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‘That’s right.’
Anwyn paled a little. ‘You are mercenaries then.’
‘Correct.’
This frank admission was deeply disquieting, and rendered all the more so by her inability to read what lay behind that outwardly courteous manner.
‘However,’ he continued,’ until we can repair our vessel all else is irrelevant.’
‘I can see that.’
‘Have we your permission to stay and do the necessary work?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I think you have no choice since your ship cannot leave without it.’
‘We could leave under oars,’ he replied, ‘but the next large wave we encountered would likely sink us.’
‘How long will it take to mend the damage?’
‘With luck, a few days only.’
Relief washed in. She nodded. ‘Very well. Carry out your repairs if you will.’
‘I thank you.’ He paused. ‘One thing more I would ask.’
‘And that is?’
‘The use of a forge if you have one—and a carpenter’s workshop.’
‘That’s two things.’
He smiled. ‘So it is. But then, as I am a mercenary, it cannot surprise you that I should try to secure the best possible bargain.’
His words drew a reluctant answering smile. Inwardly she wondered if she could trust him or whether this was some kind of trick. All the same, the only way to be free of the problem now was to help him.
‘We have both things. Send some men to Drakensburgh tomorrow and we will show them where.’ She pointed to the dunes. ‘The way is yonder, due west about half a league distant.’
‘Again, my thanks, lady.’
Anwyn nodded and turned her horse’s head. Then, accompanied by Ina, she rode back to where Jodis and Eyvind were waiting. Wulfgar looked on in some surprise; he had been so preoccupied with events that he not noticed the presence of the other two figures at the edge of the beach. They were too far away for him to make out details, but again his curiosity stirred. Who were they? What was their connection with Lady Anwyn? He watched as they exchanged a few words and then all four rode away through the dunes.
‘A mighty pretty woman,’ said Hermund, when the last of the riders was gone from view. ‘Courageous, too.’
‘Aye, she is,’ replied Wulfgar.
His companion chuckled softly. ‘I thought that Grymar oaf was going to explode. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when he gets back.’
‘So would I.’
‘His master doesn’t sound much better.’
‘Ingvar?’ said Wulfgar. ‘No matter. We’re not like to meet him anyway.’
‘Small mercies, eh?’
‘As you say.’
‘Well, now that peace has broken out I guess we can get on with those repairs.’
Wulfgar nodded. Then, divesting himself of weapons and armour, he rejoined his men and set to. However, although his hands were busy, his mind returned to recent events and he smiled to himself. Hermund was right; the woman was courageous. He’d never met anyone quite like her. Anwyn. He wouldn’t forget the name or the face, either. No man would. Yet it was the eyes he remembered most clearly; eyes as green as a summer sea and deep enough to drown in …
Unbidden, the memory returned of another pair of eyes, blue this time and bright with welling tears. The face was harder to recall now, though once it had occupied his every waking thought. Freya: golden-haired, gentle, quiet … her beauty had captivated the youth he had been. Captivated for a while, at least. In the final analysis he had been a poor husband to her.
No doubt Lady Anwyn’s lord was smart enough to know what he had; a woman of fire with wit allied to beauty and courage. He caught himself then—where was her husband? If the lady had found it necessary to deal with the situation herself it argued that her man was away—fighting, no doubt. It was a common enough occurrence. Had he not done the same?
He sighed. It was too late for regret or remorse, though he had experienced both. We are the decisions we make. It was true, thought Wulfgar, which was why he found himself wandering the earth with a group of mercenaries: fighting, feasting, living for the day. It wasn’t a bad life, take it all in all. Anyway, what else was there now? Eventually, of course, his luck would run out, or the gods would tire of him, and he would meet his end on some field of battle. So long as he died with a sword in his hand and could take his place in Odin’s hall, the time and place of his demise mattered little. All that mattered was the readiness.
The afternoon’s encounter had also left Anwyn much preoccupied and not a little concerned. It dominated her thoughts even after she had retired. By now Lord Ingvar would have heard the tale and would, no doubt, be greatly displeased. She could almost certainly expect another visit from him in the near future. As if that were not enough a force of trained mercenaries was presently encamped on her land, or as good as. Now that there was leisure to reflect, she wondered if her earlier decision had been the right one. She sighed. It was too late for that. If they chose to take advantage, she would be caught between a rock and a hard place. Yet their leader had not seemed treacherous to her. On the contrary.
Unbidden, his face returned in sharp relief. The memory was disturbing. She had never met anyone quite like him; he bore all the trappings of the warrior, radiated an aura of strength, but she had not felt personally threatened. He did not make her feel as Ingvar did when in her company; as Torstein had made her feel. Indeed, when she had ridden away the sensation had been quite different, almost as though something had been lost. It was difficult to account for, difficult and perturbing. Unable to sleep, she crept from the bed and, wrapping herself in a mantle against the night air, went silently to the adjoining chamber where her son lay sleeping. For a long time she watched him. He was the one good thing to come from her marriage. His birth had been long and hard, but Eyvind made sense of all the rest; he was the reason she kept on living, the reason she submitted to Torstein’s will.
Anwyn shivered and pulled her mantle closer. Torstein was dead. Her son was safe from him. She bent over the child and dropped a kiss on his forehead. He stirred a little, but did not wake. Looking at him lying there, she suddenly felt fiercely protective. As long as she had breath in her body no harm should come to him. She must look after his interests until he grew to manhood. Nothing else mattered now. It would not be easy; her family was ambitious and, as Jodis had said, a woman alone was vulnerable.
Returning to bed, Anwyn curled up, pulling the coverlet close. Tired now, she closed her eyes and let her body relax, pushing the day’s events from her mind. Gradually the bed grew warmer and sleep eventually claimed her. However, it came with the same troubling dreams …
Somewhere she heard a door opening, heavy footsteps in the outer chamber, a hand drawing aside the partitioning curtain to reveal her husband’s ursine figure silhouetted against the dim light beyond. At forty Torstein was more than twice her age. Though only of average height, his bulk reinforced the impression of bearlike strength. The dome of his head was bald, the remaining fringe of hair worn long and tightly braided into numerous thin plaits that hung past his shoulders like rats’ tails. A moustache and bushy, grizzled beard concealed a thin mouth and hid the lower part of a heavily lined face from which small black eyes surveyed the world with quiet cunning. Now they came to rest on her and glinted.
Crossing the intervening space to the bed, he threw aside his cloak and, unfastening his belt, pulled off his tunic and tossed it after the mantle. His shirt followed, revealing the mat of crisp black hair that covered his torso. Anwyn stiffened, feeling the mattress sag beneath his weight. He unfastened his breeches and then reached for her. She tried to turn away, but strong hands dragged her back and a gust of fetid breath hit her in the face. Sickened, she turned her head aside.
‘Torstein, it’s late and I’m tired.’
‘You’ll do as you’re bid.’
He fumbled for her linen kirtle and dragged it up around her waist so that her lower body was naked. Involuntarily she shuddered. As he leaned closer his hairy paunch scratched her belly, the beefy, leering face within inches of hers.
‘I thought I’d schooled you in obedience,’ he went on, ‘but perhaps I was mistaken.’
She bit back the reply that she wanted to utter, knowing better. ‘My lord, you are not mistaken.’
‘No? Let’s see, shall we?’
Anwyn woke with a start, panting, heart pounding, staring wide-eyed into the furthest corners of the room. Nothing moved. Her gaze came to rest on the bed. The place beside her was empty. She was alone. Slowly she let out a long breath as her mind assimilated the knowledge. Torstein was never coming back. As the minutes passed, horror was replaced by relief so intense it left her trembling. She swallowed hard and lowered herself onto the pillows again, waiting for her heartbeat to quiet a little. Torstein was never coming back. Now Ingvar waited, biding his time.
‘Never,’ she murmured. ‘Not while I have breath.’ To think that once, long ago in another life, she had dreamed of being married, of having a man’s love. She smiled wryly. How naïve she had been then to think that the two things went together. All such girlhood fantasies were long gone; if love between husband and wife existed in this world it was for others, not for her.
Chapter Four
The following morning Wulfgar left Hermund in charge of the ship and, accompanied by Thrand, Beorn and Asulf, set off for Drakensburgh. Built on a low hill and surrounded by a deep ditch and a high, spiked wooden pale, it wasn’t hard to find.
‘Balder’s toenails! The place is a fortress,’ said Thrand. ‘Whoever lives here is a man of some importance.’
‘Is this a good idea, my lord?’ asked Beorn. ‘It could be a trap.’
All three men looked at Wulfgar. He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, but keep your wits about you all the same. Come on.’
They reached the wooden bridge that spanned the ditch and, when challenged, identified themselves. It seemed they were expected. There followed sounds of a bar being removed and then the small wicket gate swung open to admit them. From there they were escorted across a large compound in which stood various buildings. Wulfgar noted a barn, storehouses, workshops and small dwellings before at length they came to a large timbered hall. Fantastically carved pillars flanked the great oaken doors. However, the atmosphere within was more sombre. The only light came from the open portal and the hole in the roof above the rectangular hearth pit where the remains of a fire smouldered in a bed of ash. Through the gloom Wulfgar made out smoke-blackened timbers adorned with racks of antlers and wolf masks. Trestle tables and benches were stacked against the walls, but at the far end of the room on a raised platform was a huge oaken chair, carved with the likeness of birds and animals. The air smelled of smoke and ale and stale food.
‘Wait here,’ said the guard. With that he departed and left them alone. The four looked around.
‘A gloomy lair,’ muttered Asulf.
Thrand nodded. ‘You said it. What manner of man lives here?’
‘A powerful one. That chair looks more like a ruddy throne.’
‘Let’s hope its owner is as gracious as his lady.’
In the event it was Lady Anwyn who came to greet them a short time later. Wulfgar felt a pleasurable sense of recognition. She was accompanied by the old warrior he had seen before: Ina. With them was a young boy—the one on the pony, he assumed. Even if the facial likeness had not been apparent, the red-gold hair and green eyes would have proclaimed him her son. Just for a moment he was reminded of another child and another hall and his throat tightened. Forcing the memory from him, he watched his hostess approach.
When word was brought of the men’s arrival Anwyn had wondered if Lord Wulfgar would be one of their number. Indeed, in some part of her mind she had hoped he might. Even so, seeing him there caused her pulse to quicken a little. Last time they met she had been on horseback. She had not realised just how tall he was.
‘Good morning, my lady.’
Recollecting herself, she returned the greeting. ‘You are come to use the forge.’
‘The carpenter’s shop, too, if you have no objection.’
‘None,’ she replied. ‘What is it you require?’
‘We’re going to need a new yard, and there’s a crack in the ship’s rudder that needs reinforcing. If we can fashion a couple of steel plates, that should do the trick. We could also use some bolts.’ He paused. ‘Naturally we will pay a fair price for the wood and the iron.’
‘Naturally.’
He thought he caught a gleam of something like amusement in her eyes, but it was so quickly gone he couldn’t be certain. All the same it intrigued him. He saw that she was wearing a different gown today. The soft mauve colour suited her, enhancing the delicate pink and whiteness in her cheeks and providing a foil for that wonderful hair, confined in a neat braid. He tried to visualise what it looked like unbound, what it felt like to touch.
Aware of his scrutiny but unable to read his thoughts, Anwyn became unwontedly self-conscious and looked away. Mentally chiding herself, she took a deep breath. She was no green girl to be discomposed by a man’s casual regard.
‘I’ll show you the forge,’ she said.
Even as she spoke she knew there was not the least need for her to go with them; Ina could have done it. On the other hand they were visitors here and it was a courtesy. She averted her eyes from Wulfgar’s. Courtesy had nothing to do with it. The truth was that she did not want to lose this man’s company just yet.
They left the hall and set out across the compound. He fell into stride beside her, leaving the others to follow. Despite the decorous space between them every part of her being was aware of him, every part alive to his presence. He made her feel strangely self-conscious, and yet she could not have said why. It was not an unpleasant sensation exactly; rather it was unaccustomed.
For a moment or two neither of them spoke. Then Wulfgar glanced in the child’s direction.
‘Your son?’
‘Yes. Eyvind.’
‘A fine boy. His father must be proud of him.’
‘His father is dead.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘Recently?’
‘Ten months ago.’
‘It cannot be easy for a woman alone.’
‘I manage well enough.’
‘So I infer if yesterday is aught to judge by.’
Something in his tone brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks. Quickly she changed the subject.
‘You are not from these parts, Lord Wulfgar.’
‘No, I grew up in Northumbria.’
‘You have kin there still?’
‘Some.’
He didn’t qualify that and Anwyn didn’t pursue it. After all, it was none of her business.
‘And now you live the life of an adventurer.’
‘That’s right.’
‘It must be exciting.’
‘It has its moments.’
Before she could reply they reached the forge. The smith looked up from his work and, seeing who it was, made his duty to her.
‘My lady?’ He glanced from her to her companions, surveying them with open curiosity.
Anwyn smiled. ‘Ethelwald, we need your help …’
Having performed the introductions, she briefly outlined the situation. The smith listened attentively. ‘It is not a hard task, but I have work on hand that must be completed first. I cannot begin anything new until the morrow.’
‘And the job will take how long?’ asked Wulfgar.
‘A few days, no more,’ the smith replied.
‘We have other places to be. Can it not be done sooner?’
‘No. I must honour the agreements made before you came.’
