She tried not to imagine the carnage that sort of battle involved, but the images flashed behind her eyes anyway. Rolfe had taken a Scot’s spear a few days ago. Could it have been him and his group of warriors? She shuddered at the violence she had known him capable of. ‘You were not involved in the battle?’
He shook his head. ‘Nay, we were at their camp. The group of Scots were on their way to us, but obviously they never made it. A scout found the carnage left behind and came to let us know. The Scots suspect that Father was somehow involved in revealing their location to the Danes.’
‘That’s preposterous! Father would never betray their location.’ Whether or not she agreed with his madness in attempting to drive the Danes from their land, she knew that he was an honourable man. He would never betray anyone he considered a friend or ally.
‘We both know that. They, however, want proof of our loyalty.’
‘How does kidnapping a child prove anything of loyalty?’
‘Baldric is hardly a child. He will be fifteen winters very soon.’
She sniffed in disagreement. The weight of Baldric’s hand in hers was still vivid from all the nights she had lain in bed with him after Mother had gone, telling him stories when he couldn’t sleep or was ill. He wasn’t old enough to be brought into this madness. ‘He is a child and he should never have been there. How could you have taken him with you?’
‘He demanded to come and he’s old enough to make his own decisions now.’
She strongly disagreed with that, but arguing that now wouldn’t get them anywhere. ‘What does Baldric have to do with proving Father’s loyalty?’
‘Because the Dane bastards...’ He paused to spit as if the word was foul on his tongue.
‘Shh.’ A quick look around assured her that no one had overheard him.
‘They stole a small fortune from the Scots they attacked. It was a stash of coin and jewels meant for the mercenaries at our meeting.’
‘Mercenaries!’ This time it was Galan’s turn to shush her. ‘Have things progressed so far already? They’re hiring mercenaries to attack the Danes?’
Galan took her arm and led her farther away from the gates. In a whisper he explained, ‘There are Danes on their western coast. They are preparing to fight those. At the moment there are no set plans for Alvey.’
That was a relief, but it was only a matter of time, she feared. Somehow in all of this, hating the Danes had come second to keeping her family safe.
‘I don’t know the details,’ he continued, ‘but one of the jewels that was taken with the coin was a bloodstone. It belongs to King Causantín’s family and has some ceremonial importance to them. That is what they want us to recover. If we can deliver it to them, then they will consider Father’s loyalty proven and release Baldric. Do you think you can do it?’
She still didn’t understand their idea of loyalty. Wasn’t it possible for Father to despise them and yet return the stone to free Baldric? Sometimes she failed to comprehend the logic of warriors. ‘You want me to find the bloodstone?’
‘Aye. They believe that Rolfe led the band of Danes that took it. He’s here?’
She nodded, because her mouth was suddenly too dry for speech. Last night Rolfe had sat with Lord Vidar and Lady Gwendolyn in the hall, sacks of coin between them. Later, when she’d patched his wound, she had noticed a red stone on his bed set amid some silver. Could that be the one?
‘Good. Then the stone is likely here as well. You must find it, Elswyth. It’s the only way to save Baldric.’
‘But how will I know which one it is?’
He shrugged. ‘All I know is that it is the size of a walnut and is set in gold on a chain.’
‘I may have seen it.’
Galan grabbed her shoulders in his joy. ‘Have you truly?’
‘Aye.’ She nodded. ‘I saw the warrior Rolfe with a red stone. I don’t know if it was set in gold or on a chain. I only had a glimpse.’
‘Do you think you can find it and relieve him of it?’
Shaking her head, she said, ‘I’m not certain. It’s possible.’ It would mean she’d have to make a search of his chamber, because he hadn’t worn it on his person today.
‘But you will try?’
‘Aye, of course I’ll try. We must save Baldric.’
‘Thank God.’ He let out a breath and pulled her close, his shoulders slumped in obvious relief. ‘Can you make a search tonight or tomorrow? I must get back to Baldric soon.’
‘If I hurry, I can make a search of his chamber tonight before he retires.’ As she spoke, the reality of what she was about to do set in, making her heart pound. Dear God, war really was coming and their family could be right in the middle of it! With a hand on her chest, she took a step back from Galan and struggled to take a deep breath. The air raced through her lungs as quickly as her thoughts raced through her mind.
Sensing her panic, Galan touched her cheek. ‘You can do this, Elswyth. I believe in you.’
Stories of the Danes haunted her. They were ruthless and brutal when crossed. There was one story that her father liked to tell of a man who had stolen a coin from a drunken Dane in some unnamed southern village. He’d gone about his evening, thinking that he’d got away with the crime, only to wake up as his hand had been cleaved from his body. They gave no quarter or mercy. What would happen if they found out she’d stolen something as precious as a jewel?
Rubbing her wrist, she held her hands against her belly. Would Rolfe be that brutal and unforgiving? She was having a difficult time reconciling the gentle Rolfe from last night in the bath with the warrior who had cut down an entire troop of Scots. Even this morning, he’d been kind and teasing with her. How could he be a ruthless Norseman as well?
‘But what if he finds it gone before morning? What will happen?’
‘They’ll make a search for it, I’m sure, but no one will be able to connect you to the crime. Keep it hidden. You’ll need to bring it to me as soon as you can.’
She had to do this for Baldric. He needed her right now more than she feared for her future at the hands of the Danes. ‘I’m due to go south in the morning with Rolfe. There’s a clearing there where he’s to teach me swordplay.’ She didn’t have to see Galan clearly to sense the tension in his body that her words had caused.
‘You will be alone with him?’
‘Aye, we’ll be alone. If I’m able to find the stone tonight, I’ll bring it and leave it for you at the base of a tree.’
‘But why would he teach you swordplay?’
‘To be honest, I’m uncertain. He seems to have taken an interest in my axe. I demonstrated my skill with throwing it and he offered to teach me the sword.’ He was quiet for so long that his very silence lent a significance to her words that wasn’t really present.
‘Be vigilant with him,’ he finally said, letting out a disappointed breath. ‘I would tell you not to be alone with him, but we must do this.’
‘Oh, Rolfe wouldn’t hurt me...not yet, anyway.’ She knew that Galan’s fears were unfounded, but that would change if her thievery was ever exposed. ‘Once we have Baldric back you and Father must stop this madness. No more secret meetings.’
In an instant, his ire was back. ‘The Danes need to be run out of here once and for all. We were once the proud people of Bernicia.’
‘You sound like Father.’ His eyes flashed with hatred that was so familiar to her. Her father ate that hatred with his porridge every morning and spent his days with it coursing through his blood.
He drew himself up taller, shoulders back and his voice a harsh whisper. ‘Northumbria has given herself over to the Danes, but we won’t follow suit.’
‘So you’d rather we join the Scots? Give our homes over to them?’
He shook his head. ‘It won’t come to that. They only want things to go back to how it was with Alvey a b
uffer between the north and the Danes to the south.’
‘You must tell Father to stop this madness. The Danes cannot be defeated so easily.’
He stared at her as if she’d become the lowest of traitors. ‘How can you say that? They must be!’
‘Shh!’ she again warned him to keep his voice low. ‘Do you see the warriors in their tents? The warriors walking around Alvey? There are even more in the great hall. He is wrong to think that the Saxon warriors will rise up and defeat them. I’ve seen with my own eyes how they work together with the Danes. They will join forces with the Danes and together there are too many of them.’ She knew her words bordered on treachery, but she needed him to understand the truth of the situation.
Galan shook his head manically. ‘There are still loyal Saxons in the villages who would take our side.’
‘Our side? We don’t have a side. They would be forced to take the side of the Scots and the Scots have been our enemies in the past just like the Danes.’
‘Not like the Danes,’ he argued. ‘The Danes are worse.’
Taking a deep breath so the argument wouldn’t escalate, she clenched her jaw and spoke through her teeth. ‘Be that as it may, they are still too powerful. Tell Father that he needs to stop this madness at once. We could all die if it comes to war.’
‘Some of us would rather die than make peace with them.’ He glared at her and his body stiffened. She knew that he was about to make a run for the gates, so she put a hand on his arm to stop him.
There was no use in arguing at the moment. Perhaps Father was right, or perhaps they had no choice but to accept the Danes. Whatever the answer, it wouldn’t be decided between her and Galan tonight. ‘This arguing won’t get us anywhere. I’m sorry.’ Only slightly mollified, he shrugged out of her grasp.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to swallow past the lump in her throat. It did nothing to dispel the heaviness of her heart or her disdain for what she was about to do. ‘In the morning try to hide near the clearing so you can see where I leave the jewel. I’ll try to leave the ground disturbed just in case you can’t see me hide it.’ She had no idea how she would accomplish this task she’d set for herself, but she’d figure that out in the morning.
‘You won’t even know I’m there, unless he tries to hurt you. If he does, I’ll kill him.’
His crooked smile softened the harsh words. It was the same smile she always remembered when she thought of him. A wave of affection washed over her and she pulled him into an embrace. He put his arms around her again and squeezed. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispered.
An ache swelled in her throat, making speech impossible for a moment. ‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she said when she could speak. ‘Please be careful. Please take Baldric home safely and don’t venture north again. Please.’
He pulled back and grimaced and she knew that he had no intention of following her order. With a nod of goodbye, he disappeared into the deep shadows cast by the wall. Dread made her steps heavy as she walked back towards the great hall. She had no choice but to steal from Rolfe, a man who had been nothing but kind to her. Baldric’s life was worth more than a blasted bloodstone. For a moment she imagined telling Rolfe why she needed the stone and in her fantasy he was understanding and gave it to her. But it was only a fantasy. If she confessed all to Rolfe, then she’d have to confess what Father and Galan had been up to. Somehow she didn’t think he’d be so understanding about their dallying with treason.
She told herself that it didn’t matter she was stealing from him. He was their enemy. He’d have no qualms about doing what must be done if he found out about Galan’s talks with the Scots. Besides, hadn’t he merely stolen the jewel from the Scots anyway? It wasn’t even really his to keep.
None of those arguments seemed to make a difference to the guilt gnawing at her.
She would have to steal from Rolfe.
Chapter Six
The tray felt heavier in her arms than it had the night before. Or maybe it was the weight of her intentions making it seem that way. She had tried to talk herself out of the plan at least a hundred times in the past hour, but Baldric’s life was worth more than her misgivings. Putting her body against Rolfe’s door, she nudged it open with her shoulder. The bowl on the tray wobbled, but she managed to right it before any damage was done. Once inside, she pushed it closed with her toe and waited there in the dark silence, quite certain that someone would come in and know her for the thief that she was.
After a moment, the pounding of her heart in her ears settled enough that she was able to hear the revelry still going on below. The men had finished their supper, but the deep voice of a skald could be heard, regaling them with some adventure in their own language, his words punctuated by cheers and heckles at various times. Elswyth had only picked up a few words of their language, not nearly enough to follow along. Because her own Saxon tongue was important to Lady Gwendolyn it was the one spoken the most; the Norsemen only spoke their own language among themselves or on nights like this when a story must be told.
She hoped the entertainment would keep Rolfe below for now. When she’d left the main hall, he’d been deep in discussion with the lord and lady and some warrior she thought was named Aevir. Wyborn had been busy chewing a bone under the table. She only had a few moments to herself before they would both come up to retire for the evening.
Placing the tray on the small table, she set a taper to the single candle burning low on the table and lit several more so that she could study his room. Her gaze immediately went to his bed where she had last seen the stone, but of course it wasn’t there anymore. Her steps were slow and shaky as she walked over to run her hand over the furs just in case. Rolfe’s scent rose from them and she couldn’t help but think of him lying beneath them. The flutter in her belly at that thought was so visceral that she jerked her hand back.
She had to get on with this or he would surely find her. A chest was set against the wall near the end of the bed, but she recognised it as the one he’d pulled his under-tunic out of the night before. Probably not that one. There was a smaller one next to it, so she made quick work of tossing open the lid. A cloth-wrapped bundle lay on top. She unwrapped it gently so that he wouldn’t know she’d disturbed it to find that it was a child’s doll. It seemed rather old and worn, but it clearly meant something to him if he had kept it with him these years. Bringing it to her nose, she confirmed that it, too, bore his scent. She imagined him taking it out from time to time and the image did not match the ruthless warrior that Galan had described. It did match the man who had smiled at her with his kind blue eyes and a single dimple.
Suddenly she felt worse than a thief. Who was she to have access to this man’s memories? She had no right to set her eyes upon something so personal to him, yet she wanted to climb into the chest and stay there. She wanted to savour any knowledge she could find about this man who was so mysterious and fascinating to her.
Wrapping the doll back up very carefully, she set it aside. No matter how she chastised herself, she couldn’t help her curiosity when it came to him. The things in this chest were little pieces of him and she found that she wanted to know more about him—not for Father’s sake, but for her own reasons. Underneath the doll, she found several things that she imagined he’d brought home from his travels over the years: a wooden coin with the crude carving of a nude lady on it, a volume of strange writing wrapped in leather, a piece of amber. At the very bottom was a bottle of wine laid on its side, but no jewel. Something gleamed at her from the darkened corner, the flicker of candlelight picking up the trace of metal. Cool iron met her fingertips and she lifted the slight weight. It was a key. Her heart gave a slight leap of joy. Reverently, she placed everything back inside except for the key and closed the lid.
Her gaze made a search through the rest of his room, looking for the lock that it matched. His shelves proved fruitless as did another large chest wh
ich was unlocked in which she discovered some of his chainmail and leathers. She was beginning to despair, having almost decided that he kept his valuables locked in the armoury, when she fell to her knees beside his bed and put her cheek to the floor. The light barely reached there, but it was enough to reveal the latches of two small chests, the metal of the clasps winking at her.
Stifling a hoot of triumph, she pulled the first one out. It was heavy and what sounded suspiciously like coins tinkling against each other met her ears. The key slid in easily and turned. The lock released and the lid popped open. There was a small fortune of sacks filled with coin inside. Along with the coin she suspected to be in the other chest, there was enough to buy an entire army of mercenaries if he needed them.
She couldn’t stifle the shiver that ran through her body as she reverently touched the sacks, the coins hard and cold beneath the coarse fabric. This was only Rolfe’s personal stash. It didn’t include the larger chests in the armoury and whatever else might be hidden. The Danes were never leaving. This confirmed it, but she knew even with this knowledge Father wouldn’t reconcile himself to their staying. She knew that with a certainty that was a physical pain through her body.
Footsteps walked briskly past the door outside, making her remember how tenuous her current position was. She made quick work of searching the chest, feeling the contents of each bag through the fabric. Finally, one of the sacks on the bottom seemed to hold something other than coin. It was heavy and there was a bulge larger than a coin, so she dumped the contents into her hand. She could hardly believe her eyes when the bloodstone sat in her palm, winking at her in the candlelight. It was set in gold filigree and attached to a golden chain which hung down through her fingers. It had to be the jewel Galan had told her about. It was about the right size and she was almost certain that it was the one she’d seen on Rolfe’s bed.
Marrying Her Viking Enemy Page 6