Now it wasn’t just herself she worried about, but the foreigner as well. There was no doubt that Wulfric would have a say in his fate.
She crossed the room and opened the door to see her brother, Alstan, alone. A wave of relief threatened to weaken her knees, but she managed to keep her composure. She was surprised to see him. He lived in a small house at Lord Oswine’s manor and shouldn’t have heard about her guest so soon, unless Cuthbert had sent word yesterday. Lord Oswine wouldn’t have wasted any time sending one of his most trusted men to investigate, particularly since a rebel Dane had been involved. The look on Alstan’s face told her that he was very unhappy with her, though that wasn’t really an unusual look for him.
‘You’ve come to see the foreigner, I presume. Come in. He’s just breaking his fast.’ She stood back and cast a quick glance towards the tapestry as Alstan stepped inside.
Alstan’s colouring was very similar to her own, with his green eyes, though his hair was a bit darker, only shining copper in sunlight, and his face was more freckled from his days spent in the sun. He stared down the length of his sharp nose, fitting her with a glare so fierce she felt her back straightening for the inevitable confrontation. Since Godric’s death a few weeks ago, he’d become almost domineering.
‘Aye. You and I will speak afterwards.’
Aisly clenched her teeth and gave a brisk nod. There was no sense in arguing. He’d say what he wanted whether she agreed or not. Instead of replying, she led him over to her bed, pulling the tapestry back slightly to give them more room to stand by the hearth near the foot of the bed. ‘Foreigner, this is my brother, Alstan. He’s one of Lord Oswine’s men.’
‘Who are you?’ Alstan’s deep voice filled her home with authority.
She stifled the urge to remind him that the man had no memory; certainly Cuthbert had told him that. Her guest was still pale, and though his eye was partially covered with the poultice, the skin there was still very swollen and discoloured.
The foreigner spoke up, delivering nearly the same story to him as he had to her. The same story she’d already relayed to Cuthbert the previous day when he’d been unconscious.
‘Aisly tells us you fought the rebel Dane with bravery. Why is it that you chose to fight him when you could have continued on your way?’
‘I would never leave a maiden to defend herself,’ came his immediate reply.
She couldn’t help it. Her gaze was drawn to him with those words and she sucked in a breath as she found him watching her. His single unharmed eye was warm and intense, and an odd tenderness softened her heart. Nay, he’d never leave someone weaker to fend for themselves. She wondered what woman had claim to him. For certain there was one out there somewhere waiting for him.
But then Alstan’s harsh voice cut through the moment. ‘How do you know what you would never do? You don’t even know who you are.’
‘Alstan!’
The foreigner didn’t even blink, simply narrowing his eye as he answered, ‘I know that I would not leave a helpless innocent to face the wrath of a brute.’
Aisly bristled at the word ‘helpless’ and opened her mouth to defend herself, when Alstan tightened a warning grip on her elbow. She cut her eyes at him but held her tongue. For now.
The foreigner’s gaze darted to that point of contact. His brow furrowed as if it displeased him and she couldn’t stop a trembling smile from starting as a pleasing warmth wrapped around her.
‘And I am indebted to you for that, foreigner.’ Alstan’s hard face didn’t match his words. He seemed angry, not grateful. ‘You saved my sister’s life. It is the primary reason you still have yours.’
The foreigner gave a curt nod.
Aisly intervened before her brother could continue his pompous display of power. ‘Why would you seek to kill him? He’s done nothing to us.’
Alstan continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘The man you killed was one of those renegade Danes. A few of us came across a group of them back in early summer and fought them off. He was one who escaped. Did you not recognise him?’
The foreigner’s eyes narrowed again. ‘Nay.’
‘I thought you might...given how you’re a Dane yourself.’
‘What?’ The word tore from her lips before she could get a handle on herself, and she looked to the foreigner for some sort of denial. None was forthcoming. He lay stoically watching her brother, his jaw tight. Tension crackled in the room.
‘It’s in the way he says his words. He speaks like one of them. His size,’ Alstan explained. ‘While I admit my debt to him for keeping you safe, I believe it’s dangerous for him to stay here.’
‘He is not a Dane!’ The very word tasted like ash in her mouth. ‘Just look at his tunic, the embroidery is that of a mercenary.’ She pointed to the foreigner, who hadn’t moved a muscle in reaction.
‘Aye, he wears the tunic of a mercenary, but that man is a Dane.’ Alstan spoke with such certainty that Aisly had to cross her arms over her stomach to keep them from shaking. Her one interaction with the Danes, aside from the rebel at the stream, had been the day after Godric’s death when they’d come to collect payment and taken nearly everything that she had. She’d been so angry, so afraid, that she couldn’t actually remember what words they’d said, much less how they’d spoken the words. They’d been cold, arrogant, entitled monsters. This man was the complete opposite. He was warm, gentle and kind. He was not a Dane.
‘How dare you call him a Dane when you’ve only spent a few moments in his company? He is a mercenary and—’
‘Enough.’ Alstan raised his hand for silence, keeping his eyes on the foreigner. ‘I’m recommending to Cuthbert that you be allowed to leave today, Dane, and then I’ll consider my debt to you repaid.’
‘Aye,’ said the foreigner, his gaze harder than she’d ever seen it.
‘That isn’t fair, Alstan. That isn’t fair at all. He hasn’t recovered. Putting him out now will be a death sentence.’
Alstan grabbed her elbow again and pulled her towards the door.
‘You’re being an ogre, Alstan.’ Aisly pulled her arm away once they were outside and near the forest. ‘Why did you say he’s a Dane? Is it because you want them to throw him out?’
‘Because he is.’ Her brother turned to face her squarely, with his arms crossed over his chest. ‘He speaks just like one of them. I’ve spoken to them when they came to see about taxes.’
He was referring to the autumn a couple of years ago when the leaders of the Danish settlement had visited with Lord Oswine. The same leaders who had killed Godric. Though her life with her husband hadn’t been the happiest, she could not forgive them for butchering him. She crossed her arms over her chest to keep from shuddering. If the foreigner was a Dane, she wouldn’t feel such tenderness for him. She despised them all. ‘He’s not dressed like one of them. He has no bands on his arms. I think you’re mistaken. Besides, he saved my life.’
‘And that is the only reason I’m not advocating his death. He saved your life and I do owe him for that. He can have his life.’
‘But he won’t have his life if you force him to leave today. Don’t you see that, Alstan? Have mercy. He needs to recover first, at least a little.’ He didn’t respond, but a flicker of doubt shone in his eyes. ‘Do you recognise him?’
He shook his head. ‘Nay, but with the swollen face, bandage...’ he indicated his own hair ‘...and his hair so short, I can’t say for certain.’
‘What is the matter with you?’ Alstan’s behaviour was so odd, so cold and distant.
‘Cuthbert sent a warrior with the message to Lord Oswine’s. When I heard him speak your name, I thought he must be lying. You would never bring a strange man into your home. Not my sister, I said.’ His eyes flashed with anger.
‘He’s hardly a strange man. You spoke with Cuthbert. He saved me
down by the stream and he’s obviously injured. I couldn’t repay his kindness by leaving him to die. You would have done the exact same thing had you been me.’
‘I wouldn’t have been so foolish, had I been you.’ Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. ‘Why were you even down by the stream, Aisly? You know what happened to those girls. Don’t you think those cowards could take you, too?’
She wanted to be angry at his words, but his eyes were so full of worry that it dampened her temper. Alstan had been thirteen winters when their parents had died and she’d only been eight. Alstan had been old enough to apprentice with Lord Oswine’s warriors. Old enough to leave her behind and forget about her, but he hadn’t. He’d continued to look after her, often bringing her extra food and clothing in addition to what the lady had provided her. He reminded her so much of their father that in some ways he had become that to her. ‘I’m sorry. I was preoccupied and drifted closer to the stream than I should have.’
‘Why were you out there alone?’
‘I was collecting larkspur.’ She motioned towards the house, where she’d planted some in small pots inside. ‘I had to go find some before the frost comes and kills them. In spring I hope to use them to dye my own thread. I didn’t want to bother you. You’re busy enough with the warriors, the harvest, and Hilde and the new baby.’
He took in a deep breath as if he was trying to be patient with her, raking a hand over his reddish beard, before saying, ‘I would have made time to go with you.’
‘Aye, I know, but I’d need to send word to the manor and wait for you to have time. Days would have passed. But I didn’t really need you to come with me. I took the sword with me.’ She gave him her best beseeching look. It had worked in the past.
‘Aisly, I taught you how to wield a sword just in case you ever needed to defend yourself. I didn’t teach you so that you could tempt trouble. I never would have taught you had I known that it would lead to you going off alone.’
His worried eyes be damned, Aisly couldn’t hold back her anger any more. ‘I’m not helpless. I went off alone because I am perfectly capable of handling myself and I know this forest better than any Dane. Aye, I was preoccupied and strayed too close to the stream. It was one mistake that I won’t repeat. Haven’t you ever made a mistake?’
He glared down at her for a moment before speaking. ‘You are too stubborn for your own good. I can’t leave you here alone if I can’t trust you to take care of yourself.’
‘I am not stubborn. I am perfectly reasonable. You are the stubborn one.’ She tried to force a calm to her voice, but she feared it wasn’t working with her jaw clenched as tight as it was. ‘This is my home. This is where I belong.’
‘I won’t teach you the sword any more and you’re lucky I haven’t taken it from you. But I will if you continue to prove to me that I can’t trust you with it.’
‘You are not my father nor are you my husband, Alstan. You have no right to take anything from me.’
‘That is true, but you are still my responsibility. Mine and Wulfric’s. I’ll go to him if I have to.’
She gasped at the betrayal and pressed a hand to the pain in her chest.
He took a deep breath and looked past her shoulder, as if uncomfortable with what he had to say. ‘You should consider moving in with us. Hilde would appreciate the help with the children.’
‘But I cannot. I have my embroidery.’ Alstan and Hilde had just had their third child and their small home had no room to accommodate the space she needed to continue her business. Just last week she’d had so many pieces of vestments that the entire front of her home had been taken up with it. Besides, how could he think that having a few feet of pallet space to herself could ever compare with having an entire home of her own?
‘Nay, you’re right, there would be no room for that. You’d have to reduce your work and take only small commissions from the abbess.’
‘But I’d never live on that alone. You’re not asking me to move in with you, you’re asking me to give up my livelihood. Do you realise that?’
He had the decency to look pained and his voice softened. ‘Aye, I do realise, but you living on your own as an embroideress is...’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not done, Aisly. You need a husband and children.’ He raised his hand in supplication when she would’ve argued. ‘But if your work means that much to you, then you could consider moving to the abbey. Wulfric has spoken to the abbess and I believe she found favour with the idea.’
The idea of Wulfric so easily trying to do away with her made her stomach clench. ‘How dare he speak to her about me. I do not want to be a nun.’
This time he raised both hands in supplication. ‘It was merely an idea. On my word, no one will force that on you.’
‘I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to believe that I could support myself. I do good work. People know my work. Just last month, Lord Oswine commissioned a cape for his wife and delivered me golden thread to use. Gold, Alstan! Why must I be married or in a convent before I can do that work?’
‘Because you do, Aisly. You need someone to protect you.’
She couldn’t bear to look at him any more, to think that he could take Wulfric’s side. Shaking her head, she turned away. ‘Are you taking Beorn and Rowena back with you when you go?’
‘The thieves?’ He sounded puzzled. ‘Aye.’
‘Please make certain Lord Oswine hears them out. Wulfric was not fair to them. Please watch over them.’ Waiting just long enough for his agreement, she blinked back tears as she hurried back to her house. No one believed that she could live on her own, but she would never marry again. Godric had had too much control over her, over her happiness and her despair. She’d never give up that power again. It wasn’t worth it, not when she possessed skills that would allow her to provide for herself.
‘You need to be protected, Aisly,’ he called after her. When she didn’t bother to turn back, he called out again, ‘Fine. Your foreigner can stay the night, but he’ll speak with Cuthbert in the morning. I’ll come back for him then.’
* * *
Magnus listened to the bits and pieces of their exchange that drifted in through the open door of the cottage. The way the man had handled her didn’t set well with him, but he wouldn’t intervene unless Aisly was actually threatened. Not that he could with the bloody bindings. He gave another harsh tug that shook the bed and only managed to send pain shooting through his skull.
Aisly raised her voice. He heard enough to figure out that her brother was trying to convince her to enter a convent or to marry. It was clear that she was against both of those suggestions. Magnus closed his eyes and summoned up the image of her standing next to the hearth. She had a slight but well-formed body made for the touch of a man. Why would she be so against the idea of a husband? Had her last one been so horrible or was she still mourning him? He found himself imagining himself in that role. The idea of having the right to touch her any time he wanted was appealing. Though it was also wrong, because he had no idea if he was even free to marry. What if there was someone waiting for him to come home?
The thought made him frown. It didn’t seem to fit. He’d remember if he was married. He had to find out where he belonged, but it was foolish to go traipsing about the countryside without knowing who might want him dead. That was the only reason that he was accepting his captivity for now. The black spots that had returned to dance before his vision figured in that decision as well. He was weakened and wouldn’t get very far with his injury. As the blackness expanded to take him over, sucking him into its warm depths, he admitted the woman’s company contributed to that acceptance.
Chapter Six
Something horrible woke her. Opening her eyes to the semi-darkness, Aisly lay quietly on the pallet trying to figure out what had startled her so abruptly out of her sleep. The fire still blazed,
so she knew that she’d only just nodded off. Then it came again. A muffled groan that sounded like someone was in terrible pain.
The foreigner.
Pushing her blanket aside, she rose to her feet and ran around the hearth to kneel beside him. From the light of the fire, she could see that his hair was damp with sweat and he twisted and turned in the bed as if something was torturing him. He’d slept throughout the day and in the evening his fever had returned. His skin hadn’t been as hot as the day before, but it had been close. She’d fetched another draught, this time asking Edyth to come and look at him. The older woman had merely clucked her tongue and offered a stern look when Aisly had asked her if he’d recover.
Now, looking at the pallor of his skin and hearing the pain of his moans, she worried that the old woman had been right to be pessimistic. At the time, Edyth’s doubt had seemed absurd, because Aisly had seen the fire in his eyes when he’d looked at her earlier in the day. He was a fighter.
Hurrying to the bucket that Alstan had filled with fresh stream water before he’d left, Aisly grabbed a wool cloth and fell back to her knees at his bedside. He was talking now in a foreign tongue she didn’t understand. Soaking the cloth and wringing it out just a little, she brought it to his head and let the cool water soothe him.
‘Please stay calm.’ She kept her voice low so she wouldn’t startle him, but loud enough to be heard over his own mumblings. ‘I’m here, foreigner. I’m here with you.’ The steady reassurances fell from her lips as she replenished the cool water on the cloth, until he finally settled down. He kept talking in that strange tongue, the words so low she had to lean forward to hear them. As she watched his lips form them and listened to the rasp of his voice, she found herself wishing she understood them. While before the words had been strong and almost angry, they were softer now. As if he were talking to someone he cared about.
In Bed with the Viking Warrior Page 6