Vikings: Deception (The Great Heathen Army series Book 2)

by Ceri Bladen

  “You can’t let her. Ubba thinks her dead,” the man hissed back.

  “I know that. But, how can I stop her? My father is too ill to care who attends him and Rosfrith is yearning for Ubba.” He heard the snort from the man.

  “She can’t return. It will spoil our plans. You’ll have to delay her.”

  “How?” Bryan tempered his voice when he realised his raised tone was drawing attention to them.

  “I’ll think of something. Meet me here, next week. And bring coin; I need some.”

  “I have little myself.” He became quiet when the man silenced him with a hard look.

  “Not my concern. Bring coin and I will bring a solution.”

  As the man started to stand, Bryan stopped him by putting his hand over his. “Will the babe be harmed?”

  The man shrugged. “Maybe, if it’s too early.”

  Bryan nodded and removed his hand. “She looks big enough,” he murmured.as he took a sip of his ale. “Do you need the babe alive?”

  “Perhaps. I haven’t quite decided what my plans for it are. But I know someone who will be very interested in a child of Ubba Ragnarsson. Next week.”

  He watched the man exit the inn and took a big gulp of his ale. That man unnerved him. When he finished, he indicated to the serving wench to fill his mug back up. Mayhap he would stay a while.

  A week later…

  Bryan’s lip curled in disgust. He was back in the local inn, trying to go unnoticed, but the serving wench he’d pounded out his frustrations on last week was giving him the eye. He knew he’d made a mistake as soon as he was spent, but at the time, his brain certainly wasn’t ruling his body. Alcohol was. He tore his gaze away when she smiled at him. She could be a problem. He never intended on being known within this establishment, as it could lead to his death. His foolishness could give his game away.

  A gust of cold air and a few dead leaves entered the room when the door opened. He watched the large hooded man enter, filling the doorway. Bryan shuddered. If they weren’t on the same side, this beast would scare him. He sneaked a look around, to see if anyone had noticed him. For once, Bryan praised the fact that the inn was seedy. No one batted an eyelid at the large man, or that he kept his cloak hood up. It could be because most of the corners were full of people hoping to go unnoticed, too. The man searched the inn, but Bryan daren’t call out; they weren’t supposed to know each other. Once he’d spotted Bryan, the man nodded to the serving wench for an ale and sat diagonally across from him.

  “Here.” He pushed a small pouch towards Bryan

  Bryan picked it up quickly and hid it under the table, his gaze darting towards the wench, concerned about her earlier interest in him, but she was ladling out the ale, seemingly unaware of their communication.

  “What is it?”

  “Birthwort.”

  “For what?”

  “To make the barn come now.”

  “Barn?” Bryan’s eyebrows knitted. He wished the heathen wouldn’t use words he didn’t understand.

  “Babe.”

  “Oh.”

  “It will stop Rosfrith going back to Ranaricii. She won’t have time to arrange a journey.” He shrugged and sat back. “And, if the barn survives, I will take it.” They quietened when the serving girl placed an ale in front of him.

  She looked at Bryan. “Do you want another ale with your friend?” She nodded at the hooded man.

  “He isn’t my friend, he’s a stranger,” Bryan spat out, annoyed she was hanging around.

  “Whatever.” She laughed.

  When Bryan noticed her eyebrow rise, he could feel himself heat with annoyance.

  She glanced between the two and shrugged. “I see you both here together often enough. But, it’s none of my business,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked away.

  Bryan leaned nearer the man. “What do we do about her? She knows too much about us.”

  “Does she know who you are?”

  Bryan shook his head. “She knows I am not poor; she commented on my attire.”

  “When?”

  “Last week, when I…” Bryan stopped, realising what he was going to admit.

  The man snorted and leaned back on his stool. He shrugged before taking a deep drink of his ale. When he finished he used the back of his hand to wipe it off his beard. “Enough about the wench, I’ll sort her out.”

  When the man touched the dagger in his belt, Bryan felt more relieved for himself than sad for the woman.

  “What do I do with the herb?”

  “Put it in her broth. There’s little taste or smell, she won’t know anything until the barn arrives.”

  #

  Bryan sniffed the contents of the mug and shrugged. It looked and smelled the same colour as the broth Rosfrith usually drank. Hopefully, she wouldn’t taste anything.

  “Lord?” Cate stopped short when she entered the cooking area. A frown marred her face. It was the first time ever she had seen the young lord in the kitchens. “Can I help you with anything?” She glanced at Aiken, the cook, who seemed to be busy with something else. Blyth stood next to Bryan.

  He put the bowl down quickly and turned, concealing his annoyance.

  “No, I was just” - he looked around for inspiration - “Checking on the quality of food. My father is unwell, and of course, my sister, pregnant, so I was taking some time to check that the food is of superior quality.”

  Cate’s eyes narrowed on him briefly. She’d never particularly taken a liking to the young Lord, but she couldn’t offend him. Not with the real Lord on death’s door. “I am sure the cook always uses the best for your family.” She glanced towards the cook, who still seemed intent on something else.

  “Would you like me to take the broth to your sister, or shall I?”

  Bryan stepped away from the table. “You, of course.” His eyebrows rose. “It is your job, after all, Cate,” he said as he swanned out of the hall.

  Still a little unnerved, Cate picked up the mug and sniffed. She shrugged, it smelled normal. “Aiken, Blyth, did you think the young lord was acting a little strange?”

  Aiken gave Cate a quick side glance. “Not particularly. He’s always a little off. He just came in and told me to carry on what I was doing.”

  “Did you see him do anything? ” She looked at Blyth.

  Blyth shrugged.

  “His back was to me most of the time. All I saw was him pick up the bowl and sniff the broth, just as you came in.”

  “Thanks, Aiken. I’ll take it to the mistress now. She should have finished talking to Lord Guader.” She snorted at the futility of her mistress’s actions. “Not that he has any idea she is there. Any bread?”

  Aiken pointed to a small wooden table in the corner of the room. “Some there.”

  “Great. Blyth are you supposed to be working?” She noticed the side glance she gave Aiken. Her gut told her they were up to something, but she didn’t have time at the moment to find out. “Come, you can help me with this, then we can freshen up the Lady’s bedchamber.”

  Rosfrith finished telling her tale to her father and smiled. Even though she couldn’t read, the pictures conjured up enough of a story for her to impart. She was glad her father was sleeping; he looked peaceful. When he was awake, the fear in his eyes was distressing to witness. She didn’t know what ailed him, but whatever it was made it difficult for him to move or speak.

  She stood up and stretched her aching back. Moving towards one of the shutters, she looked around guiltily before opening it. She loved the light and fresh air coming into the small chamber, but Bryan forbade her to open it. He said the cold would kill their papa. She disagreed. Cold, fresh air in Ranaricii was welcomed into the areas of the sick.

  Rosfrith looked down and rubbed her large belly. It had started to hinder her movements. She needed to get home. A noise from outside made her look at the scene she’d viewed often as a child. It was a dog chasing a cat. She glanced further. The fields and seashore beckoned her wit
h their colours and sounds. She sighed with longing to explore them, but Bryan liked her to keep inside Dunwich’s walls. He said it was unsafe in her condition. She pulled her robe around her, straining to see the shore.

  She recalled the time she first saw Viking warships come to their East Angles’ shores, when she was a mere child. She hadn’t completely understood what their invasion meant, but it hadn’t been long to find out the changes to her life. It had been frightening, and she had lost many that she cared for, but as the fates had decided, it had been good for her.

  A flutter in her belly made a smile appear on her lips. She would never want to go back to change her life course. Ubba and her life in Ranaricii meant too much to her. No doubt, if they’d never been invaded and she had stayed here, she would be married off to someone, not for love, but for status or monetary gains. She shivered, not sure if it was a chill she had been standing there for a while, so she pulled the wooden shutters closed.

  She turned back towards her father and the dark room, with sorrow in her heart. She had been here too long. Now the winter had gone, and spring was here, she could travel home to Ranaricii, to Ubba and the people who now she considered family - before the babe in her belly got too big for her to travel.

  A knock on the door made her jump. “Enter.” She smiled at Cate when she entered.

  “Here’s your broth, mistress. I’ve brought it here so you can have extra time with your father.”

  Rosfrith gave a tired smile. “That’s very kind of you, Cate, but I would prefer to eat it within my chamber. Papa is sleeping.”

  Cate smiled. “That’s no problem, mistress. I’ll take it there now. But, come now, to eat it when it’s hot,” she said as she turned to leave the room, being careful not to drop the wooden bowl.

  Rosfrith followed and opened her chamber door when they reached it. She silently watched Cate place the bowl on the small wooden table by the fireplace.

  “And I didn’t spill a drop.” Nodding, she waited until Rosfrith was seated. “The lord said he wouldn’t be joining you today.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “Oh, all right.”

  Cate nodded at Rosfrith, who in her opinion, looked lonely. If truth be told, she had no idea why the young Lord insisted his sister dine away from the large hall where everyone else ate. But, when she had overheard some unkind comments about Rosfrith being a dishonored heathen, she was glad her mistress was spared that.

  “Thank you, Cate. I’m hungry today. I’m sure I will eat it all before it has time to cool.”

  Cate bowed and walked out of the room.

  As she pushed the empty bowl away, pain sliced through Rosfrith. She couldn’t breathe. She panicked, but it was so bad, she couldn’t do anything but wait for the pain to ease. Once she caught her breath, she slowly made her way towards the door to call for help.

  “Cate, Cate,” she shouted as loud as she could, and then paused, awaiting the next onslaught of pain. “Cate,” she whispered.

  “Oh, bless the Lord God. Are you all right, mistress?

  Rosfrith carried on taking small pants - they seemed to ease the pain. Rubbing her large belly, she tried to stand up.

  “Careful, mistress. Come to bed. It must be time.”

  “It can’t be,” Rosfrith said, panicking. It was too early. Besides, she wanted to be back in Ranaricii with Ubba.

  Cate tutted. “You can’t decide. The babe does. Come on, let’s get you into the bed, then I can send Blyth to fetch Althena. She is the best lady to have with you when you are giving birth.”

  “But the dates. They are wrong, it’s too early.” Rosfrith stopped. She didn’t want to get into bed. She wanted to work out how early the baby was.

  Concern flittered over Cate’s face, but she replaced it with a smile. “You certainly look big enough, mistress.” She was concerned, too, but it wouldn’t do Rosfrith any good to know. At least when Althena, the local healer, came, they had a better chance of not losing both Rosfrith and the baby.

  “Come, there is no time to waste arguing. Once Althena is here, she will tell you what is going to happen.”

  Rosfrith, although panicking, nodded. She had to trust they knew what they were doing. She had no choice.

  Althena entered the room and waved the people out. “Go, the mistress doesn’t want you all gawping at her.” Her eyes narrowed on the men who were there. “Especially you. Do you want to stay and see what you put us women through with your wicked ways?” She had to suppress the laughter when some of them paled. “And you, Lord Dunwich.” She nodded at Bryan. It still felt funny calling him Lord, especially when the real Lord was still alive.

  “But, I need to talk to her.” He’d never planned on the birthwort working so fast; he still had to tell Rosfrith that her darling heathen husband was bedding another. He flicked a glance at Rosfrith and noticed her face screwed up in pain. Mayhap, now wasn’t the time.

  “Hmm, I will be outside,” Bryan said, trying not to show disgust on his face. He would be outside the door, listening to the going-ons. Hopefully, within a couple of hours, all this would be over. Then, he would either be the only rightful heir to what was left of the Dunwich estate, or their other plans would go into motion. But whatever happened, one way or another, that heathen, Ubba Ragnarsson, would pay for invading his homeland and ruining his privileged life.

  “What are the dates, mistress?”

  “I’ve been here six full moons. I didn’t know I was with child when I sailed from Ranaricii.”

  “Were you sick on the voyage?”

  “Oh, ay, terribly.”

  Althena nodded. “Good, the baby was well planted in you. Perchance you aren’t as early as you think.”

  “But, I want to go home.” Rosfrith sobbed, too tired to stop the tears. She felt Althena pat her hand.

  “Well, there’s no time for that now, mistress. I will be here for you.” She glanced over her shoulder at Cate. “We both will.”

  “Where’s Blyth?” Cate asked Althena, suddenly realising she hadn’t returned.

  Althena shrugged. “I don’t know. She came to get me and then said she had things to do.”

  Cate tutted. Later, she’d have to inform the Lord of the tardy behaviour. Now, she had more important things to worry about.

  “But my husband. He doesn’t even know about our babe.” Rosfrith could feel her voice choking. Perhaps he did, and didn’t care, but she couldn’t think of that now. She struggled to stand.

  “Please, calm yourself, mistress,” said Cate. “You must not stress, it could harm you and your baby.”

  “But, it’s too early,” she repeated, her mind refusing to absorb what was happening.

  “It isn’t,” Althena said briskly. “I have delivered many babies and this one is coming whether you wish it or not. Now, lie down, mistress, and I will check how far you have to go.”

  As she started to lie down, she stopped and turned towards Althena. “By tradition, Ubba should name our babe. There is no way I’ll be back before nine days…” she paused for a moment as a pain made her struggle to catch her breath. “So, if it is a boy, he will be named Ragnar Ubbasson, and if it is a girl…” She had to think of a suitable name. Ubba had confided in her that he was Ragnar Lothbrok’s bastard son. He never knew the name of his thrall mother, but he considered his sire’s second wife like a mother. “If the gods have wished it a girl, it will be called Aslaug “

  A couple of painful hours later, rivulets of perspiration ran between Rosfrith’s breasts. When Cate tried to put a wet cloth on Rosfrith’s forehead, she pushed it away.

  “No!” She didn’t mean to be rude, but the pain wasn’t allowing her to think of pleasantries. Concentrating on the next wave of pain, she missed the look Cate gave Althena.

  “You are doing well, mistress,” said Cate, rubbing Rosfrith’s back. She ignored the growl Rosfrith gave her.

  Her breath came in uneven pants as pain ripped through her once again. When it subsided, a wave of weakness ero
ded what strength she had left. “I can’t do this.”

  “Ay you can, mistress,” encouraged Cate, as she wiped the sweat off Rosfrith’s brow and removed the pot of vomit from sight.

  “Walk around, mistress, it will help the infant move out of you,” Althena advised.

  “I have no strength.”

  “Ay, you do. You are stronger than you think.”

  Rosfrith hardly protested when both Althena and Cate helped her to stand. The pain became more intense and she leaned on them both for support. “I can’t do this. Make it stop.”

  “You’ve done the hard work. It won’t be long. Come walk a little,” said Althena, encouraging the first step.

  Attempting to squat, Rosfrith rode out another agonising rip of pain. Feeling light-headed, she pleaded, “I need to go back to the bed.”

  “That’s fine, I can check how far the baby is,” said Althena, helping her onto the mattress. “Lie back.” She smiled. “I see its head; it’s not long now.” She tapped Rosfrith’s leg to get her attention. “It is important you listen to me. Don’t push until I say. Your babe has to make its way into the world in its own time.”

  Althena turned to Cate. “Please, will you fetch the brookline and hollyhock I have prepared in the cooking area?” The look of confusion on Cate’s face had her add to her statement. “It’s near the fire. I boiled them with ale, just in case.” Her eyes flicked towards Rosfrith, who was cooing over the baby. She leaned towards Cate, so only her ears would hear. “The afterbirth isn’t coming out. I must help it, otherwise…” Her eyes flicked back towards Rosfrith.

  “Oh, I see, I’ll get it now.” Cate left the room at a pace. When she walked out of the room, Bryan blocked her way.

  “Is it here?”

  “Ay, m’lord,” she replied.