Viking of Asgard Chapter 14 Frist Day As Baron

Bob learns to deal with the added responsibilities

Brrrrrring

The alarm ringing, then the shriek of a woman jarred Bob out of his deep sleep.

“Quiet dammit,” Bob cursed.

He fumbled for the clock, finding it by sound. Once silenced, he fumbled for the lamp beside it.

The dim yellow light showed him a woman’s face filled with anger and suspicion. She glared at Bob, and at the cheap wind-up ticking alarm clock sitting next to the bed, muttering in her native tongue.

Bob sighed.

Then he lost patience and snapped at the woman in his bed. “Magic, quiet!”

Her eyes widened, and she quit muttering.

He had named the thirty-something slave he bought in India, Magic, because of her fingers. The massage she gave him last night was enormously better than any Hollywood Boulevard massage parlor. She might be clumsy, even wooden in bed, but those massages more than made up for it.

The clock showed twenty minutes to get dressed, downstairs, and out the door to beat the dawn. Stretching, Bob forced himself to get out of the comfortable bed.

His feet encountered the dirty clothes that littered his floor. He growled, looked at Magic, pointed at those, then at the stack of dirty clothes in the corner, the shower, and then at Magic.

She got the message, bowed her head, then climbed out of bed.

Getting housekeepers had been the main reason for buying her, and the other women. He had been planning on eight men. Jackal talked him into the five-three split.

 The persuasive point that each man staying needed a housekeeper wasn’t what finally convinced him. The telling point was that even five healthy, strong, men were too many for a single person to keep track of, and eight, out of the question. So, with reluctance, he agreed to buy three housekeepers.

That was exactly what Jimmy had bought. He suspected he made good choices as he watched Magic gather the dirty clothes he had dumped on the floor.

He slipped into his last pair of clean jeans and the last black t-shirt, this one his Who concert tour shirt.

Bob descended the stairs with care. Ankle-high safety lights on each stair landing cast a feeble light, making the footing treacherous.

Reaching the ground floor was little better. Darkness shrouded it, too. A single bank of lights in the cafeteria provided all the light for the entire floor. If any of the staff were awake, they had not come down from the second floor.

 On tables, under that bank of lights, sat covered pots. Bob lifted a lid; cold sliced ostrich. The next pot contained cold baked sweet potatoes. Good enough; they would do for breakfast.

Making his way to the wall, he flipped the switches next to the one already turned on, turning on an additional two banks of lights. It still left half the cafeteria and all the kitchen lights off. Then Bob headed for the bunkroom.

They had all the bunks back in place. At the door, he began reaching for the light switches and stopped. The light coming in from the cafeteria lit the bunkroom well enough for him to make out faces and not trip on anything. He left them off.

Since Chuck lay in the cot furthest from the door, Bob had to go all the way to the other end. He nudged Chuck’s shoulder. When the older man opened his eyes, Bob whispered, “Keep quiet, and start waking the others. Tell everyone to stay quiet. Grab a bite, then head down to the Gorgon.”

Looking at the man laying on a bunk across the aisle, Bob was unsure why, but he didn’t want to wake Don’s two men and their slaves, or the people upstairs. He wanted his people up and gone before anyone else was up.

He moved two bunks over, to Jimmy. That young man took more shaking to wake than Chuck. “Wake the slaves. Keep them quiet. Get them fed and down to the Gorgon. Stop at the warehouse and grab axes and saws. No power tools, just hand tools. You have charge of those men today.”

“Me?” the boy croaked.

“Quiet. You. You picked them out. You get to make sure that they get the stuff I need done, done.”

“Oh.”

Bob patted him on the shoulder. “Relax, kid, you can handle it. These men are used to being told what to do and doing it. As long as you are not an ass, you shouldn’t have any trouble. If you do, it is something I need to know about so I can replace them.”

Back in the cafeteria, Bob wolfed down a cold breakfast, then shaking his head, headed out the door before anyone finished dressing and made it to the cafeteria.

When he stepped out the door, he saw the stars were out, but fading. He had enough light to see. At the castle gates, he stopped wide-eyed. Three cats, leopard size, patrolling just outside the gate. Had it been any darker, he would not have seen them. A single Glock would not be enough for these lean creatures, unlike any cat he had ever seen.

The cats watched him, sniffing the air.

Bob pulled out his Glock but didn’t aim. It would be better than nothing.