* * *
Ansithe twisted the hunk of straw and tried to concentrate on repairing the skep. She’d gone to the apiary after Cedric departed to recover her calm.
It angered her that he’d implied Moir was untrustworthy, but he was correct. People would gossip and she had no idea what her father would do when he learnt about their friendship.
‘Once again, I discover you here,’ Moir said. ‘I’ve spoken to Bjartr—’
‘I want to speak with you as well.’ Ansithe put the straw down.
Moir stood near her. It took all her self-control not to lean against him and request that he cradle her even closer to him. She laced her fingers together.
He watched her intently, much as a cat might watch a mouse. ‘Is there a problem? Bjartr has faithfully promised not to leave the others again. However, he did save your nephew and that needs to be taken into consideration.’
‘About what happened earlier. Out in the woods.’ A lump formed in her throat, forcing her to stop, but she had to explain. He deserved an explanation of why it could not be repeated. ‘It feels wrong somehow.’
‘Is this because of what that Mercian lord said? What we shared together had nothing to do with how my men are treated and everything to do with my desire for you.’
Ansithe tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and focused on a spot beyond his head. His desire for her. No mention of his feelings. Desire faded. She had seen that happen many times before. Her stepson and his mistresses. Her father and her stepmother. She was right to end it now before her heart got hurt.
‘What I am trying to say is—that thing which was between us? It must be in the past. A beautiful dream, but it must not happen again.’
He pinned her with shrewd eyes. ‘And if I don’t want it to be in the past?’
‘It doesn’t matter what you or I want.’
‘It only matters what people are saying,’ he said in a flat voice and she knew she had put it badly. ‘I thought you didn’t care about what other people thought. It is one of the things I liked most about you.’
Her throat became thick with unshed tears. She waited two heartbeats and regained control. ‘I must be able to think about what is best for this estate, instead of...well...other things.’
She hated that her voice caught on the last word and rose sharply. Her entire traitorous body wanted him to take her in his arms and hold her tight, but that would cause far too many complications and he’d rapidly realise that her words were all lies.
His eyes became wary. ‘Other things?’
‘I’m not asking you to make any promises,’ she whispered, backing up so her thighs hit the stand where she had balanced the skeps. ‘I’m asking you to understand. We both have duties that go beyond our desires. You said that I could end it if it was what I wanted, and I must. I can’t betray my family. Not again. Not ever.’
His hand dropped to his side. ‘I keep my promises as best I can.’
A shout prevented Ansithe from answering. ‘Someone needs me. My duty—’
‘Duty or fear?’
She wondered if he could see right down to that deep part of her and knew exactly how much her growing feelings for him scared her. ‘My duty to my family has to come first.’
He put his hand on her arm. His breath fanned her cheek, making her body tremble. ‘We will continue this conversation later, Kyrie. You and I...do not have to end because someone has tried to make you feel small.’
* * *
Following the sound of her name being screamed, Ansithe went rapidly into the main hall. Cynehild was seated in front of the banked fire, tears streaming down her face.
All the workers and servants had assembled, crowding the hall, and their facial expressions ranged from stunned to out-and-out grief. Ansithe’s insides twisted.
Cynehild held Wulfgar so close the boy was squirming and pushing her away. Her maid looked on with an anxious expression, but Cynehild appeared determined to hang on to the boy. Ansithe’s heart clenched. It was too late. They must have had word from Guthmann who had grown tired of waiting. Her father and Leofwine were never going to return.
She gave a low moan.
‘Breathe,’ Moir said in an undertone, his fingers supporting her back. ‘You will help no one if you panic.’
Ansithe looked up at the soot-blackened rafters and attempted to regain control of her emotions. He was right—she was panicking before she knew the true facts. ‘What is wrong? You all appear to have seen a ghost.’
‘You are finally here, Ansithe,’ Cynehild gasped, gulping back her tears.
‘What is wrong?’ she asked. ‘Cedric hasn’t returned, has he?’
‘Elene has been kidnapped. That is what is wrong,’ Cynehild screamed and Wulfgar began to cry in loud shuddering sobs. ‘I need you and your bow, Ansithe. You must get Elene back immediately!’
The words hung in the air and Ansithe wanted the floor to open and swallow her. She’d inadvertently let her sister down. ‘I was in the apiary,’ she whispered.
‘Why can’t it be like it was in the days before the Heathen Horde arrived?’ Cynehild wailed.
‘I will find Elene, Cynehild.’
‘We both will,’ Moir said, stepping forward. He made a salute to Cynehild. ‘My men and I volunteer to help rescue the Lady Elene from her plight. I owe her a life debt for helping with my men that first night.’
Ansithe pressed a fist into her forehead. Elene was in danger, danger which Ansithe alone could not rescue her from. ‘Show me the ransom demand. How do we know it is Elene?’
Cynehild pointed to the fire where Ecgbert, the steward, lurked, warming his hands with a peevish expression on his face. ‘He was there and he told us.’
‘Where did the attack happen? What went on? Why was she unprotected? Why did she send you back alone rather than returning with you? Why did you allow your lady to stay behind alone?’
Ecgbert wrung his hands. ‘Where to start, my lady, that is the problem.’
‘Start from when you arrived at court. Leave nothing out.’
‘We made it to the Mercian court all right,’ Ecgbert said in a nasal whine. His face showed signs of light bruising, but nothing too serious. ‘We had started out back here again when we were attacked. The Horde. I am certain of it. A good three days’ march from here.’
‘And the guards?’ Moir asked. ‘Did they fight or run off? Where did it happen? Did you notice what they wore?’
Ecgbert flushed a deeper red. ‘What gives you the right to question my story, heathen?’
‘This man has given his oath to me,’ Ansithe said between clenched teeth. ‘Be civil.’
Ecgbert looked her up and down. ‘Then the stories are true, my lady—you are in the thrall of a Northman. It can only end badly.’
‘If you took the time to visit Lord Cedric instead of venturing straight here with your news, it will end badly—for you,’ Ansithe retorted.
‘I agree with my sister,’ Cynehild said, rising to link arms with her. ‘Tell the tale and then we will see what is to be done with you.’
The steward spread his hands upwards as if imploring the heavens to give him strength. ‘Most of the guards ran once we encountered trouble. They were from Wessex, you see. Those who remained fought, but without much vigour, if you get my meaning. The Danes retreated thanks to my brilliant tactic of screaming like a banshee. Elene sent me to get help while she stayed with the wounded. She was in an extremely bossy mood when I left—ordering the warriors about as though she was the lady of a great warrior. Lady Elene considered it would be quicker for me to come here than to return to court and the summer gathering. She has become a force of nature, just as you are, Lady Ansithe,’ he concluded with a sigh as if it were something to be ashamed of.
Ansithe whispered a silent prayer of thanksgiving. Despite Cynehild’s fears, Elene had not
been kidnapped, but had remained to help the wounded. It was an important distinction. Elene had done the right thing in sending Ecgbert here rather than having him return to court.
‘Why did you come here rather than returning to court?’ Moir asked, lifting a brow. ‘Surely it was quicker to go back there.’
Ecgbert raised his fists. ‘Because if anyone can rescue Lady Elene, it is her sister, Northman. Them at court, they wouldn’t believe me, see. I’m not one of them. I’m not a Mercian warrior. I’m just a steward whose father was a blacksmith. They’d say there was no hope for Lady Elene, but Lady Ansithe wouldn’t say that—she’d say I have a plan. Let’s get Lady Elene home. That’s why!’
A loud cheer went up. Ansithe examined the rushes. She had been ready to be extremely angry with Ecgbert because he had gone to Cedric first, but he had returned here with good reason. It was wonderful that Ecgbert had such faith in her. She’d never guessed.
She went over to the iron-bound chest and withdrew her grandfather’s precious parchment map of the area. She unrolled it on the table. ‘Where exactly did it happen? Where is Elene now?’
The steward pointed with his finger. ‘In these woods, just after that bend in the river, I reckon. They were going to make for a disused charcoal burner’s hut that we’d passed.’
Ansithe nodded. The point was indeed about three days’ walk from where the manor stood. Elene was sensible and she did have a few warriors with her, even if they were injured. She’d know how to survive until Ansithe could reach her. She wished she knew why they had been attacked. The group should have been large enough not to be bothered.
‘Do you know who they were? The ones who attacked?’
‘They spoke like the Northmen. Maybe.’ He scratched his ear. ‘But different somehow. They weren’t from Mercia, that’s all I know.’
‘The Northmen rather than the Danes?’ Moir asked.
‘They all sound the same to me.’ The steward’s mouth became a tight white line. ‘You all want to murder me in my bed that’s all I know.’
‘Were they well provisioned?’ Moir asked, leaning forward, his eyes suddenly alert. ‘How many of them were there?’
‘How am I supposed to know?’ the steward asked with a peevish note returning to his voice. ‘It is probably some of your comrades come to murder peaceful folk going about their business. We should ask Cedric for help. He will welcome the chance to help. He told me...’
‘So you did go to him first,’ Ansithe said, struggling to contain her sudden rage. Even after her capture of the Northmen, and despite his words just now, the steward refused to see her as capable. ‘You did not come straight here, to me.’
The steward thrust out his chest. ‘I encountered him on the road. I tried not to say too much to him, but he asked about the Lady Elene. And there never has been any reason to hide things from him.’
‘Interesting that your precious Cedric did not ride back with you to see you home safely,’ Ansithe said, crossing her arms.
Ecgbert’s gaze flickered everywhere but on her face. ‘He told me about your pet Northman and that was why his help was now unwelcome here. He expects you to come and ask for his aid on bended knee, my lady.’
‘It will be a cold day in hell before I ever ask him for anything,’ Ansithe muttered and tried to focus on the parchment. She could not go alone—that would be suicide.
‘My men and I will go and fetch the survivors,’ Moir said into the silence. ‘They are hardened warriors, the sort who will not be fazed by outlaws. We will find your sister and bring her back safely. You have no need to rely on your neighbour.’
The breath went out of her lungs in a great whoosh. Despite everything, Moir had volunteered. ‘Thank you.’
His fierce gaze caught and held hers. It felt as though he had wrapped his strong arms about her and held her tight.
‘Ansithe,’ Cynehild said in a quiet voice, ‘you are in charge here. It is your decision, but I believe you should go as well. After what happened with Wulfgar earlier, I am not minded to trust Cedric either. And I would hope, Ecgbert, that you will not say I am in the thrall to any Northman as my love for Leofwine is beyond question.’
The steward stood, open-mouthed. ‘You are seriously entertaining what he says? That is a Northman. He is your hostage. You shouldn’t listen to him. He will use this as a chance to escape and then where will we be? You would be much better to go to Cedric. You just need to say that you made a mistake. It is by far the best option, my ladies. You see if...’
Ansithe firmed her jaw. ‘While you have been gone, that Northman has repaired the farm buildings,’ she said, listing off the various jobs that the steward had sworn he had no time to complete. The steward began spluttering. ‘He has done more in a few days than you managed in the whole of last year. Why shouldn’t I trust him?’
The steward flushed and tugged at the neck of his tunic. ‘There are reasons why I did that. Your father—’
Ansithe held up her hand, stopping his words. ‘Once my father returns, you may deal with him and explain how this estate has fallen into such disrepair. Why you refused to listen to me.’
‘Unless you get the Northmen to the court in time, your father will not be freed and they will escape without guards,’ Ecgbert predicted. ‘The gold Lady Elene received for selling the weapons was enough for the guards and not much else.’
‘First let us get Elene back and then we will worry about claiming a ransom for our hostages.’ Ansithe fixed Ecgbert with her gaze. ‘You returned because you trusted my judgement. I have to believe we will get them there.’
‘Did the outlaws see you escape? Where did you hide?’ Moir asked the steward. ‘Were you allowed to go free as bait? Will they be lying in wait for us?’
The steward rolled his eyes. ‘I know how to travel with caution, Northman. My loyalty to this family is beyond question.’
‘We will have to trust that Elene is somewhere safe,’ Ansithe said, making sure her voice carried to all parts of the hall. ‘If she has been kidnapped in the time it took for Ecgbert to make his way here, there may well be a ransom demand. Cynehild can deal with that and stall until we return. But right now, I must believe we will find her and the men she is trying to protect safe and well. Elene is intelligent. She won’t take any chances.’
Her words sounded like the pleading of a child. The desire to lay her head against Moir’s chest and feel his arms about her shot through her. She ignored it and instead she concentrated on keeping her shoulders straight. Cynehild was the clinging vine, not her. She was the sensible one whom people relied on. She had spent the time since her mother had died learning how to be that person.
‘We will leave as soon as is practicable,’ she said to Moir. ‘You, your men, Ecgbert and me.’
‘Will you send us out to face your enemy without protection?’ Moir asked.
Ansithe glanced towards her sister, who nodded. ‘You shall have what weapons we have, but Palni must stay here. He is not fit to travel. He will remain safe, regardless of what happens to you.’
His eyes hardened to ice. And she knew she had just irrevocably killed the tender shoots of friendship between them. ‘I thank you for the consideration, my lady,’ he said drily.
Chapter Eleven
Moir struggled to act normally when he went into the infirmary to let Palni know what was happening, but he felt as though a great big hole had developed inside his chest where his heart had been. Ansithe wanted to end things between them. Or rather she thought she did. It was up to him to try to persuade her otherwise. They could be together for the time they had left.
It might be easier if he let her go, but he knew he couldn’t and that frightened him. What if he made an offer for her and she refused him?
Palni glanced up when Moir cleared his throat. The priest seemed greatly embarrassed that he’d been caught fraternising with the enemy
, but Palni showed little remorse.
‘Am I interrupting something?’ Moir asked, pushing the hurt from Ansithe’s cold words away from him. ‘It appears as if Palni is losing as usual.’
Father Oswald stood up. ‘We were having a friendly conversation. It helps to pass the time. Boredom is the great enemy.’
‘We speak about religion,’ Palni said. ‘That priest makes some interesting observations, things I’d never thought of before. He makes me see the world in a whole new fashion. It is as if I have been reborn into the light.’
‘Does he?’ Moir pressed his lips together. If the situation wasn’t so serious, the fact that Palni, the die-hard follower of Thor, was interested in Christianity would amuse him no end. ‘We must speak. There have been developments.’
‘Something is up or otherwise you’d be busy romancing the Valkyrie,’ Palni said, struggling but failing to rise.
‘Our paths collide every now and then. I’m not romancing her.’ He pinned his friend with his gaze. ‘Remember that. I will fight any man who speaks ill of Lady Ansithe.’
‘It is the first time I have heard you defend a woman to a friend. Intriguing.’
‘I have no time for this.’ Moir rapidly explained what was going on with the ambush and Elene’s presumed kidnap. The priest threw his hands up in the air and started muttering about the saints preserving them. Moir gave him a hard glance and he quietened.
‘You are going after her and you want me to come too,’ Palni said, trying but failing to rise. ‘The Valkyrie has given her permission.’
‘I have to, but not you.’ Moir looked at his friend. ‘You would only slow us down, my friend.’
‘If you needed me, I would go. I always will.’
‘I know what can happen to women who get taken. Lady Elene helped to save our lives in the aftermath of the raid. The fool of a steward thinks there will be a ransom demand, but I think we have a chance of finding her alive and well. Lady Ansithe believes me. She will be travelling with me.’
A smile tugged at Palni’s mouth. ‘She intends to hold you to your oath. Lady Ansithe is a good woman. Keep her safe. Things like this take time.’
A Deal With Her Rebel Viking (HQR Historical) Page 15