Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Lord Havelock's List\Saved by the Viking Warrior\The Pirate Hunter (39 page)

‘Two months ago,' the farmer admitted, his cheeks becoming ever redder under Thrand's fierce gaze. ‘Maeri died two months ago. Very sudden like.'

‘From what?' Cwenneth fixed the farmer with her eye. ‘Why did she die? Sickness? An accident?'

‘She'd just married.' The farmer tugged at the collar of his shirt as if it was suddenly too tight. ‘A good man. It was a good match in the circumstances.'

‘What happened?' Cwenneth placed her hand on Thrand's sleeve. He put an arm about her and pulled her close. She laced her hand through his, and he clung to it as a drowning man might cling to a spar.

‘She miscarried.' The farmer adopted a pious expression. ‘The priest said it was a judgement from God as she'd lived a loose life. There is nothing you can do if someone strays from the path of righteousness.'

Cwenneth longed to crack the priest over the head. It was easy to pontificate and make judgements. Miscarrying a child had nothing to do with piety. Her sister-in-law spent hours on her knees praying and still she had lost two babies. And Cwen had thought she'd been doing God's work when the old woman cursed her and she lost any hope of a baby. It still hurt.

‘But this
good
man she married didn't want to look after her child.' Thrand's nostrils flared.

‘Can you blame him for returning the child here?' the farmer answered with a shrug. ‘He only took Adam because he wanted Maeri. She was a good cook and kept a tidy house. She wouldn't be parted from her son. So after her death, my wife pitied the poor bairn.'

Cwenneth went rigid.
So sorry for him that she allowed him to sleep with the pigs.

‘Did she have any family?' Cwenneth asked when she trusted her voice. ‘Did they turn their back on the child as well?'

The farmer shook his head. ‘Her parents died a few years ago. Her mother had been my late wife's sister, which is why we took her in. Adam will be a good worker in time.'

‘Thrand,' Cwen whispered, tugging at his sleeve. ‘You have to do something. That child will die if you do nothing. If you simply give gold and walk away. There has to be a way of giving him a better future than what he will have here.'

Thrand said nothing, simply looked straight ahead. But his face became ever more thunderous and his fingers clenched even tighter.

‘I will leave you two,' the farmer said, flushing red. ‘I need to see how the boy is getting on. When he is cleaned up, he is a right bonny lad.'

He scurried off, leaving them alone in the farmyard.

‘Before you say anything,' Thrand said, holding up his hand. Every particle of him bristled with anger. ‘What you are about to ask is impossible. Keep quiet and we won't fight. We remain friends. I have no wish to quarrel with you over this, Cwen.'

‘How do you know what I was going to ask?' Cwenneth tapped her foot on the ground. Thrand had to see that the child needed their help. She refused to leave, knowing the child might die. Somehow, she'd find a way to save that innocent little boy.

‘My life doesn't have room for anyone else, let alone a child who is little more than a babe. That child needs a mother.' His jaw jutted out, and his shoulders broadened, making him look every inch the fierce Norse warrior that he was. ‘Do I look like a mother? Do I look like the sort of person to wipe his nose or his tears? Or to clean up his sick? Or even make sure he is properly fed?'

Cwenneth's heart thudded, sinking to the pit of her stomach. He didn't want anyone in his life. He wasn't willing to change to save this boy. ‘No child.'

‘No child. No one else. I've seen the sort of life camp followers and their children lead. What is more, I have seen what happens to them when their warrior dies. I would not wish that on my worst enemy.' He placed his hands on her shoulders, and the harsh lines of his face softened. ‘I am a warrior, first, last and always. Have I ever said anything to make you think differently?'

‘The war is over. Others are settling. You could ask the king...' Her voice faded as she realised what she had said... Her cheek grew hot under his stare.

‘A man such as me? With my reputation? Who would want me for an overlord?' He shook his head. ‘Halfdan heaved a sigh of relief when I took gold over lands. I've no desire to have a large estate or be a great lord. Forget it. I know what a snakepit Jorvik politics are. They are nearly as bad as Viken politics. And it was precisely because my father angered powerful lords that Hagal was able to murder with impunity.'

Drawing on years of experience, Cwenneth schooled her features, but in her heart she mourned. Against all logic, she had been hoping that he would say something about her staying with him and perhaps asking the king for Hagal's lands once he had been unmasked as the villain.

‘You can't leave him, Thrand Ammundson,' she said around the lump in her throat. ‘It would be tantamount to cold-blooded murder of an innocent child. And whatever else you are, you're not a murderer of children.'

His look would have made a lesser woman faint with fear.

She clenched her fists. She had been so stupid asking. It wasn't as if she had asked him to marry her. She understood there were no guarantees in their relationship. It was temporary. But this was not about them, it was about the child. She had to get past the battle-hardened warrior and reach the man who had held her in his arms last night and who had whispered encouraging words when the nightmare had woken her.

She closed her eyes, gathered her thoughts and started again.

‘I know what happens to bastards, particularly if the priest has taken against them,' she said slowly. ‘That he has survived this long is a testament to his mother and his own robustness.'

‘What would you suggest?' he enquired with narrowed glacial eyes. The ice in his voice cut through her heart.

‘We could take him to Lingwold.' Cwenneth wrapped her arms about her waist and tried to keep her insides from trembling. That child needed her protection, but she had no power. ‘I know the priest there. He will make room for him and will treat him with honour. He is a good man. He will ask few questions. Aud will thrive with enough food and he will get an education.'

‘You want me to send Aud to Lingwold with a message—please look after this child?'

She held up her hands and willed him to understand. ‘It would save his life. I...I could take him. I would return. I give you my word.'

‘No!'

‘No?' Anger coursed through her. Even now, he failed to trust her. ‘What is wrong with my idea? Father Aidan will educate him. He has done so with many orphans in the past. They've become monks, useful members of the community.'

‘Sven's son is not going to go into a monastery. He hated monasteries and monks.'

Cwenneth rolled her eyes. ‘You don't want him to go to a monastery. You won't have him with you and leaving him here is not an option. What do you intend to do with him? How do you intend on honouring your friend?'

Thrand put his hands on either side of his head. ‘I know this! Give me time!'

‘We have little time! You must decide!'

Their quarrel was interrupted by the farmer returning with Aud in his arms. ‘You see the boy can be made to be tidy.'

Aud had been hastily washed and dressed in clean clothes. His damp white-blond hair curled in little ringlets and his big brown eyes made him look like an angel.

‘There,' the young girl said with a pleased air as if Aud were her own. ‘He cleans up right lovely.'

She too had changed into clean clothes and her hair was neatly brushed.

‘Yes, he does,' Cwenneth answered softly, thinking about Richard and the fresh smell he had always had after his wash. She wanted to smell that again. ‘You both look lovely. May I hold him?'

The farmer started to hand him over, but Aud wriggled free and toddled over to Thrand, holding up his arms.

‘Up!' he cried.

Cwenneth started forward to take possession of the boy before Thrand rejected him and the wailing started. If Thrand disliked a woman's tears, he'd like a toddler's even less.

However, rather than shying away or pretending he hadn't noticed like Aefirth had once done with Richard, Thrand knelt down so his face was near to the boy's. He stuck out a finger and ran it down Aud's cheek.

‘You look remarkably like my friend, your father, Sven, Aud Svenson,' he said in a tender voice. ‘With you alive, he lives on. My old friend would be so proud to be your father. He wanted the best for you.'

Aud threw his arms about Thrand, and Thrand hugged him back. Cwenneth bit her lip, wondering if this was the first time any child had ever been that open with the warrior.

‘We would like to invite you to eat with us. My man and I discussed it,' the old woman said, coming forward. ‘Maeri would have wanted it. She always said that her man would return for her. I feel so guilty now for having pushed her into that marriage. It brought nothing but trouble.'

‘We would be delighted,' Cwenneth said quickly before Thrand had a chance to refuse. There had to be a way of giving that little boy a life, but she needed time to think of an idea which Thrand could embrace.

* * *

The remains of the simple meal lay on the table. The pottage had not been fancy, but it was nourishing and there was enough for all.

A huge lump rose in Thrand's throat. He found it difficult to remember the last time he had sat down to a supper with ordinary people. The taste of the stew and rough wheat bread brought back memories of sitting down with his parents and eating after a day working in the fields.

Aud sat next to him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that children generally feared him and kept away from him, hiding their faces whenever he approached. Throughout the meal, Aud kept jumping up to get one of his treasures such as a bird's feather or an interesting stone.

With each new offering, Thrand was aware of his hollow words to Cwen earlier. He couldn't leave the boy and walk away. He, too, knew what Aud's fate would be, even if he left gold—ignored at best and actively abused at worst. Aud would be used like an animal, not treated like the bright boy he was.

A monastery was not going to happen, not for Sven's child. Lingwold would mean he could not maintain contact with the child. Cwen's brother wanted his head on a platter. The battlefield was no place for a child. But he could hardly bring up a child on his own. Where would he leave him when he had to go on the king's business? In Jorvik? Who could he trust?

He slammed his fist against the table. The conversation ceased. Everyone turned toward him with a mixture of apprehension and fear in the farmer and his wife's faces. Cwen's showed mild irritation. Only Aud seemed oblivious to the tension. He jumped up again and toddled off.

‘It is all right,' Hilde said with a bright smile. ‘He does it because he likes you. He doesn't mean to get you angry.'

‘I'm not angry with him,' Thrand mumbled. ‘I enjoy his company.'

‘Then what is the problem?' Cwen asked, lifting a delicate eyebrow.

Thrand swallowed hard. How could he confess the agony he was going through? After he told her that he didn't want anyone? How could he confess to caring about the boy's future? And caring about her future, but knowing his current life had no room for either?

‘Nothing is wrong.' He pushed his trencher away. ‘I suddenly missed Sven. He would have liked to meet his son. He liked children. They never hid their faces when he appeared.'

He patted Aud on the head as he returned bearing yet another gift. The boy beamed up at him and handed him another feather. This time from an owl. He released another breath. The boy hadn't shrunk from him despite his thumping of the table.

‘For you,' Aud said.

‘He likes feathers and birds,' Hilde said helpfully. ‘That one was one of his very favourites.'

‘I'm sure Thrand will treasure it,' Cwen retorted with a determined look on her face.

Thrand forced a smile, but all the while his heart ached in a way that it hadn't for years. He wanted a different future.

‘Aefirth often ignored Richard's offerings,' she said in a low voice as she leant towards him.

‘I'm not your late husband.' Thrand carefully tucked the feather in his belt. ‘I'm honoured the boy has given it to me.'

Cwen stood and straightened her gown. ‘We should leave these people.'

‘Leave?'

‘They will have chores to do and we have a long way to go.' There was an incredibly sad dignity to her bearing, reminding him of the statues he'd seen in Constantinople. Thrand found it hard to reconcile this closed-off and dignified woman with the vulnerable one he'd watched over last night in case the bad dreams returned, the one who had turned to him with a soft sigh as she nestled her head against his bare chest.

Thrand frowned. He wanted to spend more time with the boy and get to know him. But it also seemed like he had reached a turning point in his life. What he did next had the power to alter his life for good or ill and it frightened him far more than the prospect of facing a horde of angry warriors.

‘Please stay,' the farmer's wife choked out. ‘It is good to see Adam...Aud so content and happy. He has spent weeks crying for his mother and driving me to distraction. The pigs were the only creatures which stopped his tears.'

‘It won't be long before dark,' the farmer said. ‘Stay here where it is safe.'

‘Only tonight. We can sleep in the barn,' Cwen said, her look challenging him to say differently. ‘We will need to be off at first light. Thrand has fulfilled his oath to Sven Audson.'

‘We will stay,' Thrand said, touching the feather Aud had given him.

Somehow he'd find a way to solve his dilemma. Fresh air always made him think better, particularly when the sands of time slipped through his fingers. He needed to make the right decision, rather than one he'd regret for the rest of his life. ‘Cwen, will you come for a walk around the farmyard with me? I should like to investigate Aud's home and the animals they keep here. Sven would expect that of me.'