge.” 10
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “Sweyn is a seiomaor.” “I do not know this word.” “I practice seid.” “Ah, this word I have heard before, but I thought only the women of your people used magic.” “A few men follow the path.” Sweyn shrugged. “Some think that they are less than men because of it.” “Why? If you have a true calling, it is wickedness to scoff at it.” “My people think it unmanly to use words in place of a weapon.” “My faith values peace above all.” “But you are not afraid to die. Sweyn saw courage in your eyes.” “My soul cannot die,” Cathbad explained. “When this body fails, my essence will enter one newly born. That knowledge is the source of my courage.” “Do you have no Valhalla?” Cathbad shook his head, his long dark hair sliding over his shoulders. “This is the afterlife,” he said spreading his arms. “All souls are reborn in the same way as the sun emerging from darkness at each new dawn.”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “You return again and again to this?” Sweyn also spread his hands in an encompassing gesture as he tried to summon enough words to explain. “Why not somewhere better?” “By better, do you mean an eternity of fighting, feasting, and laying with women?” Sweyn nodded as though it were self-evident. “And that is how you would wish it to be?” The Norseman dropped his eyes to the motion of his fingers stroking the soft pelt he sat upon. “Sweyn would wish it somewhat different, but not by much.” “Then you would surely welcome a horn of meddyglyn.” Cathbad broke the sudden somber air. “Metheglin?” “It is the same as mead,” Cathbad said as he fetched a stone jug and poured. Taking the poker from the fire, he plunged it into each vessel. Fragrant steam rose like the ghost of summer. “But this is made with apples and spices added to the honey.” Sweyn savored the scent as he raised the horn to his lips. “To Lleu’s rebirth,” Cathbad said before he drank. “May he rise triumphant.”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey The Norseman smacked his lips in appreciation of the taste. “Good,” he declared, smiling a question at his host. “Yes, I brewed this batch, but the villagers often leave pots of their own brewing in thanks for some service I’ve done them. The perry is my favorite, but I thought you would find this more to your taste.” “Open as many jars as you wish. Sweyn will be happy to sample them all.” Cathbad laughed, and the sound was as sweet in Sweyn’s ears as the wild honey in his drink. “Perhaps I am a fool to give sanctuary to a Norse raider who may well murder me in my sleep and flee with my wordly goods, but that is the future, and the future is not yet written. Let us be merry while we may.” Taking up the jug, he poured two more draughts. “We are not sleeping this night,” Sweyn said. Cathbad thought about that while he took a drink. “Ah, I think I take your meaning. We are not going to sleep, and thus, you cannot kill me in my sleep.” Sweyn nodded. “You are safe from me, Cathbad.” “Will you swear it on that amulet you wear?” Sweyn touched his fingers to his throat. “You need not fear Sweyn,” he said. “Then I suppose I may let my guard down.” The young priest stretched out supine on the pile of furs and felt 13
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey wadding. Resting his shoulders against a log, he wiggled his bare toes at the fire and heaved a deep sigh of contentment. “You had a hard time of it growing up.” The Norseman started. The Druid’s words had been delivered in a conversational tone, as though he mentioned some past incident well-known to both and discussed many times. “Sweyn…survived. What of it?” “Is Sweyn aware of his true nature?” “Aye.” The raider nodded confidently. “Sweyn is a raven.” Cathbad laughed again. “You are Woden’s messenger, are you? And a harbinger of doom? Oh, do not scowl so. I laugh because the Corvus is the sigil of my father’s house.” The Briton drew a fine chain from the neck of his tunic and showed the raider the signet ring that hung from it. Incised upon the soft gold was a stylized raven with a claw raised in challenge. “I was not speaking of your spirit animal though. I was wondering if you knew yourself.” “That is a foolish question.” “Did I not tell you I was a fool? Who but a fool would give away his birthright to live in a cave instead of a castle? Who but a fool would prefer birdsong to a bard? Who but a fool would work with his hands when he could have serfs do his work for him?” “You had all that?”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “I am thinking that you had all these things in your homeland.” Sweyn shrugged broad shoulders. “Until Sweyn left his father’s house, his belly was never empty.” “But you did leave.” “Sweyn was promised to the daughter of a neighbor king. When she came to Tryg’s court, she caught Cousin Olaf’s eye and he took her. All Sweyn’s kin expected him to challenge Olaf.” “But you did not.” The Norseman shook his head. “Sami loved Olaf. Sweyn could see that.” “And you were disgraced.” “Father wanted to stand with me, but he would lose too much respect with his war band. Sweyn could not be the cause of this.” “How old were you?” “Thirteen winters.” “You have much courage as well, Sweyn. Be brave and tell me the rest of it.” Sweyn held out his horn for more drink, giving the Druid an inquiring look.
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “Tell me the real reason you were glad Olaf stole your bride.” “Your magic is strong.” “Yes it is; that is why my family finally accepted my calling as genuine.” Sweyn took a long swallow of the meddyglyn and pointed his chin at the fire. As Cathbad added more fuel, the Norseman began to speak in a markedly different manner. “Since it seems you can already see into my soul, I will tell you of my affliction.” Cathbad withheld comment and listened to the raider speak in heavily accented but fluent Brythonic with none of his previous grammatical errors. “My mother was a slave, a woman of this land taken in battle. My father often told the story of that raid, of how he rose from slashing an Iceni warrior’s throat to face a barebreasted blue-skinned Valkyrie with an ax in her hand. She nearly split his skull and he knew in that moment that she was his soul’s mate. This is the point in the tale when the listeners usually laugh.” “I was smiling because the Iceni and the Ordovices often make alliances, and the fierceness of the females of both tribes is legendary. Did your mother regain her freedom?” “She did, but she did not enjoy it for long. In the spring of my fifth year, she drowned. My wet-nurse, a woman
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey captured with my mother, told me that Lady Andraste, as she always called her, had been taken home by selkies.” “That is a rather lovely fiction to tell a grieving child, but it must have been a bit confusing.” Sweyn nodded. “I spent a lot of time alone on the beach singing to the seals. You can imagine how this added to my reputation for oddness.” “We have much in common, you and me. Who would have thought it?” “Not I, I’ll tell you that for nothing.” “For a bloodthirsty raider, you are an amiable sort.” Cathbad poured again. “Would you like to be friends?” “I’ve naught to lose by it.” Sweyn grasped the other young man’s forearm in the oath of a warrior. Cathbad took a sprig from the basket and held it up in the firelight. “We have a custom here of pledging friendship under the mistletoe.” “Show me this custom.” Holding the greenery aloft with one hand, Cathbad pulled Sweyn forward with the other and brought their lips together in a firm kiss. There was a moment of shock when the Norseman went utterly still and then his paralysis broke with a ferocity Cathbad was unprepared for. Seizing the priest by the upper arms, Sweyn bore him to the furs on his back, pinning him with his superior weight. The Norseman 17
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey found the Briton’s simple loincloth and yanked it aside. Shoving a hand between Cathbad’s legs, Sweyn dug for his opening with a callused finger. “You’ve no need to force me,” the Druid gasped. Cathbad’s words pierced the fog of lust that clouded Sweyn’s mind. Sheepishly, he clambered off the priest’s supine body and stared into the flames. When Cathbad touched Sweyn’s knee, the Norseman flinched. “You need not stop,” the Briton said. “Only slow your pace.” Sweyn’s confusion showed clearly on his guileless features. “You are not angry?” “I am a bit bruised.” Cathbad rubbed his backside. “But not angry. I am thinking that you only did as you are accustomed to. ” “On raids….” Sweyn cleared his throat. “I was taught to take what I wanted.” “I understand, but I would give myself willingly.” “Willingly?” The Norseman snorted. “What man would throw open his legs for another?” “Men like us.” “I am not ergi…like a woman.”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey Cathbad eyed the brawny raider. “Agreed, but though you are not like a woman, neither are you like other men.” “You say you wish to be friends. Why do you insult me?” “The insult is in your ears, Sweyn, not on my tongue. I had hoped to spend this special night with you in the most pleasant of ways, but my long sight is no match for your stubbornness.” “Be plain,” Sweyn demanded in exasperation. “Man is as comely to me as woman and, in truth, I prefer to lay with a man. It has been some time since I felt a loving touch and I planned to take advantage of your situation to coax you into joining with me.” The Norseman shook his head in disbelief, braids swinging against his neck. “You wish me to take you?” “Indeed I do, but I hope to arrive at that end by a long and winding road.” “I am not a stupid man, but your manner of speaking is…confusing.” “I know.” Cathbad pushed out his lower lip in a mock pout. “How plain would you like me to be? Shall I tell you that I wish to see what is under your tunic? That I would like to touch you and feel your touch? Or shall I be plainer yet? I would like to take your manhood in my mouth as you do the same to me. I would very much like to feel you moving inside
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey me. Most of all, I would like to bring you pleasure and to receive pleasure in return.” “I cannot believe my ears. Never did I think to hear a man utter such words.” “But you have dreamed it.” “No.” The Norseman shook his head vehemently. “I can see your dreams in your eyes. Do you believe me?” Sweyn nodded slowly. “Then take my word, my friend.” Cathbad swept a hand down his body. “This is what you want.” Sweyn thought furiously, licking his lips as he stole small glances at the other man. “No man of my people would admit to such desires.” “Then forswear your people and be who you are. You will never be happy otherwise.” Cathbad held out his hand. “We are quite alone here in the forest. No one will be abroad tonight. No one will ever know what passes here save you and me.” Sweyn was silent for a long moment. “I have never had such an offer,” he said at last. “One of my father’s women did away with my virginity and I knew right away that something was wrong. One more defect to add to the list.” “Did you lay with another woman?” 20
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “Oh, aye, but I got little joy of it. I was stirred by the nakedness of other men, but I dared do nothing to satisfy my longings…until my first raid as a man.” Cathbad did not comment; he merely sat in silence and waited, gripping Sweyn’s hand lightly. “My father led the longboats far up an inlet to a large fief. Some of the chief’s men were good fighters, but we slew them and plundered the farmhouses and the great hall. We took some gold vessels as well as cattle, food, and slaves. I had heard my father’s warriors boast of it so I was not surprised to see them topping the captive women wherever they found them, but I was stunned when I came upon one man ravishing a youth. He showed no sign of shame, but grinned at me and kept at his task. My blood was fair boiling in my veins as I turned away to seek prey of my own. I took a shepherd lad, deafening myself to his pleas and cries of pain. I did not wish to hurt him, but I was so excited that I lost control. Despite his tears and blood and the dirt floor of the hovel where I tumbled him, it was the greatest pleasure I had ever felt. I could not wait to do it again.” Sweyn paused. “At the ship, when I claimed the shepherd as plunder, my father refused to allow it. I do not know what he saw in my eyes, but he forbade me to bring home a slave and ordered me to kill the lad.” Sweyn looked up, but Cathbad held his peace. “I took him into a byre that had escaped the torch and covered him with straw. I ran my sword through a corpse to bloody it and returned to my father. It was the first time I ever lied to him and he took my word.”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey Cathbad nodded. “And naught was the same between you after that.” “Raiding became the whole of my existence. I am not a great warrior, nor do I enjoy killing, but I lived for the moment when I could cut a comely man from the herd and take him captive. I was always gentle after that first time, but it was never more than assault to those I enjoyed.” “And the pleasure in the act began to fade. You needed more and more excitement to achieve the joy of that first time, but it eluded you.” “Yes. Your witchcraft sees straight into my soul.” “We are brothers under the skin, Norseman. Though I never took a man in the aftermath of battle, I used my father’s slaves to slake my lust. So long as I paid no special attention to any one thrall, I had the freedom of the slave quarters to do as I liked. What I liked was ordering the younger, comelier slaves to strip so that I could choose which of them I would top. I cared not for their modesty, their dignity, or their feelings. It made me feel powerful to know they must submit to me, no matter what their personal preferences.” “You liked the men better?” “I still do.” Cathbad smiled. “Tell me what happened,” Sweyn invited.
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey Cathbad didn’t ask what he meant. “I held sway over my harem for only half a year. My father purchased a new house slave only a few years older than I was and as handsome as a field of ripe grain. The first time I came to him, he asked me why someone so gifted by the Goddess behaved so badly. He caught my interest and we began to talk. He told me I was draiocht and explained that I had the earth magic in me from my mother’s people. I was enchanted.” “And you never got free of the spell.” “No, indeed I did not. I said we were the same, you and me, but we took different roads. You went out into the world using your fierce face and false ignorance as a shield. Do not scowl at me. When first you spoke, it was as a small child and a very unpleasant one.” Sweyn had the grace to look sheepish. “People leave you be if they think you are simple.” “That is a sad truth,” Cathbad agreed. “I chose to run away and hide myself in the guise of a religious hermit. I was fortunate to have a genuine calling.” “Aye, I can see that.” “And what of your own magic?” “I call myself a seiomaor, but it is only another way to keep the others at a distance.” Cathbad shook his head. “Do you really think your great luck is all chance?” 23
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “Luck!” Sweyn spat into the fire. “I am cursed.” Cathbad’s laugh was a handful of golden coins flung at the Norseman. “Then why is your corpse not rotting alongside those of your countrymen? Why were you not exiled as soon as your father knew what you were? How, in all the frozen countryside, did you find the one man that would help you?” “Chance, all of it.” Cathbad laughed again. “Your mother was a slave, but you were born free…and a prince. I am certain that if you think hard, you will see that your life has been marked by good fortune.” “Of course,” Sweyn said loudly. “I see the wisdom of the gods now. It is a blessed thing to lust after other men.” “Love is a blessed thing.” “I cannot talk with such a mooncalf.” “As I told you when we met, there is no harm here but what you bring with you. You have cursed yourself, Norseman, by taking to heart all the terrible, stupid things you were told about men who love other men. Tell me; have you ever looked lustfully on a child?” Cathbad paused. “I see by that murderous glare that you are insulted again, but do you see my point? You are not a monster, or you would not have felt shame each time you forced yourself on a captive. It is those who would name you monster that have no hearts.”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “I cannot listen to this madness. It is not natural for man to cleave to man.” “Then call it supernatural, but it is not evil.” “You are so certain….” Cathbad’s obsidian gaze.
Sweyn
looked
deep
into
A funny little shiver ran down the priest’s spine as it had on his first sight of the big raider. He knew it was absurd, but he could not deny the ineffable sense that Sweyn was his destiny. The notion was lodged in his mind now, as irrefutable as the sun’s light at dawn. It was not the first time his gods had spoken to him, but seldom were their messages so clear. “Goddess, how can this be?” Cathbad whispered in Brythonic. Sweyn leaned forward. “Are you saying some sort of charm on me?” Instead of answering, Cathbad put his arms around Sweyn and hugged him tight, encouraging intimacy. Sweyn relaxed and returned the embrace, letting his hands drift down to settle on the priest’s hips. Taking Sweyn’s mouth, Cathbad gave him a kiss as tender as new shoots unfurling in spring. He clutched at Sweyn’s shoulders as the Norseman lowered him to his back, caressing him with rough eagerness. Sweyn pushed up the Druid’s tunic and took a dark nipple between his teeth and Cathbad moaned loudly. Smiling around the small bud, Sweyn let some of his weight rest on the other man. Cathbad wrapped his legs around the Norseman’s middle and squeezed. Giving his attention to each of the priest’s nipples in turn, Sweyn 25
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey reveled in the throaty sounds of the Pict’s pleasure. Cathbad’s strong fingers sank into the muscles of Sweyn’s back as he lifted his pelvis to grind against the raider. The heat of Sweyn’s hard flesh burned Cathbad’s bare skin like a brand right through the fabric of Sweyn’s trews. “Ah, that’s good,” Sweyn said, as Cathbad’s hard cock rubbed against his through a layer of homespun. “You see? It is better with a willing partner.” “I see,” Sweyn said gravely and he did. It was better. In fact, it was a dream made real. No matter how much he wanted to plunge his cock into the other man and ride until he spurted, Sweyn was resolved to go no faster than Cathbad desired him to. Not for any amount of gold would he risk breaking the spell they were weaving together. “I would like to see you naked,” he said humbly. Cathbad whipped the pushed-up tunic over his head and lay back against the furs again, long limbs sprawled invitingly. “And now it is your turn.” Sweyn divested himself of his leather harness, his tunic, and breeches and spread his arms for Cathbad’s inspection. The firelight gilded the contours of hard muscles, throwing them into sharp relief as it glinted among the patches of coppery hair, tracing the silvery lines of old scars. “So much pain,” Cathbad said, running a finger lightly along a fresh cut. “I would take all your pain away, if I could.”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “I am beginning to believe you have that power.” Cathbad smiled as he took the other man’s hand and drew him closer. Rising to rest on his elbows, the Briton nuzzled Sweyn’s crotch, the wiry red-gold hairs tickling his nose. Sweyn took a deep breath and groaned his pleasure at the intimate touch. The Druid’s smile broadened as he kissed the hard rod of flesh and put out his tongue for a taste. With hands, teeth, lips and tongue, he bestowed countless caresses, kisses, licks and bites, his touch varying from feather-light to just short of painful. “Thor’s hammer!” Sweyn yelped as Cathbad lapped the seeping slit atop his quivering shaft. He had never been this hard or in need of relief in all his life. He felt as though he might shake apart from the strain like a longboat in a maelstrom. “Softly,” Cathbad said. “The best is yet to come.” “Nothing could feel better than this,” Sweyn breathed. Tentatively, he put a big hand on Cathbad’s glossy hair and stroked it gently. “You are wrong and I will prove it to you.” Cathbad turned his face into the Norseman’s caress, rubbing his cheek against the rough palm like a friendly cat. “You are not a man at all, are you? You are the fairy of yonder spring and you have trapped me in your web of dark glamour.”
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey “If you would have it so…. For myself, I can admit that I need you without the trappings of magic to explain away the attraction.” “You shame me with your courage, priest.” “That is not my wish. Will you fetch the oil for me?” Cathbad pointed. Grabbing the crock from the side of the hearth, Sweyn dipped his fingers in and raised them to his nose. It appeared to be simple olive oil, but you never knew with witches. Shrugging, he smeared the oil on his arousal and knelt between Cathbad’s thighs again. “Hold! I promise you that you may sheath your sword soon.” “Not soon enough,” Sweyn growled. “I am anxious as well, but it will be more pleasurable for me if we make preparation.” Cathbad drew his legs up, presenting himself in an extremely vulnerable position. “Anoint me as well.” Sweyn dipped into the oil again and moved closer until his thighs supported Cathbad’s legs. The Druid continued to give direction as Sweyn trailed his slick fingers down the cleft of the Briton’s firm buttocks. Cathbad’s sharp intake of breath was loud in the cave as Sweyn’s fingertip entered him. The instructions took on an urgent quality when the Norseman found his prostate and stroked it firmly. As Sweyn grew accustomed to touching another man in such a 28
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey sensitive area, the young priest’s words devolved into small cries, moans, and whimpers. Improvising, Sweyn took hold of Cathbad’s leaking arousal and the Briton sat up with a strangled cry. “I shall spurt if you continue.” “Is that not our goal?” “I wanted to….” “Shush. Whatever it is you want, you shall have it. The night is long and we have naught else to do but pleasure each other and keep the fire going.” Cathbad cried out again and filled the Norseman’s fist with thick, creamy liquid. The Druid’s seed oozed between Sweyn’s fingers, coating them with the evidence of the other man’s release. Idly, the raider pumped his slippery hand up and down, drawing out Cathbad’s climax. “It was good?” Sweyn asked as the Briton gasped for breath. “Honestly? I have never felt such pleasure.” Sweyn looked at the Briton suspiciously, but could detect no hint of humor. “I thank you,” he said solemnly, accepting the accolade in the spirit it was given. “Now?” “Aye, now.” Relinquishing Cathbad’s cock, Sweyn took hold of his aching arousal. The Norseman touched the tip of his cock to the glistening port and Cathbad’s breath hissed in through his teeth. Sweyn worked the head of his rod into the small 29
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey opening before he paused and looked into Cathbad’s tense face. Cathbad smiled. “It hurts, but it will pass and I will have great pleasure.” “If you could have your heart’s wish right now, what would you want?” Sweyn stalled, prolonging the moment of entry. “More,” Cathbad said simply. Sweyn grinned. “You are not like any man I have ever met. Though you appear weak, I have never known anyone stronger.” Wrapping his arm around the leg resting against his shoulder, he leaned forward. As another inch of cock disappeared into Cathbad, Sweyn took hold of the Druid’s arousal again. Cathbad moaned and moved restlessly on the sleeping furs as Sweyn steadily sank his length in the narrow passage. “Are you well?” Sweyn asked in a voice that had dropped half an octave. Cathbad nodded, his eyes sparkling with excess moisture as he gritted his teeth and waited for the pressure to become tolerable. It had been some time since he’d felt the mingled pain and pleasure of a hard cock stretching him and it was taking a bit longer than he remembered. Letting his breath out slowly, he met Sweyn’s eyes and gave a small nod. Sweyn pulled back and began to thrust slowly and shallowly in a subtle rocking motion. Cathbad shifted his pelvis, and the Norseman entered him at a new angle. The 30
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey Briton’s moans changed in quality, trailing off into hungry little whines. “This is good?” Sweyn paused in mid-stroke. “Nay!” Cathbad shivered. “Do not stop!” A grin as bright as sunlight on water broke over the young Norseman’s face. Carefully, Sweyn dipped the end of his arousal in and out of the clenching port, gratified by the way Cathbad’s lithe frame writhed against the pelts. He pushed the priest’s right knee to the floor, until there was nothing to impede his view of the alluring action. His breath caught at the sight of his hard flesh disappearing into the other man and he increased the speed of his stroke. “Are you ready again?” Sweyn asked. “I fear I will burst if I do not spurt soon.” “Yes!” Cathbad gasped. “Make me come! Make me come, Sweyn!” Sweyn nearly exploded at the passionate sound of his name on Cathbad’s lips. Reining himself in, the Norseman began to thrust delicately once more, rolling his hips in abbreviated figure eights, the muscles of his ass flexing and relaxing. Cathbad groaned deep in his chest and reached blindly for something to anchor him to the earth as tremors of ecstasy juddered through his frame. “Please,” he begged.
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey Sweyn wrapped his fingers around Cathbad’s aching erection, and the priest cried out in bliss. The Norseman thrust urgently a few more times before he passed the point of no return. He plunged forward, his seed unfurling even as he lodged his length deep inside the Pict. Cathbad grunted as the big cock slid home in his sheath and he spilled sticky fluid over the raider’s scarred knuckles. Sweyn gasped as his sated shaft was squeezed in a velvet vise that milked him of every drop of seed. Looking up, Sweyn’s eyes met Cathbad’s and he knew this would not be over for a very long time, if ever. “I do not know what to say, how to thank you,” Sweyn panted. “You do not have to say anything. Just hold me and that is all the thanks I need.” Sweyn eased out of Cathbad and pulled the sleek body into his embrace. Cathbad put his head sweetly on the Norseman’s broad shoulder and nestled into the curve of his neck, long legs twining with Sweyn’s under the furs. Though it was the first time, t he endearing gesture felt as familiar to Sweyn as the salt breeze on his face or the rolling of a deck under his feet. This was good and it was right and he never wanted to lose it. Whether it was some magic of the Pict’s, or the Fates having another laugh at him, Sweyn cared not at all. For the first time in his life, he felt he was where he belonged. While Cathbad drowsed, Sweyn saw to the fire. In the ruddy glow, the raider watched the other man’s face in 32
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey repose and the dreaming features grew dearer with each passing second. The Druid turned in his sleep and the fur that covered him slid down his thighs. Flickering light burnished Cathbad’s smooth skin and licked at the column of flesh curled at his groin. Desire tightened Sweyn’s lower belly in a liquid spasm that raced along his veins, making his heart race and his breath freeze in his mouth. For a long moment, he remained thus, wondering at the fortune that had changed his life forever in the space of one night and shown him the face of his true love in the guise of an enemy. No more would he go raiding; he could hold all he needed in the circle of his arms. Cathbad made a small, soft sound as he kicked away the sleeping fur that covered his feet and Sweyn lunged at him. The Druid woke with an exceedingly amorous Norseman swarming over him and surrendered to the inevitable with a wide smile and open arms. In a rapid patter of words that counterpointed his gasps and moans, the Pict called Sweyn his dragon, his stallion, his wolf. Sweyn leaned in as he thrust languidly, framing Cathbad’s face between his hands, gazing into the dark depths lit with the joy of their joining. All through the night, the fire that welded them into one did not falter, nor did the blaze on the hearth. Diligently, they tended the Yule log and to each other’s needs until the first pearlescent light of dawn found its way into the cave. Sweyn shook Cathbad from his doze and the priest raised his face from the raider’s chest. Getting to his knees, the Briton pushed aside the hide curtain, allowing ingress to the cold and the first sunbeams that topped the horizon. A 33
Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey laugh of pure joy bubbled up in the Druid’s throat as he rose to his feet and walked to the entrance as the sun broke triumphantly free and sailed into the sky. Lifting his arms, he greeted the risen orb that was the source of life. “Do you want to sicken?” Sweyn asked as he draped a blanket around Cathbad’s shoulders. “It is a very pretty sight, but come back inside now and let me warm you.” “Stay with me,” Cathbad said impulsively. “Always.” “I would wish that will all my heart, but my kind is hardly welcome here.” “The folk in my care will accept you if I vouch for you. I can always tell them that you are enthralled. Please stay. Let the new sun be the emblem of our new life.” “And may there always be peace between us.” Sweyn took Cathbad in his arms and sealed the pledge with a kiss before scooping the Briton up in his arms and carrying him back inside.
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey CONNIE BAILEY I was born on an Air Force base and I’ve been in flight ever since. My father took the family with him wherever he was stationed; Spain, Morocco, Turkey, and Alaska were among his postings. While studying commercial arts, I married a musician who turned out to be a pilot in disguise. Having no burning ambition of my own at the time, I devoted myself to his dream. His job as aircraft designer and competition pilot has taken us all over the world. I have now set foot on almost every continent (a personal life ambition), but I don’t hold out much hope for Antarctica anymore. I have always loved to read. Since I was four, reading has been my favorite diversion and books my best friends. A few years ago, with my husband’s support, I set out to become a writer. I wrote every day and posted what I wrote at various Internet groups and later on livejournal. I cannot recommend this school of writing highly enough. The candid feedback I received was invaluable to my development. I kept working at it, and one day I received the most exciting e-mail ever. A publisher wanted to talk to me. That’s pretty much it so far. There are a few fun facts like: my only child is a rescued Greyhound named Lizard, I live at a small grass airfield with a hang gliding school, I have what’s commonly referred to as a “photographic memory”, I collect words as a hobby, and my only nickname is “The Judge”.
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey Other titles from Connie…
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Return of the Sun / Connie Bailey
©Copyright Connie Bailey, 2008 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Dan Skinner/Cerberus Inc.
[email protected] Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America December, 2008
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