Free The Long Hunt (The Strongbow Saga) by Judson Roberts

the storm's high winds, coupled with the weight of a heavy load of thick, wet snow that had filled the old tree's branches had brought the aging giant crashing down, dragging several smaller, surrounding trees with it as it fell.
    As a boy, I'd found a secret hideaway up against the old tree's trunk, a small open area within the tangle of branches, broken and whole, that surrounded it. It had been a place I would escape to whenever I could, a place where I could hide from Gunhild's wrath, or Toke's torments. It had been a place where I could be alone, and where I would sometimes dream an impossible dream, that someday I would no longer be a thrall.
    My memory of the woods did not fail me. I found the fallen tree, and within its branches, against the trunk, the hidden open area that had been my hideaway. Although much smaller than I remembered, it was big enough. I dug a hole there, against the trunk, and buried the sealskin-wrapped chest in it. As I refilled the hole, scattering the loose dirt that would not fit back in it, and spread loose leaves over all to hide that the earth had been disturbed, I wondered if I would ever return here.
    *   *   *
    Like the training, the task of preparing the two ships, the Gull and the Serpent , for the morrow's voyage did not go smoothly. The problem was that most sea voyages are planned weeks, if not months, in advance, so there is time to gather provisions for the journey, time to slaughter beasts and salt their meat to preserve it, and the like. Because the pursuit of Toke was being launched on such short notice, in order to provision their ships, Hastein and Stig had no choice but to draw upon the estate's stores. And even though they stocked the ships with less food than they felt comfortable with, not knowing how long this voyage might last—each ship was loaded from the estate's reserves with only a single small barrel of dried, salted pork, three barrels filled with barley, and a single barrel of storage vegetables: cabbages, carrots, parsnips, and rutabagas packed in hay—a number of the folk of the estate expressed concern that if the coming winter proved a long one, they might face shortages and hunger before spring arrived.
    Gunhild was the most vocal of these. She even suggested that Hastein and Stig should pay for the stores they took—a proposal that came close to causing Hastein to lose control of his temper.
    "We should pay for these meager stores we are taking?" he asked incredulously. "Will they not be eaten in part by warriors from this estate, who sail with us? And do we not sail to bring to justice one who has murdered a number of your own people, including your chieftain, Harald? While you stay here, we sail into danger, both from your treacherous son whom we hunt, and from the rapidly approaching winter, with its dangerous weather. We do this to help your own men-folk avenge losses that, if not redressed, might stain their honor in the eyes of others. And you complain that if the winter should be a long one, your belly might not be as full as you would wish?"
    Those of Hastein's men who were near enough to hear the exchange growled their approval of his words. Gunhild blanched and hurried away to the hearth, where she kept her head averted, and avoided looking toward Hastein while she assisted in the evening meal's preparation. But several of the carls from the estate murmured angrily, too. From bits and pieces of their speech I happened to overhear, it seemed Hastein's words had offended their already prickly pride. I heard Floki mutter, "Does he think we are not men enough to avenge Harald without his help?"
    Afterward, Hastein approached me. "This is a troubled household," he said. "It is not at peace. It is unfortunate that you must leave again so soon after returning. These folk need a guiding hand—someone other than that woman."
    At least in part, I agreed with what Hastein said. The folk of the estate did need someone to lead them, to guide them.