The Viking's Defiant Bride(4)

‘Gunter!’

Her uncle’s steward—he must have ridden far. It was a two-day journey and from the look of him he had ridden fast. His horse was all but spent, and he too. Every word cost him effort.

‘I bring urgent news for Ravenswood, my lady.’

‘We are not far from home. Come, let me take you there.’

He nodded and together they retraced Elgiva’s path. As soon as they were within the gates, she summoned help. Grooms came running to take the horses and another helped Gunter into the hall. Men were stirring now and looked up in surprise at their entrance. Elgiva saw Aylwin there with several of his men. He hastened over to her.

‘Gunter, my uncle’s steward,’ she explained. ‘He is wounded. I don’t know how badly.’

Aylwin took one look at the dark stiffening patch on the man’s tunic. ‘He has lost much blood. His hurts must be tended.’

Elgiva dispatched a servant for her box of medicines. Another brought a goblet of water and helped raise the injured man a fraction so she could hold it to his lips. He drank greedily, but Elgiva would only allow him a little to begin with. Then she and Osgifu set about dealing with the wound. It was a sword thrust, deep but clean. As far as she could tell it had not pierced any internal organs, though it had bled copiously. Between them they stanched the bleeding and cleansed the wound, before fastening a clean pad over it with long strips of linen cloth. Gunter bore these ministrations in silence, though his face was very pale. Then she allowed him a little more to drink.

‘You must rest now and try to recover your strength.’

‘Lady, I must speak. My news will wait no longer.’

‘Say on then, Gunter. Does it concern my uncle?’

‘Aye, my lady, and ill news it is.’

‘What of my uncle? Is he sick?’

‘Nay, my lady. He is dead with all his kin and his hall is burned. A great Viking war host marches north.’

A deathly silence followed as those present tried to grasp the enormity of the news.

‘The rumours are true,’ murmured Aylwin.

‘Aye, lord. We had little warning of their coming, but even if we had, it would have made no difference for the sheer weight of their numbers. Those Saxons who were not slain were enslaved. I was wounded and left for dead. When I came to, the hall was a blackened ruin and my lord was dead. I found a stray horse and got away under cover of darkness.’

‘It was as well you did,’ said Elgiva. She glanced at Osgifu, who looked as shaken as the rest.

‘You are right, child. We should have had no warning else. As it is, we must prepare to defend ourselves as best we may.’

‘Truly spoken,’ said Gunter, ‘for the sons of Ragnar Lodbrok seek a terrible revenge for their father’s death.’

‘We had heard of this,’ replied Aylwin. ‘There were tales of a great Viking war fleet a year or so ago, but we had thought the raiders much further south.’

‘That is so, lord,’ Gunter continued, ‘though not by design. It seems they set sail for Northumbria, but their ships were blown off course and brought them instead to the Anglian coast. Since then they have swept through that kingdom with fire and sword. We heard that they looted the abbeys at Ely and Crowland and Peterborough. ’Tis said that at Peterborough Hubba killed eighty monks himself.’

Startled exclamations greeted this and men looked at each other in mounting horror.

Gunter drew in a ragged breath. ‘They have taken Mercia too. Now that York has fallen, all of Northumbria is threatened.’

Aylwin’s hand went automatically to the hilt of his sword. ‘What of King Ella?’

‘They captured him and acted out their revenge. His ribs were torn apart and folded backwards to resemble a spread eagle. Then they threw salt in the wound and left him to die.’

Elgiva felt her stomach churn. She had heard many times of the brutality of the Norsemen, but never anything so barbaric. Beside her Osgifu paled, and she heard several sharp intakes of breath from those around.

‘You must prepare to defend yourselves,’ said Gunter. ‘The Viking host wintered at York, but the spring thaw draws them forth again. It is only a matter of time before they come.’

‘But surely if Ella is dead they have what they want now,’ replied Osgifu. ‘They will leave with their plunder as they always do.’

‘This time they want more than plunder. Halfdan has let it be known they want land and they plan to take it.’

‘Land? Do the pirates mean to stay?’

‘It would seem our shores are more fertile than their northern fastness.’

‘They will find the price dear.’ Aylwin’s face was grim. ‘My sword is ready, and those of my kin.’

Elgiva could see the determination on the faces all around her and knew a moment of shame that he was ready to fight on her behalf when she had earlier had misgivings about her betrothal to him, putting thoughts of her happiness before Ravenswood. As she looked up he caught her eye and smiled.

‘I swear, no harm shall come to you while I live, lady.’

Elgiva began to feel distinctly guilty. ‘I thank you, my lord. If it comes to a fight, my family will be much in your debt.’

‘They are soon to be my family too,’ he replied. ‘It is fitting my sword be ready to use in their defence, and in yours.’

Elgiva smiled a little in return, liking him more in that moment than ever before. However, her thoughts were soon distracted for Aylwin had turned away and was already organising the deployment of the men.

‘Every man and boy able to hold a weapon must prepare. There can be no knowing how soon the Viking host may march. We shall double our guard and watchers shall be placed at the boundaries to give word of any approaching force. If the Norsemen come, we shall be ready for them.’

He gave his orders and men departed to do his bidding. Elgiva turned to check on Gunter, but he was asleep and Osgifu was with him.

‘I will watch over him the while,’ she said.

‘Will he survive, do you think?’

‘He has lost much blood, ’tis true. But he is a strong man and, God willing, he will come through this. What he needs is rest and quiet.’

‘I pray God that he may have it.’

‘Amen to that, child.’

Elgiva left her and went outside, making her way to the steps leading to the rampart that ran along the inside of the palisade. From there she had an excellent view of the preparations taking place as everywhere men hastened to ready themselves for the defence of Ravenswood. Beyond the hall with its attendant stables and storehouses and the high wooden pale, the countryside lay still. An area of open ground surrounded the pale, and beyond it was pasture and woodland. Usually Elgiva thought of it as a place of peace and solitude, but now those quiet glades held menace. Her eyes scanned the trees, seeking for any sign of movement that might reveal a hidden enemy, but there was nothing to be seen save a few serfs driving their swine to feed. In the little hamlet people went about their business, though looking fearfully about all the while. The knowledge that Lord Aylwin had posted sentinels through the estate offered partial reassurance; at least there would be no surprise attack. Perhaps it was as Osgifu had said: now they had exacted their vengeance on King Ella they would adventure no further. It was a slender hope for the greed of the pirates was legendary. Their periodic raids were a fact of life for the unfortunate coastal dwellers, and the Norsemen had regularly carried off women and livestock along with any other loot that seized their fancy. Then they had sailed for their northern lands taking their booty with them.

Elgiva shivered to think of the poor souls taken off to a life of slavery in a strange country, of the women who must become unwilling wives or concubines to their new masters. It would be better to fight to the death than submit to such a fate as that. As she glanced away from the distant trees, her gaze fell on the roof of the bower. Within her chamber was the chest where she kept her gowns. Underneath them was the sword her father had given her some years before. He had taught her to use it too, holding that a woman should be schooled in self-defence as well as a man. Elgiva was resolved. If need be, she too, would fight and kill to defend her home.





Chapter Two




The Viking attack came within days; the sentinels on Ravenswood’s boundaries returned in haste to report the sighting of a marching host hundreds strong. Elgiva had been sewing in the women’s bower with Osgifu when the peace was shattered by the wild ringing of the church bell. Her hands paused at their task and for a moment or two she listened before the implications sank in.

‘The alarm.’

‘Dear Lord, it cannot be.’ Osgifu threw down her sewing and hastened to the door, but her companion was before her. Both of them halted in dismay on the threshold; outside was a scene of urgent haste with men running to their posts, buckling on swords as they went. They stopped a man-at-arms who was hurrying to the palisade with a large sheaf of arrows.

‘What is it? What’s happening?’

‘The sentries have reported sighting a large enemy force, my lady,’ he replied. ‘It is advancing on Ravenswood.’

Osgifu paled, looking in alarm at the armed men running towards the ramparts. ‘An enemy force?’

‘Aye, the Vikings approach.’ He inclined his head to Elgiva. ‘Your pardon, lady, but I dare not stay longer. I must to my post.’ With that he was gone.