“Were you followed?” Cairell asked as Alric slid off Dustan and caught his bride in his arms.
This was real. This was all that mattered, he told himself. He kissed her with a fierce thanksgiving. She was safe. Ricbert and Ethlinda would never have the chance to harm her. It would be all the queen could do to explain this black night and the murder of some of his most loyal thanes to the bretwalda.
“For the love of God, man, what manner of a parade is this?”
Cairell’s exclamation took a moment to penetrate Alric’s reunion with his wife. Reluctantly, Alric drew away and looked to where Cairell stood gaping at the group of men and women who had materialized in the fog. “Would you leave them to face the butchers you witnessed in the hall?” If he had to, he’d fight Gleannmara’s prince then and there, but he’d not leave his people.
“Like Moses,” Abina marveled, fit to burst with pride. “Orlaith and I dreamed, Son, but never to this extent.”
The last thing Alric felt like was a Moses. There was no promised land for this ragged lot—at least none guaranteed this side of death. That was the only unseen he could focus on at the moment. He shoved the matter from his mind, for he wasn’t certain his renewed faith was strong enough to accept that God had abandoned His children so shortly after their acceptance of Him.
“What of Scanlan?” Deirdre looked at him, lips trembling.
Alric nodded his head toward the wagon. As she turned in that direction, she took in the familiar faces that accompanied him. She swayed for a moment, causing Alric to reach for her.
“This is all?”
He understood her shock. “Most of my men were in the hall.”
“And your father?” Abina queried.
“Dead.”
“Oh, Alric.”
He steeled himself against the tears that welled in Deirdre’s eyes, lest the emotions tearing at her voice be his undoing.
“And Helewis and Gunnar?” Deirdre’s question was hoarse.
“I couldn’t find them. We looked as much as we dared. I can only pray they survived. Not everyone was killed. Mostly Lambert’s most loyal. The rest were drugged—”
“But why—”
“Later, muirnait, later. Abina, you will ride in the cart with the priest. I want to be away from here before the mist clears. We’ll go as far as Chesreton. From there, we’ll decide what to do. As far as we know, though Gunnar’s father is dead, his men still fortify it.”
Given the extent of this treachery, Alric would not hazard to guess which army strove to lay siege to the seaport—Welsh or Mercian. For all he knew, they ran from the fat and into the fire.
“You want me to take my sister right back into the hands that—”
“My hands, Irish.” Alric’s barely suppressed anger and frustration flashed beneath the surface. “And as God is my witness now, I will cut them off for her safety. If you doubt me, then let’s settle this now.”
Standing his ground, hand on the hilt of his bloodied scramasax, Alric clenched his teeth, the steel gray of his gaze clashing with a blue as steely as that Deirdre had wielded against him time and again. But this time, his adversary was no comely female.
It is her brother, he reminded himself, which was nearly as much a handicap. Still, leadership had to be established. There could be only one in charge.
“Cairell!”
At Deirdre’s cry, something kindled in her brother’s appraisal, and Alric’s senses were keen enough to recognize that it wasn’t challenge. He let his hand drop from his weapon and turned to face the others. “We’ve a long journey ahead, so ready away,” Alric shouted, turning to reach for Dustan’s reins. Walking the horse to where Deirdre waited, he bowed. “Milady, I’d be honored if you share the rest of our wedding night with me.”
Her smile was like the break of day in the dark swirl of his brain. “Whatever you wish, milord.”
“You can ride in the wagon,” Alric said, glancing over at Cairell, who stood without a mount.
Princely pride surely chaffed, the heir to Gleannmara acknowledged him with a gracious nod. “My feet thank you for your hospitality, sir. Mayhap I’ll find out from the priest what manner of persuasion you used to addle my sister’s wits.”
Alric leaped onto Dustan’s back behind his wife and laughed, some of the pressure building in his chest released at finding Deirdre and Abina safe. “The, answer to that is simple, Lord Gleannmara. ’Twas Saxon courage and Celtic charm.” Alric gave way with an ooof! at the sharp jab of Deirdre’s elbow. “Oh, and love, let us not forget love.”
THIRTY-TWO
AWelsh force camped outside Chesreton, but the beleaguered travelers from Galstead approached the city from the opposite side without event. The Wulfshead and three foreign ships haunted the mist hovering over the river as they crossed the bridge to the water gate of the town, like the memories of the previous night, the sky was burdened with clouds that refused to let the sun shine through. Met at the city gate by Falk, the commander left in charge by the murdered Cedric, they learned that Owen of Emrys had come to demand restitution for the raid Ricbert had lead earlier across the Welsh lord’s border.
“He claims Ricbert’s retribution for a simple cattle raid was excessive,” Falk informed them. “That Galstead owes Emrys some form of payment or the return of what was taken.”
“He’s made no move to attack?” Alric wondered at the fact.
“Not yet, sire, though we can hold him off if he does.”
“Owen of Emrys?” Cairell hopped down from the cart and approached on legs stiff from the long, damp journey “I know the man well. We studied together under Eamon of Deny. And it’s not uncommon when a debt is owed to sit at the door of the obliged party.”
“Actually, Owen is a distant cousin of ours,” Deirdre informed Alric. “Gleannmara has been tied to Emrys by trade or blood since Queen Maire captured Rowan, lord of Emrys, and made him her husband.”
“At least the circumstances of our union aren’t unprecedented in your family.” Alric’s wryness was scant of humor. “I’ll hear more of this, once we’ve seen to my company.”
Falk looked at the humanity strung out behind him. “Begging your pardon, milord, but what’s amiss at Galstead? This is hardly the average wedding celebration.”
“This is Galstead … or what’s left of it.” Fatigue flattened any emotion in Alric’s voice.
The commander stood dumbstruck, his reaction seesawing between disbelief and outrage.
“Summon your captains and have them meet me at the royal villa in an hour.”
Falk nodded and moved aside. Deirdre heard him barking orders behind them as Alric lead his assembly to the home Lambert had given him as a wedding gift. Deirdre could only imagine her husband’s anguish.
Not only had he lost his father, his closest friends, and a shire—if not a kingdom—but he’d been robbed of the teeth to avenge it. Much as she wanted to offer some word of comfort, nothing that came to mind seemed appropriate.
But then, Deirdre could hardly hold her head up from exhaustion. Despite their getting away before dawn, the travel had been extremely tedious, slowed even more by cloudbursts. She’d dozed against Alric’s chest and taken comfort in the arm that occasionally tightened about her waist with affection or the brush of his lips against the back of her neck. More than once, she thanked God that they still had each other … and Cairell.
Surely God would prevail for them again.
Deirdre blinked, stiffening against her husband as she stared at the front of the villa ahead. A small figure appeared where a moment before there had only been fog. She knew instantly who the woman was.
“Aelfled!” Alric sounded no less surprised. “How did you—” He thought better of his question. “Never mind. We’ve grave need of your services. Have you any qualms about healing a Christian priest?”
A serene smile touched upon Aelfled’s artfully formed mouth. “I delight in the company of knowledge and have no regard for those who would dest
roy it.”
The dark-haired female seemingly floated over to where Scanlan lay in the wagon. She was too large for a fairy or an elf, yet seemed too small for a human adult. Deirdre shook the fanciful notion from her mind, but it took a stronger effort for the woman Alric had awakened in her to dismiss the possible threat of his former lover’s presence.
Aelfled did indeed live up to her namesake—elf beauty—but she was no more some magical creature than anyone else, Deirdre told herself, watching Cairell practically fall over his own feet to help the healer into the can. The eyes of all the men present were drawn like moths to her flame.
“Scanlan is in good hands.” Obviously Alric mistook the green direction of her thoughts for a pious wariness. “I’ve never seen her mutter chants, much less conjure more than tea or a poultice from the herbs she collects and dries year round.”
Before Deirdre could reply, the door to the villa opened and Doda rushed outside, beaming enough to make up for the lack of sunlight. “Milady Lord Alric, welcome home!”
“Thank you, Doda,” Deirdre managed, ashamed of herself for doubting the strength of her husband’s vows. Even as a pirate, he honored his word. “It’s good to be home.”
Alric slid off the stallion and lifted Deirdre down. “Surely, you jest, milady.”
What pain she heard in his murmured words. Deirdre framed his face with her hands, as though to assuage it with her touch, indeed her very soul. “I am with you, Alric. Wherever you are, it is my home, and I’m glad to be there.”
He heard and digested her words, but the somber mask of his features gave none of his thoughts away, save that he was as drained by the long, wet journey and lack of sleep as she. Suddenly, as though pulling upon resources from the very tip of his reach, the warrior rallied and she, too, took heart.
“Doda,” Alric said in a brighter tone, “see to my wife. And Belrap,” he added, cutting off Deirdre’s protest, “see what can be done to feed and lodge these good people. Use what you must, spare nothing, for these people have spared nothing in my support.”
“Yes, milord.” With a respectful dip, Doda put her arm around Deirdre. “Come, milady, you can tell me all about it whilst we dry out your wet clothes.”
“I’ll help with the guests,” Deirdre informed her out of Alric’s earshot.
“If you do, ’twill be in dry clothes, or I’ll not budge.”
“Pauls, have some of the boys find lodgings for those we cannot accommodate and spread the word that we will have a meeting in two hours.” Alric set his shoulders. “If ever we needed to pull together as one people, ’tis now.”
As the shadows of the day became shadows of the night, flaming cressets were raised in addition to the usual lanterns outside the villa and in the courtyard. Smoke from the baskets of wood and pitch atop the poles thickened the damp air. Alric’s request that the people of the seaside shire come together with their displaced neighbors as one had already resulted in ample food and provisions. Vendors emptied their shelves, and homes opened their stores. The courtyard that had filled with travelers that afternoon as Scanlan was carried into one of the guest rooms emptied, family by family.
Dwarfed in some of Alric’s spare clothes, while her wedding dress—now her only dress—dried by the hearth in the master bedchamber, Deirdre left Aelfled tending Scanlan to join her husband and Cairell in the courtyard. Merchants and craftsmen stood with Falk and his men in the courtyard of the villa as Alric gave them what details that could be pieced together regarding the massacre at Galstead.
The latest news had come from a servant who’d made his way to Chesreton on one of the horses Alric’s men scattered before leaving. When the man regained consciousness from the drugged wine, the burgh was fully occupied by the queen’s brothers and their troops. All pretense of a Welsh raid had been abandoned. The servant heard one Mercian guard bragging that a second army was on its way. All the while, bodies were being tossed onto a bonfire on the common, including those of Lambert and Ricbert. The man had not seen the queen but admitted he was more concerned with escaping than with determining Her Majesty’s whereabouts.
“By now you know my father and his loyal thanes have been murdered. Of the traitors, Ricbert and a few careless guards are dead. The queen and her Mercian relatives are in control. Had we not been forewarned in the middle of the night, Deirdre and I might lie upon a pile of burning corpses with our throats slit as well.”
Even though the tale of what had transpired swept through the city with the speed of a flame, shock still prevailed among the listeners. “From all accounts, their plan to blame the Welsh for the bloodbath was ruined by our escape.” Alric’s gaze met Deirdre’s. “Word will get to Ecfrith that the Mercians he’d have us pay tribute to for protection were the ones we needed protection from.”
The news that the bretwalda expected tribute-paying shires of his kingdom to pay for protection over and again to known enemies raised the level of emotions riding high over the assembly The citizens were no more amenable to it than Alric and Lambert had been.
“So do you think the bretwalda will send troops to take Galstead back?” the mayor of Chesreton inquired.
Alric shook his head. “I cannot speak for Ecfrith, but I do know his forces are concentrated to keep the Scots and the Picts at bay Even Galstead has soldiers with him. If the bretwalda would win back Galstead, it will not be a priority.”
“Then what of Chesreton?”
“Aye, what of us?” Another wail joined in with the mayor’s cry.
Alric waited until the questioning died down. “Chesreton will survive as it always has, under whatever rule exists at the time. The sea and ships are your holdings. The merchants who live here are the lifeblood of its prosperity. Your tariffs and fees will continue to go to whoever rules Galstead, unless you can raise a sufficient force to take the shire back yourselves.”
“Or unless you lead us.”
At the familiar voice from the rear of the crowd, Alric paled. When the people finally gave the speaker up, a whole and hearty Gunnar marched up to his friend. Seizing the stunned leader’s hand, the mate raised it above his head.
“Long live Alric, the rightful king of Galstead!”
At that, Alric came to life. “What in Thunor’s—”
The crowd picked up the cry cutting off Alric’s oath. Amid the roar, the two friends embraced, and Deirdre’s eyes stung at the joy on her husband’s face.
“Thank God you are alive,” Alric said, as they broke away.
Deirdre laid her hand on Gunnar’s arm. “Have you seen Helewis?”
“She’s well, and now safe from her demon of a husband,” Gunnar replied.
The people rallied around Alric, drowning out anything he might want to say. A group of men tried to raise him on their shoulders, but he threw off their well-intentioned efforts. After herding Deirdre to the safety of Cairell’s company he leaped up on the wall of the fountain as though to battle the overwhelming tide single-handedly. The slash of his arms through the air hacked the noise to a more manageable level.
“No, and I say again, no!”
The place fell quiet, as though death itself had swept through their number. Every muscle in Alric’s arms and chest flexed with the simmering emotions tearing at his face, quivering in his jaw, pumping fast and furious through the veins that stood out with the taut chords of his neck.
“I am a soldier of the sea,” he shouted in the wake of the loud and sudden hush.
“But a soldier is a soldier,” the mayor objected.
“Aye, and as such, I know when it’s time to fight and when it’s time to retreat.”
“I never thought I’d see Alric of Galstead turn coward.”
The look Alric gave the official withered the man, forcing him back among his fellow townsmen. Divided opinions broke rampant throughout the enclosure. “You are entitled to your opinion, sir,” Alric acknowledged.
The noisy crowd must have felt the rumble of the wolf’s low growl, for it quie
ted at once.
“And you, sir, are welcome to lead these good people.” Alric lifted his finger in warning. “But good people must not be mistaken for good fighting men. Look about you. I do not see more than a handful of men who I would lead into battle—and none that I will lead to their deaths. You are merchants, craftsmen, sailors, and fishermen.”
“Then what would you have us do?” the mayor demanded.
“You are the official leader of this shire, Edgar.”
“But you are king of Galstead.”
“There is no kingdom, man!” Though clothed in anger for the crowd, Alric’s howl of desolation tore at Deirdre’s heart. “And if it’s my advice you seek, then hear it.” He paced his words, as though each were meticulously chosen and executed. “You will do the same as your fathers before you have done. You will survive. You can pay tribute to one lord as easily as to another and, believe me,” he sneered, “the Mercians are no fools. They will only cut off the hand that meets theirs with a weapon, not with coin.”
“And what of us who’ve left our means of living behind?” one of the refugees called. “The people of Chesreton won’t keep us forever. Is that the cost we have to pay for following you and accepting this Christian God?”
Alric looked as if the king stone of ancient Tara had descended upon his shoulders, heavier than he could bear. Jaw clenched, he shook his head. “These are mad times. Christians pretending to be Christians persecute their brethren. Sons betray their fathers,” Alric pointed to the chamber where Scanlan had been taken. “A good man, who risked his life to bring the hope of God’s Word to you, lies beaten within a breath of life … scalped with the tonsure of Rome by my unbelieving stepmother. I am no seer or prophet. I cannot explain it all.”
“I can.” Deirdre reached up and took Alric’s hand. “Good and evil are always at war, and we are the victims. How we survive depends on our faith … or lack of it. We mustn’t despair.”
Alric helped her up onto the thick fountain wall beside him. She stood tall beside her husband.
“The Christian God has done something no other god has. He has given us a book of instructions and truths to guide us. ‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.’” Her Saxon was flawless. “I personally know this to be true. My brother was kidnapped during Ecfrith’s raid on Ireland, and I sailed with the ransom to save him. Instead of saving him, I was captured, and my faith was sorely tested. My future looked no blacker than yours appears now, and yet I stand here, rewarded by love and the safety of my brother because the God I believe in never abandoned me … and He will not abandon me—or you—now.”
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