A Deal With Her Rebel Viking (HQR Historical)

by Michelle Styles

  He tangled his fingers with hers. ‘Stay with me. It will make the time go quicker.’

  A lump formed in her throat. She didn’t want to confess that while she wanted to find her sister, she also wanted to stay with him. Once they discovered her sister, then her time with Moir would end and she didn’t want it to. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to the life where everything revolved around duty and trying to make her father like her. She doubted if he ever could and that wasn’t her fault, that was his. Moir had made her see that she was worthy of respect if nothing else. But she also knew she would not be happy until her family was safe.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They followed the trampled-down bracken for what felt like hours the next morning, leading the horses through narrow passages. Occasionally someone spotted something else glinting in the dirt which gave everyone hope, but then the trail appeared to peter out in a glade.

  ‘I think they may have camped here,’ Moir said. ‘There are the remains of a fire.’

  ‘Warm or cold?’

  ‘A faint bit of warmth. It is possible the rain or the mist held them up or they were waiting for someone.’

  ‘We have no real idea if Elene has been captured, just that they are no longer at the hut.’ Ansithe pressed her lips together. She had almost given up hope of seeing Elene alive again. She had to have been captured by the Danes like her father and Leofwine had been. It must have been around here where her father met his misfortune.

  Ecgbert sat down on the ground, groaning. He loudly proclaimed that going further was impossible, that they needed to get back to court with the Northmen for the summer gathering or her father would die.

  Ansithe shook her fist under his nose. ‘Is there a problem? Paying Guthmann’s ransom demand will have to wait until my sister is found.’

  ‘You are prepared to betray your father?’ Ecgbert countered, shocked.

  ‘We have time.’ She glanced towards Moir. ‘We must have time!’

  ‘Hush, everyone,’ Bjartr said, holding up his hand. ‘I hear something.’

  A brief clanking noise like metal striking metal sounded.

  ‘It has stopped now,’ Ecgbert said with a frown. ‘It will be nothing. I wish they’d stayed where they said they’d be. I repeat, my lady, we don’t have time to waste, particularly on this young man’s fantasies.’

  Ansithe held her tongue with an effort. Shouting at the steward was not going to solve any of her problems.

  ‘It didn’t sound like nothing to me,’ Ansithe said. ‘It sounds human rather than an animal.’

  ‘I believe it came from over this way,’ Bjartr said. He rushed off before anyone could stop him.

  ‘He will be wrong and we will waste more time searching for him. Again,’ Ecgbert remarked with a sigh, sitting down on a fallen log.

  Moir gave him a sharp look. ‘At least the lad appears to be thinking about others rather than just himself. He will be back.’

  ‘We should stay together,’ Ansithe said. ‘Sound can travel oddly in the woods, particularly in the early morning, but I could have sworn I heard my sister’s voice.’

  ‘Careful.’ Moir put a hand under her elbow. ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’

  She leant into him and he instantly put his arm about her waist. She listened to his steady heartbeat while Ecgbert glowered at her. Her own heart was beating so fast that she considered it must surely jump out of her chest. She kept thinking that her sister must be hurt or worse. But with Moir’s arm about her she felt she could withstand anything.

  Bjartr returned, panting hard, to say that he’d found them about a quarter of a mile away.

  * * *

  Ansithe breathed again when they reached the small cave. Elene was there and seemingly unhurt. She was seated outside the cave, combing her hair and singing very off-key in a low voice while two warriors practised with swords.

  ‘We have been looking everywhere for you,’ Ansithe said. Relief combined with annoyance. She’d been all set to rescue Elene but her sister was alive and unhurt. Making loud noises when she should have been silent. ‘It is well that it was us and not someone else who discovered you with all the noise you are making.’

  Elene jumped up and rushed to her, throwing her arms about Ansithe’s waist. At her touch, all of her annoyance faded to nothing and Ansithe folded her little sister into her arms.

  ‘You came! I knew you would! My sister never gives up. After we left the hut, we were trying to get back to court, but got into a hopeless muddle. Round and round until each tree appeared the same. Eventually we discovered these caves.’

  ‘We followed the trail you left until we reached the glade,’ Ansithe said. ‘Then Bjartr followed the sound of the sword practice.’

  Elene rapidly explained everything that had happened since Ansithe had last seen her. It sounded as though the journey had started uneventfully, but had become an adventure. ‘The outlaws came again. They burnt the hut. We just got out in time. I knew if we ran, we would be followed, but I had no choice. We stumbled across this cave two days ago and thus far they have not attacked. I’m not sure why.’

  ‘Are you sure they are outlaws?’ Moir asked. ‘We found a Danish-made axe.’

  ‘I thought they were Danes from the way they spoke,’ one of the Wessex guards came forward. ‘But I couldn’t be certain. Lady Elene kept saying her sister would arrive, more than likely in the company of Northmen. I bow to her expertise.’

  Elene rapidly made the introductions. Of the eleven guards who had started, seven remained. Three of those had suffered terrible injuries. The man who spoke was the acting captain of the guard, Nerian.

  ‘We are grateful to your sister, my lady. Her quick thinking allowed us to escape or otherwise we would now be prisoners,’ Nerian said after Elene finished. ‘We understand we are to escort the Northmen back to the Mercian court.’

  ‘All that can wait,’ Ansithe said. ‘The important thing is to get you to a place of safety where your men can recover. That means getting you back to the manor at Baelle Heale.’

  ‘And the outlaws who attacked us? They are still out there, my lady.’

  She glanced at Moir. ‘They will be dealt with. I have a strong hunch about who they might be.’

  ‘We were certain you were them,’ Elene said. ‘We are fairly sure they know we are here.’

  Moir and Ansithe exchanged glances. ‘You think they are from around here.’

  ‘I think they are waiting for us to come out.’ Elene worried her bottom lip. ‘Ansithe, there was another thing. I thought I heard one of them mention Baelle Heale, but I could be mistaken. Why would anyone be interested in Baelle Heale?’

  ‘I have no idea. Maybe you misheard.’

  ‘At least one of them was Mercian, my lady,’ Nerian interjected. ‘I’d recognise that peculiar nasal twang anywhere. It is how you lot say certain words.’

  Mercian. The air went from Ansithe’s lungs in a great whoosh. She’d half-hoped they were part of Guthmann’s felag. They could have used them for ransom rather than the Northmen if they’d defeated and captured them. ‘Cynehild is well protected. She knows how to defend the manor. But I would feel better if we end this threat once and for all.

  ‘Their hideout will be close to here,’ Moir proclaimed. ‘Can I see your map again?’

  Ansithe produced the vellum she’d secreted away. ‘I am not sure it will help. I marked with a bit of charcoal where we were and how far we have gone until yesterday. I wanted to be able to find my way out, but...’

  Moir’s smile made her toes go warm. ‘The practicalities of my Valkyrie never cease to amaze me. And we can use this map. See, the caves are marked. We are far closer to Watling Street than I had thought.’

  Ansithe knew she should rebuke him for calling her his, but she couldn’t. She pointedly ignored Elene’s questioning look.

&
nbsp; Moir regarded her charcoal scratchings. ‘Some day, there will be proper maps, but this will do for now.’

  ‘They first attacked back at the clearing and then rapidly found the hut,’ Ansithe said in a rush. ‘But they didn’t follow Ecgbert when he made his way back to the manor. And no one has tried to attack us on our way here.’

  ‘I say that they will be operating there. It is near enough to the river and the road.’ Moir looked again at the map, seemingly oblivious to the interplay between Bjartr, Nerian and Elene. ‘I suspect they will be there.’ He pointed to a spot near the river. ‘Waiting for any traveller who happens to pass by.’

  ‘Can we go around them to get back to Baelle Heale? To warn Cynehild?’ Elene asked.

  Moir’s mouth became a tight white line. ‘I’ve no idea, but we will be vulnerable to any passing war band. We will have to move slowly because of the wounded. We have no idea what they intend to do or who they are.’

  Ansithe remembered his earlier disquiet about Guthmann, but it made no sense for him to attack Elene. Neither did it make any sense that they would be particularly interested in the manor when they must know the Northmen were going to the summer gathering to be ransomed. There had to be a solution to the problem. She studied the map carefully.

  ‘We have to do something. Remaining here for any length of time is asking to get attacked,’ she said.

  ‘You have a suggestion?’ Moir asked. ‘Lady Ansithe does have a brain for strategy unequalled by most men,’ he added to Nerian.

  Ansithe glowed under his praise.

  ‘Ecgbert was correct earlier,’ she said.

  The steward’s eyes bulged. ‘I was? I mean, of course I was, if you say so, Lady Ansithe.’

  ‘If you look at the map, it will be quicker to go to court than to return to Baelle Heale. We can cut down here and encounter the road.’ Ansithe pointed to where Watling Street was drawn on the map. Her heart constricted. Going to court meant saying goodbye to Moir even sooner.

  Moir frowned. ‘You are supposing the map is correct.’

  ‘My grandfather was meticulous. He wanted to know precisely where his outlying farms and fields were. He had lands near here.’ She pointed to several smaller portions of woods. ‘It could be they are known locally as Baelle Heale lands still. It would explain why the outlaws spoke of the manor.’

  ‘Those farms were sold back when I first became your father’s steward,’ Ecgbert remarked. ‘Your father liked to have his farms closer in.’

  Ansithe’s neck eased slightly. Ecgbert was proving useful after all. There was a logical reason why those outlaws would mention Baelle Heale. And there would be a logical reason why they had had a Danish axe, something which did not have anything to do with Guthmann and his feud with Moir.

  ‘It appears continuing on to the court will be easier than returning.’

  ‘Going to court is the best suggestion I’ve heard,’ Nerian said. ‘It solves a number of problems. I agree with Lady Ansithe and her steward.’

  ‘Before we do that, we need to destroy this nest of outlaws whoever they are.’ Moir stepped forward. ‘They will only grow and prey on the innocent if they’re not dealt with. Ensuring the Lady Ansithe and the Lady Elene’s home remains safe can only happen when the outlaws are captured or killed. We are only supposing that they might have been talking about fields which were sold years ago. We can’t know for certain.’

  Nerian put his hand in Moir’s. ‘Agreed. I want to have another go at them, make sure they understand that Wessex is far from a weak country.’

  ‘With my men as well, I believe we can do that.’

  Nerian nodded his agreement.

  ‘I have a plan about how we might entice these outlaws to appear. We need someone to be the bait,’ Moir said.

  Ansithe bade the butterflies in her stomach to be gone. Moir had faced battle many times before and survived. After they parted, he would face danger again and she would not know about it. And she knew deep in her heart that it was the knowing about it and that he had decided to risk his life for her family which made it so hard to bear. She knew she had to be a part of it and not simply stay with the injured as she should.

  ‘I think I should be the bait, the enticement to get them to attack,’ she said. ‘Ecgbert and I together, if you think they might not attack a lone woman, but I can do it.’

  Moir’s face became like thunder. ‘That is not happening.’

  ‘It would be better, my lady, if you and your steward stayed with the more severely injured men,’ Nerian suggested.

  ‘No.’ Her quiet word silenced everyone. ‘Ultimately I have earned the right to help. It is my felag unless you wish to fight me for it, Moir.’

  She stood there in the tremendous silence, waiting.

  Moir’s fingers closed around her upper arms. He leant so close their noses almost touched. ‘I want to protect you. If I’m thinking about your safety while I’m trying to fight, I don’t know what will happen.’

  ‘I go with you, Moir, or this does not happen at all.’

  After a tense pause, he bowed his head. ‘I yield to you, Ansithe, but if nothing happens, you will go to the summer gathering unarmed.’

  * * *

  Moir watched Ansithe as she climbed a bluff after they had finally come to an agreement on the plan to trap the outlaws. Lady Elene along with Ecgbert had shown sense and stayed, tending the most severely wounded of the Wessex warriors.

  Instead Ansithe had climbed to the top of the bluff to get a better view, along with him and the rest of the warriors, ready to sweep down if the attack happened on the men who she’d agreed would be the bait for the trap instead of her.

  Moir fervently prayed his instincts were wrong and the outlaws would not appear.

  The more he thought about it, the more sense it made for them all to go to court. Palni could travel there when he was well and Bjartr would be back under his father’s care. Although under Ansithe’s guidance on this trip, he already seemed to have become far more mature.

  But having Ansithe at court with him meant it might be easier to arrange their future. He could speak to her father...

  The cracking of a twig echoed over the small wooded valley and Ansithe froze.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ she whispered, her hand going for her bow.

  ‘It will probably be a boar,’ Nerian the Wessex captain grumbled. ‘Women always jump at the slightest sound. You should have stayed with Lady Elene, my lady.’

  ‘Lady Ansithe has a cool head and good aim,’ Bjartr said from where he brought up the rear. ‘I’d trust her instinct over yours any day.’

  ‘Just so, Bjartr,’ Moir said. Ansithe gave Moir and Bjartr a grateful look. ‘Our lady is a better warrior than most other warriors I’ve encountered. She has earned her place on this expedition.’

  The Wessex captain’s mouth turned down in disapproval.

  ‘Far too steady for a boar.’ When the second and third twigs cracked, with a practised hand she reached for an arrow and notched it to the bowstring.

  Moir peered into the deepening shadows. He thought he could see the shape of a man. He blinked and the shape had gone.

  The birds ceased their twittering and the breeze died.

  Moir waited another heartbeat. The shadows shifted again. Shapes of men moved. He hoped they hadn’t noticed the group on the bluff. They headed straight for where the men who formed the bait rested.

  Ansithe’s brows drew together and her jaw jutted forward in concentration. His Valkyrie. His heart lurched. Some time in the last few days, he’d gone from thinking of Ansithe as being separate from him and instead considering her as belonging to him. ‘Remain here.’

  ‘I will be of more use to you nearer the action.’

  ‘You will have a better view from up here. That’s an order. If the tide turns against us, you are to immediatel
y return to your sister and make your way back to Baelle Heale to warn your family. You must do that for me.’

  She nodded as if she understood.

  Nerian gave the pre-agreed signal to show his men were in place, preventing Moir from extracting a verbal promise from her. Within the matter of a few breaths, his men had assembled. Moir noted with pride that Bjartr was there straight away. They moved swiftly down the slope, leaving Ansithe behind. As they reached the clearing, Moir jerked his head. The men whistled under their breath. The outlaws had been unable to resist and were about to start looting the injured men.

  When the attackers reached the bait, Moir sprang the trap, racing down the few remaining yards so that he was the first one to reach the attackers. He shouted his war cry.

  At the sound of Moir’s voice, the men from Wessex who had been lying on the ground, pretending to be injured, rose in attack formation.

  The outlaws halted, confused. One met Moir’s focused gaze. A hard knot of fear settled in Moir’s stomach. He had to get to them before Ansithe felt a need to take part in this. He wanted to keep her safe and out of harm’s way. He wished he’d argued harder for her to stay with her sister, but she was determined to play her part—as a watcher.

  Nerian shouted. One of the outlaws had driven him to his knees and his helm had come flying off. Moir reached him in two strides.

  His battleaxe hit the outlaw’s sword before it could reach the Wessex captain’s throat. He knew the force should have sent the sword spinning from the man’s hand, but he blocked it.

  Moir frowned and redoubled his efforts.

  This time the sword spun from the man’s hand. Moir dealt with him.

  A sudden shout made him turn his head. Bjartr. Moir prepared to run. But his erstwhile charge was in the thick of it, swinging his sword left and right. The lad appeared to have found his courage.

  Moir smiled, losing concentration for a heartbeat.

  A blade cut into his shield arm. He turned and saw the leader of the outlaws standing in front of him. A Dane if ever Moir had seen one. The blade dangled over him. Time slowed to a crawl. He knew the next thrust would be to his heart. His arms ached. Raising his shield any higher was beyond him.