by Leigh Bale
"Wulfgar, have a care," Raulf shouted.
Jenkin prepared for a final lunge, but Raulf interceded, saving Wulfgar from certain death. Wulfgar deflected another blow, knocking Jenkin back. Raulf rounded on the Welshman.
“Jenkin, look out," the woman warned.
Jenkin recovered and Wulfgar admired the Welshman’s skill. Jenkin blocked a lethal stab, then met Raulf’s advance with a mighty heave that sent Raulf sprawling.
The woman bit her lower lip. She watched the battle, her eyes filled with terror. Wulfgar pivoted as he swung his sword. Dodging a vicious thrust from one of her men, his feet slipped on the icy deck. Where was the woman? Too late, Wulfgar spied her standing beside him. She placed the steel point of a heavy sword against his throat.
"If you value your life, drop the sword.” Her voice trembled, betraying her courage.
To be vanquished by a female! Wulfgar knew of many ways to disarm her, but he’d never harmed a woman. He should take the advantage and kill her, but neither his mother nor God would approve of such cruelty and he lowered his sword, dropping it to the deck.
A low boom shook the heavens and lightning flashed across the sky. The bitter wind molded the woman’s mantle about her. She quaked with wet and cold. Though fear glimmered in her eyes, he admired her tenacity. She intrigued him and he vowed to take her with him when he left with his men.
“Stop fighting, or I’ll kill him,” she called to Raulf.
Her voice vibrated with fear. Wulfgar watched the point of her sword shaking all too close to his throat. The sword was not much threat, for she could barely lift it. In one deft movement, he knocked it from her grasp.
With a sharp cry, she rubbed her hand from the stinging blow, then reached for her dagger. Raulf showed a nasty grin and stalked closer, forcing her to step back.
Shaking her head, her eyes flashed with determination. “I won’t let you take him from me.”
Courageous but foolish. Gaston, one of Wulfgar’s knights, came up behind her. She turned and screamed as the Norman lifted his blade, a feral grin on his face.
“Hold!” Wulfgar commanded, fearing Gaston might cut her down.
Startled by Wulfgar's cry, Gaston hesitated and the woman plunged her dagger deep into his shoulder. Gaston grunted with pain and shoved her away. She cried out as she stumbled back against the railing. The dagger fell from her hand and clattered to the deck. At that moment, the sea heaved and she fell backward over the side of the ship into the raging sea.
“Nay!” Wulfgar threw himself against the side of the ship to catch her.
"My lady," Jenkin shouted.
Aghast, Wulfgar watched as she thrashed about in the rippling black depths. Her head broke from the icy water and she fought for air. Again, she sank beneath the cresting waves. The frigid ocean would steal her warmth and life.
The hood of her cloak fell back, her hair blinding her as she fought to free herself from the mantle. The heavy cloth clung to her, binding her arms, forcing her down. She would drown.
Wulfgar watched with horror as she disappeared from view. Taking a deep breath, he dove over the side of the ship. The sea crashed over him as he plunged into the icy water and began to swim with firm strokes.
Chapter Three
Ariana quaked with cold as Wulfgar dragged her to shore. Her arms were numb and her fingers felt encased with ice. She collapsed upon the sand, shuddering. Wulfgar dropped down beside her, gasping for air. The wind pierced through her and she sucked in a harsh breath. When she tried to speak, her voice emerged as a hoarse croak. The ocean was often a watery grave. Those who didn’t drown died of cold and exposure.
They must get warm.
The slave rolled to her and sat up. His large hands brushed her face and coursed down her arms, sieving water off her skin. He kissed her brow, then her lips. Quick, gentle kisses meant to soothe her.
Instead, panic climbed her throat. What if he decided to kill her? Alone and defenseless, she was too weak to fight him. Surely he also needed warmth.
He trembled beside her and she clenched her jaw against the blustery winds combing the beach. His big body acted as a shield to protect her.
"Must…find shelter," he mumbled.
He stumbled to his feet and Ariana cried out as the sharp breeze cut through her wet clothes.
Come back!
The words screamed inside her mind, but she couldn’t speak. Her tongue felt like a leaden weight inside her mouth.
He bent down and pulled her up. Ariana struggled to stand but her legs refused to support her weight. She threw one arm about his neck and the feel of his faint warmth tingled up her frozen flesh.
“We must…get warm.” Wulfgar half-dragged, half-carried her as they sought protection from the frosty winds.
He staggered and she pushed against him, helping him stay upright. Together, they trudged inland, picking their way through the darkness. If only they could find a cave or tree to shelter them. The wind buffeted her, spitting rain as they picked their way over the scratchy heather. Farther inland, thick peat moss covered the shadowed ground. If they could get a spark.
“A fire. We have fuel,” she said.
He grunted a reply.
Her teeth chattered. Her common sense told her she didn’t have long before she died of exposure. Without her, Dafydd’s fate would be sealed. She must live.
Please, God. Please help us.
She prayed silently as they plodded on. And then, she caught the faint scent of smoke. A large, dark shape unfolded ahead of them, showing a faint light. A hut. Hopefully the inhabitants would help them.
She tried to point in that direction, but her arm dropped against her side, too heavy to lift. Wulfgar headed toward the shadowed darkness, then pounded on the door.
“Open!” His voice sounded gruff and strained.
The door creaked and opened just a bit. They found themselves staring at the point of a spear. A fire backlit a tall man’s thin shape as he faced them.
“What do you want?” he asked in Gaelic.
“Sh…shelter, please,” Ariana responded through chattering teeth.
The man eyed them both before backing away and admitting them into his humble home.
The door closed behind them, shutting out the wind. Ariana tried to smile at a plump woman who stood beside the fire holding a sharp knife. The woman’s eyes widened with fear and Ariana couldn’t blame her. If they lived alone on this island, they must be wary of strangers.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“We…we are castaways, thrown overboard during the storm,” Ariana said.
The man’s gaze swept their wet clothing and soggy hair. Her explanation must have satisfied him, for he lowered the spear and stood back, giving them access to the fire.
“Warm yourselves,” the woman said.
Made of what looked to be drift wood, the one room hut offered only the barest protection from the storm. The glittering fire made it snug and warm.
A small babe lay nestled in a cradle beside a pile of sleeping furs. The woman stayed close by, watching over her child.
“Very…sweet,” Ariana murmured as she gazed at the sleeping child, so innocent of the chaos outside.
The mother smiled shyly. “He’s a good babe. He hardly ever cries.”
“What are your names?” the man asked.
“I am Ariana and this is Wulfgar.”
Ariana purposefully omitted their titles. Until Jenkin found her, she didn’t want these people to get any ideas about ransom or other evil intentions. The man stared at the slave collar around Wulfgar’s neck and undoubtedly guessed his status.
“I’m Callum and this is Gara, my wife.”
“You’re Scottish. Thank you for taking us in.” Ariana shivered.
Wulfgar stood close beside her, never turning his back on Callum. Ariana realized it was a defensive gesture.
“You say you are castaways?” Callum said.
“Yes. My…er, our men should find
us by morning.”
“I have no change of dry clothing to offer you,” Gara said.
“That’s all right. I feel warmer already. We should be able to leave as soon as the storm passes.” Ariana hoped Jenkin and the others found them by then. But Wulfgar’s men would fight to take him back.
Unless she could first convince Wulfgar to help her.
Wulfgar crouched before the fire, his entire body trembling. She felt the same. He’d saved her life when he could have left her to the sea. She didn’t understand, but now she owed him a great debt.
Wulfgar looked at her from over his shoulder, his long hair plastered to his head. His lashes were spiked with rain; lashes any woman would envy. She saw the glitter of his eyes and the flash of his white teeth as he smiled. They were safe for the time being. How different would their lives have been had he not committed treason and they had met at court?
Ah, but she would never willingly go to King William’s court. She hated all Normans. They had successfully wiped out most of her family. Four elder brothers, her father, and numerous other family members and friends. Except for Dafydd, Aunt Frida, and Rhodri, her small cousin, all her family had been killed. She must save Dafydd or she would have no one left.
In silence, Ariana watched as Callum placed more peat moss upon the fire. When it appeared it would burn long and hot, they all rested for a time.
Wulfgar had saved her life, but what about later tomorrow? Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and decided not to think about that now.
* * *
Ariana awoke slowly, blinking her eyes. The glaring sun blinded her and she quickly closed them again. The cry of a babe awoke her, followed by the opening of the door. The squawk of sea birds and the roar of the ocean filtered inside the drab hut. The sharp aroma of brine stung her nose and the grit of sand on the dirt floor dug against her cheek.
Turning her head, she found herself staring at Wulfgar’s profile. He sat on the floor beside Callum, talking quietly as the two men shared a piece of cheese. Gara and the baby were gone and Ariana assumed the mother had taken her child outside.
Wulfgar’s eye was black and swollen from the beating he’d suffered yesterday. An ugly welt creased his left brow and his soft beard hid other cuts and scratches. Their swim in the ocean had cleansed the wounds around his eyes and jaw. His split lips were full and her gaze centered on his mouth. His dark hair fell in unkempt lengths to his shoulders. The Normans from the auction had worn their hair cut short. Wulfgar's shaggy appearance must be from his enforced servitude rather than his personal preference.
With him so close by, she felt strangely safe. An odd notion, surely.
Resting her head back, she closed her eyes, her body still weak from their ordeal at sea. Opening her eyes again, she sighed, reconciled to dealing with her predicament.
She looked about the hut, finding no furniture and no ornaments of any kind. A few weapons leaned against the wall and one cooking pot rested over the fire. The aroma of mutton stew made her mouth water. These people seemed destitute, yet well fed.
What might Wulfgar be saying to Callum? What if he promised a reward if Callum helped him escape? Though they weren’t starving, Callum and Gara looked in great need. If they decided to help Wulfgar, Ariana could do nothing to stop them.
She sat up and stared at the two men, her mind filled with suspicion.
“Good morning, lady,” Callum greeted her with a smile, looking anything but villainous.
She peered at him with doubt. “How do you know I’m a lady?”
Callum glanced at her sodden cloak lying beside the fire. “Your clothes. They’re too fine to belong to a serf.”
Although Ariana’s dress was almost dry, the colorful embroidery at the neck and cuffs was soiled and torn. What a shame. Aunt Frida had crafted the gown for Ariana’s last birthday. She reached for the gold filigree girdle around her waist and discovered one jeweled dagger still remained. She mourned the loss of the second dagger, for the pair had been a gift from her father only months before his death.
A moment of panic flooded her. She must find a way home as soon as possible. Dafydd needed her.
She licked her dry lips. “How far are we from the mainland?”
“Two islands over,” Callum said.
“And have you a ship to get there?”
He shook his head. “Only a small dinghy. I herd sheep here on the island for Lord Dunbar. He sends a ship from time to time to check on us, but otherwise we keep to ourselves.”
Her hopes soared. “But could you take us to the mainland in your dinghy?”
Callum hesitated. “The seas are too rough right now. It would be dangerous to try a crossing.”
She gripped her coin purse beneath her robes. Buying Wulfgar had nearly emptied it, but there should be enough to get them to the mainland and then home to Wales. She must be careful, though. If these people knew she had silver, they might try to rob her. Years of war had taught her to be careful. “I can pay you once we arrive.”
Callum’s eyes widened at the prospect. “I’d need to discuss it with my wife first. I don’t like leaving her here alone. Too many Vikings pass by the island and she and our babe would be defenseless.”
Ariana looked away, thinking this over. She didn’t want to be responsible for any harm to Gara and her babe. “You’re right. You should keep Gara and your child safe. May we buy your dinghy instead?”
He shook his head. “Without the boat, we’d be stranded here. On calm days, I use the dinghy to catch fish.”
At least the man was honest. A greedy man would have tried to make a deal and think about the safety of his wife and child second. The only other alternative was to wait for Jenkin to find them. In the dark of the storm, he may not have been able to recognize this island amongst so many. It could take time for him to search and find her here.
Ariana stood and brushed a hand across her wrinkled dress. Walking to the doorway, she stepped outside. Gara was nowhere to be seen. She assumed the woman had gone behind the hut where a makeshift fence surrounded an enclosure filled with bleating goats and sheep. Ariana headed toward the beach, scanning the sea for some sign of her father’s ship. The mast had been destroyed and she wondered how Jenkin could steer the boat without being able to catch the wind. They would be forced to unite with the Norman’s on their ship.
“My men will find us soon.”
She jerked, realizing Wulfgar had followed her out and stood behind her. For some insane reason, she longed to confide her troubles to him. Then she remembered who she was, and who he was, and why they were here.
She stepped away and looked at him. "Your men have no right to take you from me. You’re no longer a knight.”
His jaw hardened. "True, but I’ll rectify that soon."
She wanted to ask him what he meant by that. She truly did. But not now. Not when she found herself in a highly vulnerable position. "I’m alive, thanks to you. But I must get home with haste."
“Why?”
She hesitated. Should she tell him about Dafydd now, or wait until her men arrived? “I will tell you when I’m ready. You are still my slave.”
“You enjoy reminding me of that, yet I wish to warn you it won’t always be so.” He stepped near.
She backed away and tossed her tangled hair away from her face. "Don’t think saving my life has won you any special favors."
His brows quirked together and he shrugged one shoulder. “I would never harm you. Haven’t you learned that by now?”
A laugh burst from her mouth. “Other than my men, I trust only God.”
He snorted. “God has no place in battle.”
“But you are a Christian, aren’t you?” She knew even his King William was a Christian, despite the many people he had killed.
“Yes, but I have little use for religion.”
She gasped at his blasphemy. “Surely you rely on the arm of God to help you.”
He lifted a pointed spear he had accommodated from Ca
llum. “I rely on my own arm. This I know. This I trust. God is too fickle. He lets too many bad things happen to good people.”
“No, you’re wrong. God loves all His children. But he lets each of us choose how we will live, both good and bad. We must rely on Him so we can fight against evil. The power of prayer is strong.”
“You are very naïve.” He chuckled.
Ariana tensed. Perhaps she was naïve, but she couldn’t deny God’s influence in her life. In spite of all the horror she’d witnessed in the past, she still felt the Lord’s presence each day. “If I am naïve, then you are cynical and lost.”
A sarcastic smile spread across his handsome mouth. “Perhaps you’re right, my lady. Perhaps you’re right.”
* * *
Wulfgar stared at Ariana. Her snarled hair fell about her shoulders like rays of sunshine when the first golden hues strike the land. Her small, delicate features showed smooth, fair skin that would quickly sunburn. Ah, she was lovely. But he had no time to think about this woman now. He had yet to discover who Lady Ariana was and what she wanted with him, yet he had discerned she was in trouble of some kind.
Wulfgar’s gaze swept her, resting on the jeweled dagger peeking out from beneath the folds of her dress. Though curious, he told himself he didn’t care about anything more than gaining his freedom. Let her keep her secrets. He didn’t care.
She stepped back and looked about, but her gaze didn’t leave him for long. She moved cautiously and he realized his presence frightened her. He doubted it would do any good to reassure her that he meant her no harm.
He took a step toward her and she lifted the dagger, wielding it like a warrior. "Come no closer.”
Ah, a tigress at heart. No doubt the red hue of her hair was the cause. Over the years, he’d noticed that red-headed women were often spirited.
Her blue eyes flared. She was braced to run, her lips parted as her breathing came faster. He admired her courage, considering the fact he outweighed her over double and knew at least a hundred ways to disarm her. She reminded him of a little spitting cat and he couldn’t suppress a wide smile.
