‘Now I do pity the man,’ he replied.
‘I was being serious, Wulfgar.’
‘So was I.’ He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘Don’t worry for me, my sweet. This matter will be seen through to its conclusion and Drakensburgh will emerge triumphant.’
Long after he left her Anwyn mulled over their conversation. Though he tended to make light of it, it was a serious matter. Ingvar was powerful and he was cunning. He would use any means to achieve his end. He was no different from Torstein, save in external appearance. A handsome face could not conceal a wicked heart.
Wulfgar walked apart awhile, wanting time to think. By the end of the morning he had formulated a plan that he thought might work. He knew the hamlet that Sigurd had identified as the bait in Ingvar’s intended trap, but the details of the place and the surrounding countryside were not yet familiar enough. Accordingly he summoned Hermund, Thrand and Asulf and they rode out together.
The hamlet was situated by the side of a stream. A small wood stood hard by, marking the boundary with Beranhold. The rest was open fields and low, rolling hillside. Wulfgar leaned on the saddle pommel, surveying it all keenly.
‘It’s my guess Ingvar’s main force will make use of the wood,’ he said. ‘He knows that one blazing house will bring our patrols to investigate, and that it will take a little time for them to ride back and report the attack.’
‘By which time he will have torched the entire place and slain all the villagers,’ replied Hermund.
‘We shall arrange for the villagers to be elsewhere. None of them will be harmed. Ingvar’s men will likely fire the houses—that part probably can’t be avoided.’
‘At least it’ll provide enough light for us to see them by,’ said Thrand.
‘We’ll bait the trap with part of our own force,’ Wulfgar went on, ‘and send them in to counter-attack. When Ingvar takes the bait and sends in his main force we’ll bring up the rest of our men and surround them.’
Thrand grinned. ‘They’ll be caught like rats, my lord.’
Wulfgar nodded, pointing to the hill some half a mile distant. ‘We’ll conceal our force back there. It’s far enough to remain unnoticed by the enemy, but near enough to the action to be able to support our own side when we need to.’
Asulf nodded slowly. ‘It’s a good plan, my lord.’
‘Aye, it is,’ replied Hermund. ‘The men who bait the trap are going to be hard pressed, though, until the main force can get here.’
‘That’s right,’ said Wulfgar. ‘So it’s going to need a group of seasoned warriors to keep their attention till Ingvar’s men are where we want them.’
Thrand’s eyes gleamed as he looked at Asulf. ‘Sounds like a job for us, doesn’t it?’
‘I reckon it’s got our names on it.’ Asulf turned to Wulfgar. ‘Let us choose the men, my lord, and we’ll hold Ingvar’s force as long as you like.’
Hermund’s lips quirked. ‘Let me think. Your chosen men wouldn’t happen to include the likes of Dag or Frodi or Snorri or Beorn, would it?’
‘Amongst others,’ replied Asulf. ‘How did you know?’
‘Call it an inspired guess.’
Thrand looked at Wulfgar. ‘So what do you say, my lord?’
He inclined his head. ‘All right, it’s yours. You’ve got the basis of a good team in those men.’
‘All the mad blighters,’ said Hermund.
Wulfgar smiled faintly. ‘We need mad blighters for this.’
‘Then they’re your men.’
‘Ideal, I’d say,’ replied Wulfgar.
Thrand and Asulf grinned.
‘One thing,’ Wulfgar continued. ‘No one outside of our own crewmen is to know anything about this until the time comes. I don’t want any hint of it getting back to Ingvar.’
‘We won’t say a word,’ replied Asulf.
‘Just get that smile off your face,’ said Hermund. ‘You look like the cat that swallowed the ruddy cream. It’s a dead give-away.’
Wulfgar waited until they were alone in the privacy of their chamber before he spoke to Anwyn of his plans. She listened attentively.
‘It’s a risk, my lord.’
‘A calculated one. We have the element of surprise.’
‘Will the new recruits be up to it?’
‘They have a good grounding,’ he replied. ‘Now they need to apply what they’ve been taught. Besides, they’ll learn more during five minutes of battle than they will in six months of drill.
‘Their first test has come sooner than expected.’
‘They’ll have my men alongside them and the seasoned Drakensburgh warriors as well.’
She managed a smile. ‘That’s true.’
Wulfgar finished undressing and climbed into bed, propping himself on one arm beside her. ‘Don’t be afraid, my sweet. It will all be well.’
‘If anyone can defeat Ingvar, it will be you,’ she replied. ‘All the same, I cannot help but feel anxious at the thought of a battle.’
‘If all goes according to plan, it’ll be the last one we ever have to fight, against this particular enemy anyway.’
‘Will you slay him, Wulfgar?’
‘If I can. He will certainly try to slay me.’
She shivered. ‘Don’t say such things.’
He reached out and gathered her to him. ‘I told you, my reason for coming back is much stronger than his.’
He bent and kissed her, letting his hands explore the soft curves of her body in a leisurely embrace that set every nerve alight. She pressed closer, wanting him, needing the strong reassurance of his touch. He recognised the need and the longing because it found an answering chord in him. It also revived a conflicting sensation of guilt. He knew that she cared for him, and each caress only strengthened the bond of feeling. Severing that bond was going to hurt, something he had never intended, but it was unavoidable now. It would have been wiser never to have begun this shared intimacy and yet he could not regret it. To lie with her was to increase desire and to inflame every sense. Even when she was out of sight her memory remained with him, bright and vivid, seducing his thoughts. Although their time together could not be long, he could at least ensure that what she took from it was positive and memorable—for all the right reasons. Thus he took his time, making love to her and using his skill to give her pleasure. And afterwards he held her in his arms and watched her sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Wulfgar stood with Hermund on the dark hilltop, listening for any sound that might reveal the presence of the enemy force. No hoofbeats, no jingling harness broke the stillness. The air was cool and the light wind carried with it the mingled smells of wood smoke and cattle and dry grass. Other than that the night was still, as though the earth held its breath. Wulfgar felt the skin prickle along his spine.
‘They may not come tonight,’ murmured Hermund. ‘The new moon won’t appear for a day or two yet.’
‘They’re coming,’ replied Wulfgar. ‘I can feel it.’
He glanced over his shoulder to where his men lay concealed below the rim of the hill. He could sense their readiness, feel the silent tension all around him.
‘There!’ said Hermund.
Wulfgar followed the direction of his gaze and saw the glow of a lighted torch. He estimated it must be on the edge of the wood. A few moments later, he saw another and then another, until there were a dozen of them moving in the direction of the hamlet.
‘Let’s hope the other companies are in position,’ his companion continued.
‘They will be.’
The torches moved nearer and then a flaming brand was thrown aloft. Wulfgar tracked its trajectory, watched it fall. The brand stopped well short of the ground. Almost at once the small glow flared and became a much larger one.
‘They’ve fired a roof,’ said Hermund.
Wulfgar nodded. ‘So it begins.’
He turned and raised his sword and whole force moved forwards, guided by the ever-growing beacon ahead of them. Tw
o more roofs blossomed into flame. He gritted his teeth. That was another grievance to be settled with Ingvar when the time came. At least the inhabitants had been evacuated and were now safely within the pale at Drakensburgh. Anwyn would see to their welfare. For a brief instant her image filled his mind. Then it was gone and the night filled with distant shouting and the clash of arms. The team with Thrand and Asulf had sprung their surprise attack.
Wulfgar halted his men some two hundred yards short of the conflict, now backlit by the flames. Darkness thickened and the sky grew murky with towering plumes of acrid smoke that hid the stars. He could see the figures of men, black against the ruddy glow, locked in fierce hand-to-hand fighting. Already bodies littered the ground.
‘Thor’s bones! Where are the rest of the swine?’ demanded Hermund.
Before his companion could reply, the noise of battle was drowned by a roar from fifty throats as the remainder of Ingvar’s force broke from the cover of the wood to join the fight. Thrand and his companions formed up in a wedge-shaped shield wall in front of one of the remaining houses. The press around them grew thick, but the available space to attack was small so that, although heavily outnumbered, they were able to inflict much more damage than their foes.
Seeing all attention turn that way, Wulfgar lifted his sword. ‘Now!’
His men surged forwards like a tide, racing across the open ground to attack from the rear. At that signal, the other two companies of the Drakensburgh force swept in on either flank. For a short time Ingvar’s warriors were unaware of the danger and by the time they realised what was happening they were under attack from all sides. The fighting was close and brutal. Wulfgar carved a path forwards, stepping over the bodies of the slain, his sword smoking red, eyes narrowed against the heat, always seeking one man. And then, through the shimmering haze, he saw him.
‘Ingvar!’
The furious, bellowing challenge carried over the din and the warrior turned, looking swiftly about him. Then he saw his foe and checked, eyes glittering with recognition and hatred.
‘I have waited for this moment, Viking.’
With that he launched himself into the attack. Wulfgar feinted and the edge of the sword glanced off the rim of his shield. Almost instantaneously he swung his own blade in a slashing cut across the ribs. Saved by his mail shirt, Ingvar reeled back a pace, then recovered and came on. Their swords locked. Ingvar bared his teeth in a smile, his face just inches from his enemy’s.
‘Did you really think to keep her from me?’
‘Your battle is already lost,’ growled Wulfgar.
‘On the contrary, it’s just begun.’
‘No matter. I’ll keep her safe from you.’
Wulfgar threw his opponent off and there followed a fierce exchange of blows. The heat around them increased and he blinked away sweat, his nostrils filled with the stench of blood and smoke, his arm rising and falling instinctively, blocking his enemy’s blade, seeking an opening. Ingvar broke and circled, the smile never leaving his face.
‘She’ll never be safe from me, Viking. I know how to be patient, you see. And one day you’ll grow careless. Then I’ll take back what is rightfully mine.’
‘She was never yours, nor ever will be.’
He renewed the attack, harrying his opponent hard, but still he could find no way past his enemy’s defences. Ingvar laughed.
‘Perhaps I won’t kill you straight away. Perhaps I’ll let you watch while I take her. It’ll be the last thing you see before I have your eyes put out.’
Wulfgar’s lip curled. ‘Hot air, braggart.’
‘I’ll make good the boast, believe me, and keep her closer than Torstein ever did. One night in my bed and she’ll forget she ever knew your name.’
‘The very thought of your bed would sicken any woman.’
Ingvar’s eyes glinted red in the light of the flames and the blades clashed again in a short, fierce exchange. Then they parted once more.
‘She’ll come to my bed, Viking, and that right often. My appetites require feeding and they enjoy variety.’
‘You will not sate them with her.’
‘She’ll do whatever I may command. If not, her son will pay a heavy forfeit for his mother’s disobedience.’
The words conjured a powerful image of the woman and child in all their terrible vulnerability. Once delivered into Ingvar’s clutches their fate would be dire indeed. Wulfgar had no trouble visualising the details and his jaw tightened in anger and disgust. With an effort he controlled both. While he had breath in his body and a sword in his hand, Anwyn and Eyvind would never come to harm.
Fuelled by that knowledge, he renewed the attack, pressing his opponent harder, forcing him on to the back foot beneath a rain of punishing blows. Ingvar parried fast and gave ground. All trace of bravado vanished to be replaced by fury. Around them the number of his force began to dwindle. Noting it, Wulfgar smiled grimly and came on, driving Ingvar backwards, pace by pace. Then his foot slid on a patch of mud and Wulfgar’s blade found its opening. Ingvar staggered, cursing and clutching his thigh with one hand. Blood welled through his fingers. Breathing hard, he shot a baleful glance at his opponent and began to retreat. Before Wulfgar could close for the kill, two other fighting men backed into his path. He swore fluently. Hemmed in on every side, he could only watch in impotent wrath as Ingvar turned and fled into the darkness.
Seeing their leader flee and demoralised by their thinning numbers, others of his force broke away from the fighting and followed. Soon the rest were in full retreat, pursued by the Drakensburgh men. The battle continued to the edge of the wood where Wulfgar called a halt.
‘Enough! It’s blacker in there than the wings of Odin’s ravens. I’ll not lose men thus.’
‘There were precious few of Ingvar’s force left in any case,’ said Hermund. ‘They’ll go home to lick their wounds.’
‘Unfortunately the one I gave Ingvar wasn’t enough to kill him.’
They turned back towards the burning hamlet, now a scene of carnage. The burning huts had collapsed, casting a sullen light on the bodies of the slain and injured. However, almost all of them were Ingvar’s men. The Drakensburgh warriors were jubilant. Wulfgar located the group who had baited his trap, clapping Thrand on the shoulder.
‘You did well this night. Any losses?’
‘No, my lord. The scum couldn’t break our shield wall.’
Asulf grinned, his teeth very white in his smoke-blackened face. ‘I doubt they’ll be back.’
‘Not if they know what’s good for them,’ growled Beorn.
‘They know,’ said Asulf. ‘Didn’t you see them run?’
Jeering laughter testified that they had. Wulfgar grinned and turned to Hermund.
‘Let’s get our injured home. We’ll return to bury the dead later.’
‘Looks like most of the hamlet has been destroyed.’
‘Huts can always be rebuilt,’ replied Wulfgar.
Night was turning into morning before the men returned. Anwyn heard their arrival and hastened to meet them, her gaze desperately searching the crowd for Wulfgar. At last she located him, filthy but indisputably alive, and her spirit soared. His companions laid aside their weapons and began to remove their war gear, then gathered at the trough to wash off the blood and grime of battle. Having given orders for the tending of the wounded, Wulfgar went to join the group of men at the well. He, too, removed his sword and then dragged off the heavy mail shirt in order to strip off the sweat-soaked tunic and shirt beneath. Watching him, Anwyn breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. The blood she had seen on his mail clearly wasn’t his. The hard-muscled torso was unmarked by any fresh wounds. He laved his hands and then sluiced his face and neck and chest, using the shirt to dry himself afterwards. Then, as though sensing himself watched, he looked up. The blue gaze warmed. Then he began to thread his way through the knots of talking men towards her.
Wulfgar’s eyes never left her. In the back of his mind he could still hear I
ngvar’s taunts. The result was fierce, possessive anger and a desire to protect. Underlying that was physical need, the familiar earthy passion that all men knew after combat. Seeing her before him in the flesh did nothing to diminish the sensation.
Several glances came their way, but he was unaware of them, his attention entirely on the woman before him. For a moment neither one spoke. Then he saw her smile and his blood turned to fire. He returned the smile.
‘Do I take it that you defeated Ingvar’s force?’ she asked.
‘Soundly.’
‘Oh, Wulfgar, I have been so worried these past hours.’
‘No cause, my sweet.’
‘Sigurd’s information was accurate then.’
‘Aye, it was.’
‘What will you do with him now?’
‘Nothing. He can stay where he is until the morrow.’
She paused. ‘You must be hungry. There is food and drink ready in the hall.’
‘Presently,’ he replied.
The blue gaze locked with hers, the expression unfathomable, yet something about it caused her pulse to quicken, like his closeness now. In spite of his recent ablutions she could feel the heat coming off him.
‘Is anything amiss, Wulfgar?’
For answer his arm closed round her waist, pulling her hard against him. A moment later his mouth came down on hers in a searing kiss that drove all other thought away. When he drew back from that she had no difficulty in reading his expression. Without another word he bent and scooped her up. Heads turned in their direction and she glimpsed grinning faces. Her cheeks turned pink.
‘My lord, your men are watching.’
‘Let them.’
He strode towards the bower. Anwyn tried to wriggle free, but he held her easily.
‘Wulfgar?’ She tried harder, but to no avail. ‘Wulfgar!’
‘Be still. You’re not going anywhere.’
‘Put me down.’
‘No.’
‘You can’t…’
On reaching their destination he kicked the door shut behind them and continued on to their chamber. There he spilled her on to the bed, following her down, pinning her there and silencing her protest with another kiss. It grew deeper and more demanding. Protest forgotten now, Anwyn returned it. She could feel his arousal and the answering glow in the core of her body. He smelled of musk and iron and smoke, pungent and dangerous, the scent of the warrior. Her hands slid over the silver arm rings to the hard-muscled flesh between. The inner glow flared and became fire. Her hands fumbled for the fastenings of his clothing, found them, tugged them loose, closing her fingers around him. He drew in a sharp breath, looking into her face, the blue eyes darkened now to violet.
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