The Viking's Defiant Bride(12)

Recalling that conversation with Osgifu, Elgiva wondered if her optimism had not been misplaced. She drew in a deep breath. Whatever the Danes decided, the prisoners would have no choice but to obey. Like the rest she had been kept under guard but she had been grateful for her relative isolation, not wishing to have any greater contact with the conquerors than was absolutely necessary. Now, outdoors again, she was restless, and her gaze went beyond the burying ground to the forest. Its quiet glades and green solitudes beckoned, inviting and forbidden, particularly after the confinement of the bower. It recalled happier days when she had accompanied her father and brother on the chase; recalled the sheer exhilaration of the gallop, the power of the horse beneath her. Thinking of the game little mare in the stables, Elgiva knew that was something else forbidden to her now.

Forcing down her resentment and her anger, she laid her flowers on the graves. All around her groups of people began to disperse, mostly in silence, and sorrow hung heavy in the air. Elgiva followed, wrapped in her own thoughts. Then she became aware that two of the Saxons had been keeping pace with her and glanced up to see Leofwine, the smith, and Elfric, his son. The smith shot her a swift glance.

‘My lady, we must speak with you.’

Elgiva nodded discreetly, aware that she was watched. ‘What is it, Leofwine?’

‘My lady, there are men hiding in the forest, in the cave by the old dolmen stones.’

Elgiva caught her breath. ‘How many?’

‘Two.’

‘They must get away. Why do they linger?’

‘One is hurt, lady. My brother, Hunfirth. He has a bad wound in his side and an arrow lodged in his shoulder. Our cousin, Brekka, got him away after the battle and hid him in the cave. I urged him to save himself, but he will not leave Hunfirth in such sore case. We have kept them supplied with food, but I fear my brother will die unless he can get proper tending.’

Elgiva bit her lip. She was watched day and night and so was Osgifu. If they tried to get out, they would likely lead the earl’s men straight to the hiding place. Yet they could not stand by and let men die.

‘I will think of something, Leofwine, I promise. When I do, I will send word with Osgifu.’

‘God bless you, my lady.’

‘I think we all have need of blessing,’ she replied.

He nodded and walked away, unwilling to draw any unnecessary attention. Elgiva continued on. Her path led through the hamlet, or what was left of it. The smell of charred wood lingered still and everywhere was evidence of destruction in the piles of ash and blackened skeletons of burned-out dwellings. Hard by stood the sombre ruins of the church. At intervals dark patches stained the turf, marking the places where men had fallen and died. Where once a thriving village had stood, all around was a scene of desolation and death. Now it looked as though more men would die. Suddenly she was determined that it must be prevented. She must speak to Osgifu as soon as possible.

She came at length to the hall where the shattered portal still hung askew, another painful symbol of defeat, and hurried on. It was safer by far to walk round than through for more of Wulfrum’s men were about and she had no wish to draw their attention. Every thought of the Viking marauders was anathema. By day Halfdan sent out groups of men to hunt for fugitive Saxons to return to their new master and for game, for such a large force must be fed, the men demanding meat to supplement what they had stolen on their passage through the countryside. By night they feasted. The great hall rang with the sound of their laughter and jesting over flowing mead horns. Then the female serfs faced another fear as the thoughts of the men turned from fighting to other things. She shuddered, the chill of one realising all too well that she lived on borrowed time.

Hastening towards the bower, so engrossed in thought, she failed to notice the man standing nearby. She was almost on him before she saw him and stopped short with a sharp intake of breath when she recognised the cruel predatory smile. Sweyn’s gaze travelled over her appreciatively. Elgiva regarded him with coldness and said no word, but as she made to pass him, he blocked her way.

‘Not so fast, wench.’

He lifted a hand towards her, but she stepped out of reach, her eyes raking him with scorn.

‘Get out of my way.’

His thin lips twisted in a smile, but it never reached his eyes. ‘Still high and mighty, Elgiva?’

‘Let me pass.’

‘We have some unfinished business, you and I.’

Elgiva’s heart beat faster but she lifted her chin and stared him down.

‘You and I have no business of any kind.’

‘You think so?’

She tried again to pass him, but this time he held her arm to prevent it. His fingers dug into her flesh as he drew her closer. Wincing, Elgiva shrank back. His grip tightened and he smiled.

‘Afraid, my lady?’

‘You flatter yourself.’

‘Do I so?’

‘Let go of me, oaf.’

‘You heard the lady,’ said a voice behind them.

Both of them turned in surprise to see an imposing figure standing there, a grizzled giant carrying an axe. He surveyed them calmly enough, but his expression was utterly uncompromising. Elgiva had not thought ever to be thankful for the presence of a Viking, but now she breathed a sigh of relief. However, Sweyn was unwilling to give up his prey so easily.

‘Mind your own business, Ironfist.’

‘This is my business. The woman belongs to Wulfrum. Now let her go.’

For a few moments his steady gaze held that of Sweyn. The cold eyes spoke of anger, but he released his hold on her arm.

‘You should return to your bower, lady,’ said Ironfist.

Elgiva wasn’t about to argue. Throwing him a brief glance, she hastened away, aware that both men watched her departure. She had scarcely taken a dozen paces when another familiar figure hove into sight. Startled, she checked mid-stride, unable to go forwards or back.

Wulfrum surveyed her in surprise, noting her evident unease, and then glanced over her shoulder towards Ironfist and Sweyn, now some yards distant. The berserker threw him a mocking smile and then turned and strolled away. The giant watched him go.

Wulfrum frowned and his gaze returned to the girl, looking closer now. ‘Are you all right, Elgiva? Has Sweyn been bothering you?’

Her face, pale before, turned a warmer shade. ‘No.’

‘You’re a poor liar, my lady. What happened?’

‘It was nothing. Hot air.’

‘Did he lay hands on you?’

Elgiva forced herself to meet his eye. The last thing she needed now was a confrontation between Wulfrum and Sweyn. ‘Ironfist dealt with it, my lord.’

‘Did he so?’

‘Please…it was nothing.’

‘I’ll decide that.’

‘Hasn’t there been enough strife already?’ The words came out with unwonted force. She drew a deep breath. ‘I beg you, let there be no more of it.’

He heard the distress in her voice, but it was the power of those amber eyes that arrested him most. In them he read anxiety and distrust. Did she fear that he might lay the blame at her door? Knowing what Sweyn was capable of and knowing of Elgiva’s detestation of him, Wulfrum did not think for a moment that she would have anything to do with the man. Whatever had occurred had shaken her, but it was clear she didn’t want him to pursue the matter and that to do so would add to her distress. He was loath to do that. Rather he wanted to say something to alleviate it, but the situation was new to him and he found himself at a loss. Better to let the matter lie, at least as far as she was concerned. He could always speak to Ironfist later.

‘It is not safe to be abroad. Go back to the bower, Elgiva, and stay there.’

For all it was a command, the tone was gentler than she had expected and surprise rendered her silent, merely inclining her head in acknowledgement of his words. Then she walked away. With a wry smile he watched her go, well aware of the alacrity with which she left. He would have liked to find a reason to detain her and it was in his mind to call her back, but if he did she would obey only because she must. It was clear she took no pleasure in his company. But, then, why should she? He sighed, wondering why it should matter. It never had before.



Glad to be out of that unsettling presence, Elgiva let out the breath she had been holding. Wulfrum had been quite gentle on this occasion but he was still a conqueror, a fact that must not be forgotten. As for the other, she could still feel the imprint of Sweyn’s fingers on her flesh. Chilling to think what might have happened if Ironfist hadn’t appeared on the scene. She recalled his words: The woman belongs to Wulfrum. The thought occurred then that Ironfist hadn’t come along by chance. The earl guarded what was his. She had no doubt he would fight to keep it too, fight and kill. Shivering now, she hurried back to the sanctuary of the bower and closed the door, wanting to shut out the Viking presence at least for a while.

A few minutes later Osgifu appeared and Elgiva explained what Leofwine had told her. The older woman heard her with mounting concern.

‘Somehow we must help those men. There have been enough deaths here.’

It was exactly what had been going through Elgiva’s mind. ‘How are we to get out though? The earl’s guards are vigilant.’

Men had been posted outside the women’s bower, as well as at the gate to Ravenswood and at intervals along the palisade. No one now could come or go undetected.