Hilde’s face fell and she let go of his shirt. ‘I wanted Aud to have a special name for you. It will make it more like Aud and I are truly brother and sister.’
‘We’re going to Iceland,’ he said, watching Aud struggle slightly with the pack. ‘It makes more sense to use the Norse words rather than the Northumbrian words. You are Norse now. Use those.’
‘And the proper words are...’ Cwen lifted both the protesting Aud and his pack into the cart. ‘The children won’t know the words and I don’t either. Maybe you can teach us all Norse so we can speak the language before we get to Iceland.’
He clenched his fists, feeling his own inadequacy. He should have said the words to begin with. And he should have thought about lifting the boy in the cart. ‘Mor for mother and Far for father.’
‘Yes, they can use those words,’ Cwen said. Her brow puckered. ‘It is silly, but...I’m pleased they are not the same in Northumbrian.’
A knife went through Thrand’s heart. She still clung to her dead family.
‘Can you practise, Hilde?’ he asked deliberately turning from Cwen.
‘Yes, Far.’ The girl gave a little curtsy and laughed. Aud laughed as well and took up the chant—far, far, far.
‘No, you have it wrong. One far, not two.’
‘Did they go too far with the fars?’ Cwen asked with an innocent expression on her face.
Her pun sent the children off into fresh peals of laughter.
‘Just one Far,’ Thrand explained, trying to keep a straight face. He knew he should strive to be like his father—dignified and remote so he could instil discipline, but a large part of him wanted the ease that Cwen had. ‘Far-far means something else.’
‘What does Far-far mean?’ Cwen asked. ‘Or don’t I want to know?’
‘Grandfather. My father.’
Thrand paused. His father had been a remote figure and had left most of the child rearing to his mother. Thrand knew in that instant that it was not what he wanted. He didn’t want to be the person who always laid down the law and seemed perfect. He knew his imperfections too well. It was one thing to be called Far and quite another thing to actually be a father. He remembered vowing that when he had been punished for some minor misdemeanour.
‘Is it the same for all grandfathers?’ Hilde wondered.
‘No, Cwen’s father would be Mor-far. It means mother’s father.’ Thrand frowned as the girl continued to look perplexed. ‘It is how you tell who belongs to whom. Far-mor would be my mother, while Mor-mor would be Cwen’s mother. It is very simple really. Logical.’
‘Shall we play a game, children?’ Cwen asked. ‘You say a word and then Thrand will give us the Norse word. It can help to pass the time.’
‘If we are going to play, I had better have Aud on my shoulders so he can see properly.’ Without giving the boy a chance to protest, Thrand swung him up. It felt natural to have the boy grab hold of his hair and cling on.
They continued that way for a little while, but then Aud decided he wanted down and began to kick hard. Thrand stopped and took him down. The boy ran to hold Hilde’s hand and they started chatting away.
Cwen quickened her steps until she was level with him. ‘Thank you,’ she said in an undertone.
‘What, for picking Aud up? It is the best solution. He doesn’t weigh much and he can see better from up here. Carts used to make my stomach ache when I was little.’
‘No, for giving them a special name for me which isn’t mama. I had been racking my brain, and you came up with the right answer.’
‘Cwen, I can’t imagine the heartache of losing a child, but I do know that these children are not seeking to replace your son in your heart.’
‘How did you become so wise suddenly?’
‘I’ve served under different commanders over the years. Some good, some not so good. There is always a period of adjustment. Our group is like a felag.’
‘A felag rather than a family. Do you see yourself as our commander?’
‘I see myself as a father. I know the difference.’ Thrand looked straight ahead. ‘I wonder if my own father did.’
She put her hand on his sleeve. ‘I’m determined to keep my end of the bargain and be a good mother.’
‘You will find a way.’ He cupped her cheek. ‘I believe in you.’
‘And I believe in you and finding a way to be a father rather than a commander.’
‘Can someone help? Mor? Far?’ Hilde called out. ‘Aud has fallen in a muddy puddle.’
Thrand turned towards where the little boy stood, rubbing his eyes and covered in mud. He rolled his eyes as Cwen gave a long sigh.
‘Problem?’
‘I had forgotten about this part of parenting,’ Cwenneth said and waited for Thrand’s explosion. Aefirth had always hated it when Richard was deliberately naughty and if the way Thrand had reacted yesterday when he first met Aud was any indication, she was in for a long day.
Thrand raised an eyebrow. ‘Aud seems to attract dirt. He can bathe when we stop. For now take some of the cloth I planned to give Maeri and wipe the worst off.’
She stared at him dumbfounded. ‘I thought you would be upset about it.’
‘It was hardly Aud’s fault. He didn’t ask to fall into a puddle.’
‘I think the pair were fooling around,’ Cwenneth confessed. ‘I heard giggling just before it happened.’
Thrand stopped. ‘Is that true, Hilde?’
She scraped her toe in the dirt. ‘It was an accident, but we were playing.’
Cwenneth watched a variety of emotions cross Thrand’s face. Finally, he gave a rich laugh. He stopped suddenly and shook his head a little.
‘Before I knew you, I barely laughed. Some questioned if I even could. I see now that I had simply forgotten how to.’
Her heart expanded at the words. She did mean something to him. She put her hand to his cheek and felt the faint rasp of bristles. ‘I hope you will laugh often in Iceland, but what are we going to do about this deliberate naughtiness?’
All merriment vanished from his face.
‘I can’t do this,’ he confessed in an undertone. ‘If I lose my temper, I’ll frighten the children.’
She stared at him and knew what he was asking and how much it must have cost to ask.
‘He will have to ride in the cart if he is naughty. If he is good, he can walk or ride on your shoulders.’ Cwen patted Myrkr’s neck and tried to keep her voice sounding practical. But her stomach churned. It was wrong that she wanted more of him than he was willing to give.
* * *
The faint stench of smoke hung in the air. Cwenneth wrinkled her nose. It was far more than chimney smoke from a farm or village.
She glanced towards Thrand. His easy-going stance of a few moments ago had vanished.
‘Can you take Myrkr’s bridle?’
‘What is going on?’ Cwen asked, keeping her voice low. The last thing she wanted to do was to frighten the children.
‘Impossible to say.’ Thrand nodded. ‘We keep going forward but be prepared to go into the woods on your left.’
Cwen nodded. They went around a bend and saw the remains of what had been a farmhouse. The small plume of smoke rose in the air. Cwenneth’s stomach clenched. Someone had burnt the entire farm including the barns to the ground, and there was the distinct smell of cooked meat. Whoever had done it had not bothered to take the livestock.
‘Was it raiders?’ Hilde asked, sitting bolt upright.
‘Why would there be raids here, honey?’ Cwen said. ‘We are near the borders of Lingwold and the lord signed a peace treaty with the Norsemen.’
‘Not all raiders are Norse,’ Thrand commented. ‘Even if the Northumbrians would like to think they are.’
‘Well, what do you thi
nk?’
Thrand shrugged. ‘Wrong season.’
‘A tragic accident, then?’ Cwenneth put her hand to her throat.
‘Stay here with the children.’ Thrand unsheathed his sword. ‘I will check and see if there are any clues. If there are raiders about, it is better we know about them and plan for it.’
‘And if anyone needs help...’
‘If you hear me shout, get the children away from here. Leave the cart.’
‘Off to the left.’
‘Correct. I will find you.’
‘Will you?’
‘I’ll always find you, Cwen.’
He went towards the farm. Cwenneth lifted the children down from the cart and stood with her arms about them. Aud stuck his thumb in his mouth and stood watching with big eyes as Thrand cautiously made his way over to the smouldering remains. Silently she prayed that he would come back and say that it was just a fire, probably started by a cooking pot.
‘What is Far going to do?’ Hilde asked, leaning into her.
‘He is going to make sure that everyone is all right. And that we can travel on past without a problem.’ Cwenneth silently willed Thrand to return.
‘Who did this?’ Hilde whispered. ‘Bad men?’
Every instinct in Cwenneth’s body told her that it was Hagal’s work, but it made no sense. He should be well to the southwest of here. Edward would never do such a thing. He would not burn people’s houses and claim it was the Norse.
‘Everyone has left.’ Thrand returned far quicker than she had thought he would.
‘No...no bodies...’
‘A fresh grave in a little graveyard. I reckon the attack happened about two days ago.’ His deep-blue gaze met hers. ‘And it was an attack, Cwen. I found the marks of a double axe on the door and several arrows. Whoever lived here didn’t stand a chance.’
‘We were supposed to be at peace.’ Cwenneth shook her head in disbelief. ‘Things like this were not supposed to happen any more. We wanted time to recover from the war.’
‘We don’t know who did this.’
‘The Norse warriors are the only ones who use double axes. It is supposed to be the hallmark of Thrand the Destroyer.’
A faint dimple shone in the corner of his mouth. ‘Funny that. I believe he was otherwise occupied.’
‘I know that. You know that, but the villagers around here will not know that. This slaughter will add to the legend of Thrand the Destroyer.’
‘We will be keeping away from villages, then.’ Thrand gave Hilde and Aud a significant look. Cwenneth knew precisely what he was thinking. It would be very easy for one of the children to blurt out his name. Hilde seemed particularly loyal.
‘It would be for the best.’
‘The last thing we want is someone recognising me and blaming me. I’m not saying that I am proud of everything that I have done, but I did it in battle against a known enemy. Yes, I have raided, but we were at war. You understand the difference.’
Cwen’s stomach knotted, and she gave a small nod. ‘You think Hagal did this, but why would he? He signed a treaty with my brother.’
‘He broke it when he tried to have you murdered.’ Thrand put his sword back in its scabbard. ‘I don’t pretend to know what is in that man’s head. It is none of my concern now. All this...’ he gestured about the ruined farmhouse ‘...all this is someone else’s problem. If your brother can’t tell honest men from rogues, I pity his people, but I feel no pity for him.’
‘I think we had better get going. Put some distance between us and this.’
Aud’s stomach gave a loud rumble.
‘Aud is hungry,’ Hilde announced with great importance.
‘As soon as we can we will get you some food.’ Cwen placed Aud and Hilde up on Myrkr, glad to have something to do. Concentrating on getting the children fed would keep her mind from worrying about why Hagal had decided to torch that farmhouse.
A hard knot appeared in the pit of her stomach. If Hagal had torched this farmhouse, how many other people had he killed, and worse, had he used her supposed murder as an excuse to do it? Thrand might think they were safe and had no further part to play, but she knew that farmhouse would haunt her.
‘The sooner we are in Iceland, the sooner you can stop worrying about this sort of thing,’ Thrand remarked.
‘But it might still be happening.’ Cwenneth picked up Aud. She didn’t want to think about the danger to the farm where they had lived.
‘It won’t be your concern. It is not your concern now. We have chosen a different path. The children will be safe.’ He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘You can only look after your family, Cwen, not the whole world.’
* * *
Despite the wild flower–strewn glade where they camped, Thrand’s nostrils still quivered from the stench of the burnt livestock. He put his cloak over the two sleeping children. Aud and Hilde at least seemed unconcerned by the slaughter they had encountered earlier. Cwen remained a bit pale and subdued.
The children had eagerly eaten the duck he’d caught, which Cwen had cooked with a few herbs and greens she’d gathered, but neither he nor Cwen had eaten much. And the children had waited until Cwen told them they could eat. How Cwen knew these things was beyond him. Looking after children was a whole new world where he had little skill or experience, but he wanted to learn. It surprised him how much he wanted to.
Thrand tore his mind away from the children and attempted to concentrate on the problem at hand, namely who was behind the burnt farmhouse and did it matter to his future? Were they in danger?
Hagal had to be behind it, but it made no sense. But there again, his attempted murder of Cwen made no sense either. At least Cwen lived. He doubted anyone had survived at that farmhouse. It annoyed him that the Northumbrians would say he had done it, but what was the point of worrying about his reputation in a place that he never planned to visit again.
‘Do you want any more duck?’ he asked, going over to where Cwen sat quietly mending a hole in Aud’s trousers. ‘You barely touched your food earlier.’
Cwen shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Can we have a song, Far?’ Hilde’s sleepy voice asked.
‘I thought they were asleep,’ Thrand said in an undertone.
‘Sometimes putting a cloak over a child can wake them.’
‘I did it carefully,’ he protested.
Her hand stilled. ‘Are you going to sing for her? Music used to settle Richard, and she asked for you.’
‘The only songs I know are war ballads. You sing, Cwen. You do it. You must know a lullaby or two.’
She pushed the needle in and out of the cloth. ‘My voice isn’t very good and I haven’t sung properly...not since...’
Thrand stilled as the memory of the dream washed over him. ‘You do yourself a disservice. You sang once for me.’
She tucked her chin into her neck. ‘Special occasions only.’
‘Very well. I will try.’ He searched his mind and started to sing one of the less violent sagas.
The little girl gave a sigh and turned over. Within a few heartbeats, there was the sound of her soft breathing.
‘There, you did it,’ Cwen said. ‘You sang her to sleep.’
‘Why did you sing in the hut?’
‘I didn’t think you heard me,’ she replied. ‘A bit of foolishness my nurse Martha told me when I was little. Some people can be brought back from the brink of death if the song is sweet enough. Luckily, as you pointed out, you were never in danger.’
Thrand took the cloth from her hand, put it to one side and laced his fingers through hers. ‘You have a lovely voice. Can I hear it again?’
‘When we get to Iceland and everyone is safe, then I will sing. It will be a special occasion.’ She released hi
s hand and stood up, wrapping her arms about her waist. ‘I will be far happier and in better voice when we get there.’
He leant his forehead against hers and put his arms about her. ‘Forget about the farmhouse. Forget about everything but these children.’
She laid her head on his chest. ‘What if Hagal did it? What if he did it because of me? I spent my life preparing to run a large house and I know the responsibility a mistress has for her people. I wanted to be a peace-weaver, not a death-bringer.’
Thrand closed his eyes and forced his breathing to be steady. ‘What-ifs play no part in our future. Going to Iceland is the best way to protect you and the children. What happens in Northumbria is no longer any of our concern. And you will be bringing peace—peace to my life and the children’s.’
‘But his reach is long. Knui proved that. How many other people have taken his gold? Who else might be lurking in the shadows?’
‘Everyone will be on their guard now that it is known. Bribery only works when people are not looking for it.’ He put a finger to her mouth. ‘Hush now. I want to enjoy you and this moment. The children are asleep and there is only us. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?
‘Make love to me, Thrand. There are no stars to count tonight.’
His head descended. She responded fully, greedily pulling at his mouth.
* * *
Afterwards when Cwen lay in his arms, sleeping with her lips softly parted, Thrand watched the faint light of the stars. Only yesterday he would have sworn that vengeance drove him and there was room for nothing more. But now he knew it could contain more. It could be richer than he ever dreamt.
Silently, he prayed, using words he remembered from his childhood, prayers his father used to say—that his sword arm would be strong and not falter. He tightened his arm about Cwen and smoothed her shorn hair. This time, he vowed, he would not fail his family. And he knew who his family was.
He sat up straight. Cwen! There was something he could do for her.
‘Tomorrow we go north.’
‘North?’
‘You need to make your goodbyes...to your son.’
* * *
The ice coldness of the crypt hit Cwenneth as soon as she walked in, taking her back to Aefirth’s funeral. The lingering scent of incense tugged at her nostrils. She braced her body for tears, but none came.
Saved by the Viking Warrior Page 18
