The Viking's Touch

by Joanna Fulford

  The riders set out early next day, in a group of a dozen strong. Wulfgar really did want to familiarise himself with the Drakensburgh lands, information that would be useful to his men as well, but he didn’t want to be caught napping. Ingvar had sent a force across the boundary once before. Now that relations were less than cordial there was no telling what he might do in future, and Wulfgar had no intention of putting Anwyn and the boy in danger.

  The child was bright-eyed with excitement at the treat in prospect, but also a little overawed by the company. Wulfgar smiled, watching as Ina lifted the child on to the waiting pony. Then he turned to Anwyn.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘Of course.’

  The words sounded natural enough, giving no clue to the chaos of thoughts in her mind. She had lain awake for much of the previous night, wondering if she had done the right thing in agreeing to this. However, the escort offered reassurance and made the excursion perfectly respectable. It occurred to her then that he must have known that when he organised it. They wouldn’t be alone together. Unwanted memories resurfaced. How was it with her when the very thought of him was enough to set her pulse racing? He was a temptation she could not afford.

  He held her horse’s bridle while she mounted, and waited until she was settled comfortably. Then he went to his own mount, a mettlesome chestnut that had formerly belonged to Torstein. He swung easily into the saddle and then brought the horse alongside hers.

  ‘Shall we go?’

  They rode in silence for a while, keeping to a steady pace in consequence of Eyvind’s presence. At first Anwyn kept her gaze firmly between the horse’s ears, reluctant even to look at her companion. Instead she let her thoughts dwell on the scenery around her. As they rode inland rough heath and stunted vegetation gave way to a softer landscape. Spring was well advanced now. Fresh new green graced every tree and bush, and wild flowers adorned the pastures where sheep and cattle grazed. New crops sprouted in the ploughed strips of arable land. The effect was of quiet and fertile prosperity.

  ‘A fair domain,’ said Wulfgar. ‘I can understand why Ingvar covets it.’

  Anwyn threw him a swift sideways glance. ‘He will never take it while I live.’

  ‘He’d be a fool to try now.’

  ‘Ironic, isn’t it? I hated Drakensburgh when first I came here. I used to dream of escape.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Now I am fighting to keep it.’

  He surveyed her with curiosity. ‘Was it really Drakensburgh that you hated?’

  ‘I hated anything that was connected to Torstein.’

  ‘Except for your son.’

  The words elicited another look, this time longer. ‘Except for him,’ she agreed. ‘It is for him that I must hold Drakensburgh.’

  ‘You will have your work cut out for you.’

  ‘I know it. I can only hope that Ingvar will see the futility of his ambitions and seek another wife.’

  ‘He will not give up,’ replied Wulfgar. ‘In his place neither would I.’

  Anwyn’s heart skipped a beat. Uncertain how to interpret that remark, she eyed him quizzically. ‘An adventurer does not seek lands or the responsibilities of a wife and child.’

  The muscles tensed along his jaw. ‘I was not always an adventurer. I, too, had land once, and a wife and son.’

  She stared at him. ‘What happened to them?’

  ‘They died of fever. There was an epidemic that summer. It took hundreds.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  He sighed. ‘It was long ago and life moves on.’ For a brief instant his eyes expressed something very much like pain. Then it was gone. ‘We make shift as best we can, in my case to the life of an adventurer.’

  ‘What became of your home?’

  ‘I couldn’t bear the sight of it after they died so I burned it to the ground.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘It served as a fitting funeral pyre.’

  Anwyn struggled to assimilate the knowledge. It revealed an entirely different view of this man, one she could never have suspected.

  ‘How old was he, your boy?’

  ‘Three.’

  She swallowed hard. That anything similar might happen to Eyvind was too awful to be contemplated.

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Toki.’

  ‘And your wife?’

  ‘Freya.’

  ‘Was she beautiful?’

  ‘Very beautiful.’

  Once again the succinct replies suggested that she had ventured into a private place, and she was immediately remorseful.

  ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to open old wounds.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he replied. ‘The wounds are closed.’

  ‘Closed, but not perfectly healed, I think.’

  The observation caught him completely unawares. It was gently spoken, but the effect was like a blow to the solar plexus. Feeling that sudden tension in his rider, the chestnut plunged forwards. It took a moment or two to bring it back under control, by which time Wulfgar had mastery of himself as well.

  ‘Everything all right, my lord?’ asked Thrand.

  ‘No problem. Just a horsefly, I expect.’

  Thrand nodded. ‘Evil little blighters those and no mistake. I remember one time…’

  The conversation moved on to other topics then. Anwyn let the men’s voices flow around her, barely listening, for her thoughts were otherwise occupied. She had little thought to learn so much or that her words might have so pronounced an effect. The loss of a child could not but leave lasting scars, but when combined with the loss of the wife… She must have been a remarkable woman, this Freya, to have won his heart so completely. Even in death she clearly retained it still. Anwyn smiled sadly. It was the kind of love she had once dreamed of finding. Now she never would. More than ever before she was glad she had followed her instincts and avoided the pitfall that Wulfgar represented.

  They were on the point of returning home when one of the men behind called out, ‘Smoke, my lord!’

  At once the whole group reined in, turning to look in the direction he had indicated. Sure enough a thick, dark pall was rising from behind a stand of trees in the distance.

  Wulfgar wheeled the chestnut round and addressed the men. ‘It may not be sinister in origin, but keep your eyes open all the same. Look to the woman and the boy.’

  The men closed up at once and suddenly Anwyn was no longer at the front of the group, but at its centre with Eyvind. He looked up with mingled excitement and anxiety.

  ‘What is it, Mother? What’s happening?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied. ‘It looks like a large fire.’

  As they approached, the smell of burning drifted towards them on the light wind, and they could hear the roar of the flames. The source of the fire was a large barn, now ablaze from end to end. Men from the nearby fields had left their work and formed a human chain betwixt the fire and the stream, passing relays of buckets. Anwyn surveyed the scene in dismay.

  ‘It’s hopeless. They’ll never save it now.’

  Wulfgar glanced across at her. ‘No. It’s fortunate the place wasn’t near any of the other buildings or the lot might have gone up.’

  ‘I pray no one was hurt.’

  Leaving Eyvind with Ina, she and Wulfgar urged their mounts towards the line of fire-fighters.

  ‘What happened here?’ she demanded.

  In response to the question a man stepped forward. Although he was equally grim faced, he looked different from his fellows. His clothing was of better quality and his manner more confident. Wulfgar guessed him to be one of the geneatas, a tenant farmer who paid rent to his overlord. Likely it was his barn they saw burning.

  The man shook his head. ‘I don’t know, my lady. We didn’t notice anything amiss at first, not till we glimpsed the smoke. By then it was too late.’

  ‘Was anyone hurt?’ asked Wulfgar.

  ‘No, lord, but they will be. That barn held the last of the village’s grain. There’ll be no m
ore now till harvest.’

  Wulfgar glanced at Anwyn. They both knew the man had not exaggerated. The coming summer months were always the leanest, even in a good year.

  ‘I will ensure that you get enough to see you through,’ she replied.

  The man blinked in surprise, but was quick to offer his thanks. Anwyn turned to Wulfgar.

  ‘Will you take charge of this matter, my lord?’

  ‘Gladly,’ he replied. ‘I’ll get my men on it at once. The problem can be resolved by the morrow.’

  The farmer regarded him curiously but, she noted, with guarded approval. Then he rejoined his fellows who now stood in silent impotence, watching the conflagration.

  ‘You have made a generous gesture,’ said Wulfgar.

  ‘I could do no less,’ she replied. ‘This is a disaster for these people.’

  ‘Could have been an accident,’ said Thrand, who had come to join them.

  Wulfgar glanced his way and then back at the fire. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘No one saw anything after all. Surely they would have if the blaze was set deliberately.’

  ‘Not necessarily. There’s plenty of cover hereabouts after all. Take a couple of men and have a look around, especially in those trees over there.’

  Thrand nodded and summoned two of his companions. Anwyn turned to Wulfgar.

  ‘Do you really think this might have been deliberate?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ he replied.

  She felt suddenly uneasy and her gaze went to Eyvind, who was watching the proceedings a little way off. She saw him say something to Ina, but the words were lost in the sound of the fire. To the child this was merely a spectacle whose implications he could not guess at. Heaven send it turned out to be misfortune only.

  They hadn’t long to wait for the answer: ten minutes later Thrand and the others returned.

  ‘There was someone in the trees, my lord. Two men. We found footprints and flattened grass.’ Thrand jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘The trail leads north-east. Do you want us to follow?’

  ‘No. The culprits will be long gone. Besides, I think we can guess where it leads.’

  ‘To Beranhold,’ murmured Anwyn.

  Thrand frowned. ‘But why would Ingvar send men to burn down a peasant’s barn?’

  ‘To act as a warning,’ said Wulfgar.

  They rode back in silence for the most part. Anwyn was disinclined for speech, being much disturbed by the ramifications of what had occurred. One look at her troubled face was enough to tell Wulfgar all he needed to know. Thus he bided his time. When at length they reached the confines of the pale and the horses had been led away, he took her aside.

  ‘Don’t be afraid. We will send out more patrols from now on. He won’t catch us unawares again.’

  ‘I thought that the attack would be here when it came,’ she replied.

  ‘This is the strongest point. Ingvar will seek softer targets.’

  ‘It was just a barn this time. Will he kill men next?’

  Wulfgar regarded her with a level gaze. ‘When you start something like this there’s no knowing what will happen, save that it is likely to be unpleasant.’

  She sighed. ‘This is what you warned me about, isn’t it?’

  ‘Aye. For the time being you are best to remain within the pale.’

  The green eyes grew stormy. ‘For five long years I was constrained by Torstein. I will not allow Ingvar to limit my freedom thus.’

  Wulfgar paused, choosing his next words with care. ‘Then if you do go abroad, my lady, you should take an armed escort.’

  Anwyn turned away, trying to contain the emotion that threatened to explode. Wulfgar’s eyes narrowed a little.

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘Yes, I heard you.’ She made a vague gesture with her hands. ‘Odd, isn’t it? When Torstein died I thought I was free at last, but nothing much has changed after all.’

  ‘It is no part of my plan to play the gaoler. What I say is for your protection only.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then will you do as I ask?’

  She nodded. ‘Very well.’

  He relaxed a little. For a moment he had thought she might refuse point blank. If so, he wasn’t quite sure what he would have done. He had the power to make her obey but, if he did, it would alienate her completely, and he had no wish to do that.

  ‘Thank you.’ He squeezed her arm gently. ‘It is for the best, believe me.’

  She did believe him, that was the problem. If he had issued commands, she would have known how to react, but this was harder to deal with—like the pressure of his hand on her sleeve and the way he was looking at her now. In that moment she wanted to draw closer, to feel his arms around her, to rest her head against his breast and forget everything else. However, that was not an option. He was a reassuring presence, but he was just doing the job she paid him to do. Essentially she was as alone now as she had ever been.

  She took a step away and his hand fell from her sleeve. ‘Excuse me, but I must go if any of us are to eat this evening.’

  It wasn’t an original excuse, but at least it had the merit of being partly true. More importantly it served its turn, and they both knew it.

  Chapter Nine

  Anwyn made a hasty toilette to repair the effects of the morning’s ride, and then went to see about arrangements for the meal. With so many extra men to feed it required close attention. The demand for meat was huge. She could see the possibility of having to send out a hunting party before too long.

  Her thoughts preoccupied with the possibility of wild boar, she left the hall. The clash of weapons rang in the warm air. Startled for a moment, she looked up and realised that the men were engaged in combat practice. On the edge of the area she could see Eyvind, his whole attention claimed by the scene. However, Ina was nearby speaking to Wulfgar so the child was unlikely to come to any harm. She smiled to herself and continued on her way.

  The practice drew to a close and, having sheathed their weapons, the men gathered in small groups to talk. Eyvind looked up at Wulfgar.

  ‘I want to learn how to fight. Ina says he’ll teach me one day.’

  His large companion nodded. ‘A man must learn the skills of a warrior.’

  The boy examined the sheathed blades at Wulfgar’s side. ‘What do you call them?’

  ‘The sword is Skull-Biter, the dagger Serpent Sting.’

  ‘May I look at them?’

  ‘All right.’ Wulfgar drew the dagger and held it across his palm. ‘Careful. The edge is sharp.’

  Eyvind nodded, eyeing it respectfully. Then, unable to resist, his fingers closed on the hilt. He lifted the blade carefully, grasping it like a sword, which in terms of their relative sizes it might have been. He turned it this way and that to catch the light and then essayed a few thrusting stokes at an imaginary foe.

  ‘I will have a dagger like this one day.’

  ‘I’m sure you will.’

  His trial complete, Eyvind reluctantly handed the weapon back. Wulfgar sheathed it again and then drew out the sword.

  ‘May I hold that, too?’

  ‘Very well, but hold it firm. It’s heavy.’

  Eyvind gripped the hilt with both hands. Even so, the weight of the blade took him by surprise. However, Wulfgar had anticipated it and, reaching out, cupped his hand under the child’s, arresting its downwards progress. Looking somewhat crestfallen, Eyvind sighed. His companion smiled.

  ‘One day you’ll be strong enough to wield such a blade.’

  ‘Ina says you have to start with a wooden sword.’

  ‘He’s right.’

  ‘But a wooden sword won’t cut anything,’ said Eyvind.

  ‘No, it won’t, but it will teach you how to use the real thing.’

  ‘Did you have a wooden sword?’

  ‘Aye, I did.’

  ‘Did your father give you Skull-Biter?’

  ‘No, I had the sword specially made.’

  ‘My father’s swor
d is buried with him, but he didn’t die in battle.’

  ‘Oh?’ Wulfgar was genuinely taken aback. ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘He had a cheezer…no, I mean a sheezer…’

  ‘A seizure,’ said a voice from behind them. They looked round to see Ina. His gaze met Wulfgar’s. ‘He collapsed at meat one night. It was all over in moments.’

  ‘I’m not going to die at meat,’ said Eyvind. ‘I’m going to die in battle.’

  ‘It is an honourable tradition,’ replied Ina.

  Together they began to walk back towards the hall.

  ‘I did not know that the Earl had met his end thus,’ said Wulfgar. ‘I assumed it had been in combat.’

  ‘A fair assumption,’ said Ina. ‘And it might have been; he was no slouch with a sword.’

  ‘He knew how to pick fighting men, too.’

  ‘That he did.’

  ‘Did you serve him long?’

  ‘Long enough.’ Ina grimaced. ‘The man had a foul temper.’

  ‘A difficult person to be around, then.’

  ‘He was, but grown men can take what falls to them. ’Twas the woman and boy I felt sorry for—particularly her.’ Ina shook his head. ‘He kept her a virtual prisoner.’

  Wulfgar frowned, recalling an earlier conversation with Anwyn. ‘Did he ever use violence towards her?’

  ‘Many a time, but for all that, he never succeeded in crushing her spirit. She stood up to him, anyway.’

  Wulfgar now had a very clear picture of Earl Torstein’s character; he’d met the type many times. The thought that any man might use his strength that way against a woman filled him with contempt. When that woman was Anwyn… Contempt turned to cold anger. The conversation also shed light on her reluctance to remarry. So many of the things she had said now made perfect sense.

  ‘She deserves better,’ Ina went on. ‘The boy deserves better.’

  ‘Aye, they do.’

  ‘Well, the right man will come along eventually—a man who will protect her and treat her well.’ The old man paused. ‘A man she might learn to love.’

  Wulfgar frowned. ‘That’s as may be, but right now the role of protector falls to me.’