The Viking's Defiant Bride (27 page)

Elgiva's heartbeat grew a little faster. Aylwin was going to leave after all. Wulfrum was safe. Her spirits lifted as they had not for days. Before she could question further, Brekka continued.

‘He asks that he be permitted to see you once more.' He paused. ‘If you refuse, he will understand.'

Elgiva looked over her shoulder. There were still no Danes in evidence. Of late, the watch on her person had been relaxed, proof of Wulfrum's growing regard and trust. Guilt stabbed. Then she thought of Aylwin, of his long and lonely exile in the forest, hunted by his enemies, never knowing if each day would be his last. He had been her betrothed. He had fought for Ravenswood,
for her, and been wounded in their cause. Surely it was not too much to ask that he should be allowed to say farewell.

‘Where is he, Brekka?'

‘At the clearing where stand the old woodsmen's huts.'

She nodded. It wasn't far. She could be there and back before she was missed.

‘Very well. I will come.'

 

As she had anticipated, it was but a short distance they had to walk and twenty minutes later they reached the clearing. As they did so, Elgiva could see the men and horses gathered there, perhaps twenty in all. Evidently they were on the point of departure. Elgiva stopped, looking around, relieved to think that sense had prevailed.

‘He is within, my lady,' said Brekka, nodding towards the foremost of the huts.

Even as he spoke three men emerged and she saw the familiar figure of Aylwin. The others she did not know. They had been deep in conversation, but, seeing her and Brekka, they stopped. For a moment there was silence, then Aylwin hurried forwards to greet her. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips.

‘I knew you would come.'

Elgiva glanced at the mounted men. ‘I think my arrival is opportune.'

‘Indeed, there is little time. We must be gone.'

‘Where do you go, my lord?'

‘To Wessex, to throw in our lot with Alfred and the free Saxons.'

Elgiva felt a surge of relief. He would be safe and now so would Wulfrum. ‘I am glad. After our last conversation, I did not think you would leave.'

‘Indeed, there is nothing now to stay for.' He smiled. ‘Your arrival makes everything complete.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘You are coming with me, Elgiva.'

Apprehension prickled as she glanced around her. All the men on the far side of the clearing had mounted and were waiting. The two who had been with Aylwin before were now just a few yards off, flanking her. Brekka stood a pace behind.

‘I apologise for the ruse used to get you here,' Aylwin went on, ‘but it seemed the safest way, all things considered. Besides, according to my intelligence, Earl Wulfrum is in York and not due back for days. By the time you are missed this evening, we shall be long gone.'

‘I cannot go with you, you know that.'

‘Did you think I would leave you behind, Elgiva?'

‘You must. Wulfrum will follow. He'll kill every last one of you.'

‘No. The noble earl will not follow.'

Apprehension turned to real alarm now. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Our Saxon allies have undertaken to prevent it. An ambush has been laid for him on his return from York.'

‘What?' She was aghast. ‘You can't mean it.'

‘I was never more serious in my life,' he returned. ‘And with your husband dead, I take back what is mine.'

Elgiva shook her head, feeling sick with dread. ‘I cannot let you do this, Aylwin.'

‘You cannot prevent it,' he replied. He nodded to his companions. ‘Take the lady to her horse.'

‘No!' Elgiva confronted him in anger. ‘I will not go with you.'

‘You're coming with me, Elgiva, whether you will or not.'

Aylwin nodded to his companions. In a moment she was held and her wrists bound securely in front of her. Then, despite all protest, she was carried to the horses and lifted into the saddle. Someone took hold of her reins and the whole cavalcade set off.

Frightened and shocked, Elgiva concentrated first and foremost of staying in the saddle, for the pace was swift. With every stride all she could think of was Wulfrum riding into an ambush. And if by some miracle he survived it and returned to Ravenswood to find her gone, he would think her complicit, that she had gone with the Saxon rebels of her own free will. It would be for him the ultimate proof of her guilt. Heartsick, Elgiva saw in her mind her husband's face and the hurt in his eyes, the silent accusation and the killing rage. He would never forgive her.

T
he council had been a notable success so far as Wulfrum was concerned; it had finished ahead of time and Halfdan had acceded to his request for reinforcements to crush the Saxon rebels in Ravenswood, offering twenty-five men. It wasn't as many as Wulfrum had initially hoped, but Halfdan had his own problems with local uprisings and could spare no more. Even so Wulfrum knew it would give him the advantage. With skilful deployment he could achieve his goal. The only negative was that Sweyn was among their number, but Wulfrum would not let personal matters cloud his judgement here. For all his faults Sweyn was a good man in a fight, being both experienced and ruthless. Once the rebels had been crushed, then there would be time to consider past grievances, but not until.

Having turned their backs on York, they made good progress with Wulfrum calling a halt at noon to rest the horses and let the men refresh themselves. Then they rode on. The mood was buoyant; as they reached the edge of the forest, they knew they were within ten miles of Ravenswood. Wulfrum breathed in the subtle evocative scent of the woodland and smiled, for he associated it with home and with Elgiva.

Elgiva! Despite all his efforts not to, he had missed her more than he had ever dreamed possible. Yet their last words had been filled with anger. How much he had regretted it since. While his days had been busy enough, the nights had afforded leisure to think; it had occurred to him then that she could have kept silent and he would never have known of those meetings with Aylwin. She could have kept silent and let him ride unsuspecting into possible danger. That way she would have been free of him, free to join her Saxon lover—if, indeed, he was her lover. She had told him long ago that she respected Aylwin, but had denied ever loving him. A marriage of convenience, she said. It had sounded like the truth, but was it? If not, why had she chosen to speak at last, to risk his wrath and worse? He had been so close to killing her. The truth hurt, as she had known it must but, as she said, what was the alternative—to build a future on secrets and lies? He knew it was not a future he wanted. She had begged for his forgiveness and he had spurned her, too angry to realise that she was asking for a completely different relationship with him. A prize of war, forced to marry the victor, she had had no say in the events that would shape the future. Her world had been turned upside down. Torn between two loyalties and put, by him, into an impossible position, Elgiva had only done what she thought she must. Should he blame her after?

Wulfrum sighed, calling himself all kinds of fool. He had regarded his marriage with complacency and then, at the first real test, he had allowed rage and jealousy to impair his judgement. While he was familiar with the former, he had never known jealousy before. No woman had ever mattered enough—until now. He had told Elgiva he loved her, but he had not taken her part or even given her the benefit of the doubt. Could she ever forgive him? Could they make a life together after this? He prayed it might be so for the idea of any future without her was meaningless. When he had taken her to wife
he had little thought he would come to love her to the point where only she could do him hurt.

Wulfrum was given little more leisure to indulge these thoughts for the road narrowed among the trees, forcing the party to slow the pace. The forest around them grew denser and the landscape more rugged. Presently the way passed between two steep banks, compelling the horsemen to ride in single file. Firedrake slowed and snorted. Wulfrum frowned, snapping out of his reverie instantly, reining in while he scanned the path ahead and the trees around.

‘What is it?' Ironfist drew rein behind him.

‘I don't know. Listen.'

At his signal the men ceased all conversation. Apart from the occasional stamp of a hoof and the creak of saddle leather, there was silence.

‘I don't hear anything,' said Ironfist at length.

‘Exactly.'

The giant's eyes narrowed as he looked at the defile ahead. ‘A good place for an ambush.'

‘Aye, but our way lies through it all the same. Have the men keep their wits about them.'

Wulfrum heard the word passed back, heard swords loosened in scabbards. Then he urged his mount forwards. The stallion's ears flicked back and forth and he snorted anew, placing his hooves with neat precision on the path, his steps more reluctant. It confirmed Wulfrum's suspicions, but still he could detect no sign of life. The skin prickled on the back of his neck. He guessed if there was an attack, it would be when his men were deep in the defile. Closing his legs around the horse's sides, he urged him on. From out of nowhere an arrow hissed past and a man behind him cried out. More arrows followed, thudding into shields amid warning shouts from his escort. He saw a man fall, pierced through the throat. Then came whoops and yells and suddenly the trees were alive with
armed men hurtling down the steep banks towards their quarry. He had an impression of woodsmen's garb and rough bearded faces, but the attackers were not without courage or skill and laid on right willingly.

Wulfrum drew Dragon Tooth from the scabbard. Moments later the sword became a deadly arc of light, cutting down the first two attackers before they knew what had hit them. Then the third was upon him. Wulfrum parried the blow aimed at his head, but the blade slid off his own and left a bloody gash along his arm. Gritting his teeth, he fought grimly on, knowing there could be no quarter. He dispatched his opponent with a wicked slash to the throat. The man dropped where he stood, his life blood gushing from the wound. As he fell, another took his place. The outlaws were violent men, who preyed on travellers and would sell their lives dear. Wulfrum knew it was unusual for them to attack such a large group, but desperate fugitives would do whatever they had to. His men gave a good account of themselves, but, hampered by the cramped conditions and milling horses and the bodies of the slain, their situation was precarious indeed. From the corner of his eye he saw Ironfist swing his war axe and take off a man's head before slicing for another. He heard the foe scream and fall as the blade severed an arm. Wulfrum fought on, a cold anger burning in his gut and a fierce determination not to meet his end here on this forest trail. He accounted for three more of the attackers before their leader, seeing the tide of battle turn against them, shouted the command to retreat. The outlaws fought their way free and began to back off before turning and scrambling up the banking towards the safety of the trees. There was no order about their going, just a desire to escape. Soon the last of them vanished among the trees.

‘Shall we give chase?' demanded Ironfist.

‘No. Let them go.'

Wulfrum leaned on his sword, breathing hard. He turned and
looked around at the scene of carnage. Apart from several casualties among Halfdan's men, of the dozen who had originally set out with Wulfrum, only five were standing alongside himself and Ironfist. Three more were injured, the rest were slain. His anger grew.

Then Ironfist noticed the blood dripping over Wulfrum's wrist and hand. ‘You are hurt.'

‘A gash, no more.'

‘Best let me bind it.'

Wulfrum stood while the big Viking took a cloth from his saddlebag and bound it expertly round the wound. Having done so, he looked around, surveying the bodies of the attackers.

‘Saxons,' he said, ‘but why would they risk attacking such a large group?'

Wulfrum shook his head. ‘I don't know.' Then he remembered Elgiva's words:
Be vigilant on this journey.
Had she known more about this than she confessed to? Was she implicated? As he beheld the bodies of the slain, all his former doubts resurfaced and with them his anger.

‘It seems the rebels grow bolder,' said Sweyn, looking around him with casual interest. ‘You will have quite a task on your hands, Wulfrum.' He wiped the blood from his blade before sheathing it again. ‘But at least we can look forward to a good fight.'

‘No doubt.' Wulfrum turned to Ironfist. ‘Have the men mount up. I want to get back to Ravenswood.'

As Ironfist moved away, Sweyn grinned and his expression grew mocking.

‘Missing the lovely Elgiva, Wulfrum?' Then, seeing the other's expression, he feigned contrition. ‘Not that I blame you, of course.'

‘You take a deal too much interest in my wife. I should resent it if the time were right.'

‘Let it be a quarrel between us then, if you live.'

‘I'll live.' Wulfrum's voice was cold. Retrieving his horse's reins, he remounted, pausing a moment to survey his rival. ‘Whether you will do the same is another matter.'

‘Trust me…' Sweyn bared his teeth in a vulpine smile ‘…I'll have Elgiva yet.'

‘Over my dead body.'

‘Why, so I hope.'

Refusing to be drawn further, Wulfrum touched Firedrake with his spur and the big horse cantered away.

 

Elgiva breathed a sigh of relief when eventually the pace slowed for a while to let the horses breathe. Already they were many miles from Ravenswood and all hope of aid. Her heart sank to think that she would likely not be missed for some time. Even then, no one would have any idea where she was. Aylwin had laid his plans well, baiting the trap with expert care. All sympathy for him had evaporated now. In following his own desires he had completely ignored hers, thinking to take by force what she could not give. She shivered. If once he and his men reached Wessex, she would be beyond all help. Even Wulfrum could not pursue her there. Wulfrum! If only he might be spared the ambush laid for him. If only he might live. Nothing else mattered.

She was so preoccupied that she failed to notice Aylwin beside her until he spoke.

‘Why so sad, Elgiva?'

She turned to look at him, hoping to find some trace of remorse in his expression, some small expression of pity that she might exploit.

‘You know why,' she replied.

‘Have I not rescued you from the Viking's clutches? Do I not deserve your thanks?'

‘Wulfrum is my husband.'

‘Not for much longer.'

‘He is not so easy to kill.'

‘It matters not.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘A marriage made under duress to a pirate raider is no marriage at all. When we reach Wessex I shall appeal to Alfred. He will be exceeding grateful for the reinforcements I bring and he is withal a most pious king. I anticipate no difficulty in having your marriage to the Viking set aside.'

‘And say you do. What then?'

‘Then you will wed me as is my legal right as your betrothed.'

‘I will not marry you, Aylwin.'

‘You will have no choice, my dear, when it is a matter of royal decree.'

Elgiva closed her eyes for a moment, striving against the knowledge that he was right. If the king ordered it, she would be forced to submit to his will. Aylwin could then marry her within the hour. In desperation she made a last appeal to his better self.

‘What point, my lord? Would you have an unwilling wife?'

‘I would rather have you willing, Elgiva, but if not I'll have you anyway.' His gaze hardened. ‘Forget your Viking earl. You belong to me now.'

She drew in a deep breath, fighting down panic. He would not see her weep and plead. In any event it would be useless for all appeals would be denied. She would not give him that satisfaction. Aylwin saw her chin come up and nodded.

‘That's better. Do you know, I've always admired your spirit and your good sense. You fight well, Elgiva, but you know when you cannot win.'

‘It isn't over yet.' Even as she said it, she was not at all sure it was true. He was strong and resourceful and now he had her in his power.

‘Shall we have a wager on that?'

‘I would wager only that you will die on the point of Wulfrum's sword.'

‘Then you will lose. I am your lord now.'

 

Wulfrum urged the stallion to a gallop, a mile-eating pace that closed the distance between him and Ravenswood. As he rode, a lot of things became clearer in his mind and he knew for a certainty that he was supposed to have died in that ambush along with his men. It had been no random incident. The attackers had been Saxons and only one man hereabouts had the necessary knowledge to order it—the knowledge
and
the motive. Aylwin. He had not bowed to the Viking yoke, nor had he forgiven the loss of his lands or his betrothed. He would take Elgiva if he could. His wife's face floated before him in memory and with it fresh suspicion. On her own admission Elgiva had been in contact with the rebel leader. It begged the question—had she aided him in this business? Had the two of them planned his death? The thought was chilling but he could no longer suppress it. It must be faced. She had deceived him before and might have again. However it might be, he would learn the truth soon enough.

He and his companions covered the last miles in a short time and at length saw Ravenswood in the distance. On seeing their approach, the look-outs gave word and serfs came running from all directions. Wulfrum rode through the gateway at the head of his escort and drew rein outside the hall. Ida and several of his men came out to greet the new arrivals. Of Elgiva there was no sign. The feeling of foreboding grew stronger with every passing moment. Dismounting, he flung the reins at a serf and strode into the hall.