Sick at heart, she watched him turn away and rejoin his men, mastering the urge to call him back. He would not come in any case. Even if he had not been eager to leave before, her words would have driven him away. She had meant to control her feelings, but in the end all her good intentions had counted for nothing. Now she had alienated him completely. Most likely he would never return and she had only herself to blame.
Once she saw him look back in her direction, but he did not smile and made no sign of acknowledgement. Unbidden, water welled in her eyes. Through blurred vision she watched as the whole contingent moved away towards the gate, joined by the miscellaneous group of spectators who had temporarily abandoned their work to see them off. It was not an everyday occurrence and Anwyn knew that many of them would walk as far as the bay to watch the Sea Wolf sail. She ran to the palisade and up the wooden stair to the rampart, watching the long procession file out. Among the crowd she glimpsed Eyvind and Ina. The child looked back and, locating her, waved. She acknowledged it. Then he turned away and the host marched on. Anwyn’s gaze found the tall figure at its head and rested there.
‘Goodbye, my love,’ she murmured. ‘May you fare well.’
The host had long disappeared from view before she left the rampart.
Wulfgar had no recollection of the march to the ship, nor did he speak to anyone on the way. His mind was preoccupied with his parting conversation with Anwyn. Her attack had been so sudden and unexpected that it left him feeling strangely shaken. When the initial shock had worn off what replaced it was sadness and then anger. It really wasn’t how he had wanted them to part, but he was not to blame there. She had chosen the method.
He watched as his men began to stow their gear aboard the Sea Wolf and then turned to Eyvind who, with Ina, had been following the proceedings closely. The child regarded him with solemn eyes.
‘Can I come with you?’
‘No,’ replied Wulfgar. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘When I’m older can I?’
‘When you’re older.’
Eyvind swallowed hard. ‘You will come back for me?’
‘I’ll come back. In the meantime I shall expect you to practise your sword craft and listen carefully to what Ina tells you.’
‘I will. I promise.’
‘Good.’ Wulfgar paused. ‘Since you have learned more about weapons you are ready to have this.’
He reached into his sleeve and drew out a small knife, a beautifully crafted miniature replica of his own dagger, in a leather sheath. Eyvind stared at the knife and then darted a quizzical glance at the man who held it.
Wulfgar nodded. ‘Take it.’
Cautiously, as though afraid it might vanish on the instant, the boy reached out his hand and closed it round the hilt. Then he drew the blade from the sheath and gasped, examining it with shining eyes.
‘It’s a beauty! Is it really for me?’
‘Aye, it is. I had the smith make it for you. The blade is sharp so have a care.’
Eyvind looked up at him, his cheeks pink with pleasure. ‘Thank you, Father. It’s wonderful.’
Wulfgar stared at him and then glanced over his head at Ina. However, the old warrior’s face was expressionless. Apparently unaware of his verbal slip, the child made a couple of experimental passes with the knife, admiring the effect of light on the polished metal. Then he carefully sheathed it.
‘Will you help me fasten it on my belt?’
Wulfgar cleared his throat. ‘Of course I will.’
He waited while the child removed the little wooden sword and handed it to Ina for safekeeping. Then, going down on one knee so that he was at the child’s height, he unlatched the small belt, sliding it through the loops on the back of the sheath and then refastening the buckle. Eyvind squinted down, admiring the effect.
‘It looks well.’
Wulfgar nodded. ‘It does.’
‘I shall wear it always.’ Eyvind looked at their companion. ‘See, Ina. Isn’t it fine?’
‘Very fine,’ the old warrior agreed. ‘It is a generous gift. You are fortunate.’
‘Now we can both protect Drakensburgh, can’t we?’
‘That we can, my boy.’
Eyvind retrieved his wooden sword and offered it, hilt first, to Wulfgar. ‘This is for you, so you won’t forget your promise to come back.’
Wulfgar took the offering and tucked it into his own belt. Somehow he managed a smile. ‘I won’t forget.’
Before he could say more a voice hailed him from across the sand.
‘We’re ready when you are, my lord.’
‘Coming.’ Wulfgar briefly clasped Eyvind’s shoulder, and then nodded to Ina. ‘Fare you well.’
Then he turned and strode away down the strand to the waiting ship.
The old man and the boy watched as the crew climbed aboard. Then the oars dipped and rose and the Sea Wolf began to turn, heading away down the coast. As she grew smaller the groups of spectators turned away and began to head back towards Drakensburgh. Having taken one last look at the departing ship, Ina and Eyvind set off after them. No one noticed the group of mounted warriors forming up on the far side of the heath.
The first inkling of their presence was the muffled thudding of hoofs on turf. Ina glanced over his shoulder. The riders were closing fast. Sunlight glinted on helmets and mail. He frowned. Then he caught sight of the drawn swords and lowered spear points. A low oath escaped him. Thrusting Eyvind behind him, he called a warning to the rest and drew his blade.
Almost all their companions were unarmed save for small belt knives. Some started to run. Those few that had weapons turned to face the foe. Then the first horses were upon them and the air filled with cries of pain and terror. The slaughter was swift and ruthless and in moments the turf was littered with bodies. Ina accounted for two of the raiders before three more closed in. He fought valiantly, but he was on foot and outnumbered and his defiance was short-lived. The first blow cut deep into his arm, the next into his side. He staggered, glaring at his enemies. Then he recognised their leader.
‘I might have guessed.’
Grymar’s lip curled. ‘You grow careless, old man.’
‘Better careless than treacherous, you cowardly dog.’
The smile faded. ‘You’ve just delivered your last insult.’
Grymar spurred forwards, sword upraised. Ina tried to block the downwards blow, but pain and blood loss had weakened him and the deadly blade broke through his defence and found its mark. Eyvind screamed and, heedless of milling horses and slashing weapons, ran to the old man and fell on his knees.
‘Ina! Ina!’
The old warrior made no reply. Eyvind sobbed. Then a large hand seized him by the scruff of his tunic and dragged him upright, jerking him off his feet. He kicked and fought. His captor cuffed him hard across the ear. Seconds later he was tossed face down across the pommel of a saddle. Grymar shouted to his companions and, with that, all the horsemen turned their mounts and galloped away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As the Sea Wolf rounded the rocky headland the bay disappeared from view. Wulfgar’s jaw tightened and he looked away, his gaze turning back to the coastline now stretching away off their starboard side. It was a fine view and ordinarily he would have enjoyed it, as he’d have enjoyed the salt-sharp tang in the breeze and the movement of the ship beneath his feet. This morning the green water was the colour of Anwyn’s eyes. That thought begot others, intimate and sensual, and for a moment he was overwhelmed by a sensation of loss. It was replaced by anger for the memory of their parting was bitter and it smarted like a wound. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his former mental balance, to relocate the focus that had guided him these past five years, but somehow it had vanished like a landmark in fog. The resulting confusion was disquieting and created a feeling that was much like self-disgust.
‘A good day for it, my lord.’
He glanced at Hermund, manning the steering oar beside him. ‘Good enough.’
/> ‘If the weather holds we’ll be laughing.’
‘No doubt.’
Hermund nodded towards the small cove in the middle distance. ‘That’s where we pick up the smoked herring, my lord.’
‘Right.’
‘Man said he’d have it ready and waiting.’
‘Good.’
‘We can be in and out in half an hour.’
Wulfgar grunted, but vouchsafed no reply. Instead he fixed his gaze on the cove. However, he saw nothing of the coastline. All he could see was the hurt on Anwyn’s face as he turned to go. The recollection twisted like a knife and cut more deeply, though not as deeply as her words. If you truly cared…you wouldn’t leave. Wulfgar shuddered and blinked. The cove reappeared in his line of vision.
Hermund regarded him with mild concern. ‘Are you all right, my lord?’
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘You had an odd look on your face.’
Wulfgar frowned. ‘Never mind the look on my face. Just steer the damned ship.’
The words burst out almost before he was aware, but as soon as they were spoken he regretted them. He sighed and let out a long breath.
‘Forgive me, Hermund. I’m out of sorts, that’s all.’
‘Forget it. ’Tis no matter.’
Wulfgar smiled wryly. ‘I know of no one else who would put up with my ill humour as you do.’
‘It’s understandable,’ said Hermund. ‘It’s never easy to leave your woman behind.’
The accuracy of the remark hit hard and Wulfgar had the strange sensation of having been here before. Except that this was different; this time the woman knew who he was; he had warned her from the start what she could expect from him.
‘I was just the same,’ Hermund continued, ‘but a good skirmish would always sort me out.’
Wulfgar’s gaze went to the trackless waste of water ahead, yet try as he might he could not regain the feeling of anticipation it had once inspired. The notion of joining Rollo should have filled him with enthusiasm, but it did not, any more than the thought of dying in someone else’s battle. Your death will not change the past. Anwyn was right, but his death wish hadn’t been about changing the past; it was about losing the present burden of guilt. Perhaps it’s time to forgive yourself… His throat tightened. It was too late to ask forgiveness of Freya and Toki. What excuses did you fob them off with? He grimaced. What hurts is your guilt. The scorn in those words was lacerating, but it did not detract from their truth. Nor could he pretend things were different this time; only the excuses were new.
When he entered into marriage with Anwyn had he not already prepared his exit strategy, dressing it in the guise of openness and honesty? This is what I am prepared to give and no more. Take it or leave it. I am absolved of all other responsibilities. Yet she had stinted nothing; had given all of herself; had trusted him. Nor was she alone in that trust. His fingers closed on the little wooden sword in his belt. So you will remember your promise. The feeling of self-disgust intensified. He was seven and twenty, but in truth no different from the selfish, headstrong youth he had been before; ignoring everything but his own desires; taking the affection of others for granted as if it were somehow his due. He was brave enough in battle, but a coward in all the ways that mattered. I will not swear my undying love…because then, as Anwyn had rightly said, he would have had to offer all of himself, unconditionally and for ever, and he had not been man enough to do it. To love was to be vulnerable, to risk hurts far worse than any battle wound, and that was why he feared it. Wulfgar’s knuckles whitened. Instead of facing his fear he had abandoned those who needed him most and left other men to shoulder his responsibilities.
The knowledge cut like a blade. Time to forgive himself? If there was ever to be forgiveness it was going to have to be earned. He looked at Hermund.
‘Turn the ship around. I’m going back.’
Anwyn tried to concentrate on the torn sleeve she was mending but her mind refused to co-operate. It was filled instead with thoughts of Wulfgar. Their last words had been spoken in anger, words already bitterly regretted. His absence had left a great void that nothing else could fill. Already she could see the long years of aching emptiness stretching ahead with no possibility of solace, save for Eyvind. He was all that remained to her now.
The entrance of a guard roused her from these sombre reflections. ‘My lady, Lord Ingvar is at the gate.’
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘Ingvar, here?’
‘Aye, my lady.’
Disbelief turned swiftly to unease. ‘Has he brought an army?’
‘No, a small escort only. Some half-a-dozen men.’
‘What does he want?’
‘He says he desires to speak with you, my lady. Shall we admit him?’
‘Just him. His men remain outside.’
‘He may intend you harm, my lady.’
‘Then insist he hand over his weapons first.’
The guard bowed and hurried away to the gate. Jodis shook her head.
‘After all that has happened, Ingvar will surely not have the gall to ride in here unarmed and alone.’
‘He’d be taking a serious risk,’ replied Anwyn. ‘There must be a good reason for it. I suppose I’d better find out what it is.’
A short time later the gate swung open and a lone horseman rode through. He was unarmed, having clearly anticipated that his weapons would be removed if he wore them. Anwyn stood alone before the hall, watching the rider approach. He held the horse to a walk, apparently quite at his ease, and looking for all the world as though it were a casual social call. Anwyn’s unease deepened.
Ingvar reined in a few yards away and for a moment neither of them spoke, each taking the measure of the other. Then he smiled faintly.
‘You look well, Anwyn.’
‘What do you want, Ingvar? Why have you come here?’
‘Direct as always. Well, perhaps you are right. Under the circumstances we can probably dispense with the social niceties.’
‘For once we agree.’
He smiled, though the expression stopped well short of his eyes. ‘I note that the Sea Wolf sailed this morning. In truth, if the Viking had any care for you he would not have gone.’
‘Do not presume to judge him.’
‘He does not deserve your loyalty.’
‘I give my loyalty where I see fit,’ she replied coldly.
‘He does not deserve you at all—or the farewell party his leaving attracted. Your son was among their number, wasn’t he?’
Her stomach wallowed. ‘What is your interest in my son?’
‘Considerable, I assure you.’ He paused. ‘He is now under my protection, you see.’
Anwyn blenched. ‘Where is he? What have you done with him?’
‘Have no fear. He is quite safe.’
‘What is it that you want, Ingvar? Tell me.’
‘What I have always wanted, Anwyn.’
‘Speak plainly. What is your price for Eyvind’s life?’
‘You are,’ he replied.
‘My life for his? I will give it gladly.’
‘A noble sentiment and one that does you credit. However, that is not what I intend.’
‘Then what do you want?’
‘You will renounce your marriage to the Viking and you will marry me. Thereafter all Drakensburgh lands will be amalgamated with mine.’
Anwyn felt as though she had been turned to stone. ‘And if I refuse?’
‘Then you will not see your son alive again.’
‘And if I give the order you will not leave here alive.’
Ingvar nodded. ‘Quite possibly, but then word of my death will precipitate his.’
She realised she ought to have foreseen it. ‘That is why you rode in so confidently.’
‘Just so. However, no one need die.’
‘Please, Ingvar. I beg you, let him go.’
‘You have one hour to decide.’ The gold-brown eyes burned into hers. ‘Yo
u will come alone to Beranhold and present yourself at my gate. If not…’
Anwyn shook her head. ‘You could not be so cruel.’
‘I am not used to jest, Anwyn. If you do not come I shall send you earnest of my seriousness—one of Eyvind’s fingers, or an ear perhaps. His death will not be swift.’ He paused, seeing the tears on her cheeks. ‘But, if you do as I ask, he shall not be harmed in any way. It’s your choice.’
‘What choice?’
He gathered his reins. ‘One hour, Anwyn. I’ll be waiting.’
With that he turned his horse and rode slowly back towards the gate. It swung open and he continued on through. Moments later she heard the sound of hoofbeats as he and his escort rode away.
Wulfgar and his crew were close to shore when first they saw the circling scavenger birds.
‘What is it that so interests them?’ asked Thrand.
‘Dead sheep or cow probably,’ replied Asulf.
‘Must have died suddenly then.’
‘How come?’
Thrand sighed. ‘Well, it wasn’t there when we left or we’d have noticed the birds then, wouldn’t we?’
Wulfgar said nothing, but the feeling of foreboding grew stronger and he waited with mounting impatience for the ship’s keel to touch the strand.
‘I reckon we’ll come with you and investigate,’ said Hermund.
Leaving half-a-dozen men to guard the ship, they made their way back through the dunes and reached the heath a short time later. Then they saw the reason for the flocking scavenger birds. The sward was littered with bodies, scattered across a wide area. A swift glance at the first few told its own tale. More disturbingly, it revealed that the faces were familiar.
Beorn frowned. ‘These are Drakensburgh folk.’
‘They were also unarmed,’ replied Hermund. ‘Most of their wounds are behind. They were taken by surprise and then cut down as they tried to flee.’
Wulfgar nodded, his expression grim. ‘It certainly looks that way.’
They continued their inspection. Then Asulf stopped in his tracks and called to the others.
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