‘They are bringing him along this way towards the square,’ Ceanna murmured, sidling up to his elbow. ‘We should get a good vantage point there.’
She pointed to a little alley in the shadow of two houses. The crowd was thinner there. And a disused barrel stood to one side.
They ducked into the alleyway. The crowd surged past with the prisoner. Sandulf lifted Ceanna up on to the barrel to improve her view, then he turned his attention to the prisoner, a man more dead than alive.
Despite the dirt and the evidence of the beating, the cut of his fine woollen clothes proclaimed him as being a Northman like himself. His blond hair hung about his face as he was dragged along, his legs bumping on the ground. Every muscle in Sandulf’s body tensed. His mouth went dry.
What in the name of everything was Danr doing here?
He pressed his hands to his eyes and hoped he’d seen wrong. Perhaps he was the one with the over-active imagination now. A trick of the light. There was no way the prisoner should be Danr. He was safe in Éireann with Sandulf’s other brothers.
Then the man screamed in Gaelic that he’d never seen this lady of theirs and a dagger of ice went through Sandulf.
He gave a low moan in the back of his throat. Danr had obviously come in search of him, only to find himself caught up in the mess Sandulf had left behind in Dun Ollaigh.
A great red mist descended. Rurik had obviously told the others, a counsel of war had been held and Danr had been dispatched to bring the incompetent brother back to the family in disgrace, except it had not worked out as they had planned. But he’d make good—starting with Danr’s rescue. This was the chance he’d been waiting for his entire life. He’d demonstrate once and for all time that he was indeed worthy of being their brother, one of the fabled Sons of Sigurd.
He stepped forward. Someone grabbed on to his tunic, hauling him backwards. He looked at Ceanna in incomprehension. He put up an arm to knock her away. ‘I must get out there. I must. Do you understand?’
‘Sandulf!’ Ceanna jumped down from the barrel, grabbed his arm with fierce fingers and pinned him against the building. ‘We’re here to watch, not to act without thought, remember? Who is that man? One of your countrymen?’
‘Danr.’
‘Your brother?’ Her grip loosened. ‘Oh, no, Sandulf, how can that be? What is he doing here?’
‘I can’t tell for sure. I haven’t spoken to him since I left Maerr.’
‘But what are we going to do about it?’
‘There is no we. I alone will do it. I have to. My brothers turned their backs on me after what happened in Maerr and this is my chance to redeem myself in their eyes, to prove I am a man, that I am worthy of being their brother.’
Her hands clawed at his arms. ‘You have to remain with me until you start thinking logically. I refuse to allow you to do something which will endanger everything and everyone.’
‘You will stop me?’
‘By physical force if necessary. I’ll sit on you and pin you down.’
‘Sit on me?’ The red mist cleared and he let out a small laugh. He saw her stricken face peering up at him. She had prevented him from making a mistake of immense proportions, the kind that had got him his reputation with his brothers in the first place. He put his fingers about her face and whispered in a softer voice, ‘Let me go. I have to go.’
‘No. You have to remain here. With me in this alley. We consider our options. We make our plan. We execute it together when the time is right.’
‘But my brother suffers,’ he bit out in a furious undertone. ‘Let me go and save him. I must. Stay here if you wish, but I can’t just stand aside and watch him die for something they think I did.’
She manoeuvred herself in front of him. ‘Hold true to your earlier arguments. Danr will understand why you did not rush in waving your sword when we free him. He will want to find this Lugh as much as you. He will want everyone punished. Believe that the rule of law still exists around Dun Ollaigh. He’ll survive until we rescue him. Go now and you will ruin the best chance you have of catching Lugh.’
He collapsed against her. His frame was tense with the internal struggle he faced. Her arms came about him and held him tight.
‘I know. I know,’ she murmured in his ear.
‘We must rescue him. Somehow. Before everything else.’
‘Agreed, but what you said earlier about keeping my presence a secret must be so.’ Her calm measured voice made his heart ease.
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Wait until the cover of darkness. They have had their fun. They will leave him tied to the post. The petition against him will have to be presented to my father. I know these people, I know how things are done here.’ Ceanna bristled. ‘We do not simply enact rough and ready justice in this kingdom. There is a rule of law and procedures to be followed. Even Feradach and my stepmother will want to see lip service paid to the law. Time is on our side. Just.’
‘And if we can’t rescue him that way?’
‘When did you become such a doubter? Rescuing people is what you do.’
Like the first taste of cloudberries or the song of the first blackbird outside the longhouse in spring, a nearly forgotten but oddly familiar warmth spread through Sandulf. He’d passed through the winter solitude of suffering and now he bathed in the light of someone who truly believed in him and his ability. ‘Together?’
‘I guarantee it.’ She pulled his hat further down over his forehead. ‘If you’re ready, we make our way back to Vanora and wait.’
He glanced once more at where his brother was tied to the post. ‘What will happen today?’
‘Normally they’ll keep him tied to the post until the lord can make his judgement, provided my father is well enough. As your brother is a foreigner, they might even need the permission of Giric, the King’s Regent. Danr will survive until then. If he is your brother, then he is as hard as tempered steel, just like you.’
Sandulf watched the now-empty street. The shouts had subsided. What Ceanna said made sense. Law and order existed here. It was not the anarchy of battle. With patience, it was possible he could achieve both his aims.
He took her hand, clung to it like a drowning man clings to a spar and raised it to his lips. ‘Thank you.’
* * *
Although there were days in the summer when it never became truly dark, now that it was autumn the days were starting to draw in. She had seen the fields they travelled through and knew it should be a decent harvest, but the crops had not been brought in, as they should have been. If her father were still alive, he wasn’t commanding his stewards in the way he had once done.
She pushed her thoughts about management of Dun Ollaigh away and racked her brain to come up with a plan of how to rescue Danr. Sandulf was going to need her help. And she wanted to give it, no longer because she wanted to be indispensable, but because she had seen the naked longing in Sandulf’s face. She knew what it was like to lose a brother.
When they came to where the ponies were tethered, Vanora was nowhere to be seen.
‘Vanora!’ Ceanna called softly. ‘Come here, girl.’
Ceanna heard a low whine and desperate yipping. She followed the sound to where Vanora was tied up outside the tavern. She rapidly undid the rope and turned to go.
‘My lady! It is you! By all the saints in heaven! We thought you were dead. Your father came out of Dun Ollaigh for the first time in months for your funeral. That was three days ago, then this here dog of yours turns up without a by your leave and takes one of my pies and I hardly dared to hope. It can’t be Lady Ceanna in her grave without her dog, I told myself. Where that dog is, you will find her. It is a bad business if they put someone else in your grave and made your father weep like that.’
Ceanna pivoted to see Bertana, the tavern keeper’s wife, standing there, behind her. ‘But who said I w
as dead?’
The woman enveloped her in a tight hug. ‘We have been so worried. Urist told a tale about an ambush with you being attacked, but I knew about that corpse he’d taken and how that lady who died in childbirth hadn’t been buried. And I wondered... And your poor father weeping. I thought he’d expire from the trauma of it all and they’d be having another funeral in a matter of days. But my husband told me I was being foolish.’
Ceanna looked up at the skittering clouds. Her father was alive three days ago and well enough to attend his daughter’s funeral. She blinked rapidly until she had her emotions under control. ‘You knew about the corpse, the one Urist used as a decoy? But said nothing to my father?’
The woman shrugged. ‘Urist’s woman always had a big mouth. She told me after you left. Urist always has an eye for the main chance, but this scheme has him living in Dun Ollaigh and dining on the choicest meats, according to my cousin. I told my sister that he is playing both ends against the middle and for his own advantage, make no mistake. I thought you must be in trouble if you had made a bargain with him. Listen to me, babbling on. I am like a brook in flood, never knowing when to stop.’
Ceanna shot a sideways glance at Sandulf. To her relief, he stayed silent, watching with hooded eyes. ‘Urist made a dreadful error, throwing his lot in with those people.’
‘A mistake. A terrible one.’ Bertana’s mouth firmed. ‘I can see that—you being alive and here.’
‘Who is the prisoner? And how did they come to accuse him?’ Ceanna asked as an idea began to grow in her brain. Urist might hate all Northmen with a passion and see this as a chance to strike a blow, but if he saw Sandulf there instead of Danr, what would he do? Excitement filled her throat.
‘I don’t know, but he faces judgement tomorrow morning. Urist is not well enough to be moved today and remains at Dun Ollaigh under Lady Mhairi’s care. In the morning, he and your lady stepmother are coming to view the prisoner.’ She worried her chatelaine’s belt, making the various keys and scissors jangle. ‘My lady, I am not sure what is for the best, but my cousin said that something peculiar was happening up at Dun Ollaigh. That Feradach has been taking your father’s place, acting as though it belongs to him. All I can say is that I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart. You were right to go when you did and I was wrong to allow my man to send that boy to tell on you...only he were found tied up. It is all most confusing.’
‘And is Captain Feradach’s brother, the monk, at Dun Ollaigh?’ Sandulf asked, breaking into the conversation in heavily accented Pictish. Ceanna gave him a quelling look, but he nodded.
Bertana stopped and stared at Sandulf, taking in the obvious foreignness of his sword and colouring. ‘You look familiar. Weren’t you here that day Lady Ceanna left, or am I mistaking you for someone else?’
‘This is my husband. We married at Nrurim with my aunt’s blessing.’
The woman’s brow furrowed. ‘The lady abbess sanctioned your marriage to a Northman? Will wonders never cease. Feradach’s brother has been saying masses for your soul. Night and day. They say it won’t be long until your father follows you...that is, well I don’t know...but I think he is alive.’
‘You explain,’ Sandulf said in an undertone. ‘I doubt my Pictish is sufficient yet.’
Ceanna nodded, agreeing with his assessment. They were going to have to move quickly to rescue Sandulf’s brother and were going to need help. She had to trust Bertana and rapidly told the woman about the attack, her distrust of Urist’s intentions and the missing sons of the late King Aed. Her eyes grew wide.
‘I have never liked that Feradach and I know your stepmother is a great lady and all, but something’s going on and I don’t like it,’ Bertana said when Ceanna finished her brief recital. ‘Two boys, you say? Now that I come to think of it, there were two boys crying their eyes out in one of the chambers, according to my cousin, the one who works in the kitchen up at the keep. I thought she were exaggerating, like. Why would Lady Mhairi have any children there, seeing how ill her lord was and that begging your pardon, my lady, her stepdaughter had been foully murdered.’
‘I’ve promised my aunt I will see them to safety. I intend to keep that promise.’
Bertana put a hand on Ceanna’s shoulder when she finished. ‘I know what you have done for everyone around here. You carried on doing what your mother did before you, looking after everyone, but your stepmother has a different approach. Those bairns, if they are the ones my cousin saw, my blood chills to think about what could have happened to them. I want to help, my lady, and make amends for sending my boy to tell on you.’
A lump grew in Ceanna’s throat. Her efforts had not gone unnoticed. ‘Then you will keep my secret until I decide what is for the best.’
Bertana gave a sideways glance at Sandulf. ‘Only thing is, if you were in trouble, my lady, you should have come to your friends first and explained instead of throwing your lot in with a Northman.’
‘Northman or not, Sandulf Sigurdsson is my chosen husband. A true friend to... Dun Ollaigh. Remember that.’
Bertana gave a quick curtsy. ‘I don’t mean no disrespect, but if he were such a friend, you should have told us afore you left. My sister Mildreth ran away with the man she loved, but she told me afore she did it so I didn’t worry. I don’t know what happened to her.’
Silently Ceanna resolved that if she could, she would pass on news of how Mother Mildreth was faring and strive to bring them face to face. She pressed her lips together. She hoped she would still be here to do it. The same with the harvest. Her destiny lay with her husband, but these people commanded part of her soul.
‘You grow solemn,’ Sandulf said. ‘Is everything well? A new complication?’
She gave him a quick smile, banishing the thoughts as problems for the future. ‘Our luck holds. We can rescue your brother before confronting Feradach and Lugh.’
‘If we rescue my brother, this will let everyone know what is happening. There is much more at stake here. Do you want Lugh and Feradach to steal your lands?’
Ceanna frowned. ‘I’ve been working on a plan.’
Sandulf’s eyes narrowed.
‘This is a good one, I promise.’
‘You will be taking far too many risks for a start, whatever this plan of yours is.’
She smiled back at him. ‘Calculated risks. Nothing is going to go wrong. I’ll have your sword with me when I reveal myself, but in order for my scheme to work, you must take your brother’s place.’
Sandulf’s eyes gleamed. ‘We don’t look much alike.’
‘To the Picts you will. One man from the North appears much the same as another. But scrubbing your face with dirt will help.’
To her relief, Sandulf smiled. ‘Freeing my brother is the most important thing. Discovering how he was captured.’
‘Feradach and his brother are sure to be in the square when Urist makes his accusation. They won’t be looking for a move from the prisoner.’
‘I want to know why the fool travelled here. I had everything under control.’ He shook his head. ‘Despite everything he said, Rurik doesn’t trust me to accomplish this on my own.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I do. I know what my brothers are like. I’m the baby of the family for ever, toddling around behind them. A wooden sword clutched in my fist, never a steel one. They do not see the warrior I’ve become, the things I have achieved and all the things I am capable of achieving in the future.’
‘Yet you long to be a part of the brotherhood.’
Sandulf was silent for a long heartbeat. ‘I do. More than anything.’
Chapter Thirteen
Sandulf was pleased that they would be operating under cover of darkness. He had to admit that Ceanna’s plan was a sound one. There were flaws—not the least her being in the square rather than waiting safely with Bertana back at the tavern. But he h
ad accepted that he would need help getting Danr back if he was going to take his place.
She was asking him to trust that the villagers would rise up in support of her once they had gathered to see Urist’s viewing of the prisoner. But he didn’t have a better plan and he did know time was of the essence. In his mind, he could hear his brothers arguing and he knew what each of them would say about the scheme. Brandt would counsel that it was far too risky. Alarr would warn him against being caught without a weapon. Rurik would scout out the lie of the land and have three other backup plans. Danr, well, he’d notice Ceanna’s ankles and tell him that he was being a fool for not telling her how he felt. But how could he when he had this hanging over him?
‘Are you ready? Do you have enough dirt on your face?’ Ceanna asked, lifting her hood. ‘Have we thought of every eventuality?’
‘I will take a dagger. Just in case it is not a fair hearing as you think it will be.’
‘It would be highly unusual for my father to behave in any other way. He will want his daughter’s murderer punished according to the law.’
‘Nevertheless, I remain cautious. I would be a fool to be caught without one.’ Sandulf slipped the slender blade into a special pocket in his right boot. He’d purchased the boots in Constantinople, after he’d seen how the hidden dagger in a friend’s pair had saved both their lives.
It had struck him at the time that of all his brothers, Danr would be the most envious of the boots. Danr was fond of his clothes and said that it was the cut of his boots that endeared him to the many women who fell at his feet.
An unaccustomed throb of pain went through Sandulf. He wanted to hear Danr joke again. He missed his brother’s teasing jests; he missed the faint pause after his outrageous statements as if Danr was waiting to judge the reaction; mostly he’d missed the sound of his brother’s voice.
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