Wotan's Hounds Ch. 03

"Oh, yes, and a pretty new dress each day," said Tony with a smirk.

"I'll 'pretty dress' you in a minute if you're not careful, you muppet," I retorted. "There is no way, in this or any other world, that I am wearing heels, make-up or any sort of dress, pretty or otherwise. And I will tell Odin that the minute he suggests it. What does Brunhilde do?"

"Oh, she sits on the main desk, looking pretty and perfect and doing as little work as she can get away with," Bran replied. "Mostly she gossips and causes trouble."

I shook my head. What had I gotten myself into?

We switched drivers at the big supermarket on the edge Carlisle before turning the jeep east and heading along the A road that led to the estate. On the way over the Pennines, we passed a line of jeeps and covered wagons on their way to one of the firing ranges in the area. Tony told Bran some of the stories of what he had gotten up to when he was stationed at one just after he'd earned his commission.

I had to pull over at one point coz I was practically crying with laughter at one story of how he'd helped change the dark blue paint balls in the rounds of one tank for psychedelic orange, pink, green and yellows, then blasted away at the main barracks to the soundtrack of "Kelly's Hero's" at two a.m. the day he left the camp. My man had a wild side I'd never known about, and when the boys heard about it they were killing themselves laughing too. When I was finally able to speak, I asked Tony why; Tony said, "It seemed like a good idea at the time," which had me in stitches once more. It turned out though that episode had brought him to us; his Colonel had thought a spell of baby-sitting would be a good punishment for him.

We passed through the various small towns that lined our route, sticking to the main roads until Bran told me where to turn off. The road narrowed considerably, winding in between the high hills and the enclosing stone walls that were such a feature of this part of the world. I wasn't entirely sure where we were now; somewhere in the middle of nowhere would have been my closest guess. It was just then that my brothers' voices faded from my mind. I had been expecting it, but it still was a shock when their thoughts disappeared. I'd never been without that link before, and losing it made me feel very lonely. At least I still had Tony as a link between the past and future; without him, I would have been totally lost.

We were travelling north, away from the harsh moor landscape, and moving into the greener, lusher areas of the Borders. It was the first week in May, when you knew spring was on its way out, and summer was just around the corner. By now, the trees were covered in verdant leaves; the lambs, which had lost their first bouncy cuteness, were looking more and more like dinner with every mouthful of sweet grass they chewed.

The first glimpse I had of my new home was through those leafy trees. The main house was built of dove grey stone, with white corner stones that helped break up the monotony. Bran told us that the house was open today, so we'd have to drive around and go in through the back gate to avoid the crush. For all that it had no safari park or wild rides, the Manse, as it was known locally, was a popular day out for families looking to escape from the nearby cities for a few hours.

Eleven in the morning was the busiest time of the day, as that's when the first tour began and the café opened for lunches. The smallest of the farms also opened then, as a kind of a petting zoo, with old fashioned farming methods used to remind the kids how lucky they were. They could have a go at milking a cow or ploughing a field, but apparently most just stood in open mouthed horror at the amount of work that went into producing food before supermarkets became the norm.

I followed Bran's directions, and we drove along the side of the estate slowly so we could see how it looked from the outside. The house was square built, with the front centre wing jutting out slightly from the rest of the building. The wings on either side moved solidly back in a phalanx of 17th century architecture, making the house into a substantial cube. The back entrance was through a small iron gate, with a security camera panning over the road outside, and an intercom box mounted at the side. There was a keypad below it, but Bran told me to push the button and talk to the guard at the other end. The jeep wasn't on the register of known vehicles, and using the code would have brought down a swift and unpleasant response. Just because the Manse was open to the public didn't mean there weren't stringent security regulations enforced at all times.

After explaining who I was, who was with me and why I was there, the gates glided open smoothly and electronically, granting us access to the cobble-stoned courtyard outside the stables. We got out and stretched our stiff muscles while Bran went looking for our reception committee. He'd only taken a few steps before a sweet looking red and white setter came trotting through the archway and up to us, followed by Gelert and Odin, dressing in his flowing robes once more. The setter sat in front of me, looking down at the ground and blinking furiously.

"Good morning, Miss Flosshilde," came the voice of the setter into my mind. "I am Mary. I will be looking after you until you get settled."

"Hi, Mary," I replied, silently responding as Mary had spoken. "Please, you don't have to call me 'Miss' or use my full name, 'Flossi' will do fine."

"Miss Flosshilde, you are the eldest daughter of Lord Odin," Mary answered. "It is my duty to show you respect."

"And now you have, you can stop," I retorted. "I'm not going think you're being disrespectful if you use my name the way I've asked you to. Please?"

"Very well, Miss Flossi," Mary agreed. "You are very different to Miss Brunhilde."

"Good," I said, wondering once more how I would manage to get along with Brunhilde, about whom I had heard so much, so little of it good.

I looked over at Tony, and speaking out loud, introduced him: "This is Tony. He's come with me to learn about his beast, amongst other things. Tony, this is Mary. She'll be looking after us for a while."

"It's nice to meet you, Mary," Tony said. "How are you today?"

Mary seemed puzzled that Tony had bothered to ask her about herself, but answered that she was well. Mary asked us to follow her into the house, and we set off together. The house had huge ceilings, even down in the old servants' quarters, and though it was spacious, I could see how easy it would be for Tony, without the keen sense of smell I had to get very lost very quickly.

With my heightened senses, I found our new surroundings overwhelming with sounds and smells abounding throughout the corridors. I don't think I could have gone through life as a human though. How quiet must it be not to hear a heart beating in the person next to you? Or how blinding was it not to smell their emotions? Human always thought they were the superior beings on this Earth, yet they were so blinkered to half of it, shut up in their own heads.

Mary led us up through the house, using the smaller staircases and landings that were painted in a soft cream that reflected the light from the numerous windows and skylights. We would be staying in the east back wing, she explained. It was a bit out of the way, but Lord Odin had thought we'd be more comfortable there than in one of the main apartments.

"Out of the way would be more like it," Tony thought, and I had to agree with him. If Odin was so pleased about us coming to live with him, then why hide us away, make us come in the back door? I wondered if this had anything to do with the witch; it felt like her work, and again I wanted to know what she held over Odin to make him do her bidding with little resistance.

Our rooms were tucked away on the third floor, at the back of the house looking out over the woods. There was a bedroom with a miserly single bed, a tiny bathroom and a moderately sized sitting room, complete with a ropy old couch and an old Bakelite telephone. The fireplace was nice -- Art Deco with fresco tiles of red deer stags entwined by green thistles -- but the floor had a thread bare carpet that definitely had seen better days. It was a serviceable room, though I was willing to bet that, had Brunhilde been told she was staying there, she would have made a huge row.

Mary seemed embarrassed that we had been put in this room; I looked at Tony and nodded. Tony looked down at Mary, and thanked her for showing us the way. He asked if we could make a few changes to the room, and she nodded her head, relived that we hadn't taken her head off. To be honest, we knew what was going on; we were being shown our place in the clan, and had we been good little children and stayed there it wouldn't have been nearly so much fun. As it was the first thing we did was get rid of all the furniture apart from the telephone – I quite liked that – by opening the window as far as we could and chucking it out, followed swiftly by the old carpet.

Next we went hunting, spreading through the out buildings, looking for anything we could use. We didn't need a bed; we had my lair, but somewhere comfortable for visitors to sit would have been good, as would a decent sized bath. Tony and I had both helped out around the camp with the repairs that needed doing from time to time, so we could both do a bit of plumbing and joinery. We found a couple of nice rugs in one room, and a pile of sheepskins in another that would do for the floors; there was little in the way of seating though that wasn't flimsy or twee though. We decided to go to the nearest town the next day and find something there.

In the meantime I literally stumbled across a stockpile of paint whilst searching for a light switch. The paint was hidden under a tarp that also hid a huge, cast iron, claw-footed bath. After running up and down the stairs, taking measurements, we figured we could squeeze the bath into the corner where the bath was now if we took out a cupboard that was in the way. The trick was going to be getting it up the narrow stairs.

We spent most of the day demolishing and painting, moving my lair into the bedroom and setting it up so that once the tourists had left for the day we could use the main stairs. We enlisted Bran's help to move the bath though; it was just too heavy to move by ourselves. Bran rounded up a couple of the grooms to share the load. The grooms, Peter and Paul, were cousins, huge shaggy haired men that looked like they could shoe a carthorse one-handed. Between them, the guys heaved and shoved the bath up the marble and wooden staircases while I went on ahead and cleared the landings and opened the doors.

Once the bath had been hauled into place, I broke out the case of beer we'd brought with us and picked up the phone to order whatever food people wanted. As we waited for the pizza to be delivered, Bran and Paul got rid of the old bath while Tony and Peter connected up the new one. The first gush of hot water was greeted by cheers for about thirty seconds until it ran freezing cold and we discovered that, this high up, the hot water was fickle at the best of times. It went onto the list of things to do, which was getting on for twenty items, including fixing the sash window in the bedroom that wouldn't stay open without a prop, and four loose floorboards in the sitting room.

The weather turned cold; a storm had been threatening all day and now it unleashed its thunder and winds against the house. After checking that we wouldn't get covered in smoke from a blocked chimney, we lit a fire and settled down in front of it on the sheepskins with our beer and pizza. Downstairs, the main family also were sitting down to dinner, though they sat on sumptuous chairs and had roast pheasant with good claret. Personally, while that sort of thing could be fun – it was the sort of food we'd had at the Ritz – I liked sprawling on the floor with these rough men. They made me giggle and feel safe, even if some of their stories had me blushing to my ears. They reminded me of my brothers.

I wondered how my brothers were getting on at their new camp. I got up, slightly unsteadily now I'd had a couple of cans of beer to drink, and borrowed Tony's phone to call them. They answered quietly; I don't know if they were supposed to have their phones on them. We talked for a bit, just catching up on the day's events. The boys were older than the other recruits by a year or so, but they seemed to be fitting in well. They were being careful to hide their wild side from everyone. We all knew how soon it could get out of hand, and they really wanted to do well. Once I'd filled them in on our new home and the improvements we'd made to it, I hung up and rejoined the group.

By the time I got back, Sean and Old Mac, the head groom, had found us, and had helped themselves to the leftover food and drink. Sean was the head keeper, a small man with a big personality and difficulty in staying still. I later found out he changed into a Springer spaniel, which explained a lot. Old Mac also was short, but where Sean was round, he was skinny and wiry, like the fox terrier he was at heart. I always found it strange how a person's beast reflected his human shape. That thought made me wonder what Tony's beast would be. Tony is a big guy, nearly six feet tall and broad across the shoulders. I dropped down onto the floor beside Tony and stared at him for a minute until he turned to look at me.

"What? Tony asked.

"Nothing," I replied. "I was just wondering what your beast is going to be."

"Oh, you had a few ideas did you? So what are they?" Tony responded.

"Well, I don't think you're going to be a guinea-pig or a rabbit," I said, smiling. On that thought, I spun round to look at Mac and asked, "Do you even get a were guinea-pig?"

"Not that I've ever heard of," Mac said. "Weres tend to be hunting animals, not prey ones, though I have heard of hares and of course there are horses. Hares might not be fierce, but they are quick and they make good messengers, couriers, that sort of thing. I think Tony here will either be some sort of hound or a bear. Sorry, mate, but I don't think you're quite feline material."

"Are there any cats here?" Tony asked.

"Here on the estate?" Mac asked. "Yeah, the family who run the East Farm are all cats, lions actually. They came from Africa after the war and Odin's father, Bor, set them up when they realised they couldn't live in the city. Two of their sons married into the clan a few years later and cemented the whole arrangement. Their daughters make good guards. Bran has five in his little group, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. Speaking of which, I better go and sort out the rosters for next week," Bran said, rising and moving toward the door. "Sorry, honey," Bran went on, looking down at me, "I daren't put you on there 'til Odin's authorized it. He'd skin me alive."

"It's fine," I said. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. If I'm going up to Scotland with Tony, it might be a while before I can be assigned duties."

"Yeah," Bran responded, "OK then. Well, goodnight people, see you in the morning."

With Bran's departure, the others left too; the grooms heading back to their quarters over the stable block, and Sean to the keeper's cottage on the edge of the estate. Tony tucked the empty beer cans and pizza boxes over to one side of the fire, ready to take down to the bin in the morning, and joined me in the bedroom. 'Coz the room was so narrow, we'd pushed the wardrobe and drawers to the front of the room, on either side of the doorway, and spread our lair across the whole of the back half of the room. The floor was bare here, so we dragged in some of the skins we'd found, and used them as a base on top of which we'd arranged the cushions and pillows as our mattress.

It had been a very long day, and I was shattered. Tony stripped off, and sprawled out in the lair. After kicking his legs out of my way, I changed, stretching out in my hound shape, flopping down at Tony's feet. I found I slept better as a hound, although some of my dreams could be truly bizarre. I loved chasing rabbits in my sleep, but having them turn round and start quizzing me on Homer's writing could be a little disturbing. If I dreamt that night I don't know, I was asleep before Tony turned the light out, and didn't wake up 'til his alarm went off at six the next morning.