Chapter Sixteen
No one approached Elswyth as she ran back to the chamber she shared with Rolfe. Behind her the men’s voices rose in anger, but she couldn’t be bothered with them any more. She had too much to sort out. The only problem was that once she was alone with the door latched behind her, there was no feeling of sanctuary, no clarity. Only more confusion.
Osric was dead and her husband had caused it. Rolfe might not have held the weapon, but he had ordered it when he had ordered the attack. She couldn’t wrap her thoughts around that and she didn’t know how to accept it. Where did this leave her? Them? Father would never come to see the logic in her marriage to a Dane now. Even if her earlier argument would have convinced him, Osric’s death would weigh too heavy on his heart. He’d loved Osric like a son.
In the silence of the chamber, there was only one conclusion that became clear in the madness. If she did not turn her back on Rolfe tonight, she would lose her family. Father and Galan would shun her, casting her from their lives as her own mother had been cast out. If she chose to be with her family, then Rolfe would be lost to her.
That thought brought her to her knees. They fell out from under her and she crumpled into a heap next to the bed. If today and tonight had been any indication—a terrible shudder tore through her as she remembered his cold touch, his hollow voice—then he might already be lost to her. Guilt or something more powerful was driving him to keep his distance from her.
The knock on the door drew her from her thoughts. There was no one she wanted to talk to, so she asked, ‘Who is it?’ without rising.
‘It’s me,’ Ellan answered. ‘Please open the door.’ Her voice was as distinct as if she stood inside the chamber. Elswyth found herself thinking no wonder the men had had no need for further confirmation of the wedding-night consummation. They had heard it all.
Torn with the need to be alone and to find comfort from the only person she knew who still accepted her as she was, Elswyth ultimately rose to her feet and unlatched the door. Ellan came into the room and took her into her arms. Much to Elswyth’s shame, she started to sob. Ellan crooned softly, ‘I’m so sorry’, and led her to the bed where she sat beside her on the furs, gently rubbing her back. Once the tears came, it was a long time until they stopped and, once they had, she felt drained. But she knew what she had to do.
‘What are you doing?’ Ellan asked as she jerked away to get to her feet.
Elswyth was already at the door before her sister’s voice stopped her. ‘I have to talk to Father. I want him to know why I married Rolfe.’ She needed to hear his reaction, to know for certain if he would truly reject her.
Ellan nodded and stood. ‘I’ll come with you as far as the gates. I can’t chance him making me return.’
Not for the first time, Elswyth wondered how choices could be so simple for Ellan. She always seemed to know how to get what she wanted. Elswyth always struggled, because what she wanted seemed to be at odds with something else she wanted.
The pair were able to move through the great hall undetected as excitement was still high and the house was in general chaos as the men drank. It wasn’t until they were outside that Elswyth saw Rolfe’s broad shoulders as he stood talking to Lord Vidar and Aevir. She hoped to make it past their group unnoticed, but Aevir saw her and spoke to Rolfe, who turned to regard her. She sucked in a deep breath as he walked over.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, his eyes sharp as she pulled the fur cloak tighter around her as if that could shield her from his coolness.
‘I’m going to spend the night with my family. I wasn’t able to speak to my father alone.’
Rolfe immediately shook his head, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His eyes were closed to her. ‘Nay. It’s late. You can speak to him in the morning if you must.’
‘If I must? Rolfe, he is my father. I wed knowing that he would not approve. I must speak with him.’
His mouth pressed into a grim line as he stared at her. Part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms and seek the comfort that she knew he was capable of giving her, but he seemed so far away from her.
‘He’s camped outside the gate. You can stay tonight, but you’ll come back in the morning.’ He spoke as if she were no one important to him and her heart broke a little bit more, if that was possible. It wouldn’t be possible to break her heart if she didn’t love him so much. The realisation of how quickly she had fallen under his spell was enough to make her nod. Words failed her.
Turning quickly, she hurried to the gates. Once there, she glanced back to see that Rolfe had moved back to the men. Ellan took her in a quick hug. ‘Please remember that you are not our mother,’ her sister whispered against her ear. ‘No matter what Father or Galan say, you married Rolfe because you chose peace.’
A lump of gratitude towards Ellan formed in her throat and she nodded, afraid that to speak would bring more tears and she needed to be strong now. Giving Ellan a squeeze, she turned and walked through the gates.
Her father had made his camp near the village of tents set up by the Dane warriors outside the walls. He was squarely outside of Dane territory, though not so far as the forest.
‘Elswyth!’ Galan called to her as soon as he saw her and ran to take her in his arms. ‘He let you go?’
Father stood by the fire, holding his hand out to her. She nearly sobbed as she moved from Galan’s arms to take her father’s hand. ‘How is Baldric? Were you able to get him back?’ In her pain and confusion, she’d forgotten to ask about her younger brother earlier. That guilt was heaped on to the other that was weighing her down.
Her father’s brow furrowed and he shot a glance at Galan. Galan cleared his throat and said, ‘Aye, Sister. We were able to get him back. He’s at home.’
Relief swept through her. At least taking the bloodstone hadn’t been for naught. She’d helped to save her brother. Father put his thick arms around her and her shoulders started to shake. Sobs threatened again, but she managed to hold them back.
‘Did he hurt you, girl?’
‘Nay.’ She shook her head. ‘He’d never hurt me. I married him because I thought it would bring peace to Banford. Osric wasn’t supposed to die. Why was he there, Father? Why was he with the Scots?’ Her fists clenched in his tunic, but his expression was impassive as he stared down at her.
‘’Tis true then? He didn’t force the marriage?’
A lump lodged in her throat. ‘I wanted to.’ She wanted to claim that it had only been for peace, but she wouldn’t deny that she loved Rolfe. ‘I cared for him deeply.’
Pain lashed across his face and it was quickly followed by white-hot fury. ‘How could you care for one of them?’
Taken aback at the abrupt change in him, she let her hands drop and stood rigid. He looked at her the same way he’d looked upon their mother that night Elswyth had heard them arguing. It was exactly what she had feared would happen, yet she had somehow made herself believe that she could make him see things differently. ‘He’s not a monster. Rolfe is a good man.’
‘A good man who killed Osric.’
She winced at the accusation, because it was true enough and she couldn’t deny it. ‘That’s not all he is. He wants to help us. He believes that if we work together then we can make Banford even more prosperous. The Scots only seek to enslave us, but the Danes could—’ Father’s hand came up as if to strike her. She broke off and cringed, waiting for the blow, but Galan stepped forward.
‘Father!’
The harshly spoken word was enough to stay his heavy hand. He lowered it with a look of pure disdain. ‘Will you stay with him or leave with us?’
The ultimatum wasn’t unexpected. It was her worst fear realised, and yet still she asked, ‘Wh-what do you mean?’
‘You’ve disappointed me deeply, girl. If it were Ellan, I could understand. She always was most like your mother. Faith
less and silly. But you... I expected more from you than to lay yourself down for the first Dane who showed interest.’
Blood whooshed in her ears as every cruel word hit her with the force of a blow. ‘That’s not what happened. He loves me.’ Loved her. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realised that he didn’t any more. Perhaps he’d realised how impossible their love was in the face of battle.
‘Your mother said the same thing, even when she came to me with the Dane’s bastard in her belly.’
Elswyth gasped. Mother had been with child. ‘Is that the night you argued?’
His brow furrowed, surprised that she’d heard them, but then he nodded. ‘She sobbed and claimed to be torn. She loved the Dane, but loved you children, too, so I did her a kindness and took her choice away.’
‘You made her leave.’ The accusation shot out of her like an arrow aimed true to its target.
‘I wouldn’t have a wife who had sullied herself with one of them.’
‘And what of a daughter?’ She held her breath, very much afraid to hear the answer. Despite his faults, he was her father and she cared deeply for him.
He stared her down and she sensed Galan at her side, holding his breath as he awaited their father’s judgement. ‘You can choose. You either stay here or you come with us.’
Lose her family or lose Rolfe for good. ‘Back to Banford?’
He shook his head. ‘The time has come to act. Killing Osric was a step too far.’ He lowered his voice as if realising that the enemy might overhear him. ‘We’ll get revenge now.’ His words implied that the Scots would help in that.
‘Father, nay, you cannot mean that you will join them?’
He nodded and she felt the press of Galan’s fingers on her back. ‘We will.’ Galan’s smooth voice confirmed her worst fear. ‘I believe Father is too hasty in forcing you to choose,’ Galan said, drawing her gaze to him. He stood tall and as proud and defiant as the leader of a rebellion should look. Her heart ached, because she couldn’t help but to imagine that he could be dead soon.
‘I am not,’ said Father with a bite in his voice.
Galan narrowed his eyes at the older man before looking at her again. ‘With you as Rolfe’s wife, you’ll have more insight into their battle plans. You can tell us everything we need to know.’ The world started swimming around her and her heart sank. Her father’s face blurred only to be replaced by Galan’s smiling features. ‘I’d be proud of you if you had planned this,’ he teased. ‘You’ll be the perfect spy.’
Her knees went weak and she would’ve fallen had Galan not grabbed her. Her brother expected her to spy on her husband and her father was forcing her to make an awful choice. Her entire world seemed to be caving in on her.
‘Nay, Galan. There will be none of that. It’s too late. Either she leaves with us in the morning or she stays here to lie in the bed she made.’ Father levelled her with a glare and said, ‘If you stay, you will no longer be my daughter.’
She brought a hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that wanted to escape. Father didn’t know it, but Rolfe had already withdrawn his love. There was no reason for her to stay here. But neither could she meekly go with him. She wasn’t that dutiful daughter any more, hoping that if she didn’t make a misstep that she would earn his love with her loyalty. She had to get away from all of them. She’d go to Banford. Perhaps she’d find some clarity there, away from this madness. If not, at least she could go to Baldric and keep him safe.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Where is my wife?’
The sun had not yet crested the horizon, but Rolfe hadn’t been able to wait any longer to take Elswyth back. He’d spent a fitful night in their bed, barely able to find any sleep because every time he drifted off he’d reach for her and become aware of her absence all over again.
It was only a slight exaggeration to say that he felt as if he’d been waiting for her all his life. In the short time he’d been with her he knew what would make her laugh and what would make her only smile, and somehow he knew just what to say to make her eyes go very fierce before her temper flared. He could hardly credit the thought, and he’d never give voice to it, but it was as if the gods had meant for her to be his. She was his and he would do everything in his power to keep her with him, even if he was forced to keep his distance from her.
If only he knew where she was. As he stared down at the empty place near the embers of the fire where she should have been, Godric and Galan roused in their blankets.
‘She won’t be your wife for long,’ Galan muttered as he sat up.
The anger that coursed through Rolfe’s body was so spontaneous and fierce that he was on top of Galan before he could think better of it. ‘What have you done with her?’
‘Nothing.’ He didn’t miss the way Galan looked towards the place where she should have been.
‘She’s gone, you fool.’ Rolfe stared into the distance, hoping she’d merely walked away for a bit of privacy, but genuine panic was started to rise within him. The warrior tents were back towards Alvey’s wall, but there was no sign of her wandering among them. He briefly wondered if one of them had taken her inside for his pleasure, but none of them would be so stupid. She was his and everyone knew that. He twisted towards the forest, but her form wasn’t visible through the dim light of the waning moon. He told himself that she’d merely gone into the forest to relieve herself, or to walk and think things over, but he knew—he knew—that she was gone. There was a great void inside him that said she was already far away from him.
‘She’s gone.’ Godric’s voice, still harsh with sleep, broke the silence. ‘She chose her family over you and she left to go home.’
Pain as sharp as a knife’s blade slashed through his chest. The man couldn’t have found better words with which to wound him. ‘You lie.’
Galan sneered, standing next to his father, ‘We have no need of lies when you’ve made certain she hates you. She found out who you really are and she left.’
Anger surged through Rolfe, so hot and furious that it propelled him across the glowing embers of the nearly dead fire. He swung his fist and knocked Galan to the ground. ‘What sort of brother are you to tell her about her friend in that way?’ he shouted. She should have been told in soft, gentle words that would take into account her deep grief.
Wiping the blood from his mouth, Galan smirked from where he’d fallen to the ground. ‘What sort of husband are you to have killed him?’
The words were meant to wound and they did. They hurt deeply, nearly bringing Rolfe to his knees with the agony. Stifling a groan of anguish, he ran back to the safety of Alvey’s walls hoping that he would find her there, but one quick search of the stables proved that Gyllir was not among the other horses.
Elswyth was gone.
He couldn’t move for a moment as that horrible reality pulsed through him. She must have really left for Banford. There was nowhere else she could go. She had chosen her family over him. The devastating pain of that was enough to make him stumble, his hand grasping for the wall.
‘Grim!’ Rolfe shouted for the boy who guarded the horses at night.
He poked his head over the railing of the loft, straw in his hair as he rubbed his eyes. ‘Aye, Rolfe?’
‘Have you seen my wife? Gyllir is missing.’
The boy’s eyes grew round and when he shook his head, Rolfe’s heart sank. He didn’t bother to berate the boy for not watching as well as he should have. There was no time. He had to get to Elswyth. Whether she had chosen her family or not, he needed to talk to her, to hear her tell him herself. By the gods, he might just bring her back anyway.
The blow of the horn sent another shard of terror through him. A blow this early meant something was gravely wrong. ‘Ready my horse,’ he ordered Grim and ran to the gates to figure out what was happening.
The Saxon Aldred stood heaving for breath,
his horse beside him lathered in sweat. The men on watch had gathered around them, listening.
‘What’s happened?’ Rolfe asked, and they relayed the story to him. There were Scots in the north. Aldred had come upon them during his routine ride through his assigned territory. The area Aldred described wasn’t directly on the path that Elswyth would take, but it was close enough to make Rolfe fear they might find her. Turning to the men of the night guard, he asked, ‘Did any of you see my wife leave on Gyllir?’
‘Aye,’ one of them said. ‘Around midnight she came and took the mare out.’
He stared at them, incredulous. ‘Not one of you stopped her?’
They looked at each other in discomfort before one said, ‘Should we have stopped her? Is she a prisoner?’
‘Nay, but she was alone at night. Did you not suspect anything? You could have sent for me.’
They shuffled in discomfort again. ‘She said that she was staying with her family tonight. We didn’t know that you had forbidden her to leave.’
He hadn’t forbidden her to leave, but neither should she have gone. He wanted to yell at the helplessness he felt. ‘Send for Jarl Vidar and Aevir. Tell them we leave within the hour.’
* * *
That hour seemed endless. If Rolfe could have gone, he would have, but he couldn’t simply ride out with the threat of the Scots lingering. They needed to assemble the warriors and prepare for battle. Finally, Rolfe had gathered his men and took Aevir, leaving before the allotted hour. He’d leave Vidar to take the other warriors in boats up the river. They’d make faster time and come from the west.
Rolfe set a brutal pace, the horses of more than forty warriors tearing up the ground in his fervour to find Elswyth. The Scots would have to come second to that. He’d never felt such an obsession in his life as he did now, needing to know that she was safe more than he needed his next breath. His only goal was to find her and take her in his arms. She could hate him for ever, but he was never letting her out of his sight again.
Marrying Her Viking Enemy Page 18