A Deal with Her Rebel Viking

by Michelle Styles

  ‘You’ve never said anything until now.’

  Cynehild retrieved her spindle and reattached the thread. ‘Our grandmother wanted it to be in the past. I thought you simply mourned our mother’s death like I did and respected your right not to speak about it. Ask next time.’

  She stared at her older sister. She was saying pretty much what Moir had said about people not blaming her. Other people might not, but she knew what her father still thought—that the ultimate responsibility for the accident was hers for sounding the false alarm. ‘Our father married me off to an old man because he could not bear the sight of me.’

  ‘He needed that alliance desperately with Eadweard. He thought it would protect him against Wessex. He never suspected the Heathen Horde would arrive.’ Cynehild gave an exasperated sigh. ‘It isn’t always about you and your mistakes, Ansithe. Other people make them, too. You simply allow yourself to be defined by them.’

  ‘You have never hesitated to mention them in the past.’ Cynehild had to be wrong. She remembered her mistakes so she wouldn’t repeat them.

  ‘That was before you saved my life. You did more than that—you saved this estate and little Wulfgar, too.’

  ‘I’d wait until Father and Leofwine return before praising me too much. Things I do have a habit of turning to mud in my hands.’

  ‘They will return. And when they do I will ensure Father understands that you must be consulted before he tries to marry you off. Like he did with me about Leofwine.’

  ‘My marriage was a disaster in many ways. We were ill-suited to each other,’ Ansithe said.

  Cynehild put her spinning down and gathered Wulfgar to her. ‘Arranged marriages can work, Ansithe, if there is good will on both sides. Yours was simply unfortunate. Love didn’t happen straight away for Leofwine and me, but after I gave birth, it blossomed.’

  Ansithe concentrated on her tangled threads. Giving birth would not happen for her. ‘I have never had a child.’

  ‘That could have been your husband’s fault.’

  ‘He had several children already, remember?’

  ‘You won’t make me change my mind or make me feel guilty for having Wulfgar.’ Cynehild put Wulfgar down. Wulfgar started to toddle away, talking about water. ‘After what you told me about Cedric making mischief here, you need to go to Baldwine’s and see for yourself.’

  ‘Why? What does Cedric have to do with this?’

  ‘Baldwine will have told Cedric about the missing sheep and you know what he is like. He will come here to check that all our prisoners are present in case they’re responsible.’

  Cedric was bound to come calling? Ansithe sighed. Cynehild simply did not fancy the journey to the farm. But she had a point—Baldwine was bound to send word to Cedric as well. ‘Wouldn’t that be avoiding my responsibilities?’

  ‘You can’t be in two places at once. Cedric only makes you lose your temper, so I will deal with him. I can be responsible as well, Ansithe. Will you let me help you without snapping my head off and barking orders?’

  ‘I don’t...’ Ansithe paused. Maybe it seemed that way to Cynehild. ‘You are right—his lectures do bother me.’

  Cynehild grabbed Ansithe’s hand. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You are also right in that we will have to do something about Baldwine’s missing sheep. I will investigate. They could have strayed, but I will not put these lands in jeopardy just because my father is a captive. We will not become an easy target for all manner of outlaw.’

  ‘Take that handsome Northman with you. He seems to have some good ideas about how this estate should be run. He might be able to tell what happened and where the sheep went.’

  Ansithe narrowed her eyes. Cynehild could not have seen them kissing, could she? ‘Why should I take the Northman?’

  ‘Things have been unsettled hereabouts. You might need protection.’

  ‘I have my bow and arrow.’

  ‘He has a calming manner which is more than some.’ Cynehild developed a sudden interest in the embroidered cuff of her gown. ‘His men can finish the threshing barn. Trust me to look after them for the morning.’

  The back of Ansithe’s neck prickled. Cynehild was up to something. ‘How do you know all of this?’

  ‘Because you are not the only one who can speak to him, sister dear. Now are you going to trust me or not?’

  Ansithe’s throat closed. She glanced up at the roof beams and blinked rapidly. She hadn’t realised that Cynehild thought she didn’t trust her. ‘You are being impossible, but I do love you.’

  * * *

  After Cynehild’s declaration about trust, Ansithe had been left with little option but to go the farm with Moir. The ease between them had vanished and the silence stretched out uncomfortably. Yet with every step she took, she was aware of the length of his legs and the way he moved with certain grace. Occasionally their hands brushed, causing her breath to catch, but she couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or not. Every time she looked at him, he had a bland expression on his face.

  She stopped in front of the farmhouse. ‘Baldwine is like most of the farmers here. He despises all from the Horde. His eldest died in one of the battles.’

  ‘I am not here to make friends. I am here to provide protection.’

  ‘Protection? I can look after myself.’

  Moir crossed his arms. ‘Cynehild wanted to ensure you were protected. It is why she sent me.’

  ‘Cynehild overreacts.’

  He moved directly behind her. Her body instantly responded to the warmth radiating outwards. ‘Sometimes it is good to have someone to watch your back. Your sister worries about you. I jumped at the chance to spend time alone with you.’

  Ansithe pressed her lips together. He wanted to spend time alone with her. ‘I will keep that under advisement.’

  * * *

  ‘It’s the Heathen Horde, I’m telling you, Lady Ansithe,’ Baldwine the farmer said, scratching his nose. ‘Can’t be anything else.’

  ‘Why would they take seven sheep?’ Ansithe asked. ‘And leave the rest?’

  Baldwine’s ears went red. ‘How should I know such a thing? I didn’t get a chance to ask them...unlike you. You remember when—’

  ‘Moir?’ Ansithe said before Baldwine could finish. ‘Is there something you wish to say?’

  ‘Outlaws, not men from the North.’ Moir crossed his arms over his chest. ‘If it were men from the North, I could understand cattle or horses or even women, but not sheep or pigs. Those creatures are more trouble than they are worth to dispose of at market.’

  Baldwine’s face went a bright red. ‘And your friend knows better than I about such things, does he?’

  ‘He is the jaarl Andvarr’s liegeman and my captive,’ Ansithe said. ‘I am sure you heard how I as a lone woman managed to defeat a band of Northern warriors.’

  Baldwine whistled. ‘I heard tell you’d done such a thing, but I didn’t reckon it were actually true. I remember about the monks, my lady, and what happened then.’

  ‘Damned with faint praise,’ Moir murmured.

  Baldwine bristled. ‘Did you say something, Northman?’

  ‘I did. Show your lady some proper respect. She has earned that right. The brilliance of her scheme and the way she deployed those bee skeps was something to behold.’ Moir stepped forward with clenched fists.

  Baldwine was the first to look away.

  Ansithe stepped between them. ‘I can fight my own battles.’

  Moir gave a half-smile and briefly covered her hand with his before stepping away. ‘Agreed, my lady, but you should not have to keep fighting the same one, particularly when you have already won. And you should always make use of the tools you have rather than letting them rust through lack of use.’

  She stared at him. He spoke the truth. Baldwine and others were trying to use the past to make her cr
inge and cower. Practically, in the last year she had shown everyone, including her father, that she was more than capable of running the household efficiently. Moir was right. She did have the skills to handle the awkward Baldwine.

  ‘Baldwine, I travelled here because of sheep, not to listen to you prattle on about what happened when I was only a young girl.’

  The farmer stroked his chin. ‘I reckon we will be happier when you are settled with your own man once again. It were a terrible shame when your husband died. Cedric, now he is a good lord. He promises—’

  ‘What promises has Cedric made? I wasn’t aware that he could make any promises to my family’s tenants,’ Ansithe said in a firm voice. Coming here was worthwhile for learning that nugget of information, if nothing else. ‘Do not count on your future lord before he becomes your true lord.’

  Baldwine did not meet her eye. ‘Lord Cedric is concerned about you, my lady. He was going to see you today about this here stolen sheep. It were why I was surprised like to see you and your...captive. Perhaps we ought to wait for him. Get his thinking on this. A right sound fellow is Lord Cedric.’

  Ansithe frowned. She could well imagine what Cedric would say and who he’d blame. She also knew if she opened her mouth before she counted to ten, she’d lose her temper with Baldwine.

  ‘Perhaps we can discover another explanation through investigation, rather than waiting for someone who has nothing to do with this estate.’ Moir’s words cut through her descending red fog of anger.

  Baldwine stared at him as if he’d sprouted an extra head. ‘Is there another explanation?’

  ‘I would like to see the pasture where the sheep vanished from,’ Moir said. ‘They can be the very devil for escaping. What with the recent troubles, I doubt anyone has had much time to mend walls. Your steward neglects his duties, my lady, but I know you have already discovered this.’

  Baldwine looked about ready to bluster, but his wife shushed him.

  Ansithe pressed her hands against her eyes and regained control of her temper. ‘That is the best suggestion I’ve heard this morning—we will check the walls and the surrounding fields thoroughly.’

  ‘I find it best to ascertain all the facts before casting blame,’ Moir said, catching her elbow as she went out of the door. ‘You did well, Kyrie.’

  ‘With a little help from a friend,’ Ansithe said. ‘I thought I wouldn’t need you today, but I did. I am glad you came with me.’

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘All you needed was for someone to believe in you and I am happy to do that.’

  * * *

  If anything, the sun had grown hotter and huge thunder clouds formed in the sky, billowing overhead after they’d finished with Baldwine, having discovered the missing sheep had strayed to a top pasture through a hole in the wall.

  As they walked back to the manor, the butterflies and damselflies played in the sunshine. By the time they reached the relative shade of a stand of oaks, Ansithe’s gown was stuck to her back.

  ‘Your prowess at finding sheep has been duly noted,’ Ansithe said, skirting around a log. ‘Expert thatcher and now sheep-finder. Are you sure your heart belongs to war? You would make a fine farmer.’

  He stopped and looked at her quizzically. ‘In order to farm, one must have land, something few have in the North with the new King.’

  ‘Did your father lose your land, is that why you came on this expedition?’

  ‘I don’t usually speak about either of my parents, but my father did lose everything because he betrayed his men and his honour.’

  ‘How did you know about the sheep?’

  Moir gave a rueful smile. ‘It is down to my youth spent chasing goats over the hills, rather than any special power. I thought the pens looked a bit run down when we arrived. And since the new King took power it has become a common trick to hide livestock and make the tithe less in the North country.’

  ‘You chased goats?’

  ‘I had to eat. Both my parents had died.’ He looked away from her. ‘I was not supposed to become a warrior. Everyone had dire predictions about what I would become, but my jaarl’s lady, she had belief in me...despite everything. She vouched for me so I could join my first felag.’

  ‘Bjartr’s mother,’ Ansithe said, wiping a hand across her face. She sat down in the shade of an oak on the cool moss. It explained much. There was far more to Moir looking after Bjartr than she’d thought.

  ‘Ingunn was one of the greatest women I ever met. She was like a second mother to me. Unfortunately, she was taken far too soon.’ Moir settled down next to her. ‘I was never able to show her that her faith in me was justified. I wanted to. The summer she died was my first warring season. But I like to think my loyalty has been noted. It is why Andvarr entrusted his son to me.’

  Ansithe nodded, beginning to understand why he was so protective of Bjartr. ‘But you did become a warrior. Her faith in you was justified.’

  He looped his hands about his knee. ‘It remains to be seen if I remain one once this journey ends. It has been a disaster from start to finish. I warned Andvarr of the danger of making Bjartr the felag leader on his first expedition, but he adores his son. Bjartr took liberties.’

  ‘Adores or ignores?’ Ansithe said shrewdly, crossing her arms. ‘Bjartr reminds me a bit of my stepson. His father either lavished attention on him or ignored him. He fled when the fighting happened, rather than standing and fighting.’

  ‘Andvarr wants him to become a great warrior, but sometimes Bjartr takes that too much for granted. He does not see how hard his father works. How many other people have calls on his attention.’ Moir shrugged. ‘It is a problem for another day. Soon I will have more than chasing reluctant sheep over the hills to worry about. Your sister will return and my time of grace as your priest calls it will end. I swear Palni will be ready to wear a monk’s cowl if we don’t leave soon.’

  Ansithe stilled, waiting for the request for her to turn a blind eye to their escape. He looked at her, but she said nothing, holding her breath.

  ‘You have kept Bjartr alive,’ she finally said into the silence. ‘That has to count for something. Surely his father wants his son back alive.’

  His lips turned up into a small smile. ‘Hopefully Andvarr will consider that when we return rather than what happened before I left.’

  ‘Who told me that I had earned the right to be considered more? Not to be defined by what happened when I was nine years old.’

  ‘You sound far surer of that than I am.’ He smiled one of his crooked smiles, the sort which made her feel as if she’d been surrounded by a thousand candles. It seemed strange that she looked for his smiles after such a short time together and that she already knew she’d miss them once he had gone.

  She screwed up her eyes. He would be going. Soon. Her father and Leofwine would return and her scheme to win her father’s respect and admiration would succeed. But her father had never truly appreciated what she had done before, so why would he start now? The thought made her unaccountably depressed. This time it had to be different.

  ‘Let’s not speak about what we are facing. What will you do if the war ends? They say your jaarl seeks peace.’

  ‘War always happens. Men quarrel.’

  ‘One day the fighting will end for you. It nearly did for Palni.’

  ‘When that day happens, then I will decide.’ He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. ‘If there is no land for me here, then perhaps I will travel to Iceland. A warrior I met told me that it was a good place with waterfalls and clear streams which suddenly turn boiling hot. Constantinople is also a possibility. The Emperor there told me that I could return.’ He stopped. ‘You are smiling at me.’

  ‘I am thinking how different we are,’ she said to cover her confusion at wishing she could travel to see the places he had named. ‘You have travelled across the seas and I have bar
ely left home. It seems strange that people think the men from the North are uncivilised.’

  ‘Travel is uncomfortable and dangerous. Most of the time you are cold, wet and living in certain knowledge that each breath might be your last one.’

  ‘But there are reasons why you still long to go.’

  A faint breeze ruffled his hair. ‘I never think beyond the sunset or the next sunrise. It makes travelling easier.’

  ‘There always seems to be a reason why I can’t go anywhere.’ Ansithe stared at the leaves rustling on the branches. It was easy to make light of her disappointment at not being trusted to travel. Somehow with him sitting beside her, it no longer mattered as much as it had. ‘I even contemplated becoming a nun until I learnt that my brother-in-law meant me living at one of the convents close at hand, rather than travelling to Rome.’

  ‘When you married, didn’t you have to leave the estate?’

  ‘My late husband preferred his estate which was five miles away rather than the one in West Mercia. He was a friend of my father’s. I doubt anyone else ever looked at me. I am not the beauty of the family. Cynehild had that honour first and then Elene. My husband wanted my dower portion and my abilities to manage a household, although my stepson claimed that ability was woefully exaggerated.’ She forced a smile to show that it didn’t hurt. And somehow sharing the story with him, it didn’t. It was as if that humiliation had happened to someone else and it was now her stepson’s problem.

  ‘Who owns your dowry lands now?’ he asked.

  Ansithe frowned slightly. She had half-wished that he had told her that she was pretty, instead of asking about the lands that would form part of any future dowry of hers.

  She gestured about her. ‘They were returned to my father when my husband died. My stepson sold the other land to Cedric for a pittance. Cedric only realised afterwards that these lands had some value as well.’

  ‘I see. Your father sold you for his own purpose.’ A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘And lied to you about your looks until you refused to believe even the evidence of your own eyes.’