‘But I gave him no such promise.’
He put his hand on her arm. A pulse of warmth radiated out from it.
‘Stay behind in these woods, near the hut. Keep out of the way. Wait until I deal with these men and return or until your own men arrive.’
‘Allow you to deal with it?’ She made a suitably disgusted noise with her throat. ‘Grant me strength. I stopped running away after I left these lands the first time. I stand and fight. If they kill you and torture my men they will learn I am here anyway and then hunt me down.’
‘Your bravery puts me to shame. The Nourns truly smiled on me when our paths crossed.’ He inclined his head. ‘I will take any help offered. But I haven’t decided yet what my next move will be. I want to see if I can get a good look at the men. Taking time to pause and assess the situation can win battles.’
Time to pause. He made it sound as if her men were already lost. She remembered suddenly how Leofwine had been—who he’d left behind. ‘I promised to keep those men safe. They volunteered to stay behind to guard us. I can’t abandon them. I won’t do that—not again. Not ever again when I’m in charge.’
‘Ensuring their safety is my priority.’
Cynehild gnawed her bottom lip. The tension in her neck eased. Kal understood. ‘What do you need?’ she asked.
‘Ideally a place to spy out the land...somewhere we can’t be seen.’
‘There is a slight rise over there which might afford a decent view of the cottage. I discovered it when I came back from Luba’s. Would that suit?’
A smile spread across his face. ‘You are as clever as you are beautiful, Cyn. If you’d been a warrior, the Great Army would not have stood a chance.’
Her heart did a little flip. She tried to tell herself that she didn’t really know him—not as he had been before the accident—and that he might often make flirtatious comments to women when he wanted them to do something. Certainly Luba seemed ready to melt over him. Except he did listen to her and he respected her opinion.
‘I will take that as a heartfelt compliment.’
‘Very much so.’
* * *
Kal followed Cynehild through the undergrowth to a small overhang which afforded him a decent view. Below them was a guard of men, several of whom Kal vaguely recognised as belonging to him. One of the Danes slapped one of Cynehild’s men in the face.
Cyn stifled a cry and looked away. Kal kept a hand on her shoulder, pinning her in place.
‘Should you show yourself?’ she whispered. ‘They are your men. Aren’t they?’
Kal shook his head, trying to rid it of the buzzing. If those men were not loyal to him he could be leading Cyn into a trap. ‘Not here. We need to go to the hall. Whatever happens they will bring them back alive. They won’t dare execute them without further orders.’
Cyn’s face drained of colour. ‘Surely these must be your men? They answer to you. They will obey your word.’
‘Circumstances altered when I was struck on the head. I’ve no idea if they have come because they want to make sure I’m alive or if they want to make sure I’m dead. Or if they have come for another purpose entirely.’
Her flesh quivered under his fingers. He longed to pull her into his arms and whisper easy platitudes, but she had requested the truth.
‘Haddr appears to be missing.’
She shaded her eyes with her hand. ‘You’re right. He isn’t here. We need to carefully consider what to do next. Perhaps we should try to make for Moir Mimrson’s hall and beg his assistance—unless you think that will take too long and my men will die.’
He firmed his mouth. His Cyn had not panicked or demanded. His admiration for her courage grew. ‘Do you know the way?’
‘I know the general direction.’ She made an imprudent gesture with her hand, accidentally dislodging a rock, sending it flying down the slope.
One of the Danes glanced upwards and gestured with his bow.
‘Keep down,’ Kal muttered. ‘Crawl backwards. Slowly. Without making a noise.’
She began to crawl, but her left foot became entangled in her skirt. A great tearing sound reverberated. She swore a loud oath—the sort ladies were not supposed to know.
Kal put his finger to his lips. ‘Impressive,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve not heard that one for a long time.’
‘My foot became stuck in my gown.’ She rucked up the gown so her lower limbs were exposed.
He attempted to ignore the enticing curve of her calves. ‘That is the trouble with wearing women’s clothes.’
‘Something like that.’
When she had gone far enough, Kal put up his hand and she stopped. He rapidly joined her and helped her to her feet.
‘We will go this way.’ He started off down a faint track which instinct told him looped back to the hall.
‘Where are you going? The cottage is that way.’ Cynehild pointed in the opposite direction. ‘My men remain in danger. Abandoning them is unthinkable. They’ll start searching for us.’
‘We’re going to my hall.’ He ran his hand through his hair, wincing as he caught the lump on his head. ‘If I have it wrong, direct me. We need to go quickly, by a back route, and we must get there before those men return. If they search, they must not find us. Searching will delay them until I can plan a welcome they won’t soon forget.’
Her mouth dropped open. ‘You want to go to your hall, where you know your would-be assassin lurks?’
‘It’s the best way to save your men. I must take my rightful place there again and I’m going to require your help, Cyn. I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry for what?’
He pushed a lock of her hair back from her face. ‘For putting you in danger. But I’m left with no other choice. If it is any consolation, you are just the sort of person I want by my side in this venture.’
Cynehild’s stomach knotted. She didn’t know who was crazier—the man proposing the scheme or her for going along with it. ‘Flattery is unnecessary. You are right. The only sensible way is to go to your hall as soon as possible.’
‘Excellent. A woman with common sense. You trusted me back there—trust me again to get your men back alive.’
Cynehild examined the clouds skittering across the sky. Trust him? Her heart whispered that she should...with everything. She hardened her mind. Not with her son’s future. She was the only person who could secure that.
‘Should we wait for Brother Palni, perhaps? He can’t be too far away now. We need men with strong sword arms—nothing has changed that. The prudent choice might be to wait.’
‘If we continue to wait and do nothing those men die.’
Cynehild pinched the sides of her nose and tried to quell a sudden feeling of being sick. She’d proudly proclaimed that she wanted to be a part of this, and now she wanted to run and hide.
She stiffened her spine. Going back to being a protected woman would mean giving up what she liked about herself now. The woman she’d been when Leofwine had first gone off to war no longer existed and she didn’t miss her.
‘What are you going to do once we get to the hall?’ she asked around the lump in her throat.
‘Reveal myself. It is impossible to try people for the murder of someone who is alive.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘Your bravery does you credit.’
‘I’m not brave. I’m petrified,’ she admitted in a rush, and waited for the kind of snort of laughter that her late husband would have given.
Silence.
‘Me too—but we’re both going to do it anyway,’ he said.
* * *
The hall, with its great gables of newly hewn timber, rose in front of Kal as they rounded a bend. A lake shimmered in the sunlight off to its right. Images flashed through his brain, making the pain in his head unbearable.
He put his hands on his thighs and attempted
to control it. In that brief breath he seemed to be back in Ribe, walking towards Ranka, where she waited for him to rescue her from her father’s so-called tyranny. Then that image became overlaid with the building of this hall. It was as if all his memories were coming at once, speeded up. His stomach roiled as a wave of dizziness passed over him.
Then Cynehild gave a small cry of shock, and he was jolted back into the present and his responsibilities towards this woman’s safety.
He wished those memories of building this hall were stronger, but already they were slipping away from him. Had he enjoyed creating it? Or had it been a burden? Why had he chosen those particular carvings?
Questions for another time and place.
‘Is everything all right?’ Cynehild asked, putting her hand on his shoulder. ‘Can we keep going? Or do you need to regain your strength? We’ve travelled here without pausing for a breath. Your body has been through too much.’
Kal concentrated on breathing steadily and the pain receded. ‘Surprise is our best weapon. The men at the hut will soon return here with their captives. Alive—not dead.’
‘I will take your word for it. You’re the warrior...’
Cynehild nibbled her lip as if she feared saying more. Kal silently cursed her late husband. She might have loved him, but he knew in his heart that Leofwine hadn’t treated her the way he should have. He had this one chance to show her that he could treat her as she deserved to be treated. He simply needed that unattainable luxury—time. He needed her brother-in-law not to arrive with his men too soon, but he also knew he needed that support if it came to a fight.
Rather than taking her in his arms and holding her close, he squeezed her hand. Her fingers tightened around his. He released her and put his head on one side, listening to the everyday noises.
The compound was far too quiet for his liking—almost as if it was hushed, waiting for something. He wasn’t sure if it was always this way or had become like this in his absence, but it had a distinctly subdued air, and there was no one practising in the yard or repairing things—the little aspects of life which he would have expected to see at this time of day.
He set his jaw and summoned all his remaining energy. ‘We keep going forward. There is no time to lose. I’ll rest when my task is done.’
She put her hand under his elbow. ‘Your task won’t be started if you rush about like this.’
‘Wasting time won’t save your men.’
He took a step and the world tilted. He stumbled over a stone and nearly went sprawling face-first on the path.
‘Sit.’ Cyn pointed towards a flat rock. ‘Sit until your colour is restored. The men who have captured mine are some distance away.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘If they’d returned there would be shouting and intense activity. People would already be hunting us. We’re close enough to hear when those men arrive back and to take action if necessary.’
‘Can I argue with common sense?’
‘No.’ She gave him a gentle push towards the rock. ‘Sit.’
As he sank down his legs nearly gave out, but her hand was there to break his fall. He patted the stone next to him. Their shoulders touched as they looked towards the hall.
‘What do you think of it?’ he asked when the extreme dizziness had passed. ‘I want to say that I built it on the ruins of the old hall which stood here, but my memory is faulty.’
Her cheeks paled in the sunshine. ‘Ruins? You mean the old hall was not still standing?’
‘Someone burnt it to the ground before I even arrived.’
Her teeth nibbled at her lower lip. ‘And the church? Does that still stand?’
‘Some of the roof has gone, but the altar remains with its stone cross.’ He held his breath, waiting to see if she believed him. He wasn’t entirely certain he believed himself, but he knew he didn’t want to be responsible for destroying what had once been her home. ‘I hope my memory has not played me false. But I’m sure I kept it to allow the villagers freedom to worship their god.’
She tapped a finger against her mouth. ‘The church must have remained standing or you wouldn’t have given me permission to come and visit it.’
‘True enough. You will be able to keep your vow and lay the sword.’
He willed her to tell him why it was so important to her. It surely went beyond simply honouring her husband. But her gaze slid away from him.
‘My vow is why I’m here.’
He shifted uneasily. How did he fight a ghost? How could he make her see that he wasn’t her enemy? That he wanted the best for her in the future and that future included him?
He stood and held out his hand. ‘Enough rest. We have a battle to face.’
‘Hopefully it will be more of a homecoming,’ she said.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘The very air exudes a prosperity which was lacking when Leofwine was in charge. He meant well, but there was always another war or battle to fight.’
She deftly twisted her hair so that it was once again hidden beneath her couvre-chef. When she’d finished, she’d become far more the Mercian lady than his Cyn.
‘I know what it was like when we left. Beloved, but a little faded about the edges. You saw Luba’s reaction—she likes having you as her overlord.’
‘She disliked your husband?’
‘She was his old nurse...’ Cynehild sighed. ‘She and her husband argued for us to stay and fight, but Leofwine thought we’d be better served by fleeing to my father. It would bring safety for his family, anyway.’
‘Is there more? What else did your husband fail to do? Did he not manage to rescue any of your belongings?’
She pretended to take an interest in the ground, kicking a pebble so it skipped along the road.
‘What is it, Cyn?’
‘Are you going to go straight into the hall? Or stand and call from the yard that you have returned?’
Kal let her avoid his question and instead tested the weight of her husband’s sword in his right hand. His mouth was parched, as it always was before battle. Right now, he wanted to believe he possessed enough strength to wield the sword effectively.
He made a practice swing and winced internally. His aim was worse than an unblooded warrior’s.
Cynehild simply watched him try again, without saying anything or offering to help.
‘Do you have a better plan?’ he asked, lowering the sword. ‘I suspect my enemy will be amongst the men at the cottage, determined to see the end of me. At the hall there will be some left who are loyal. I must believe that, Cyn. Someone must be loyal to me. Not everyone can want me dead.’
She kissed him on his cheek. ‘I know people will be loyal to you.’
He glanced up at the clouds, unable to speak for a moment. He wished he could explain that he wanted her to stay with him, that he had never met anyone as honest as she was. But the words stuck in his throat.
‘You can come in with me or stay behind in the safety of the shadows. Your choice,’ he said.
‘As long as you allow me to walk shoulder to shoulder with you, I will go in with you. We face this together. If you need my help, you must squeeze my hand.’
Shoulder to shoulder? Her courage threatened to unman him. Most women would have been desperate to hide. But this was far from Cynehild’s fight and her safety was paramount.
He opened his mouth to refuse, but swallowed the words when he caught sight of her determined face. ‘I would be honoured to walk like that with you.’
Her being glowed, as if he had given her some great present. He hated himself. A better man would have found some way to keep her from any chance of harm.
She looped her arm through his. ‘We are taking a risk, but you have to trust the people who live on these lands. If your attacker thought everyone loathed you, he would not h
ave hesitated to strike you down in public. Yet he kept to the shadows when you were alone, hitting you from behind like a coward.’
Her wise words did much to bolster his confidence. He hadn’t considered it in that way before. Maybe he wasn’t the tyrant he feared he must be. Maybe his attacker was in the wrong.
‘I trust you will be able to rally your men without me, but I am here if you need me. And thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘Believing I can contribute. People used to say I would only hinder on such occasions. Not so much since my sisters and I managed to defeat some Northmen, including my new brother-in-law...’
He struggled to keep a straight face, but his heart soared. Her husband had discounted her usefulness. It made him glad that he hadn’t given in to his instinct and tried to protect her by keeping her away from the situation. He resolved that he wouldn’t ever shut her out. He would show her that he was different from her husband.
He caught her hand and raised her palm to his lips. It trembled at his touch. Slowly. Slowly. If he was granted the time, he’d show her that things could be so very good between them. He released her hand. She instantly curled her fingers around her palm, as if she was trying to cling on to his touch.
‘I’ve no idea why the Fates have allowed our paths to cross, but I’m grateful.’
She pointed towards the hall and her face became a study in determination. ‘We go and reclaim your lands.’
‘I promise your safety will not be compromised.’
‘I’m counting on it.’
Chapter Ten
Kal dimly recognised the people in the yard, but their actual names and relationships to him slid away from his mind.
One elderly man dropped the bucket he carried and milk spilt out. A younger man missed his stroke with a pitchfork. But no one said anything. They simply watched in shocked silence.
Kal’s gut ached. Maybe he’d been overly optimistic about the sort of welcome he’d receive. What had he done to these people? Had he truly been bent on serving his own needs and not thinking about others?
Betrothed to the Enemy Viking Page 15