“It has to be soon. The weather will change and be too unpredictable. Now that you have royal prisoners, Grímr will have a hard time getting the Welsh to cooperate. You could ransom the men to Rhys like I said the day you captured them, but you should exchange them for Grímr. He has no value to Rhys, and I doubt Dafydd ever thought he would gain much from his alliance after he was paid.”
“Do you think you can get those men to talk?” Lena’s eyes showed the concern she felt for Gressa.
“I don’t know. I told them I was happy to finally return to my husband. They will know where my loyalty lies.”
“Lie to them.” Strian broke in. “Tell them you had to say that in front of everyone. Tell them you had to trick me into thinking you want to stay to keep yourself alive. Ask them how you can escape.”
Gressa shook her head vehemently.
“No. Whether or not anyone else understands what I’m saying, I will never let them think I want to return to Grímr’s aid. They know---” she trailed off.
“Then let them think you want to return to Dafydd and Enfys. They don’t know you’re aware of the couple’s betrayal. They might speak more if they think you’re naive or ignorant of the truth.”
Gressa could see the reasoning to that, but one last concern refused to let go.
“And when the tribe members see me talking to them? They will all believe I am what they accused me of. They will surely go after me, and I’m not convinced any, even all of, you can protect me from an angry mob.”
“We will have the prisoners brought here where you can speak privately, or at least they will believe that, and we can guard you with us hidden nearby.” Freya offered the only solution that could work.
“Fine, but not without my sword.” She had once believed Rowan, Afan, and Afon were her friends, but now she questioned whether anyone in the ten years she lived in Wales had ever been her friend.
Gressa and Strian stood together alone as they waited for Freya to retrieve Gressa’s sword and for guards to bring the Welshmen. Strian’s hands rested on her shoulders as he peered into her eyes. He saw resolve and determination as she bristled with anxious anticipation.
“I will stay with you if you want,” Strian offered.
“I wish you could, but how am I supposed to convince them I want to escape you if you’re hovering over me.”
“You can tell them you tire of my possessiveness, proven by my presence, and that you lied about being happy to be with me to protect yourself. They know I won’t understand, so they’ll believe you.” A flash of doubt crossed Gressa’s face, and Strian knew what worried her. “I know you’ll be pretending. I won’t question you again. I trust that you want me to be your husband, and anything you say is to convince them to tell you Grímr’s plans. Say what you must, whatever that is. I know you’re coming home with me.”
Gressa strained to kiss him, but it was cut short when they heard people outside the chamber where the jarl conducted business. With no plan for him to remain present, Strian darted to stand behind a boulder carved into the face of Odin. He glanced over to see the door leading to the great hall was ajar, meaning Tyra and Freya were nearby. Leif and Bjorn led the prisoners into the room before standing by the door through which they passed. Ivar and Rangvald had agreed their own presence would not make the captives very talkative.
“Ydych chi'n iach?” Gressa began by asking if they were well. The men only nodded their response.
“Rydyn ni ar ein pennau ein hunain heblaw am y ddau a ddaeth â chi yma ac nid ydyn nhw'n deall.” Gressa continued as Strian listened to a language filled with strange sounds. Gressa had told him her plan was to assure the men from the very beginning that no one would understand their conversation even those who stood guard.
The three men looked around before nodding again to Gressa.
“Why’re you here? Did you intend to get caught?” Gressa continued her questions.
“They sent us to spy, and Rhys wants to know where you are.” Rowan spoke of his brother.
“Are you all afraid that I will share Grímr’s secret plans?”
“What secrets? We all know he’s a madman, but Dafydd accepted his coins and jewels, so we must play like his puppets,” Afon grumbled.
“You never answered whether you intended to get caught. Did you want to enter the homestead so you could see for yourselves what you faced?” Gressa tried to keep them on topic without pushing too hard, too fast.
“Rowan told you Rhys worries about you,” Afan answered as though that was enough to explain everything. When Gressa’s expression remained blank, Afan grumbled. “You know he intends to make you his wife. He thought you had finally gotten past mooning over some man you’d never see again, that you were moving on if you were willing to fight against your own people.”
“Who said I was willing? Dafydd? Enfys? They sold me to Grímr just like they bought me from those slave traders. No one gave me a choice.” She paused before she defended herself too well. “But I have a choice now. I can’t leave here with you if you get yourselves killed as spies. I’ve suggested they ransom you to Rhys.”
Rowan laughed but it was hollow. “The only ransom he’d be willing to pay is for you, and the cost will be in his bed.”
“What about what you said when you first saw us? You said you were happy to be with your husband.” Afon demanded.
“What was I supposed to say in front of the crowd? I didn’t want any of you to react the wrong way if I said I wanted to run away with you.”
“But it’s not like you could have summoned us to this meeting. Someone ordered you here.” Afon looked at her suspiciously.
“Of course, I was, but they don’t know what we’re saying. They will believe whatever I tell them, truth or lie. But I’m not willing to risk my life for you or Rhys or anyone else if I don’t know that it’s worth it. Did you intend to get caught?”
The three men looked at one another before Rowan answered.
“Yes. We’d been spying since before you even arrived. We nearly rescued you when you ran to the water, but your husband followed you. You looked awfully cozy for someone who wants to leave her husband.”
“I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, do anything, learn anything if they thought I would leave.”
“But you warm his bed when you refused Grímr and continue to refuse Rhys.” Rowan countered.
“What is a wife supposed to do? I need him to trust me enough to let me out of his sight.”
“Or perhaps you like where you are, and all of this is lies.” Afon narrowed his eyes as though she would spill her secrets if he glared at her.
“Whether I want to go or stay won’t matter if I don’t know where I need to take you to escape. If we’re caught, you’ll die for spying, and they’ll kill me for being a traitor.”
“It’s been a long time since you lived here, how will you know where to go?”
“I grew up here. I played in those woods as a child then hunted in them as woman,” and made love to my husband there she nearly added. “I know my way around. Tell me where we need to go and how you got here. I will take us a different way to avoid the sentries that will work twice as hard to keep more spies from getting too close.”
Gressa held her breath, hoping her demand was reasonable rather than suspicious. Rowan trailed his eyes up and down her body, lingering at her breasts and the juncture of her thighs. Gressa’s skin crawled, but she did not move.
“Grímr set up camp about an hour and a half’s ride south of here.”
“It there a mountain that looks like it has three peaks?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I told you I grew up here.” She did not add that they were on the land of the tribe that had attacked Gressa’s people and the same land where she had been stolen away. She had been gone too long to know how matters lay between the tribes and had not thought to ask.
“There is another route there that’s shorter, but the terrain is much harsher. Is the
re snow on the mountain yet?”
“Only a dusting,” Afan offered, the only one trying to be pleasant.
“Then we cannot wait. That dusting could turn into a blizzard while the sun shines on the coast. We have to go into the hills on our route.”
“How do you propose to set us free?” Afon glared at her, not at all convinced that she could rescue them nor come with them.
“No one will watch you during the dead of night. There is a hidden doorway in the wall surrounding the village. I can release you then we leave by that door. We will have to make our way into the hills as soon as we can, or they will track us.”
“You sound as if you already had this plan before we arrived.” Rowan’s smile made Gressa’s stomach curdle. It was more of a leer, and Gressa knew there was no way she could be alone with these three men in the woods unless she wanted them to complete the assault she had already survived.
“I need to know I’m not running away to my own death. You say Rhys awaits my return, but you haven’t said anything to convince me that Grímr will win the next battle.”
“We intended to get caught. They sent us to watch the comings and goings of the people living in this homestead. Finding you alive and well was just a bonus. Grímr intends to lure Ivar’s people out into the woods where we can easily shoot them before he raids the village.”
“You meant to get caught before you even knew I was here and could help you?”
“No, we decided that after we saw you arrive on the dock.”
Gressa swallowed her gasp. The three men, possibly with others, had been practically inside the village for weeks if they had seen the longboats dock and her disembark.
“You must have a great deal of faith in me,” Gressa tested them.
“Not faith. You either serve your purpose--freeing us then warming Rhys’s bed-- or we kill you. It seems rather simple.” Rowan once again leered at her.
Gressa’s heart pounded as Rowan spoke aloud what she had assumed before their conversation started.
“Very well. It can’t be tonight. They’ll already suspect what we talked about for so long. They’ll expect me to free you. We must wait at least one more night.”
“So, you can tell Ivar all that you’ve learned. I think not.” Rowan spoke as the leader of the group. “You take your chances tonight.”
“They’ll kill you alongside me. Then how will you report back?”
“A risk we must take.”
Gressa nodded before looking toward Bjorn and Leif. She jutted her chin towards the men before tilting her head to the door. Bjorn and Leif dragged the men from the chamber as she watched them go. She waited until the door slammed shut before spinning on her heels. Strian was already crossing the room to her, and she raced into his arms. Strian held her against his chest until she calmed enough to share what she had learned.
“They saw us on the docks when we arrived.” Gressa trembled, thinking about how close the men had been and wondering what else they had seen if they planned to nab her near the fjord before Strian joined her. “They saw us together in the woods, and I’m not convinced they believe I’ve been fooling you. My suspicions were correct. They want to lure us into the woods for the archers to fire on before they raid the homestead. They said once they saw me, they intended to be captured, so they could not only get to me but to learn the inside of the village. I told them I could help them escape but we would have to go into the hills to get to Grímr’s camp. They’re on Jarl Fengr’s land.”
Gressa waited for the significance to register with Strian. Anger transformed his handsome face into a mask of fury.
“I take it things have not improved with that tribe in the years I’ve been away.”
“Things are calm, but I haven’t forgotten what they did to my mother, to Tyra’s mother, or any of the others they found here while we fished so close to the shore but just too far to hear their screams.”
Gressa held Strian while it was his turn to tremble, but his was born of rage.
“I don’t know that Fengr is giving them aid. I suspect he either doesn’t know or doesn’t care to get involved.”
Strian nodded, but Gressa knew his mind still battled the memories the name brought forth.
“Strian, they insist that I rescue them tonight even though I warned them I would be under greater suspicion after our conversation.”
“You’re not going anywhere with them this night or any other. I heard the name Rhys several times. It was one of the few words I recognized besides Grímr. What were they saying?”
Gressa geared herself as she once more had to share information she would have protected Strian from.
“You know Rowan is Dafydd’s brother. But so is Rhys, and he’s been pursuing me for years. He’s demanded my hand in marriage, both from me and Dafydd. I’ve been able to ward him off, my grief for you very real and a barrier between me and any man. He’s growing tired of waiting, and I feared he would force me to marry him once I returned with the other warriors.”
Strian pulled away as he looked down at Gressa. Yet another secret she had kept from him in her mixed-up way of trying to protect him.
“You insisted on returning to Wales before you told me why. You were willing to return there, claiming it was safer all the while knowing a man would be waiting. A man who would insist you marry him. Is that what you wanted?”
Gressa stamped her foot in frustration.
“Of course not. I would have found yet another way of keeping him away. We have been apart a long time and a few weeks aren’t enough time to learn all that happened in each other’s lives, but I took your promise that you had been faithful as the truth from the beginning. Yet, you question me every time you suspect I looked the wrong way.”
“What’s happened here to give you any reason to believe I wanted someone else? Nothing. But every time I think we’re on solid ground, another man pops up, and I learn yet another reason that might be why you truly argued for your return.”
“Being attacked by two women the first full day I was here was more than enough to make me wonder which women would be jealous of my return. But I believed you, I chose to. I made the commitment to believe you, and it wasn’t easy, and you certainly don’t make it easy now when you accuse me over and over. You know the one reason why I want to return to Wales. You might also do well to remember that I never asked again once you offered to come with me. Is that the motive of a woman yearning for someone else? Why would I bring you with me if I planned to marry someone else?”
“We have been apart a long time, and you keep secrets that you should have shared with me even if you thought they would hurt me. Your actions are what makes me suspicious. Every time I’m sure you’ve told me the last hidden truth, something else crops up. It’s hard to give blind faith to someone who can’t seem to tell the truth.”
Gressa reeled back as though Strian struck her. She shook her head as she took several steps away.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t even come near me.” She bolted for the door and yanked it open. “Follow me, and I may very well kill you.”
Strian stood dumbfounded as he watched Gressa disappear through the doorway before slamming the door shut.
“You’re an even bigger arse than either of us ever were with our wives,” Bjorn crowed as he and Leif stepped out of the shadows. Strian had not noticed their return while he argued with Gressa. He looked over his shoulder to where he knew Tyra and Freya had stood watch.
“They’ve likely gone after her,” Leif shook his head, his face filled with pity. “Do you remember when you’d just started to take an interest in Gressa and some of the other young women taunted her? They said the best she could hope for was to be your concubine just as her mother had been her father’s. They were ruthless with their cutting remarks to where neither Tyra nor Freya could get the other women to stop, so Freya ran for Lena. You couldn’t find her at the evening meal because she wanted to avoid those women. You became so worked up that you tore t
hrough my parents’ home and kicked her door down when she refused to open it. Bjorn and I chased after you only to find Gressa apologizing to you for getting you so upset with worry. She steered the conversation away from what made her retreat to her chamber. Strian, she’s been trying to protect you, rightly or wrongly, since the very beginning. She endured Grímr because she was not willing to take the chance that he would torture you, and I’m sure she knew her compliance was no guarantee, but there is no limit to what she will do to keep you from harm. She didn’t tell you about this Rhys man for two reasons. I’m sure it was because she wasn’t thinking of him and she didn’t trust you not to go berserk and charge off to find the man.”
Bjorn clapped a hand on Strian’s shoulder before he put in his opinion.
“Our women may be smaller than us, but never doubt they possess the heart of a warrior. I often think our wives are far more ruthless and unforgiving than any man when they believe we’re in danger. We may be larger and stronger, even louder, but I don’t know that we are any match for our women when they believe we need protecting.” Bjorn squeezed Strian’s shoulder before adding. “You’d do well to beg her forgiveness and convince yourself to stop questioning her. It always comes back to the same thing: she won’t give an inch if she fears that inch will harm you.”
Strian knew his friends were right. He could have kicked himself for once again opening his mouth before thinking, for not giving Gressa the benefit of the doubt. Neither of them had given the other cause for suspicion, but Strian’s jealousy kept putting a wedge between them. Gressa may have kept things from him, but she believed it was necessary. He accused her because he still had not forgiven fate for stealing so much time from him, time filled with a life Gressa had without him.
Sixteen
Strian looked around the village in search of Gressa or at least Freya and Tyra. He found the latter two walking back through the hidden door in the wall. He waited for Gressa to follow them, but when no one appeared, his heart sank, and a cold sweat broke out across his back. He met the women halfway, and their expressions told him more than he wanted. Gressa was gone.
Strian (Viking Glory Book 4) Page 11
