‘Why? Why, my lady?’
‘To strike back at the Danes.’
‘They have not hurt the Danes. They have murdered my boy.’
‘He will be avenged,’ replied Elgiva. ‘Those responsible will pay a terrible price.’
‘That will not bring him back.’
‘No, but it will stop them from ever doing it again.’
Elgiva glanced at Father Willibald and saw the sadness in his kindly face. He too had suffered since the taking of Ravenswood, his church burned and his life threatened. Would there ever be an end to the violence, to the killing? Would this land ever know peace again?
Father Willibald cleared his throat. ‘My lady, the boy should be given a proper Christian burial.’
‘He shall be. I will speak to Lord Wulfrum.’
He regarded her in some surprise not unmixed with hope. ‘Then perchance we shall say a mass for the child’s soul.’
It was a small comfort, thought Elgiva when she left them some time later. Truly death was absolute. Her own powerlessness appalled her. If only she had given the alarm sooner, had realised the child was in the stable. It was her fervent prayer that he had been overcome with smoke very quickly and not suffered pain before he died, but in her heart she doubted it. Anger vied with sorrow as she relived the night of the fire. One stupid act by a vengeful man and an innocent child had lost his life. This day others would die too. She knew that Wulfrum had no choice but to follow his present course of action, The renegade Saxons were her own people, but her loyalty now was with her husband and she prayed that he would prevail and return safe to her.
All the rest of that day Elgiva looked for his return, though she knew it likely would not be till eventide. All day she tried to occupy herself with familiar tasks but could concentrate on none of them, her hands falling idle in her lap and her mind elsewhere. Beside her Osgifu worked on her mending, saying little, though her eyes went often to Elgiva’s face.
In her mind’s eye Elgiva saw the forest paths and the great trees whose green domain held so many secret places. She saw the mounted men and the dogs. Would they pick up the trail? Would the hunters come upon the raiders’ hideout? She closed her eyes, hearing in her imagination the clash of swords and the shouts of men, the blood and the screams. Her stomach heaved and she rushed from the bower just in time to vomit in the grass. With a shaking hand she pulled her kerchief from her sleeve and held it to her lips, waiting for the nausea to die down. The other rested lightly on her belly as she struggled to come to terms with the knowledge she could no longer ignore.
‘How often has that happened?’ asked Osgifu.
‘Two or three times, perhaps.’
‘Have you missed your monthly bleeding?’
Elgiva nodded.
‘How many times?’
‘Twice.’
Osgifu’s hand covered her own against her belly. Its warmth was reassuring.
‘Does he know?’
‘Not yet.’
‘When will you tell him?’
‘I don’t know. Soon. I needed to be sure.’ Elgiva drew in a deep breath. She would indeed have to tell him soon. The matter could not be kept quiet for long in any case. ‘I just haven’t found the right moment yet, that’s all.’
‘I’d like to be a fly on the wall when you do.’ Osgifu smiled. ‘It would worth something, I think, to see the Viking’s expression then.’
‘Oh, Gifu, how do you think he will take it? Will he be pleased or angered?’
‘What man is angered to learn his wife carries their first child?’
‘Wulfrum is not like other men. I hardly ever know what he is thinking.’
‘He is not so different from other men,’ replied Osgifu, ‘at least not in essentials anyway. And he is not so hard to read, either, not when he looks at you.’
She made Elgiva sit down then and fetched a cup of cool water.
‘Sip this. It will make you feel better.’
Elgiva took the water, turning over their conversation in her mind. If only Osgifu was right. Then she thought about the grim hunt being enacted in the forest. If only it might be over soon. If only Wulfrum might come back safely.
It was sunset when the hunters returned, the cavalcade emerging from the trees in a slow, steady line. The men did not talk, but their sombre expressions spoke more than words. Elgiva watched from her chamber window as they rode in, her heart leaping as she saw Wulfrum at their head with Ironfist beside him. With a final glance at the preparations she had made, she hastened down to the hall, calling instructions to the servants to bring ale and food before going to the door.
From that vantage point she watched the riders approach, their tired horses dark with sweat and mud. Elgiva’s eyes went to the men, noting well the sinister darkening stains on their armour and weapons. All looked weary. One or two nursed obvious injuries and one horse was led with its dead rider slung across the saddle. Then her gaze came to rest on Ironfist and she swallowed hard as she realised for the first time what it was he carried on the point of his spear. Drem would fire no more buildings.
‘Put the traitor’s head on a spike by the gate,’ said Wulfrum. ‘Let all see it and know that justice has been done.’ He swung down from Firedrake’s saddle and crossed the intervening space to the door of the hall.
‘Osgifu, some of the men are hurt. Tend to them.’
Wulfrum turned to his wife. For a long moment neither spoke. Elgiva looked anxiously at the blood staining his chain-mail shirt. Seeing the direction of her gaze, he smiled.
‘The blood isn’t mine.’ He paused, surveying her in his turn. ‘You look pale, Elgiva. Are you well?’
‘Quite well, my lord.’
He saw the tears start in her eyes. ‘Never tell me you feared for my safe return, wife.’
‘Oh, Wulfrum, I was afraid. All day I have been imagining terrible things.’
‘No cause, my love.’ He bent and kissed the top of her head. ‘It would take more than a few thieves to take on a Viking war band and win.’
‘You found all the raiders, then?’
‘Yes. We found them.’
‘Did you…Are they…’
‘Yes. All are dead and the carrion birds feed on their remains.’
Elgiva shut her eyes, fighting faintness, but she had to know. ‘And Aylwin?’
‘He was not among them. There was nothing to connect him to the band we found.’ He paused, regarding her with shrewd eyes. ‘After we let the hounds learn the scent, we cast a wide circle round the hall until they found it. Drem’s trail led us straight to them. An arrow could not have flown more true to its mark.’
The relief on learning that Aylwin had not been there was huge, but she strove to control it. ‘How many were there?’
‘About twenty, all told. We took them by surprise. Even so, they fought well; I lost one man and four are injured. They will require your help, I think.’
‘Of course.’
‘Meanwhile I would wash off the sweat and stink of battle.’
‘There is a kettle of hot water prepared for you. Or, if you would prefer it, the meal is ready.’
‘I will wash first and eat after.’
He put an arm through hers and they went in together. At the foot of the stairs Elgiva left him and went to help Osgifu, who was laying out her things in readiness to treat the injured. Fortunately the wounds were simple enough—sword slashes and bruises for the most part, though one or two of the wounds were deep and needed sewing. They dealt first with the most serious cases, the others waiting their turn with good humour, refreshing themselves with a horn or two of ale in the meantime. Others had sluiced themselves at the trough or the well, divesting themselves of their weapons before washing off the grime of battle. When the last of the wounds had been dressed and more ale drunk, it was time for the food.
Wulfrum rejoined them, changed now into a light tunic and leggings, all signs of battle gone. He took Elgiva’s hand and led her to the table. The atmosphere was lively enough, for the raiders had been overcome and would not trouble Ravenswood again, and almost all of Wulfrum’s men had returned without serious hurt. It was cause enough for celebration. She thought it did not need much cause for the Danes to celebrate.
‘What is it, Elgiva?’
She turned to see Wulfrum’s gaze on her. ‘I am thinking about that stable-boy.’
‘He shall be buried properly with the priest to perform the ceremony, if you wish.’
‘I do wish it, Wulfrum.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘His mother…I visited her today.’
‘She shall receive the wergild. Since Drem cannot pay it and has no kin, I shall do so. Nothing can bring the boy back, but the money may help his surviving family.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It was a bad business, Elgiva, but the traitor has paid; when the fate of the raiders is known, it will deter others from thinking Ravenswood a soft target.’
‘I think no one could ever make such a mistake again.’
Wulfrum was silent a moment, then bent on her the familiar easy smile that made her heart leap. ‘And now we shall feast, and celebrate.’
‘Because your enemies are slain?’
‘No, because I can sit here and look at you.’
Elgiva blushed as a glow of happiness spread over her. Perhaps he would be pleased to hear the news she had to impart after all. However, this was not the time or the place. She glanced round surreptitiously and decided it must be later, when they retired to the privacy of their chamber.