He nodded. ‘I know, but I’m not Alvey. Not like you are. You need to stay well and unharmed for the future of our people.’ He paused and then added, ‘For my future. I need you to be well, Wife.’ His eyes held a hint of desperation.
She closed her eyes as she remembered his argument for keeping her safe. The worst part was that she couldn’t argue against it. It was too soon for her people to have accepted Vidar and his men completely. What if something happened to her and they did revolt? ‘That’s not fair.’
He surprised her by taking her face between his hands and lifted it so that she met his gaze. ‘It’s not fair, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.’
‘And what about you? What if something happens to you? What am I to do?’
‘I’ll come back to you. I promise.’ He kissed her in front of everyone and she didn’t care that they saw. Putting her arms around his shoulders, she held him close until he pulled away. ‘Come help me plan the attack.’ She nodded and he took her hand and led her back to the men.
‘At least allow Rodor to lead the men through the marshes,’ she said.
Vidar looked up at the man and Rodor nodded. ‘I know the marshes well. I’d be honoured to lead the men through.’
Vidar still hesitated. ‘It could be risky. My hesitation is that we’ve not battled together before. It’s risky if we don’t act together.’
Gwendolyn said, ‘Then he won’t attack from the north. He can hold the marsh and wait in case they flee that way. If he and his men hide then they can take out the rebels as they run.’
Vidar’s face lit up and he smiled. ‘Excellent solution. It makes sense and it wouldn’t be much of a risk.’
She smiled back at him. ‘If it’s not risky does that mean that I can—?’
‘Nay.’ He cut off that sentence before she could finish it. ‘You must stay here. Your life is too valuable.’
She frowned and he squeezed her hand as he turned his attention back to the map. He made sure that Rolfe and the other leaders under his command understood the area before moving on to discuss strategy.
* * *
In less than an hour they were outside saying goodbye, as men rushed supplies and weapons to the ships in the river below Alvey. She couldn’t believe that only weeks ago she’d been dreading see his boat appear in that river. Now, she dreaded seeing it go.
He put his arms around her and brought his mouth down on hers. It was a long slow kiss that made her knees weaken as everything inside her turned to molten honey. He tasted like the mead they shared every night and she knew that she’d miss that taste on his lips until he came back. How had everything changed so fast?
‘Don’t look so worried. I’ll come back,’ he whispered.
‘I know. I feel... I lost Cam this way and I can’t help but remember that I’d sent him off knowing full well that he’d come back to me.’
His arms tightened around her and he buried his face in her hair. ‘I’m sorry you have to relive that. But I will come back.’
She nodded and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. ‘I know.’ To be honest, she felt guilty as well. She’d mourned Cam, but she hadn’t felt like this when she’d sent him off. ‘This is different. It feels like I’m tearing a part of myself out to send along with you.’
He drew back just enough to look down at her. His eyes were full of questions. ‘Do you mean you didn’t feel that way...before? Is that how it’s different?’
‘Aye... I don’t know why. I feel guilty. Perhaps I didn’t care enough...perhaps I didn’t...’
‘Shhh... Don’t, Gwendolyn. I’ve never felt this way either. I look at you and I see part of myself.’ He laughed. ‘It sounds ridiculous when I say it aloud.’ He even lowered his voice as if the men near them might hear. ‘I’ve never mourned the loss of a woman and especially not a woman I knew that I would see again soon, but I mourn the loss of your warmth next to me for even one day. I mourn that I won’t hear the sweet sound of your laughter, a sound I’ve only just discovered.’
Her heart beat faster at his words and she raised up and kissed him again. ‘Then we can be ridiculous together when you return.’
‘When I come back, I won’t allow you out of bed for at least a day.’ His grin was wicked and it made her stomach clench in pleasurable anticipation.
‘Promise?’
‘Perhaps you’ll consider being naughty while I’m gone and give me reason to spank you.’ He raised a brow.
She couldn’t help but flush, because his suggestion was too close to the truth of her intention. Also, because part of her was relishing the prospect of another spanking. He gave her one last squeeze before he let her go to board his ship. She watched as they set off down the river, the dim moonlight barely lighting their way. Her heart twisted in her chest.
* * *
The grey mist of dawn hung down from the trees as Vidar and his men made their way to the rebel encampment. They’d left the ships further away with the thought that the waterway would be watched more diligently than the land. It turned out they were right, because they’d encountered surprisingly little resistance. A few rebels had been guarding the camp from the south, but they’d been easily dispatched.
He stood in the eerie silence of the rising sun, waiting for there to be enough light to guide them, and watched the camp come to life. A man tended the fire in the centre of the group, adding wood to start preparing the morning meal. Very soon, another fire flared to life on the north side, casting a bit of light across the camp.
There appeared to be nearly fifty men. From their clothing, he could tell that they were Danes. Eirik commanded all the Danes in Northumbria and these were not his men. They were definitely a part of the rebel group that Magnus and Eirik had fought in the autumn. At the time, it had been assumed that the battle had killed most of them. No one had suspected that so many of them had fled north.
Another fire sprang to life and Vidar gave the signal to his men. They moved forward as quietly as they could, hoping to catch most of the rebels still sleeping. Only when they’d reached the perimeter of the clearing did Vidar sound the battle cry and they attacked. The rebels were caught off guard so that the first few they encountered hadn’t even roused completely from their slumber. They were all battle trained and slept with their weapons, so it only took a moment for the rest to gain their senses and grab their swords and axes. But none of them had shields and that gave them a disadvantage.
Faster than Vidar had anticipated, he’d worked his way through to the camp’s far side. He’d sent a group of warriors to attack from that direction and he met them with only a handful of rebel warriors between them. So when a few of the cowards attempted to flee, Vidar smiled as he followed them on foot. ‘To the north!’ he called back over his shoulder and he was rewarded with a horn blow. It was the signal to Rodor and his men waiting in the marsh that rebels headed in their direction.
The rebels moved faster than expected, forcing Vidar to break out into a run. The trees were heavier the further he moved from the camp. Rolfe and the small band of men who fought next to Vidar followed behind. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t see the enemy tracks clearly as the ground became softer and began to suck at his boots, leaving puddles of murky water behind that quickly blended together. A crack that sounded like a branch breaking came from somewhere off to the right and Vidar pointed towards the sound while making eye contact with his men. Giving a signal, he directed three of them to go in that direction.
Then he moved forward with only one warrior, Gaute, at his back. He held his sword before him as the foliage became harsher and was forced to whack his way through. He’d almost decided to turn back, thinking that the rebels must have gone another way, since the foliage was so thick and there was no sign of their passing through. He stopped when the sound of muffled voices reached him. It came through the tr
ees just ahead.
Making eye contact with his warrior, Vidar directed him to one side, while Vidar went to the other. It was best to split up so that they could catch the men from both sides. From the sound of the voices, it seemed that only two men were hiding, but he couldn’t be certain. He despised that they were walking into what amounted to a blind. Between the thick foliage and trees they weren’t able to see past, he knew they needed to tread carefully.
He couldn’t help but wince at the sound his boots made slogging through the marsh, but he tried to keep his steps as quiet as possible. The stagnant smell of the water rose around him as he backed himself up to a tree. He counted the paces off in his mind until he was fairly certain that his warrior had reached the other side. Only then did he hold his sword up high and attack, swinging around the tree so fast he caught the men on the other side off guard. They jumped back in surprise and for a moment Vidar knew that he would be victorious. He brought his sword down, taking out the first of the rebels.
He advanced on the second one, but from the corner of his eye, he saw other rebels pour into the clearing. There were too many to count and before he realised what was happening, he sank down to the ground. Pain blurred his vision and his chest grew heavy, squeezing the air from his lungs. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t see clearly and he tried to get to his feet, but blackness swirled around his vision. One of the rebels loomed over him. The man grinned, revealing teeth with horizontal grooves blackened out across the front ones. It was the last sight he saw clearly as grey faded in around his vision and the world swayed precariously.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Lady Gwendolyn!’ Rodor’s voice rose in surprise when he saw her before he remembered that they were supposed to be quiet and clapped his mouth shut. The ten warriors with him crouched in the low branches of the trees so they wouldn’t have to keep their boots in the marsh while they waited for the signal; but at Rodor’s call, they jumped to their feet and turned towards her ready to battle whatever came their way.
She smiled and they stood down, their expressions as confused as Rodor’s. Gwendolyn had tied her horse near the edge of the forest and had continued on foot across the land bridge that led deeper into the marsh. The horse was too heavy to easily traverse the soggy terrain and not get stuck in the mud. She couldn’t help but grimace as she stepped further into the bog and the mud sucked at her boots. The sensation didn’t have the same allure as it had when she’d run through these marshes as a child.
She waited to speak until she’d come up in front of Rodor so that her voice wouldn’t travel very far. ‘I followed you,’ she declared as if there had been any doubt.
Rodor only shook his head. ‘You have not done well in this. You—’
‘I know, Rodor, but I couldn’t stay behind. I’ll stay out of any battle. I only came to lend whatever support might be needed.’ When Rodor looked sceptical, she added, ‘From afar’, and held up her crossbow.
‘I cannot allow this. If Lord Vidar...it could be disastrous.’
The low wail of a horn sounded from far to the south through the forest. It was the signal Vidar and Rodor had decided on. He’d only have his man blow the horn after the attack had begun and only if it appeared that the rebels were fleeing north.
‘They’re coming.’ Every muscle in Gwendolyn’s body tensed for battle. She hadn’t realised that she’d made a move forward until Rodor grabbed her arm.
‘Nay. Go back to your horse. Wait there.’ Rodor said.
She bristled at the order, even if Rodor had taken the place of her father and was prone to being outspoken with her. ‘You know I won’t be in your way, Rodor.’
He nodded. ‘I know, but you must go. What if Vidar sees you and he’s distracted?’
‘And what if he has need of my crossbow?’
‘You’ll have to take that up with him. But at this moment, you’re slowing us down,’ he said.
She couldn’t argue with that and fumed inside that she was being tethered in such a way. ‘Go.’ She nodded and waved them all forward. ‘Go. I’ll go back and wait with my mount.’
Rodor gave her a final glance, before turning and running after the men into the woods. She sighed and made her way back to her horse. The ground beneath her solidified as she found her way back to the land bridge. She scraped the bottom of her boots on the long grass in an attempt to get all the mud off. The battle was too far away for her to hear anything, but the air seemed to crackle with the tension. Even her body was tense, waiting for a signal to spring into action against the enemy, but that signal would never come. Damn and blast. She was still trying without very much success to figure out her new life. It seemed that everything she’d ever thought she’d be was suddenly wrong.
A cry drew her gaze back to where Rodor and the men had disappeared into the forest. She scanned the trees, but didn’t see anything. The sound had likely been from much deeper inside. She hadn’t even been able to tell if it was a cry of pain, or maybe even victory. What if Vidar was injured? Her heart speeded up, but she forced herself to not think about that. He was a seasoned warrior and would be fine. They’d get home tonight and go straight to bed where they’d sleep in each other’s arms as they had the past weeks. She wouldn’t imagine it any other way. It was fast becoming that the only time she was certain of who she was in her new life was when she was in bed with him. Nay, when she was alone with him, she amended. Even their quiet talks at the table in the hall helped her feel appreciated and as if she belonged.
When she reached her horse, she mounted him, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She was far enough out of the way here that the battle wouldn’t find her and she’d be fine. And when it was over she’d be able to make certain that Vidar was unharmed even sooner. He’d be angry either way when he found out that she’d disobeyed him, but at least she could be of some use by staying.
Another cry filtered through the trees. This one was closer, but still far enough away that there wasn’t an immediate chance of discovery. Just to be certain, she gathered the reins tight and moved off further into the trees. As soon as she settled herself out of sight, it became apparent the sounds were coming closer. There was another yell and it was followed by the sounds of voices. Her heart beat in her ears as she waited. It wasn’t but a moment and their voices—foreign voices—became distinctive and were accompanied by the sounds of branches rustling and the sucking and sloshing of the mud as the men moved through it.
Leading her horse even deeper to hide him, she tied his reins to a branch, and she climbed a tree as fast as she could, scampering up despite the wet bark. Shrugging out of the strap attached to her crossbow, she slowly pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it. Raising it, she made sure she was in position before the men came crashing through the trees. There were five of them. They spoke, but she couldn’t understand them. The last one held a length of rope wrapped around his forearm. He gave it a vicious tug and a man came staggering out of the trees. He was tall and wide and his wrists were bound before him and tied to the rope. A cloth of some kind had been secured over his head, obscuring his face, but even from this distance she could tell that blood was seeping through the cloth from a wound near the top of his head.
He staggered as if injured, and her breath caught in her lungs. It was Vidar. Even though she couldn’t see his face, and though his walk had changed, she knew the way he moved. She knew the breadth of his shoulders. What she didn’t know was how badly he was injured. A dangerous mixture of anger and fear and despair moved through her.
What would she do if she lost him now? She’d only just begun to realise she loved him. What if she never saw his face again? What if he never—Nay! She forced herself to take a deep breath and focus on the men before her. She would not think about losing him now. Not when she still had a chance to save him. What if it was too late? She shook her head to deny the thought and s
quared her shoulders as she focused on the situation at hand. This moment was all that she could control.
Very slowly so that she wouldn’t draw attention, she aimed the crossbow and waited for the perfect shot. She needed to take out the man closest to Vidar first because he posed the most immediate threat to Vidar’s safety. However, she couldn’t do it when there was a risk of hitting Vidar instead.
Her heart lurched when Vidar tripped, falling forward on to the grounds and landing on his shoulder. His weight nearly pulled down the man who held his tether. The rebel turned and kicked Vidar in the ribs. Vidar groaned and the man knelt down and dragged the cloth off Vidar’s head. He yelled at him and Gwendolyn tried not to flinch. She was too angry and needed to calm down.
It took some effort, but the rebel was able to push Vidar up so that he sat resting with his back to the trunk of a tree. She could see then that Vidar had a gash over the left side of his forehead, though she couldn’t tell how deep it was, it didn’t seem to be gushing blood. The others gathered around him, looking down as if to verify his injury. Gwendolyn glanced over their heads in the direction they had come, but she didn’t see anyone following them. Not rebels or their own warriors. She wondered what had happened, but couldn’t allow herself to think about it right now. She turned her attention back to the small group before her and waited for them to move away from Vidar. The last thing she wanted was to shoot one and have the others lash out at Vidar.
The men straightened and stood around him, seeming to discuss what to do next. There was a disagreement as one pointed back the way they had come and another shook his head and loudly yelled something. She was almost certain he was saying that they needed to hurry. Once again she looked back the way they had come and didn’t see anyone. Finally, the one with the rope bent down and hoisted Vidar to his feet. Vidar pulled away, but his strength seemed to have been compromised by the blow. The rebel put his shoulder under Vidar and helped him forward. The rest of the men fell into line behind and they continued on their trek north.
The Viking Warrior's Bride Page 20
