The Viking's Defiant Bride

by Joanna Fulford

  ‘Oh?’ Ironfist’s ale horn paused in mid-air.

  Wulfrum was listening intently now, though the pair seemed quite oblivious to the fact they were overheard.

  ‘Almost beside herself, she was. Kept saying, “Wulfrum’s in there”, and begging me to let her go. She’s crazy about him, obviously.’

  ‘Only the gods know why,’ replied the giant. ‘I’ve never seen anything in the bastard.’

  The two of them guffawed. Wulfrum reddened, feeling strangely pleased. Had Elgiva really been so anxious for his safety? She had once said he was more use to her alive, but her actions tonight suggested that she cared rather more than he could have hoped. He smiled to himself and made his way to the stairs.

  When he entered the chamber, it was to see his wife drying her hair with a large linen cloth. Her sopping kirtle lay discarded nearby and she had wrapped a pelt around herself against the chill from the rain. For a moment he watched her, then shut and barred the door before crossing to join her. Elgiva watched him strip off his wet clothes and rub himself dry.

  ‘I have you to thank for being in time to save the horses,’ he said then. ‘If you had not raised the alarm when you did, they would have been lost.’

  Elgiva shuddered. ‘Don’t, Wulfrum. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  He reached out and caressed her face with his hand, then gently removed the towel from her and took over the business of drying her hair. Elgiva remained very still. In truth, the gentle movement of his hands was soothing and gradually she let herself relax.

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I was watching the storm approach and smelled smoke.’ Then she froze, remembering. ‘There was something else too.’ She told him about the figure she had seen just before the fire broke out. Wulfrum’s hands stopped what they were doing.

  ‘Did you see his face?’

  Elgiva hesitated. The evidence was circumstantial and she was reluctant to name Drem and put him in danger.

  ‘No, and it is possible the two things are not connected anyway.’

  ‘I think it was no coincidence.’ For a moment his expression was grim. ‘But I will find the man who was responsible, I swear it.’

  She laid a hand on his arm. ‘Do you think it is one of our own people?’

  ‘I don’t know—yet.’

  For a moment there was no sound save for the rain, which had slackened from a torrent to a steady downpour.

  ‘Do you think they will strike again?’

  ‘Undoubtedly. It is why they must be found.’ Then he smiled. ‘However, that is for tomorrow. Tonight I would show my appreciation.’

  He drew her to her feet and took her in his arms. The kiss was long and passionate and Elgiva shivered. Wulfrum looked down at her in concern.

  ‘You are cold, my love. Come.’

  He took her to bed and lay beside her, holding her close, sharing his warmth. Elgiva lay still in his arms, the heart thumping in her breast, wondering if she had heard him correctly. My love. He had never used the word before. Did he mean it? His hand brushed her skin gently and she turned towards him, her mouth meeting his in a long passionate kiss, her hands stroking him, rousing him, bringing him to an equal pitch of desire. This time she took the lead and Wulfrum knew all the sweetness of her willing compliance as they came together in fierce and urgent joy, meeting in a mutual climax of shuddering delight.

  Later, lying in his arms, Elgiva pondered his words anew. He trusted her, she knew that. Was he beginning to love her too? She bit her lip, glad of the darkness that hid her face. Would he love a woman whose silence aided his enemy? Had it been part of Aylwin’s plan to burn the stables tonight? Would there be an attempt on the barn next or the hall? Matters had taken a turn she would never have believed. Wulfrum would not let this go unanswered. She closed her eyes. What to do for the best? She was still considering the matter when the spreading warmth and the sound of the rain lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By sunrise the following morning the storm was long gone. The only sign of its passing was damp earth and a few puddles, for the sun shone again in a clear sky. However, the stable was a blackened ruin with half the roof burned away and the remaining timbers sagging under the weight of the thatch. The charred and sodden straw stank and everywhere dark ash stained the ground. Elgiva shuddered, hearing in her imagination the screams of the frightened horses once again.

  ‘We’ll have to rebuild it, all right,’ said Ironfist, surveying the wreck with a critical eye. ‘We couldn’t put a hog in there, never mind a horse.’

  Beside him Wulfrum concurred. ‘It’s fortunate the weather is warm. The horses will take no harm from being out at night. In the meantime, we’ll organise a team of men to start clearing away the mess.’

  ‘I’ll see to it.’

  Ironfist was about to depart when Ida appeared from inside the shell of the stable. His face was grim.

  ‘My lord, I think you’d better take a look at this.’ He paused, throwing a speaking glance at Wulfrum. ‘It might be better if the lady remained here. It is not a sight for her eyes.’

  Puzzled, Elgiva watched as the two of them drew closer to the ruin, to a place where part of the wall had crumbled, allowing ingress. She heard the sound of timbers being kicked aside and then the men’s voices, too low to be overheard. After that was silence. When finally they emerged, her husband’s expression was chilling. With a dreadful sense of foreboding, she summoned up the courage to ask.

  ‘What is it, Wulfrum?’

  ‘It’s the body of one of the stable-boys. He must have been in the loft and he didn’t get out. Unfortunately, no one knew he was there.’

  Elgiva’s eyes filled with tears and she could only stare at him in dumb horror. All around her she heard a buzz of angry voices as the news reached the others.

  ‘The person responsible will pay dearly for this,’ he went on. ‘Had the boy any family?’

  ‘Just his mother, I think,’ replied Ironfist. ‘I have seen her hereabouts on occasion.’

  Before anyone else could volunteer information Ceolnoth approached, bringing one of the Saxon serfs with him. The latter looked fearfully about, but could not escape the firm hold on his arm.

  ‘Now what have we here?’

  Wulfrum looked round, following Ironfist’s gaze.

  ‘My lord, this man may be able to shed some light on what happened last night,’ said Ceolnoth.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, lord. It seems one of the other hands did not turn up for his work this morning.’

  Wulfrum frowned. ‘What has this man to do with it?’

  The serf paled and began to tremble. ‘Nothing, my lord, I swear it. ’Twas I that discovered Drem was missing this morning, that is all.’

  Elgiva froze in stunned disbelief. Then her mind threw back the memory of a man at the whipping post and she knew with sick certainty that it had been he whom she had seen.

  ‘Drem?’ demanded Wulfrum.

  ‘One of the field hands, my lord,’ said Ceolnoth.

  ‘I know the man.’ Wulfrum’s gaze never left the serf’s face. ‘Go on.’

  ‘That is all I know, lord. Drem was there last night and gone this morning.’

  ‘Have you made a search for him?’

  ‘Yes, lord. He is nowhere to be found.’

  ‘What more?’

  ‘Nothing more, lord.’

  ‘Well, I think we can guess who fired the stables last night,’ said Ironfist.

  Ceolnoth nodded. ‘Belike the rat has slipped away into the forest to join the rebels.’

  ‘Is that so?’ demanded Wulfrum.

  The serf began to shake. ‘It may be so, my lord, but he did not confide in me.’

  ‘Then who were his friends?’

  The man remained silent, crushed by the sombre looks cast upon him, a picture of abject terror.

  ‘I’ll get it out of him,’ said Ironfist.

  Elgiva laid a hand on his arm. ‘Wait, Olaf
.’ She turned to the serf. ‘How are you called?’

  ‘Oswy, my lady.’

  ‘Then, Oswy, I beg you to say what you know. Those who are innocent have nothing to fear. We must find out who did this. A boy is dead.’

  He blinked rapidly. Clearly this was news to him too.

  ‘A boy, my lady?’

  ‘Yes, one of the stable lads. He must have been trapped by the flames for he did not get out.’

  Oswy was shocked and his face went a shade paler. ‘Elfric and Leofwine knew Drem best, my lady, for he sometimes helped out at the forge. Even so, I think he would not have told them what he planned. They would never have agreed.’

  Elgiva turned to Wulfrum. ‘What he says is true, my lord. I know these men and they have ever served Ravenswood loyally.’

  Even as she spoke, she knew he would recall the incident when they had tried to help Hunfirth and Brekka. Would he hold that against them now?

  Wulfrum heard her out impassively. ‘Nevertheless, I would speak with them.’ He turned to Ceolnoth. ‘Bring them here.’

  The two men arrived a few minutes later, looking round uneasily at the assembled group of stony-faced warriors. However, they answered readily enough to the questions put to them. Wulfrum heard them without interruption. Beside him Elgiva watched his face, trying to glean any clue from his expression as to what he might do next but, as was usual in these affairs, he gave nothing away. Once, her gaze flicked to the smith and his son and thence to Oswy. They stood in silence, never moving a muscle, but the tension was almost palpable. Behind them stood half a dozen of Wulfrum’s men, all armed to the teeth. If he gave the word, the three would be dead before they hit the ground. He deliberated a moment longer.

  ‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘You may go.’

  The exhalation of breath was audible, but they needed no second bidding.

  ‘You believed them?’ said Ironfist, watching the retreating figures.

  ‘Yes. If they knew anything at all, they would be with Drem in the forest,’ replied Wulfrum, ‘which is where we shall find him, I have no doubt.’

  ‘How are we to do that, in the name of all the gods?’

  The earl’s smile was grim. ‘Have the horses saddled, Olaf, and fetch the hounds. If Drem left this morning after the deluge ceased, there is a good chance of picking up his trail. Ceolnoth, find something that has the man’s scent on it. Something from his sleeping place, maybe. ’Tis time to go a-hunting.’

  Elgiva saw understanding dawn in the faces of the listening men, and they hastened to do his bidding. Wulfrum turned and strode back to the hall, heading for the stairs. Elgiva had almost to run to keep pace. Presently they reached their chamber and she watched anxiously as he donned chain mail and buckled on his sword belt, settling Dragon Tooth firmly in the scabbard. He checked the dagger in his belt and slid a smaller, slimmer blade into his sleeve before finally taking up the linden-wood shield embossed with iron.

  ‘Wulfrum, take care, I beg you. These are desperate men and you know not how many there are.’

  ‘True, but I know how many there will be by the time I return tonight.’

  Elgiva shivered. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders drawing her closer.

  ‘Have no fear, my lady. I will return. But I must smoke out this nest of rats or live in fear of them ever more.’

  She nodded unhappily. There would be more killing before the day was done, but she knew he had no other choice. The raiders might have got away with the theft of a sheep or two, but the moment the stable was fired their fate was sealed. Wulfrum would find them, she was certain of it, and he would show no mercy this time.

  ‘Wulfrum, I fear that Aylwin may be with them.’

  He frowned, his expression suddenly intent. ‘Aylwin?’

  ‘Yes. After he fled Ravenswood, he went into the forest. You trailed him that far yourself. He could be with the rebels there.’

  ‘Pray he is not.’

  ‘You intend to slay him.’

  ‘Can I do anything else?’ He took her by the shoulders and looked down into her face. ‘I know you have had ties of friendship with this man in the past, but you cannot have divided loyalties, Elgiva.’

  ‘I know it.’

  Her heart felt leaden in her breast but she knew he was right. An innocent child had died in the fire. Had Drem been taking his orders from Aylwin? It did not bear thinking about. Reluctantly, she followed her husband out to the waiting horses.

  Olaf and Ida had returned with twenty mounted men. Beside them were four great hounds, leashed. Wulfrum swung into Firedrake’s saddle and looked down at his wife. For a moment their eyes met.

  ‘Until later, my lady.’

  Then he turned the horse’s head and rode away at the head of his force.

  Elgiva watched until the column was out of sight and then recollected her own duties. Before anything else, she must speak with the mother of the murdered stable lad to offer what poor comfort she might. Accordingly she made her way to the village. She arrived to find that Father Willibald had anticipated her and he looked up thankfully as Elgiva entered the mean dwelling. As she expected, the wretched woman was distraught, for her son was the only surviving member of her family, her husband having died of fever the previous year. Now she wept inconsolably. Elgiva could well understand that terrible outpouring of grief and knew that no words of hers could possibly suffice. Instead she put her arms round the sobbing figure and held her close. It was a long time before the tears abated sufficiently for coherent speech.

  ‘Why? Why, my lady?’

  ‘To strike back at the Danes.’

  ‘They have not hurt the Danes. They have murdered my boy.’

  ‘He will be avenged,’ replied Elgiva. ‘Those responsible will pay a terrible price.’

  ‘That will not bring him back.’

  ‘No, but it will stop them from ever doing it again.’

  Elgiva glanced at Father Willibald and saw the sadness in his kindly face. He too had suffered since the taking of Ravenswood, his church burned and his life threatened. Would there ever be an end to the violence, to the killing? Would this land ever know peace again?

  Father Willibald cleared his throat. ‘My lady, the boy should be given a proper Christian burial.’

  ‘He shall be. I will speak to Lord Wulfrum.’

  He regarded her in some surprise not unmixed with hope. ‘Then perchance we shall say a mass for the child’s soul.’

  It was a small comfort, thought Elgiva when she left them some time later. Truly death was absolute. Her own powerlessness appalled her. If only she had given the alarm sooner, had realised the child was in the stable. It was her fervent prayer that he had been overcome with smoke very quickly and not suffered pain before he died, but in her heart she doubted it. Anger vied with sorrow as she relived the night of the fire. One stupid act by a vengeful man and an innocent child had lost his life. This day others would die too. She knew that Wulfrum had no choice but to follow his present course of action, The renegade Saxons were her own people, but her loyalty now was with her husband and she prayed that he would prevail and return safe to her.

  All the rest of that day Elgiva looked for his return, though she knew it likely would not be till eventide. All day she tried to occupy herself with familiar tasks but could concentrate on none of them, her hands falling idle in her lap and her mind elsewhere. Beside her Osgifu worked on her mending, saying little, though her eyes went often to Elgiva’s face.

  In her mind’s eye Elgiva saw the forest paths and the great trees whose green domain held so many secret places. She saw the mounted men and the dogs. Would they pick up the trail? Would the hunters come upon the raiders’ hideout? She closed her eyes, hearing in her imagination the clash of swords and the shouts of men, the blood and the screams. Her stomach heaved and she rushed from the bower just in time to vomit in the grass. With a shaking hand she pulled her kerchief from her sleeve and held it to her lips, waiting for the nausea to die down.
The other rested lightly on her belly as she struggled to come to terms with the knowledge she could no longer ignore.

  ‘How often has that happened?’ asked Osgifu.

  ‘Two or three times, perhaps.’

  ‘Have you missed your monthly bleeding?’

  Elgiva nodded.

  ‘How many times?’

  ‘Twice.’

  Osgifu’s hand covered her own against her belly. Its warmth was reassuring.

  ‘Does he know?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘When will you tell him?’

  ‘I don’t know. Soon. I needed to be sure.’ Elgiva drew in a deep breath. She would indeed have to tell him soon. The matter could not be kept quiet for long in any case. ‘I just haven’t found the right moment yet, that’s all.’

  ‘I’d like to be a fly on the wall when you do.’ Osgifu smiled. ‘It would worth something, I think, to see the Viking’s expression then.’

  ‘Oh, Gifu, how do you think he will take it? Will he be pleased or angered?’

  ‘What man is angered to learn his wife carries their first child?’

  ‘Wulfrum is not like other men. I hardly ever know what he is thinking.’

  ‘He is not so different from other men,’ replied Osgifu, ‘at least not in essentials anyway. And he is not so hard to read, either, not when he looks at you.’

  She made Elgiva sit down then and fetched a cup of cool water.

  ‘Sip this. It will make you feel better.’

  Elgiva took the water, turning over their conversation in her mind. If only Osgifu was right. Then she thought about the grim hunt being enacted in the forest. If only it might be over soon. If only Wulfrum might come back safely.

  It was sunset when the hunters returned, the cavalcade emerging from the trees in a slow, steady line. The men did not talk, but their sombre expressions spoke more than words. Elgiva watched from her chamber window as they rode in, her heart leaping as she saw Wulfrum at their head with Ironfist beside him. With a final glance at the preparations she had made, she hastened down to the hall, calling instructions to the servants to bring ale and food before going to the door.