The Viking's Defiant Bride(45)

‘But he had no cause to be jealous. I love him, not Aylwin. I thought he knew that.’ Elgiva sobbed harder. ‘Now he has gone away. What if he never comes back?’

‘He’ll come back. He’s too bloody minded not to.’



Sick with fear and doubt, Elgiva endured the long days of Wulfrum’s absence with a heavy heart. She performed all that was required of her with regard to the household affairs, but could take no pleasure in any of it. When her duties were done she sought solace out of doors, for the chamber she had shared with Wulfrum was too full of bitter memories to allow of its being a sanctuary now. The quiet burying ground offered most tranquillity and the prospect of being undisturbed. Having told Osgifu of her intent, it was thither she bent her steps.

However, she found that she was not alone. A man was already standing there in the shade beneath one of the trees on the far side. With a start, she recognised Brekka. For a moment she regarded him with resentment. What did he want? Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Did he not know the peril he put them both in if he were seen? She looked around, but there was no sign of anyone else. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself, ashamed of such uncharitable thoughts. Then she made her way towards him.

‘My lady.’ He bowed. ‘I have been waiting here in the hope of meeting you.’

‘What is it, Brekka?’

‘I bring word from Lord Aylwin.’

‘From Aylwin?’

‘Aye, my lady. He bade me say that he has reconsidered your advice. He said you would understand what that meant.’

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.





Chapter Sixteen




The 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.