‘You.’
‘Did I not promise I would come?’
Elgiva swallowed hard. ‘My lord, you must not be found here. The Vikings would show no mercy.’
‘Brekka keeps watch. He will warn if any approach.’ Aylwin smiled. ‘But danger or no, I had to see you.’ He surveyed her critically. ‘You look well, Elgiva.’
‘I am well enough,’ she replied. ‘And you, my lord? Are your wounds healed?’
‘Aye, for the most part.’
‘Then I beg you to go. Leave this place while still you may.’
‘And abandon you?’
‘You must. I am Wulfrum’s wife now.’
His brows drew together. ‘The Viking may have forced you to wed him, but your captivity will be over very soon.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I shall not tamely give up what belongs to me.’
She shook her head. ‘I do not belong to you any more, Aylwin.’ Even as she said it, she knew she never had.
‘You will be mine again, Elgiva. I swear it. I will free you from the accursed Viking’s yoke.’ He took her by the shoulders and looked into her face. ‘I have dreamed of this moment for so long and yet now I am here with you I can scarce believe it.’
Appalled by the tenderness in his voice and the almost fanatical light in his eye, Elgiva trembled. As Aylwin drew her to him, she turned her head aside so his lips only grazed her cheek.
‘My lord, you must not.’ She took a step back.
His hands dropped to his sides and he frowned. ‘What is it, Elgiva? What is wrong?’
‘Don’t you see? I can never be yours. Wulfrum will never let me go. Even if you were to steal me away, he would find us, no matter how long it took, and his vengeance would be terrible.’
‘I will find a way.’
In desperation, it was she who now gripped his arms. ‘There is none. You must believe that.’
For a moment he was silent. ‘No way?’ he asked. ‘Or is it rather that you do not wish to leave the handsome earl?’
‘That isn’t fair, Aylwin. I did not choose my fate. It was forced on me and I cannot change it.’
‘You mean, you would not.’
‘Ravenswood is my home. I will not abandon it or its people.’
‘A noble sentiment and a convenient one.’ His gaze bored into her. ‘You hide behind it to avoid the truth.’
‘No.’
‘Aye. How long did it take the Viking to win your heart? Or is it the pleasures of his bed that draw you?’
Elgiva’s cheeks grew hot, but she kept a hold on her temper.
‘Insulting me will not change anything, my lord. For good or ill Wulfrum is my husband now and my first loyalty is to him.’
His lip curled. ‘I had not thought you so faithless, Elgiva, or so treacherous.’
The words stung and brought tears to her eyes. To conceal her hurt, she turned away from him. Aylwin moved towards the door. As he reached it, he paused.
‘I see it was a mistake to come here.’
‘Just go, my lord, while you may.’
‘I’ll go.’ His voice was soft and bitter. ‘But I’ll be back. And with an army to rout these Danish scum once and for all. Then I will slay your husband with my own hands.’
Elgiva heard the door open and close. Then she was alone. Heart pounding, she leaned against the wooden planks in trembling relief. For some minutes she remained thus as the enormity of the situation was borne upon her. Then, unable to bear the close confinement of the room any longer, she quit the place and went out into the fresh air. She needed space to think. Without conscious choice her feet turned towards the burying ground.
How long she remained there she had no idea. All she could see was Aylwin’s face as he turned from her in disgust. She had betrayed him and sided with the enemy. Yet what else could she have done? Made him false promises? She did not love him and never would, but she wanted him safe all the same. If he continued on his present course, it could only end in disaster for all concerned.
A footfall behind roused her from the reverie with a start and she looked round to see Wulfrum approaching. Did he know? Had he seen? Her heart thundered in her breast. Only with an effort did she force an outward semblance of calm. If he had seen anything at all, or even suspected, then Aylwin and Brekka would be prisoners now.
Wulfrum halted a few feet away, his gaze taking in her evident agitation.
‘Your pardon, I have startled you,’ he said. ‘You looked so rapt in your thoughts I did not wish to intrude.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Was there something you wished to speak of, my lord?’
The tone was courteous enough, but there was a tension beneath that Wulfrum caught immediately. He excused it. Given the place, it was perhaps only natural under the circumstances.
‘Nothing of importance,’ he replied.
By tacit consent they walked back to the hall together, but he was aware that she had withdrawn from him somehow.
‘What is it, Elgiva?’
‘Nothing,’ she replied. ‘Or nothing that can be helped.’
‘Grief is not soon healed,’ he acknowledged. ‘Nor can one set a time on it.’
Elgiva threw him a searching look, wondering what he might know of grief or loss. Surely that was what the Vikings inflicted on others. They walked on in silence for a little way.
‘But life goes on,’ he continued, ‘and the living must learn to deal with their loss.’
‘I cannot forget.’
‘No, but you can move on. Besides, what is the alternative—to brood continually over the past until we grow old and withered?’
‘You are an optimist.’
‘No, I am a realist.’
‘The Danes have made the reality we live in now,’ replied Elgiva.
There was an unaccustomed bitterness in her tone and he eyed her shrewdly.
‘You still feel anger in your heart, do you not?’
‘Yes.’
‘So would I, but destiny is a strange thing.’
‘It was not destiny brought the Norsemen here,’ she replied. ‘It was a thirst for revenge, revenge and greed.’ She turned to face him. ‘That’s all the Danes know, isn’t it? Killing and destruction and the use of force.’
Wulfrum’s gaze met and held her own. ‘That is past.’
‘Is it? I think that memory is not so soon erased.’
‘No, it is not.’
‘How would you know?’
His expression altered and for a moment she saw both pain and anger in the blue eyes. ‘I discovered it early.’
‘How so?’
‘As a result of a blood feud. One night his enemies came to my father’s hall and surrounded it. Then they set it alight and waited for those inside to come out. When they did, they were cut down. None escaped.’
‘But you—’
‘I wasn’t there. I had gone with one of the men to a neighbour’s farm to deliver some things for my father. It being winter, the days were short and we remained overnight. When we returned next day, we found the hall a smoking ruin and my family slain.’
Elgiva had heard of such things, though never till now from one who had experienced them, and she felt pity in her heart for the frightened and bewildered boy he must have been on that terrible day.
‘How old were you?’
‘Ten.’
‘That is young to be cast adrift on the world.’
‘Aye, but I was fortunate.’
Suddenly she remembered the words he had spoken that fateful morning when she had examined the sword, Dragon Tooth.
‘It was Ragnar who took you in, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, my father was one of his closest friends. He sheltered me, brought me up. From him I learned the warrior code—in fact, just about everything I know. When I grew to manhood, I avenged my family and slew those responsible for their deaths, all still living anyway. I slew them with the sword Ragnar gave me. Then I took back the title that was mine.’
‘And when Ragnar was killed, you came to avenge his death.’
‘That’s right. As I told you, it was a matter of honour.’
As she listened it seemed to Elgiva that many things had become clear. In her mind’s eye she could see the small boy standing alone amid the ruins of his home and the bodies of the slain. She could imagine him growing up, passing from childhood to manhood, learning the skills of the warrior, his rage becoming a cold, implacable thing, biding his time until his family should be avenged. It was not hard to see why he should have felt such love and loyalty for a man who was the sworn enemy of her people.
Wulfrum watched her closely, wondering why he had told her. It hadn’t been his intention, but somehow it had come out anyway. Perhaps it had needed to. At least now she knew who he was, knew something of the events that had shaped his life.
‘I’m sick of bloodshed and fighting, Elgiva.’
‘What do you want, then?’
‘To build something worthwhile.’
‘Out of the ashes?’
‘Aye, why not?’ He paused. ‘You and I together.’
‘I? Am I not your chattel?’
‘You are far more than that and you know it.’ He drew her closer. ‘Let there be no more secrets between us.’
There was no trace of mockery in his face or his voice. Bending his head, he kissed her very gently. Elgiva closed her eyes. No more secrets. How she wished it were true. But how could she make such a promise and keep it? Could she tell him that she was consorting with rebels? If he ever discovered the truth, his goodwill would evaporate on the spot. Worse, there would be a dire retribution. Even if he let her live, his trust would be gone for good. Then what would remain? She shivered.