The man’s expression and stance altered noticeably, as if this revelation was a shocking surprise. She noticed how he gave the matter serious consideration. “Go quickly before the locals entrap you here. Tell Rolf I will come to him when it is safe. It is time for me to take my place as your ruler. Together we will conquer this isle and establish a new Viking kingdom. Hurry before it is too late to flee.”
The sturdy Norseman asked skeptically, “If what you say is true, why did you slay Karn?”
She replied guilefully in an even tone, “Because he dared to touch me and attack me. Odin is my defender and guided my hands and wits. He has led my people here to reclaim me and to begin a new land. Hear me well, my countryman, I will rule it all one day.”
“Come with me and I will take you to Rolf.”
“Odin has made me a Seer. He has shown me the day I am to rejoin my people. I have more work to do here. I must wait until I know the Celts’ plans. Then, we can defeat them easily and swiftly.”
“We can easily and swiftly defeat them on the battleground. They are as ants beneath our boots. One giant stomp will crush them all.”
“Do not speak as a fool or refuse to heed Odin’s commands!”
“I do not trust you, my tricky siren. You will come with me freely or as my captive,” he warned, taking a step toward her.
Alysa laughed and challenged boldly, “No man or force is strong enough to make me disobey Odin. Many times my spirit has left my body while it slept to train with the Valkyries. You stand no chance to defeat me. Go while you still walk and breathe.”
In response to her threat, the man’s sword was brought forward to click against hers. With speed and agility, Alysa parried his tentative thrust. The man unhurriedly charged several times, but each stab of his blade was deflected with precision and skill. When he flung his burly body at her to throw her off balance, the nimble princess sidestepped him. Instantly, she whirled and sliced through the back of his leather top, cutting flesh and nicking shoulder bone. He nearly entangled his feet as he hastily confronted her. Alysa’s striking features exposed a look of self-assurance and victory mingled with contempt, while her opponent’s revealed anger and awe.
The vexed raider forcefully brought up his lowered sword with all his strength in a desperate attempt to knock Alysa’s weapon from her hands. The princess leaned right, then ducked, before slashing across the man’s stomach. He stumbled over some loose rocks as his body lurched to his left to avoid her next strike. Alysa knew the meaning of his tactic: she was right-handed; to circle or to move toward a combatant’s favored side weakened his blows and interfered with his coordination. Attacking from that side was intended to make her right wrist bend backward while striking at him or defending herself. As if dancing gracefully, Alysa moved her feet continuously to keep her body facing his to compel a frontal assault.
The warrior halted and stared at her. Blood was flowing down his back and over his groin. Alysa knew he was waiting for her to become overconfident and lunge at him, but she held her ground. Time was her friend. His wounds would weaken him, and her band would come soon to assist her.
Another voice shouted, “Thorkel, seize her and flee! I will guard your rear and give you time to escape.”
Both Alysa and the Viking were distracted by the voice and presence nearby. In a flash, Thorkel grabbed for her, capturing her right arm and causing her to drop her sword. Alysa yanked her bejeweled dagger from the sheath at her waist and stabbed him in the shoulder.
Thorkel howled in pain, released her, and stepped out of her reach as she yanked a second knife from another sheath. He eyed the Damnonian band running toward them and knew they had been defeated. Withdrawing Alysa’s knife, he glared at her and fled, working his way between boulders as he sought escape. When he stumbled, his hand reached out to grab a support branch, but passed between trunks and enlightened him to a small cave concealed there. Hastily, he wriggled behind the leafy trees and bushes, then leaned against the rocky edge and winced in pain. As he swore revenge upon the woman, he realized she had spoken to him in his language! Could it be, he wondered, that she was their lost queen? That she was indeed protected and guided by Odin? Surely no mere woman could have defeated two warriors, especially him, without divine help. Thorkel studied the dagger in his bloody hand, the one which Trosdan had given to Alysa. Upon its blade was etched a hanged man: the symbol of Odin.
Weylin charged the third man heading for Alysa and waved his sword ominously. The two clashed in fierce battle. As they fell to the ground and scuffled in dusty combat, the Viking seized a handful of dirt and flung it into Weylin’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. Recovering his fallen sword, the raider rushed at the Damnonian lord to slay him while he was helpless.
Alysa had grabbed a crossbow from her horse and prepared to fire when and if the moment arose as in her strange dream. She released her arrow and it shot into the man’s back with a thudding force, giving Weylin time to clear his vision and complete the kill.
Weylin joined her as their victorious band encircled her, shouting her praises. He smiled and thanked her for saving his life.
Alysa commanded, “We must gather any captives and return to the others lest they find us gone and worry.”
“All are slain, Your Highness, except for the wounded man who escaped. Others are searching for him in the rocks. With his many wounds, he cannot go far. You have led us to victory as you promised. Long live Princess Alysa!” Sir Beag stated fervently and others quickly joined in to chant the words.
“You are kind and loyal, my valiant soldiers. You have shown much courage and prowess today and have given the bards brave and daring deeds for new poems. Lord Weylin, send men to burn the Viking ships as a warning to our invaders. Collect their weapons so we may arm more men to battle them. Seize their goods and take them home to the poor. Come, we must see if our wounded need help.”
When they reached the Viking camp, it was a sorry sight. Many of Gavin’s men were dead or injured. Others were tending them or loading bodies into a large cart. The ground was littered with slain foes, bloody weapons, scattered possessions, and battle-doused campfires.
Gavin came to meet them, looking fatigued and dirtied. Alysa hastily scanned his body for any sign of injury, and was happy to observe nothing more than a few minor cuts and scratches.
“I am glad you kept your promise and did not endanger yourself. It is also good we did not show our full strength, because several raiders escaped, no doubt to warn others of our attack. We will leave this evil place and camp miles away to rest before our journey home. We suffered many losses, but we are champions today.”
“As are we,” one of Alysa’s men divulged excitedly, proudly.
Another rapidly related the news of their battle not far away. As he listened to the astonishing tale of the Vikings’ entrapment, Gavin’s eyes enlarged; then he squinted as he watched his wife.
“Not one man was lost. Princess Alysa planned our attack cunningly. Look there…” He motioned to the smoke which was rising skyward at the coast. “Their ships are burning and their supplies are being taken by our band. We captured no foe; we slew them all. Princess Alysa killed two raiders and fatally wounded another. She fought with sword, knife, and crossbow. She has more courage and prowess than any warrior in this land or in others.”
Alysa did not try to quell her band’s praises of her deeds and talents. It would be dishonest to feign” modesty, and foolish to dampen their joyous spirits. Her followers were telling the truth, so she must not try to place the credit elsewhere. She had won their fealty and respect, and it was unwise to damage them to spare Gavin’s feelings. She had proven her capabilities and leadership, vitally needed qualities for unity in the days to come. If she tried to downplay her role in today’s events, it would destroy the enormous progress she had made, made at the risk of her life.
Gavin realized what the two battles meant in comparison. It appeared as if his wife had won the greater victory because none o
f her men had died while obtaining it. As leader and planner of his skirmish, he felt responsible for the lives which had been lost during it, a burden which any person in authority had to bear. Her plan revealed how cunning and daring she was. He had told her she was not strong enough to battle large men, yet, she had defeated three! He had said she was not a warrior or a soldier, yet, she had proven she was! He had claimed she was not trained or experienced in warfare, yet, no leader could have planned or fought better! He had practically challenged her to prove she was more than a bearer of future kings and princes, and she had done so!
Surely their subjects would prefer to follow her next time. Gavin was happy she had won her battle and relieved she was alive and unharmed. Yet he admitted he was slightly jealous of how easy and safe it seemed to have been for her band to triumph over their foes. He felt confused and distressed by fate, which had allowed this perilous matter to come between them. After this incident today, she would be even more convinced of the old Druid’s insane words. It might be used as an example, or argument, or justification for placing Alysa in command of their troops. She had won today’s battle, but could she lead their people to final victory? One battle did not make a war, and one defeat did not mean final victory.
Alysa noticed how quiet and watchful Gavin was. She wondered what was running through his keen mind. She said, “We saw the other ship landing and fear—decided your band was too weary to battle more foes. It was a simple ambush plan, but it worked because our men are brave and strong. We watched you from the hill and marveled at your prowess. There were so many Vikings present, but you conquered them. What can we do to help?” she asked sincerely.
Gavin focused on the matter at hand. “There are wounded to be tended. We must carry our people’s bodies home to be buried by their families.” He glanced around and continued. “There are too many foes to bury and we cannot leave them lying here to rot. We will make a great pile and burn them, as it is their burial rite. They are our enemies, but we are not barbarians who butcher or discard our foes. We took several captives. We will have them sent to Prisongate. When we are rested, we will decide what to do with them.”
“They must be executed, my brave husband. We cannot free them, and we can spare no soldiers to guard them.”
Gavin wriggled his shoulders to relieve their battletautness. “First, we must question them. Confined to prison, such men will get restless and will weaken. When they do so, their tongues will loosen.”
“Your plan is right and cunning, my husband.”
“You are kind, my wife, but the honor today belongs to you, because both plans were yours. Let us busy ourselves with our remaining tasks. The day grows late and we are weary.”
Gavin and his band were exhausted; considering how long and hard they had fought, that was not unusual. Yet Alysa’s band was filled with vitality after their quick and easy skirmish. They moved about agilely taking care of the chores at hand.
Alysa addressed the warriors in Gavin’s group and praised their prowess, but, surrounded by pain and death, their moods were somber. She realized her glorious victory nearby had overshadowed this costly one and caused Gavin and his men to be depressed and disappointed. There was nothing more she could say to lighten their spirits and burdens, so she held silent.
Since Gavin was distracted, Alysa took the initiative and precaution of sending three of her men to track and slay the escapees. During future strategy, she wanted no foe to recognize any of them.
Two and a half days had passed since the battles. When their chores had been completed at the enemy camp, the Damnonians had ridden to Trill’s Glenn to spend the night. With the gravity of their losses weighing upon them, eating had been done in near silence. Gavin, Tragan, Lann, and Weylin had sat around a small fire and talked quietly about their slain friend and past days together. Not wishing to intrude on their grief and companionship, Alysa had remained with the others a short distance away. She was tormented by the fact her husband did not invite her to join him and appeared determined to avoid her. She could not help but resent his behavior, but she concealed her feelings from her subjects. She had slept little on the pallet beside that of Sir Beag, her self-appointed guardian.
The journey home yesterday had seemed longer than usual, no doubt because of the slow-moving carts and heavily loaded horses. Once more, Gavin had remained with his friends and practically ignored her. She hoped the others were too distracted to observe her husband’s conduct, as it would reflect badly on him. She could not be faulted by fate’s decisions, and she disliked being treated this way. She would give Gavin time to come to terms with his feelings, then she would speak with him.
Alysa had noticed how the alert captives had watched her closely and intently. They were rough-looking men who led violent lives. She had them guarded carefully because she knew they were sly and desperate foes. To prevent any escape plans from being discussed, she had ordered them held in different places. If Gavin were himself, he would have ordered those precautions. Alysa hated seeing him so withdrawn and inattentive.
Upon reaching Malvern Castle, they had been greeted by the servants and guards. Many locals had sighted them, sent word to the nearby villages, and followed them inside the gates to hear the news. Tales of the two battles had filled the air, and her people had marveled at her mastery. No victory feast had been held because of the dead and injured soldiers, but a nourishing meal had been quickly prepared and served to all present. Bodies had been placed near the base of the front battlement and covered, to be retrieved by families or buried tomorrow. The wounded had been housed in a separate wing of the castle and weary soldiers had been given places to sleep.
Dirtied and exhausted, Princess Alysa Malvern Crisdean had bathed, eaten, and gone to her bed as soon as she could slip away from the adoring crowd. She had been asleep when Gavin finally joined her, and when he had left her side at dawn.
Today had been devoured greedily by remaining tasks. Her men had returned from a successful pursuit of the fleeing foes, which left no witnesses to their recent battle and identities. Lord Weylin had ridden to Land’s End to reveal Sir Bevan’s death to Lord Keegan. The captives had been taken to Prisongate—twenty miles away—by Sheriff Dal, Sir Tragan, and Sir Lann. The slain Damnonians had been mourned, lauded, and buried. Piaras and Leitis had busied themselves and the servants with tending the wounded and with sending word to families. Teague and Thisbe were seeing to supplies for the wounded and for meals. And, shortly before dusk, Prince Gavin Crisdean had ridden off by himself, to be alone.
It was late when her husband returned, but Alysa had waited up for him. “Gavin, we must talk.” Her expression and tone were grave. She could not allow this distance between them to continue or to increase. She had to make him relent, to understand.
The prince sighed loudly and replied, “It must wait until morning. I need rest, and my thoughts are elsewhere tonight.”
“You are rarely here during the day,” she reminded pointedly.
“There has been much to do. Would you have me laze around while enemies invade your land? Have you learned so much about warfare after only one battle to handle all matters henceforth?”
Alysa noticed his glazed eyes and knew he was plagued by some inner demon. “You are being unkind and stubborn, Hawk of Cumbria. I am not to blame for seizing a victory which was thrust upon me. If we had not ambushed the other Viking party, your band would have been too tired to defend themselves. Was it wrong to save lives?”
Gavin did not seem to hear her words. He poured two goblets of wine from the skin he was holding. “Let us drink to your victory.”
Alysa shook her head. “I want no wine. I want to talk. I wish to tear down this wall which you have built between us. What continues to trouble you so deeply, my love?”
Gavin ignored her plea and insisted, “Then, drink to my victory, though a smaller one than yours.”
“Your words are untrue and your feelings sour. Why must you spoil our happiness? Do you r
egret our marriage and settling here?”
Gavin pressed the goblet into her hand and ordered, “If you wish to please me and make me happy, drink to me.”
Alysa realized he was behaving oddly and would not drop the matter until she obeyed. She lifted the goblet and said, “To you, my husband, my lover, my prince.” She downed the liquid and set the goblet aside. “Now, will you talk with me?”
For a time, Gavin remained still and silent, and stared at her as if seeing through her. He did not empty his goblet, but placed it and the wineskin on a table. In a strange tone, he said, “Destiny calls to us, my warrior queen, and we must respond.”
Suddenly, Alysa felt her head spin wildly and her vision blurred. A curious ringing filled her ears. Her body seemed light and tingly. The room began to waver like pond water rippled by a mischievous hand. Tiny lights danced before her eyes and the room dimmed. She could not speak or think clearly. Weak and shaky, she sank to the bed behind her. Still, Gavin only watched her as if waiting for something.
When Alysa fell unconscious, backward, Gavin lifted her body and placed her beneath the cover, then left a note beside her sleeping head. He gathered his possessions and the wineskin. As if a cunning thief, he left the castle without being seen.
Slowly, Alysa’s drugged mind released her from its potent hold. It was midmorning. As her wits cleared, she recalled what had happened last night. She could not understand her husband’s behavior, and she did not have to look around to know he was gone. She rubbed her grainy eyes as she sat up in bed. Noticing the note Gavin had left for her, she lifted the folded message.
Alysa shook her head to clear her wits and vision. Surely she could not be grasping the message clearly. She hurried to where Gavin kept his weapons and garments. All were gone! She headed for the door to search for him, but halted herself. She could not question the servants without revealing the problem. She had to think, to decide how to handle this stunning matter.
The Last Viking Queen Page 6