The Whispering Wind (The Kingdom 0f Northumbria Book 1)

by Jayne Castel

  She was aware of her companions approaching and hunkering down next to her.

  “Who, Aelfwyn? Who are you so afraid of?”

  She looked up into Leofric’s concerned eyes. She had to tell him; she had to let this out before it was too late.

  “You were right,” she choked the words out. “Someone raped me …” She paused to gather her courage. “It was Ecgfrith.”

  Silence met her words. For a few horrible moments, Aelfwyn thought her fears were about to be realized—that despite their earlier kindness these two monks would turn on her, blame her, or call her a liar.

  Yet Leofric’s face did not show any such disdain. He stared at her, a muscle in his jaw feathering.

  “The king raped you?” he finally ground out.

  She nodded. “Queen Aethelhild would not lie with him. He was angry.” The words came out in breathless gasps. “She and I are close—I think he wanted to punish her.”

  Behind her, Deorwine muttered an oath under his breath.

  Aelfwyn’s belly contracted once more but this time she managed not to be sick. “It was just one night,” she told them as she got to her feet, wretched and trembling. “But it was only the beginning. If you take me back to him, it will never stop.”

  Leofric continued to watch her, his lean frame rigid. He glanced toward the towering bulk of Bebbanburg, before he glanced over Aelfwyn’s head at Deorwine.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Deorwine replied, “and you’re right—we cannot deliver Aelfwyn to him.”

  Aelfwyn straightened up, shocked. She glanced at Deorwine’s serious, determined face and then looked at Leofric’s angry one.

  “They’ll track us down and kill us,” Leofric reminded him. “I might deserve that, but you don’t. I’ve ruined things as it is for you.”

  Deorwine smiled, his face suffusing with warmth. “You haven’t—for I’m not going with you.”

  Leofric’s gaze narrowed. “But Cuthbert will punish you for letting us go.”

  “Not if he thinks you didn’t give me a say in the matter.” Deorwine’s smile faded. “Take Aelfwyn south—to Streonshalh. The nuns will take good care of her there.”

  Aelfwyn noticed that Leofric still did not look convinced. Meanwhile, her heart was starting to pound against her ribs. Fate had snatched freedom from her grasp—was it now handing it back to her?

  “Cuthbert won’t believe you,” Leofric pointed out. “He’ll know you let us go.”

  “Then we need to find a way of convincing him.” Deorwine walked up to Leofric so they stood only a couple of feet apart. “Roughen me up a bit; blacken my eye and give me a split lip. Make it look like we both put up a good fight.”

  Leofric stared at him a moment before he threw back his head and laughed. “I’m going to miss you.”

  Deorwine grinned back. “And I’ll be pleased to be rid of you—spoiled, selfish turd. Now give me a beating!”

  Leofric snorted. “You’ll have to insult me better than that, if you want me to lash out in anger.”

  Aelfwyn stepped toward them, alarmed. “Is this really necessary?”

  Leofric nodded, his gaze still on the blond monk before him. “He’s right. If the prior suspects Deorwine let us go, he’ll cast him out of the order.”

  Aelfwyn pulled her robes close about her and backed off, her earlier nausea resurfacing. She hated violence. It was selfish to involve these two brave men in her dilemma, especially after all they had done for her.

  I should go now while they’re distracted.

  Aelfwyn took another few steps backward and stopped.

  Go where?

  Aelfwyn’s shoulders slumped as the truth hit her. She needed Leofric’s help, or she would not get far. She would not survive a day on her own.

  “Come on then,” Leofric said with a sigh. “You’ll make this easier though, if you throw the first punch.”

  Deorwine blanched. “I can’t hit you.”

  “Holy Mary’s tits, Deorwine. Stop being such a maid!”

  Deorwine’s mouth compressed. “Don’t blaspheme—you know I hate it.”

  Leofric gave him a wolfish smile. “By Christ’s cods.”

  “Stop it!”

  “By Saint Joseph’s stinking arsehole.”

  Deorwine lashed out with his left fist, landing a punch in Leofric’s stomach, before striking him in the mouth with his right.

  Leofric staggered back, blood gushing from his lip. He glared at Deorwine, the look of shock on his face almost comical. Aelfwyn slammed a hand over her mouth to stop herself from breaking into hysterical laughter; the world had gone mad. It was like watching a show put on by mummers for her benefit.

  Leofric gave a roar and charged at Deorwine.

  Aelfwyn turned away. She wanted no part in the ridiculous game these two were playing. She cringed at the sound of fists pounding against flesh and covered her ears with her hands to block it out.

  When she turned back, Leofric was climbing off Deorwine. His friend spat out a gob of blood on the sand and took the helping hand Leofric offered him. Deorwine got to his feet, clutching his left eye. Both men had split lips and Deorwine’s nose was bleeding.

  “Good,” he mumbled, before attempting a smile and wincing. “I should have a black eye by the time I get back to the isle.”

  Aelfwyn approached him, horrified at the sight of his bloodied swollen face. She cast Leofric an angry look before focusing once more on Deorwine. “Are you hurt?”

  He gave her a bloody half-smile. “Nothing that time won’t fix, Aelfwyn.” He then turned back to Leofric. “The tide’s coming in now, so I won’t go back to Lindisfarena until it ebbs. That will give you time to gain a head start on the king’s men. They won’t be able to start hunting you until this afternoon.”

  Leofric nodded. “We’ll make sure we’re as far south as possible by then.” He stepped forward and clasped Deorwine against him in a bear hug. “I’ll never forget this. You’re a true friend.”

  Deorwine’s eyes were shining as he pulled away. “And you’re a boil on my arse—but I’ll miss you all the same.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Fleeing South

  They did as Deorwine bid, leaving him on the wide swath of sand before cutting west through the rush-clad dunes. Aelfwyn glanced once more back at him, at the brave young monk who was taking a terrible risk on her behalf. Her heart leaped in her throat as she saw him standing there, watching them flee.

  He saw her look back and raised a hand in a silent farewell, his battered face solemn.

  Then the dunes swallowed Leofric and Aelfwyn, and Deorwine was lost from sight.

  She and her companion did not speak for a while. They were both lost in their own thoughts, both focused on getting as far as possible from Bebbanburg before news of their escape had Ecgfrith sending men after them.

  It was a clear, bright morning with a light breeze trailing in from the sea. A landscape of tilled fields and meadows where sheep and goats grazed stretched out around them. It was unnervingly open terrain, for they had not yet reached the woodlands that hugged the coastline further south. Aelfwyn felt exposed as she hurried after Leofric, struggling to keep up with his long stride. Initially, he had set off at a brisk walk, but now he jogged.

  Aelfwyn ran close behind him. She had pulled up the hood of her robe to hide her identity, concerned that one of the cottars working the fields around them might spot her. After a while she started to sweat copiously under it, for she wore two layers of clothing beneath the coarse habit. On her feet, she wore rope sandals, which Cuthbert had gifted to her before her journey across the tidal flats. The rope rubbed her feet, and she knew they would be raw by nightfall. Nevertheless, it was preferable to running barefoot.

  The sun rose high into the sky, beating down on their backs. Leofric’s pale, lightly freckled skin shone with sweat but he breathed easily, making much lighter work of the journey than Aelfwyn.

  Shortly after midday, she could go no farther. Her
legs felt as if they were filled with rocks, her feet were burning from where the sandals cut into them, and her breathing came in ragged gasps.

  Crumpling to the grassy ground, she called out to Leofric. “Please … I need to rest. I can’t go on.”

  Leofric turned to her, his face glowing from exertion. He nodded, drawing his forearm across his brow, and approached her. He lowered himself to the ground next to Aelfwyn, his gaze meeting hers. “We can’t stay here for long. Bebbanburg is still too close. We need to make sure we’re well into the woods before dark.”

  Aelfwyn nodded back. She was exhausted but knew her journey had just begun. She was not as strong or as fit as Leofric, and could not run as far, yet she did not want to slow him down. He and Deorwine had given her back her freedom; she would not waste this chance. Not when every footstep took her farther from Ecgfrith.

  Leofric shared some water from a leather skin attached to his belt but, true to his word, he allowed them only a short rest before he rose to his feet. He favored her with one of his charming smiles; a grin she wagered had won over many a maid. “Come—no time for dozing in the sun.”

  He reached down and helped Aelfwyn up. The hand that clasped hers was warm and strong, as it had been when he had led her down the shore in darkness the night before. Initially she had been loath to touch him, to touch any man, but Leofric had won her trust. She instinctively knew he would not harm her. Unlike Deorwine, he came across as irreverent and cocky—yet she sensed the goodness beneath the brash shield he presented to the world. Now, as then, his touch gave her strength.

  They set off once more, Leofric jogging ahead, his gaze scanning the surrounding fields as he went, with Aelfwyn panting a few yards behind. Ripe barley grew here, the golden stalks waving in the gentle breeze. There were no folk about; all had retired indoors for their noon meal. Although it was the hottest time of day—on what felt like the hottest day this summer—it was a good time to travel.

  On and on they ran, following a curved path, west and then south, giving Bebbanburg a wide berth. Yet the fortress was always there, even when it was reduced to a red speck on the horizon. Only when the shadows started to lengthen and they entered the woodland at last did they finally lose sight of it.

  Inside the woods they slowed to a walk. Cool air feathered against Aelfwyn’s heated skin and the rich smell of damp earth and lush foliage filled her nostrils. She was so hot she felt like a pulsing, glowing coal—as if she could have lit a hearth with her cheek. The blood roared in her ears; her heart thundered against her ribs as if it was trying to break free from her chest.

  She trailed behind Leofric, noting that finally he too looked exhausted. Sweat had soaked through his habit, plastering it to his back, and darkened his short hair to auburn. His breathing now came deep and even.

  “Can we … stop now?” Aelfwyn finally asked. She had not spoken in a long while, not since they had stopped for a brief rest mid-afternoon and Leofric had refilled his water bladder from a brook. However, she was not sure how much longer she could go on. She felt close to collapse.

  Leofric turned toward her, his gaze apologetic. “Not yet. They’ll be hunting us now. We will take a short break at dusk, and then we’ll have to press on.”

  Aelfwyn stared at him, stricken. The news almost brought tears of despair to her eyes. Seeing her expression, he gave her an exhausted smile. “When we’re far from here, you can rest for days—but until then it’s foolish to linger. The king wants you back … he will send everything he has after us.”

  Cold fear crept through Aelfwyn, making her forget about her rubbed-raw feet, aching limbs, and burning lungs.

  Unwittingly Leofric had reminded her of the things Ecgfrith had said to her during that long night. He had told Aelfwyn of the plans he had for her. Whispering endearments in her ear as he had hurt her, Ecgfrith had said she was wasted as a handmaid—that Aethelhild did not deserve her. She belonged to him.

  “Aelfwyn … are you well?” Leofric had noticed her distress. He stepped toward her, brow furrowed. “What is it?”

  She sank to her knees, her breathing coming in short, painful gulps. “Don’t let them take me back to him,” she whispered. “Please kill me before that happens.”

  He knelt before her and hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her face so that their gazes met. They were so close that Aelfwyn could see the flecks of green and hazel in his irises.

  “You’re not going back there,” he promised her. “Not while I draw breath. We’re going to outrun them. We’re going to leave all of this behind—but to do that we need to keep moving. Find your courage, Aelfwyn because you’re going to need it. Find your strength—because that’s the only way out of this.” He paused here, his mouth quirking slightly. “Can you do that?”

  Wordlessly, she nodded.

  A moment later she was on her feet, her hand clutched tightly in his, and they were running.

  Aelfwyn was sleeping deeply when Leofric knelt next to her. He looked down at her face and paused. He was loath to touch her as she looked so serene; her rosebud lips slightly parted, her long lashes resting against her milky skin. She was lovely … fascinating.

  He had never met a woman like Aelfwyn; even wounded and scared she had a rare courage, a pureness of spirit. Her goodness made him feel seriously lacking in comparison. Deorwine was truly her savior; his friend had a stout heart and a good character. Yet she trusted Leofric, had thrown herself at his mercy and looked to him to protect her. If Aelfwyn knew who he truly was, of the life he had wasted thus far, she would surely despise him.

  The opinion of others had always mattered little to Leofric—but the thought that Aelfwyn might judge him rankled. He was surprised to realize he wanted Aelfwyn to respect him. He could not let her down.

  The baying hounds in the distance jerked him back to the present. They were still a way off but nearing fast. Their howling had awoken him from a fitful doze just moments earlier and had brought him to Aelfwyn’s side.

  Gently, he shook her awake. “Come, Aelfwyn,” he whispered. “We must go now.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. She opened her eyes, her blue-grey gaze focusing on him. She gave him a slow, sleepy smile—one which caused an unexpected blade of lust to arrow through him—and stretched. “Is it morning already?”

  He shook his head, trying to ignore the hardening of his cock. There was something unconsciously sensual about that smile, but this was the last thing he needed.

  Not now.

  “Get up,” he said, his tone sharper than he had intended. “Dogs hunt us.”

  Her eyes widened, the smile faded, and she scrambled up, brushing leaves and undergrowth off her disheveled robes.

  There would be no more resting.

  Leofric led the way south through the trees. A full moon lit their way, casting a hoary light over the woodland. Behind them, the barking and yelping grew louder.

  Panic surged through Leofric. Now he realized how the deer and boar he had spent his life hunting felt. The terror of knowing men and hounds were out for your blood was enough to make a man lose his wits.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Aelfwyn. She was struggling to keep up with him, her face ashen. He slowed his pace and reached out for her hand, trapping it inside his.

  “Run, Aelfwyn,” he commanded. “Run like the wind.”

  They sprinted through the woods, the trees passing in a blur, the night air cool on their faces. Behind them, the sounds of pursuit grew ever louder: the howling of the dogs, the tattoo of hooves on the forest floor, and the shouts of men excited now their dogs were hot on the scent of their prey.

  Leofric crashed through the forest, ignoring the bramble and blackthorn that tore at his clothing and skin. Ahead the trees drew back, and he spied the glitter of moonlight on water.

  A river.

  Hope soared in his breast. Had it merely been a trickling stream, the waterway would have done them no good, but a river—and what looked to be a swiftly flowing one—was a dif
ferent matter entirely.

  He hoped Aelfwyn could swim.

  There was no time to speak, no time to tell her what he was planning to do. Behind them, he heard the crash of horses and dogs tearing through the undergrowth. If they continued running, their pursuers would soon overtake them.

  It was their only escape route.

  Leofric grasped Aelfwyn’s hand tighter still. He knew he was probably hurting her, but he could not afford to lose her now. Together, they hurtled down the mossy bank and into the swirling current. He heard Aelfwyn gasp at the chill but she uttered no complaint, even when he hauled her after him into deeper water.

  A moment later the current lifted them off their feet and carried them away. Aelfwyn tensed and began to flounder in the water. “I can’t swim!”

  “Relax,” Leofric soothed her. “Just keep hold of me.”

  The baying of dogs and shouts of warriors echoed across the river, and Leofric caught sight of a flurry of movement in the woods behind them as the first of their pursuers broke through the undergrowth.

  Their fate was in the hands of the river now.

  Leofric lay on his back, pulling Aelfwyn tight against him, and let the swift current carry them away into the night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Warrior in the Woods

  Aelfwyn stared up at the star-sprinkled night sky and at the silver disc of the moon. She tried to ignore the chill of the water, to relax against Leofric’s body as he had ordered, but it was nearly impossible.

  Her heart still thrummed in her chest, terror constricted her throat. Her lungs burned from exertion, and she felt weak with shock at how close they had come to capture—how close they still were to being caught.

  The angry shouts of their pursuers and the excited caterwauling of the hounds were fading into the distance. The river had narrowed slightly since they had thrown themselves at its mercy, and was now flowing even swifter than before. Its current tossed them around like logs. Aelfwyn prayed there were not any rocks hidden beneath the water, which would slice them to ribbons.