‘But you will say what you heard.’ Arte touched her shoulder in encouragement.
‘I heard them...sounds...something like a table or bench knocking against the wall repeatedly and—’
‘Enough!’ Aisly couldn’t bear to hear her transgressions laid out for all to hear. They’d probably been discussing them for days, determining their plan. The very idea of them discussing her—discussing that—made her feel sick to her stomach. Those hours with Magnus had been just for them. She hated that Wulfric was able to use them against her. ‘I won’t listen to any more.’
‘Oh, you will,’ Wulfric said.
‘I won’t. You have no proof but the word of a jealous girl.’
Wyn gasped as if Aisly had slapped her. ‘It’s true. I was jealous, but I didn’t mean to tell them. I told a friend because I was hurt and angry, and she told my mother. Please believe me, Aisly. I didn’t want anything bad to happen.’ Wyn made a move to go to her, but her father kept his hand on her shoulder.
‘It hardly matters how anyone found out. The fact is that this horrible thing happened, Aisly. We need to know why. Have you been giving the Dane information about us? What did he promise you in return?’ Arte asked.
Unwilling to admit to any of it, but certain there was a reason Wulfric had set this trap, she glared at them all. ‘Magnus was no spy. You know that, Arte. You saw him and even helped carry him inside. He was badly wounded and near death.’
‘It’s true and perhaps it means the plan wasn’t premeditated. I believe he was injured, but he recovered quickly enough and used the excuse of having lost his memories as a way to stay and gain information.’
She couldn’t deny the ring of truth to that. They were the exact words she’d repeated to herself over the past week. ‘I was as surprised as you were when that Dane called out to him.’
‘That hardly matters now,’ Arte said, raising a hand to ask for her silence.
But the warrior who’d retrieved Wyn had apparently had enough of silence. ‘His name is Magnus. Magnus is the name of the leader at Thornby, the man who killed your husband.’ He sneered and looked at her as if she were dirtier than filth.
‘Aye, I’m aware of his name. But I didn’t know it when I saved him.’
‘Nevertheless, we do believe you knew it soon after you saved him,’ Arte continued.
For the hundredth time she asked herself why she hadn’t pressed him harder for his name. He’d known it when he’d returned from scouting out the rebels. But he hadn’t seemed to want to tell her and she hadn’t pressed. What a fool she was. ‘I didn’t know. I swear to you that I didn’t know his name.’
Arte opened his mouth to answer, but Wulfric rose to his feet. ‘It doesn’t matter if we believe you or not. What matters is that Magnus is fond of you. We need you to go to him, infiltrate his inner sanctum and bring back his secrets.’
Her blood ran cold. They couldn’t possibly be asking what she thought they were asking, but even as she tried to deny it, there was no other explanation that made sense. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Go to him. Open your legs for him again. Say please and thank you and anything else he wants to hear until you find out his plans for attacking our village.’
‘Wulfric!’ Clearly appalled at his crudity, Arte walked Wyn to the door and shooed her off.
‘I won’t do it.’
‘Why not? You’ve done it before for less.’ Wulfric wasn’t grinning now, he looked positively livid. ‘Or were you hoping for a child? A bastard to pass off as my blood? You must know that were you to bear a child now, I’d believe it to be that Dane’s spawn. I’ll not accept it as Godric’s and you’ll not stay in that house.’
‘Aye, you’ve made certain of that, haven’t you? What did you promise Lord Oswine to get him to destroy the marriage contract?’
Wulfric laughed, mirthless and sinister. ‘Don’t you worry about that. Rest assured there is no marriage contract. If you do as I’ve asked, then I can sign it over to you. If you don’t, there’s always the abbey. They’ll take in faithless whores.’
There was no way out for her. There was no way she’d keep her house, her livelihood. Wulfric would find a way to take it away from her no matter what she did. This explained why the villagers had been rather cold with her all week. Cuthbert’s wife had accepted the mended tapestry back just the day before without a word or nod of thanks. Even her apprentices had been mysteriously ill, albeit she’d been too despondent to notice. This was why. They believed that she had deceived them. Magnus’s betrayal had spilled over on to her because they all knew how friendly they’d become.
Or did they know about what Wyn had seen? Please not that.
‘I refuse to go live at the abbey.’
Wulfric shrugged. ‘Then go to Thornby and bring us his secrets.’
‘You’re asking me to...to use myself...to give my body to him for information. Do you hear yourself, Wulfric? Arte?’ She looked back and forth between them. One of them sneering and the other appearing suitably horrified at the suggestion, though it wouldn’t stop them from demanding it of her.
‘Aye,’ Wulfric said.
She shook her head and stepped backwards. The warrior made a move to either grab her or block her exit, but Arte made a gesture that he should stay seated. Were they going to physically drag her to the Dane and give her to him? Her stomach turned at the mere thought, even as she reasoned that it was Magnus. No matter what she thought of him and his possible deceit, he wouldn’t harm her.
Then another horrible thought plagued her. What if she refused, only to have them demand something even more despicable? She made a last desperate plea for sanity. ‘What you’re asking is sinful.’
‘I’m not asking any more than what you’ve already given the Dane. Let’s not make this out to be more than it is.’ Stroking his beard again, Wulfric appeared bored.
‘It’s for a better cause, child. Once this is done, you can beg forgiveness and the Lord will grant it. Life in an abbey could certainly help your soul,’ Arte stated quietly.
So that was their plan. Use her and then send her off anyway. Squaring her shoulders, she stood her ground and stared them down. ‘I won’t do it.’
Wulfric stared right back, trying to determine if she was bluffing. Finally he rose and for the first time she saw real anger in his eyes as they narrowed at her. ‘You place too much importance on yourself, whore. Rest assured that we have other plans, other ways to reach him. But don’t think for a moment I’ll allow you to pawn his bastard off as Godric’s child.’
Shaking with outrage, she turned and fled his home. She didn’t care that they hadn’t dismissed her. If she had to spend another moment in his presence, she might very likely run him through with his own sword.
She allowed herself to cry when she returned home. Falling to her knees next to the bed, she buried her face in the blanket and sobbed until she didn’t have any tears left. Only then did she sit up, her gaze wandering the room. For the first time, she observed it with a sense of detachment. The cooking utensils across the hearth were familiar, but they weren’t hers. The worktable in the front—currently free from any work because no one had commissioned anything—sat abandoned, drained of the life she’d once poured into it.
She realised then that Wulfric had more power than she’d realised. She was still here, still in her home, yet because of his influence they all had forsaken her. Cuthbert’s wife hadn’t come by, neither had Lora, and they’d spoken just the week before about a new tapestry. Wulfric had made it known that he was displeased and that was all it had taken. If that influence would extend to Lord Oswine’s manor and the abbess, she didn’t know. She could only assume it must if he’d somehow convinced Lord Oswine to destroy her marriage contract. The way everyone had turned on her made this place not seem like home at all.
What w
as left for her here? The house meant nothing to her if she couldn’t continue to do her work. If she couldn’t do her work, then she might as well go to her brother. At least with him she’d have an ally. He infuriated her sometimes, but she was certain he’d protect her.
Fingers tightening in the blanket, she remembered how tightly she’d gripped it when Magnus had been there with her. This house had felt like home then. Even knowing he was a Dane, she couldn’t bring herself to regret what had happened. He’d felt like home.
She still felt horrible for how cold she’d been to him when she found out his identity. After all he’d given her, the least she could have given him in return was some understanding. But she’d turned away from him just like the people of Heiraford had turned away from her. She had to go warn him of the horrible things Wulfric had planned and she needed to apologise.
A small part of her still imagined a life with him as her husband, but she knew that it was only a dream that could exist in some other world. He was a Dane and she was a Saxon. They were destined to be enemies, because there was no place they could exist together. She’d never be at home with the Danes and he was a warrior. What sort of life would that be? So it was a thought she tucked away deep in her heart.
Rising to her feet, she dragged over a stool and climbed atop it to unfasten her mother’s tapestry from the ceiling. If she was leaving, it would have to be tonight. She’d not risk another day in this village and allow Wulfric more time to bully her. For all she knew, he might stoop to locking her up. Laying it out on the bed, she grabbed an extra underdress and hose, along with the bits of golden thread she’d had left over from Lord Oswine’s commission back in the summer. There wasn’t much else that held any value for her. Rolling them up in the tapestry, she wrapped it with a hide tether.
Grabbing the knapsack she used while foraging, she filled it with root vegetables and the leftover loaf of bread she had bought for the week. Then she tied it to her belt along with her scabbard and sword, and wrapped her cloak around herself. Tying the rolled-up tapestry to her back, she headed for the door and peeked outside. It was late enough that no one was about.
She shut the door quietly behind her and made her way towards the front gate, using the shadows to keep her hidden. Cuthbert had increased the men on watch since Magnus had reported that the rebel Danes were planning to come back. They kept watch at the gate and had been posted in the forest on the back side of the village. Soon the horn would sound and it’d be time for the watch to change. It was risky, but she had to sneak out then. It would be her only chance to find the gates open before morning. She had to put miles between her and Heiraford by then. She had only the vaguest notion of where the Dane settlement was, but Alstan had mentioned once that there was a road and she knew its direction. She’d just follow the stream until she found it.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Her name is Gwendolyn of the house of Alvey of Bernicia.’ Jarl Eirik’s voice carried across the table, just loud enough to be heard over the din of conversation throughout the hall. Eirik had only arrived in Thornby that afternoon. Magnus had questioned Heir and discovered the location of the last of the rebels to the north. He’d leave in the morning to find them. Eirik would stay and determine a suitable punishment for the traitor.
Magnus stiffened upon hearing the words. The subject hadn’t been broached yet, but he knew who Eirik was referring to. His intended wife. Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned forward to peer down into his tankard of mead. A hundred thoughts vied for his attention, but the vision of Aisly won out. He didn’t care who this woman was if she wasn’t Aisly. Still, he had to offer something as the Jarl sat waiting.
‘The family. I’ve heard that name before.’ Bits and pieces of his memory were still returning. Often when a new piece of information was revealed to him, he’d have to think about it for a while to figure out how it fit. It was frustrating, but with every passing day his memories were becoming clearer.
‘Aye, you have. The Picts and the Scots to the north have been intermingling for decades. They’ll unite soon and may come south. Her family is old and have strong allegiances. They defend the northern land that keeps the tribes from coming down to challenge us. We need their allegiance before an enemy takes it.’
Vidar plopped down on the bench beside his brother. ‘We don’t need allegiances, brother. We take what we want. If you want that land, tell me and you’ll have it.’
Eirik spared a glance at his younger brother and his jaw tightened in annoyance. ‘We’re stretched thin with our battles to the south. There’s no need for battle if a marriage can accomplish the same goal.’
Taking a big drink from his tankard, Vidar grinned as he lowered it. ‘Why sacrifice all the warriors, when only one will do?’
They all laughed, but the jest rang hollow to Magnus. He was the one being sacrificed. It was his duty and he’d sworn allegiance to Eirik, but he didn’t relish the task. The more he thought about Aisly, the more he was sure that given enough time, he could’ve overcome her reservations about the fact that he was a Dane. It didn’t help that her husband had led the revolt against him, but he was certain he could make her understand the truth of what had happened.
But he wouldn’t get that chance.
‘When?’ he asked.
‘The ride north will be easiest after the thaw in spring. We’ll need the passes clear to transport all the gold her father demanded,’ Eirik said, frowning as he ran a hand through his hair.
‘How much did he charge you to marry his daughter to that ugly bastard?’ Vidar laughed, nodding his head towards Magnus.
‘Too bloody much,’ Eirik grumbled and threw back a swallow of mead.
Shaking his head, Vidar shrugged. ‘Or we could go in and take the land.’
‘Too risky,’ Eirik countered.
‘Or we take the girl. She’d be ours, the old man would give in to get her back and she’ll go home married.’
Eirik’s scowl deepened as he stared at his younger brother. ‘And Magnus would find his throat slit the first time he dared to close his eyes. And if he didn’t return with her, we’d face rebellion.’
‘The Jarl is right, Vidar,’ Magnus interjected when the younger man opened his mouth to argue. ‘Why take when there are other ways to get what you want? We save the aggression for later and gain allies in the process. There may be those within the house of Alvey who would oppose our rule. We save the fight for them.’
Eirik inclined his head in thanks. ‘This is why he’s the leader of Thornby and has been chosen for the marriage,’ he said, smirking at Vidar. ‘You could learn from him, little brother.’
Vidar scoffed and scowled. ‘I don’t want your forced marriages and responsibilities. Give me the sea and a sword any day.’
‘One day you’ll have to settle down and take on more responsibility,’ Eirik said.
‘One day.’ Vidar conceded. ‘But not now.’ Then he gave Magnus a look that was filled with such pity for his upcoming marriage that Magnus couldn’t help but laugh.
Shaking his head, Magnus said, ‘You’re old enough for marriage and children.’ A vision of Aisly round with his child flashed through his head and he tightened his grip on the tankard. He’d find out if she was with child before he married. If so, he’d make sure to leave her gold. Even if she wasn’t, he’d make sure she was provided for. The idea of her raising his child without him gnawed at his insides. It felt so wrong that something deep within him screamed out.
When Vidar answered back, Magnus struggled unsuccessfully to focus on his friend. It was useless. Anger tore through him fierce and swift. There was no good reason for it. He was getting everything he wanted: a high-born wife, influence, enough power to show Vakr that he’d been wrong. Magnus was worth something. He was as great a warrior as his father had hoped. With this marriage, he’d rule the territory to the no
rth like a king.
But the victory was hollow. Blowing out a breath, he mumbled something about a walk and got to his feet. As soon as he stood, the large oak doors of the hall opened, letting in a gust of cold wind. He could hear a female’s voice but couldn’t make out the words above the talking in the room. Others heard as well, and as two of the warriors on guard duty walked in with a small woman between them, all the eyes in the room began to turn towards them. The doors closed behind the small group with a loud thump that settled into the growing quiet.
The woman was Aisly. At first he didn’t dare to believe the vision before his eyes. The woman’s cloak had fallen back and either wind or a struggle had made her hair fall in tangles around her. The tresses were long and dark, the firelight catching its deep red highlights. She jerked at her arms, which were held in stoic silence by the men at her sides.
Somehow her gaze found his out of all of the others in the room and she startled in recognition. Her eyes widened and that was the moment he allowed himself to believe that she had come. His heart pounded and relief weakened his body. If she was here, then she was safe.
‘Let her go.’ His command silenced the remaining murmur of voices. The men at her sides hesitated, but when he began walking towards them, they released her and moved back, though they stayed close.
She wavered. Looking around the room as if she’d just realised she was in enemy territory, she drew herself up to her full height, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes when she looked back at him. He wanted to pull her against his chest and tell her everything would be fine, but he didn’t. Her soft green eyes reached right into him and squeezed his heart. When he came to a stop just before her, he managed to keep his hands at his sides. She appeared so frail and vulnerable. The tip of her nose was pink with the cold.
‘Aisly.’ His voice didn’t work, coming out harsh and rough. Swallowing, he tried again. ‘Why are you here? Was there an attack? Are you alone?’
In Bed with the Viking Warrior Page 21