He glanced at the older of the women who now held him upright. She was not in the first blush of youth but there was something about the way her green eyes flashed and her chin was set which took his breath away. She was the personification of a Valkyrie.
The floral scent of her hair filled his nostrils, replacing the fishy tang of the shore. He knew that her shaking him earlier had wakened him from the shadowlands. But beauty could turn treacherous and he had no reason to think she’d protect him, particularly once she knew his true identity. No, she was off limits. He’d learnt his lesson about women along ago and Kara had proved herself no different.
He had loved her too much and she had used him. He was never going to be used again. And he was never going to be the one to love more than the woman again.
‘Water?’ he asked, but the word came out as a guttural groan. He tried again. ‘Water. I need water. Please.’
His stomach heaved again and he knew that the sands of time were slipping away from him. The memory of his brother’s drowned face haunted him.
‘You understand? Water?’
The woman cocked her head to one side, resembling an inquisitive bird. Her brow knitted. He tried to mimic drinking.
She gave a slow nod. ‘When we get somewhere safe, I’ll get you something to drink. But now we walk.’
He tried to form the words to explain and the effort caused the skin about his mouth to crack. The dried salt caused it to sting as if it had been attacked by a thousand needles.
Valdar’s body ached as if a thousand frost giants had stomped on it. His mouth tasted of the sea. He tentatively risked a breath. Another splutter of air mixed with seawater. Valdar attempted to ignore it, but his chest continued to heave.
‘I need water now or I die.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t understand what you are saying.’
‘Water or death,’ he yelled. ‘Your choice.’
She cringed. ‘There is no need to shout.’
He put up his hands in a gesture of supplication. ‘My throat. Too much seawater. Fresh water or I die.’
She nodded and said something to the young girl, who quickly went and fetched a large jug of water from beside a basket. The woman held it out. ‘Here you go. Drink. Then walk.’
‘Thank you.’
Valdar downed it, revelling in the sweet taste. Not water, but cooled mint tea. ‘More.’
She shook her head. ‘You’ll be sick. Soon.’
He swallowed. Some of the sea taste had gone, but he still felt parched. ‘Need more. You will get me more.’
‘Soon, first you walk.’
He shrugged off her arm. ‘I will try.’
She gave him a questioning look, but he stood straighter. She moved away from him. Cool air rushed in where her warm body had been. ‘Merri, let him stand.’
He attempted to move forward, but his knees threatened to buckle. He was weaker than a newborn colt. He took a step and the world swayed and the enveloping darkness beckoned once again. ‘Please.’
She came and put her arm about his waist. Her dark head barely reached his shoulder. And she had green eyes shot with silver. ‘Next time, maybe you listen.’
He shrugged her off, put his hands on his knees and tried to draw in deep breaths. Each time he tried, he found himself gasping for air. ‘Leave me. Let me breathe. Bring water.’
‘Time is running out. We need to get off this beach.’ She used her fingers to mimic walking.
Valdar shook his head. Her accent was pleasant and he found if he concentrated, he could understand her well enough. However, the effort made his head spin. ‘Where there is more to drink.’
‘You do speak my language.’
‘I have travelled far. Across many seas.’ He grabbed his throat. ‘After the drink, my mind clears. I can speak best...better.’
Her brow furrowed. ‘And you are from...?’
‘A place so tiny and far from here you will not have heard of it. Trust me.’
He waited to see if she’d accept his word. If he said from a North country, she might get the wrong idea. Northumbrians didn’t distinguish between the North countries. He hated that he was dependant on her. But the gods had spared him for a purpose.
‘Where?’
‘Sand, Raumerike.’
‘You are right.’ A smile hovered on her mouth. ‘I’ve no idea where that is.’
‘How far do you need me to walk?’
Her neat teeth worried her bottom lip, turning it deep red. ‘Off the beach and into the long grass. We can shelter there until all danger is passed.’
The long grass was a lifetime away. ‘What are you afraid of? What is on this beach?’
She glanced over her shoulder, watching shadows. ‘I have my reasons. Trust me.’
Their gazes locked. What choice did he have but to trust her? He hated relying on anyone.
‘After that water and shelter,’ he said. Instantly her brow darkened so he added, ‘Not for long. I...I wish to go home in peace. Peace, you understand?’
She tapped her fingers together.
‘Please.’
Her brow cleared. ‘I know of a vacant cottage where you can rest...before you continue your journey.’
Relief washed over him. His luck had changed. The gods had spared him for a reason. ‘You won’t regret it.’
‘I had better not.’
The sun had dried his sea-soaked tunic to complete stiffness. It rubbed salt into his raw back with every move he made, but that was nothing to the way his legs ached. About the best he could say was that they remained attached to his body. He did not know how long he had swum for and how far the tide had carried him. Then there were the rocks where the waves had dashed him. He could hear them pounding, pounding, pounding and knew he had barely got out alive.
A great shaking racked his body.
He put out an arm, trying to balance, trying to keep the life-giving liquid down.
‘Help me...please.’
She sighed and grabbed him about the waist. The simple touch did much to steady him. ‘People are coming to scavenge for sea coal. Neither of us wants to meet them.’
‘Slow, yes.’ Even though some of the words were unfamiliar, he understood the urgency in her voice.
He nodded and started to shuffle forward, forcing his feet to lift and his body to stay upright. The third step sent him tumbling to his knees. A cry escaped his lips.
Silently he cursed for showing weakness to a woman.
The girl made a face and grabbed his arm, steadying him. ‘Stumbling will make things worse.’
‘Your daughter?’ he asked.
‘Stepdaughter. Merewynn. I’m Alwynn of Yoden.’ She paused and frowned with intense concentration. ‘A place so tiny that you will not have heard of it either.’
He stared at the grass-covered dunes. What sort of man sent a woman out on the beach, where he knew danger was? Where these scavengers lurked?
‘Your husband?’
‘Dead,’ she answered, keeping her gaze away from him.
Her answer explained everything and nothing. Widows must find it as difficult to keep property in Northumbria as they did in Raumerike. Someone had turned her out of the hall. And now they were forced to search for washed-up items on the beach. The Northumbrians bleated that the Northmen were barbarians for attacking Lindisfarne, but they were barbarians not to look after their women better.
‘But you must live somewhere,’ he persisted. Women this lovely were not without a protector for long.
‘Keep going. Don’t stop. We’re nearly to a spot where we can shelter. I mean to keep you alive.’
He stopped and looked down at her face. A faint sheen of sweat shone on her forehead. She appeared as if a strong wind might blow her over, but he could sense the steel underneath.
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t kill creatures who wash up on these shores. I wait to see if they are innocent or not first.’
* * *
&nb
sp; Alwynn concentrated on putting her feet down, rather than looking up at the dune. Every time she looked, it seemed they had barely gone a few steps, but her gown was now plastered to her back from the exertion. The warrior had closed his eyes and once again appeared insensible to their surroundings. With each step they took, he leant more on Merri and her. Typically male. She’d learnt the hard way.
‘He’s very heavy,’ Merri complained, stopping for the third time in as many steps. ‘Can’t we rest?’
‘He requires more liquid. Small beer might be best,’ she said instead. ‘He has had too much salt water. You saw how the fisherman’s youngest recovered once he had small beer last March. It will be easier to fetch some when we are at Gode’s.’
‘Where do you think he is from? I’d never heard of the place he said. Raume, was that what he said? Is it north or south of here?’
‘Does it truly matter? Right now he is alive.’
‘What if he were an exiled prince?’ The girl gave a little shiver. ‘Or a Northman? Do Northmen come from every country to the north or from just one country? What if they were not all like the monsters who attacked Lindisfarne?’
There were times when Merri’s questions made Alwynn’s head spin. What did she know about the politics? Or where countries were? Or how people behaved? All she knew was that Northmen were monsters who had no respect for anything or anyone.
‘He is a stranger, that’s all I know. His accent is unlike any I’ve heard before but he can speak our language. Goodness knows where Raumerike is. Somewhere.’ Alwynn adjusted her hold on the man’s waist. ‘Once we know who he is in truth, then we can decide what to do. But first we save his life.’
She gazed back at the beach where she’d found him. The morning sun sparkled on the waves. Nothing to show the power of last night’s storm beyond the debris which littered the high-tide mark.
She couldn’t abandon the man, but she wished she knew where Raumerike was. She’d have to wait until the priest in the next parish returned. He knew things like that. And the question would have to be asked carefully. The last thing she wanted was for Lord Edwin to start wondering why she wanted to know.
His accent was very strange and she had never seen the markings on his clothes before. True, the garments were fine, far finer than any around here, but the gold embroidery was different.
There were many countries besides Northumbria. She used to ask about going on pilgrimage and seeing other places, but Theodbald had always refused. He had visited the Franks before his first marriage and after that had seen no reason to go anywhere. So she’d remained by his side, managing the garden and being blissfully ignorant about his mismanagement of the estate.
There was something about the storm-tossed man’s gaze which reassured her that he had no intention of harming them. But whatever the risk, she had to take it. Leaving someone to die on this beach made every fibre in her body revolt, no matter what Lord Edwin had ordered.
Time to stop obeying people blindly and take charge of her life.
She’d made that vow on the day she discovered her late husband’s debts and she intended to keep it. This was the first test of her resolve. She no longer blindly followed the rules.
‘Here you were saying how strong you were,’ she said briskly. ‘You wanted to take over the feeding of Purebright. Are you saying you aren’t strong enough to manage the pony now?’
‘If I don’t complain, does that mean...?’ Merri’s eyes gleamed.
Alwynn shook her head slightly. Only Merri could think looking after that cantankerous pony was a privilege, rather than a chore. Merri was ready for added responsibility. She’d shown that over the past few turbulent months. ‘I was going to tell you when we arrived home after collecting the sea coal. But, yes, provided you help me now, you may look after Purebright.’
The man mumbled something incoherent, plucking at her sleeve. Alwynn cocked her head to one side, listening.
The sound of rough voices travelled on the wind.
‘Shall we move forward? One step at a time? We are nearly in the tussocks of grass. We can stop there and rest out of sight. Wait until everyone has gone.’
Merri squared her too-thin shoulders. ‘I believe I can make that. Purebright would want me to.’
They reached the cover of the grass-topped dunes just as several people arrived at the beach. They were armed with a variety of cudgels, sticks and a pitchfork as well as baskets for gathering sea coal.
Alwynn’s heart knocked against her chest. It pained her that this place had come to this. Before the Northmen attacked Lindisfarne, they had welcomed seafarers and looked after anyone who might be stranded. Not now. They had lost too much.
The men started laughing and joking about the dead and what treasure they might find on the beach. Silently Alwynn wished them to hell along with the Northmen who had caused this change. Her Northumbria was hospitable rather than murderous.
‘Alwynn?’ Merri whispered. ‘This feels wrong. We are going to get in trouble. Big trouble. Can we go?’
‘Keep down, Merri. Keep quiet.’ Alwynn forced Merri’s head down lower and put her hand over the girl’s mouth.
‘Should we get help?’ Merri whispered against the barrier. ‘Maybe I could get Oswy. He has a strong back from lifting grain sacks.’
Alwynn put her fingers to her lips and shook her head. Merri’s off-and-on friendship with the miller’s son was going to have to end soon. ‘We shall manage, you and I. In a little while. Right now, he must rest. Understand?’
Merri gave a slight nod and Alwynn removed her hand.
‘And once we start again?’ Merri asked in an urgent whisper. ‘Carrying him all the way to the hall will be impossible.’
‘As I said, we’re going to Gode’s. That isn’t far. Think about Purebright and how much he loves your grooming. That fat pony has a lot to answer for. I should have kept a carthorse.’
‘But...’ Merri’s forehead wrinkled. ‘Father always said...’
‘The area around here was very different when your father was in charge.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘We’re doing nothing wrong.’ Alwynn made a fist. ‘Finders of flotsam on the beach have the first say as to the disposal. Custom from a time beyond our minds. And he did wash up on the beach, our beach. You remember what your father used to say. The beach has always belonged to your family.’
Merri nodded, accepting her word.
‘And the mint tea?’ Merri’s brow knitted. ‘Does he need more? Can we get it without...?’
‘When we can...’ Alwynn gauged the distance from where they lay to the small stream. The lack of cover was too great to risk any movement. ‘It will not take them long to strip the beach of anything valuable. Once they have what they want, they will go. Your warrior will survive until then.’
Merri’s eyes widened. ‘My warrior?’
‘You were the one who saw him first.’
Alwynn refused to think about the warrior’s eyes and how they had held her. That connection to him she’d felt deep within her gut was nothing. She could not afford to be attracted to any man. And yet... She shook her head. Truly she was becoming worse than Merri for wool-gathering.
‘But...but...but...’
‘He can hardly be mine. Your father has not been dead that long. We shouldn’t have come in any case. Collecting sea coal was a poor idea.’
Merri curled her fingers about Alwynn’s. ‘I don’t blame you. I thought it exciting.’
She snuggled up next to Alwynn and lay very still.
Alwynn lay listening to the man’s steady breathing and the banter between the reeve’s men who seemed to stay at the other end of the beach. Apparently they’d found nothing of interest.
‘Almost gone,’ she muttered.
‘Oh, no,’ Merri cried and darted forward.
‘Merri, where are you going?’
Merri grabbed the basket with sea coal and returned, dropping to the ground. ‘I couldn’t allow
them to take that! It belongs to us. We collected it. We need it for our fire.’
‘Next time leave it.’ Alwynn patted the sand next to her. ‘Over here and stay by my side until I tell you otherwise. Do you want everyone to know where we are?’
Merri hung her head. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think... We need the sea coal, though. No one saw me.’
‘Tempting fate is never a good idea. How many times, Merri?’
‘But I’m quick,’ Merri muttered. ‘Quicker than you.’
‘Hush now. Lord Edwin’s steward is headed towards us.’
Alwynn glanced at the warrior. Thankfully he appeared to understand the situation and had gone completely still. She moved closer to him to give Merri some space. Her breast hit his chest as Merri wriggled in.
The steward stooped down and picked something up from the beach. He looked directly at them. Alwynn sank further down in the hollow, half-covering the man with her cloak.
As the steward’s gaze intensified, she lowered her head and breathed in the warrior’s salty scent.
Footsteps seemed to come closer. The sound of heavy breathing hung in the air.
In another few steps, he’d be on them and she’d have to explain the unexplainable. If she was lucky, he’d take her to Lord Edwin. And if unlucky... A small shiver ran down her back. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Her heart thudded. She’d rescued a stranger for no good reason except that she refused to allow him to die. The woman who kept all the rules was truly gone.
Giving up was not an option. She tried to think about what she’d say when they were discovered and how she’d have to emulate her mother at her imperious best.
She lay there with the sun warming her back, until she thought the steward must surely see them. She prepared herself to stand and started to rise. The warrior’s hand tugged her down.
‘Stay!’ he commanded against her ear. ‘I will protect you with my sword arm, but he may yet pass us by.’
For someone who had just survived drowning, his grip was like iron. Alwynn had no choice but to lie still, beside him. With each breath she took, she found she was aware of him and the way his muscles were hard.
Summer of the Viking Page 3