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A feeling of dread had settled in the pit of her stomach since Elswyth’s wedding. At first, Ellan had been ashamed of herself for being anything but happy for her sister. Now, as the hollow grew bigger, she understood what the feeling was. It was fear that she was losing the one person she had always been able to trust.
The one person who loved her.
Blinking against the sting of tears, she tied the curtain closed and went through the motions of changing into her nightdress and taking down her hair before plopping down on the bed and curling up under her blanket. Times like this made her miss her mother. Sometimes when she closed her eyes, lay very still and tried very hard, she could almost remember the weight of her mother’s hand on her head, stroking her hair as she fell asleep. Ellan was never quite certain if it was an actual memory or something she had made up to comfort herself as a child.
What would her mother tell her to do? Unfortunately, she hadn’t known her well enough to say. What would Elswyth say? She had a sinking feeling that her sister would advise her to marry the man Father wanted her to marry. Ellan couldn’t shake the feeling that this man would be hardly better than Father in his opinions of the Danes. In her time serving Lady Gwendolyn, Ellan had grown close to her. She couldn’t imagine submitting to a marriage that would see her on the other side of a potential Saxon/Dane battle in Alvey. Father was wrong in his hatred.
Was Aevir right in that Father could be taken prisoner soon? Would that mean the betrothal wasn’t valid? Should she take Aevir up on his offer in case it was?
Heat swept through her at that thought. Deep down inside herself in a place she hardly knew existed, she hadn’t found Aevir’s proposition to be abhorrent. She wanted marriage and a family of her own...but she also wanted to know what it would be like to lie with him. To be protected by him. To belong to him.
Pulling the blanket up to hide her face from her wicked thoughts, she tried to drive the memory of his intense stare from her head. It didn’t work. Being alone made him much more vivid in her mind. The way he had towered over her outside the hall after Elswyth’s wedding, for instance. Had he been someone else she might have felt intimidated or even afraid, but because it was him she had felt protected, even cared for, though that sentiment was absurd. He wanted her in his bed, not his heart. She wasn’t a complete dolt when it came to men.
Why then did she feel this inexplicable draw to him and the promise of more lurking beneath the surface?
That thought, along with those of her uncertain future, left her unable to find a peaceful sleep. When she finally drifted off it was to unsettling dreams of both her father and Aevir.
* * *
It seemed that she had only just found sleep when strange sounds from below brought her awake. She lay in her bed for a moment, wondering if she had imagined them.
Nay, they were real. Several voices from the main room rose up to where she slept. They were urgent, but she was too groggy to untangle the meaning of the Norse words. Boots hurried across the floor, moving back and forth. Something was wrong. It couldn’t be morning yet.
Her eyes felt grainy as she rubbed them and sat up to untie the curtain. Danes were below, appearing to finish a quick meal of pottage and leftovers from the night before. The door to the outside opened, revealing a sliver of dark grey as a warrior hurried out. It was too early in the morning for this much activity.
Grabbing her blanket, she wrapped it around herself as she hurried to Elswyth’s room. When no one answered her knock, she pushed it open to find that the room was empty. Her heart sank as a heavy feeling overcame her. Something was dreadfully wrong. Perhaps Father had taken off with Elswyth. She could think of no other reason her sister wouldn’t be in her bed at this hour.
The need to know sent her hurrying to the chamber Lady Gwendolyn shared with her husband. The door was cracked, so she pushed it open.
‘Lady Gwendolyn?’
A serving girl sat just inside the room, bringing a finger to her lips for quiet and glancing towards where their baby, Tova, slept.
‘Do you know what’s happening?’ Ellan whispered.
The girl shook her head and closed the distance between them. ‘Nay, the Lady sent for me only moments ago. I believe she’s at the stables with Lord Vidar.’
Her worst fear was confirmed—why else would they be at the stables at this hour? Ellan thanked her and hurried down the stairs to the main room. Men scurried around as they finished their meal and donned their armour. Much fewer now than a few moments ago when she had first looked down. Most of them seemed to be outside—she could hear the horses being brought out, their hooves stamping the frozen morning earth.
Fear thrummed through her veins as she thought of her sister being forced from the man she loved. Had Ellan done this? Would it have happened if she had stayed with Father last night and agreed to leave with him?
From the corner of her eye she caught a movement that seemed familiar. Aevir stood beside a table, a bowl in front of him with the dregs of his quickly eaten meal, stuffing a pouch with more food. He wore the leather tunic he always wore when he was travelling, except he was also wearing chainmail. His sword was at his side, ready to be strapped to his back.
‘Aevir, you’re leaving?’ She hurried to his side.
He glanced at her, sparing a moment to take in the fact that she wore only a nightdress and a blanket. No doubt her hair was a mess from her unsettled sleep, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that at the moment. Going back to packing the food away, he said, ‘I’m tasked with putting an end to the Scots trespassing once and for all.’ At her puzzled look, he explained, ‘We’ve received word that Scots were sighted between here and Banford.’
Relief swept through her and she nearly sat down as a breath left her body. This was nothing to do with her sister and Father after all. ‘Oh, I thought...’
He paused and his gaze settled on her face. ‘What?’
Shaking her head, she gave a half-hearted smile and said, ‘It doesn’t matter. Travel safely. I’m certain of your victory.’
He flashed her a grin that made her belly flip pleasantly as he closed the flap on the pouch and tied it off. ‘I’m glad to have your confidence.’
‘Will you come back?’
He shook his head. ‘Not for a bit. After finding the trespassers, my men and I will guard the border until deep winter sets in.’
This might very well be the last time she saw him with her future so uncertain. She wasn’t sure where she would be in a few weeks. A sense of loss welled inside her. She wanted to say something profound, something that would let him know her feelings, except her feelings were that of an infatuated farm girl and would probably be an embarrassment to them both.
‘Have you seen Elswyth?’ she asked instead.
His brow furrowed as he ducked into the long strap attached to the pouch, leaving it to rest at his hip. ‘No one has told you?’ he asked.
Shaking her head, she said, ‘You were the first person I spoke with since coming downstairs. What has happened?’ She found herself grabbing his forearm, as if holding tight to him could keep anything bad away. ‘Has Father taken her?’
‘Nay. Ellan...your sister has left.’
Chapter Four (#u24867879-b20b-5514-affa-e3124241cd10)
‘What do you mean, Elswyth has left? Where has she gone?’ Ellan’s face had grown pale with terror.
Taking gentle hold of her upper arms through the blanket to help soothe her, he kept his voice calm. ‘It seems that she took a horse around midnight and rode north. We only found out a little while ago.’
‘Why would she leave?’ Her eyes were wide as she implored him for answers.
‘You know that she and Osric were close. Rolfe believes that she is heading to Banford. Perhaps to see his family and try to discern why he had been meeting with the Scots for herself.’
‘But you just said that the Scots were seen. What if they come across her? What if...?’ Her lips fell still around the words that she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling out when she closed them. ‘Aevir, they could take her.’
Staring down into her face, twisted with both fear and anguish, he was forced to re-evaluate his initial suspicion about the sisters. For there was no doubt that Ellan’s feelings were real and, if she was so afraid for her sister’s fate at the hands of the Scots, then it must mean that they were her enemies as well. Would she be so afraid if she secretly thought them to be allies? ‘We will find her, Ellan.’
She shook her head fiercely as if that were not enough. Perhaps it wasn’t. ‘You don’t understand. Elswyth is the only person I have. She’s...she’s everything to me. If I lose her, I’ll be al—’ She meant to say alone but she stopped before the word came out, making something in his chest twist painfully. ‘I can’t lose her—’ She broke off and swallowed as if the effort to talk had become too painful. She looked lost and alone as she stared up at him and said, ‘She’s all that I have. Aevir, please find her.’
Aevir couldn’t speak. In her eyes he saw the same disconsolate misery he had felt when he had finally allowed himself to understand that Sefa was gone. He opened his mouth to repeat the unbearable nothings that the people around him had said to him.
It will be fine. You will be fine. You are not alone.
But he couldn’t do it. It had been five years and it was not fine. He was not fine and he feared that he never would be again. Her loss had broken something inside him and he didn’t think that it could be fixed. The ability to make any sort of meaningful connection to another had gone. He had fighting and it was the only thing that got him through life.
He could not bring himself to spew the same nothings to Ellan. Not when he knew that she was alone...or she would be if he couldn’t bring Elswyth back to her.
Taking her face between his palms, he stared into her eyes and said the only thing he could think to say that would bring her a measure of relief. He told her the truth. ‘I vow to you that I will find your sister. I will bring her home.’
To his amazement, belief shone in her eyes. She sniffled before throwing herself against his chest. It was too bad he was wearing the chainmail, because he couldn’t feel her softness or her heat the way he wanted. He hesitated, his fingertips touching a strand of hair that glistened gold in the firelight. Having her goodness so close made him brutally aware of the constant pain he harboured. It throbbed to life inside him as if taunted by the unfulfilled promise of her. The anguish he kept captive jerked against its tether like the great striped feline he’d once seen in a Constantinople market. The cat had paced on its huge paws, lunging at anyone who came near, hurting itself as it pulled against the chain binding it. For one mad instant, he wanted a taste of her joy. Like that feline, the beast inside him wanted to lunge for her and lap up every single drop of joy it could drain from her, heedless of how he would hurt her.
He closed his eyes and briefly held her against him, promising himself that it would be only for a moment. The separation from her would give him time to get control of himself again. If he wasn’t careful, she could slip beneath his defences and that could not happen. Letting her close to him in any way that wasn’t purely physical wasn’t an option. It would only hurt them both.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
The words poured out of her over and over, leaving him humbled with her need. An ache welled in his chest, forcing him to grit his teeth and set her away from him. Taking his sword in hand, he didn’t look back as he strapped it across his back and left the hall.
* * *
Ellan heard nothing of her sister’s fate for several days. The waiting had been nearly unbearable. Each moment had passed with fear for her sister and for Aevir twisting her up inside. Lady Gwendolyn tried to soothe them both by keeping them busy. An accomplished archer and warrior in her own right, Lady Gwendolyn spent the days seeing to the fortress’s defences on the chance that the Scots planned to attack after luring so many warriors from the safety of Alvey’s walls. Ellan was at her side, alternating between practising with a bow and arrow—a skill she feared she would never master—and learning about the finer points of planning for the potential of a battle and siege.
The evenings were spent by the fire where they worked on improving Lady Gwendolyn’s embroidery skills. It was something she was determined to master and the one skill in which Ellan felt she excelled, having taken on so much of her family’s care at a young age. She had also found that Father tended to leave her alone if she was hunched over a cloth instead of being underfoot.
Thank goodness he was not a concern that also weighed on her as she waited for word about Elswyth. On the morning of her sister’s disappearance, Father and Galan had also disappeared. Whether they went to find Elswyth or went somewhere else, she didn’t know. She only hoped that it meant the betrothal wasn’t something she had to worry about now.
She and Lady Gwendolyn were both hunched over a particularly intricate piece of embroidery one evening when the horn sounded from the gate. It meant that someone was approaching. Ellan’s heart paused as she waited for the second blow that would indicate that it was an enemy. It didn’t come. Friends approached. It could very well be Rolfe and Lord Vidar returning with Elswyth!
The wait was interminable, but eventually the door of the hall swung open, letting in a blast of cold air and a handful of Danes she recognised, but not one of them was Rolfe or Aevir.
‘Henrik!’ Lady Gwendolyn’s voice filled the space. ‘You have word?’
The man nodded and rushed over to where she stood with Ellan by the fire. He was younger than the men he was with, perhaps her age or only slightly older, but he seemed to be the one in charge. His hair was reddish in colour. ‘Aye. We came across the Scots and there was a skirmish. A few were killed, the rest fled back to Alba.’
‘Injuries on our side?’
He shook his head. ‘Minimal. The Jarl is at the border ensuring its security, while Rolfe and Aevir head to Banford to question the villagers. He suspects that someone there knows something.’
Unable to keep quiet any longer, Ellan asked, ‘What of Elswyth? Was she found?’
The man’s eyes gentled slightly as his gaze shifted to her. ‘She was found with the Scots, but she is safe. Rolfe took her to Banford.’
‘What do you mean she was found with the Scots?’ She placed her hand over her heart lest it beat its way out of her chest.
‘The bastards came across her as she fled. We were able to get her back. She suffered from the cold, but she was alive and uninjured.’
‘What did they do to her?’ she demanded to know more, but Lady Gwendolyn’s gentle hand on her arm silenced her.
Henrik appeared regretful as he said, ‘I do not know more. I was sent here when Rolfe took her north.’
His knowledge was woefully inadequate. He continued to talk to Lady Gwendolyn with details of the skirmish, but Ellan didn’t hear them. What precisely had happened during Elswyth’s time with the Scots? Had she been ravished by the beasts? Ellan’s mind raced with so many awful possibilities that she nearly fell to her knees.
‘I have to go to her.’ Realising that she had addressed the messenger, she turned to Lady Gwendolyn. ‘I must go to her. She needs me.’
To her surprise the messenger stepped forward. ‘Actually, Lord Vidar requested your presence in Banford.’
‘That’s madness.’ Lady Gwendolyn intervened. ‘Ellan can’t leave with the Scots about.’
‘I’m sorry, Lady, but it’s his order. There should be no Scots now. It seems that Godric and Galan have disappeared.’ He fell silent and didn’t say what they all were thinking—that her father and brother must have had something to do with the Scots’ presence on Alvey lands. Their disappearance was suspicious.
Lady Gwendolyn said, ‘Ellan knows nothing of their disappearance.’
Henrik shrugged, looking sheepish. ‘Nevertheless—’
‘It’s fine, Lady Gwendolyn,’ Ellan said. ‘I’ll go and answer his questions. I need to see Elswyth for myself anyway to make certain she is...’ She had meant to say well, but how could one be well after a kidnapping?
Lady Gwendolyn nodded in understanding and put her arm around her. ‘Of course.’
* * *
Ellan left with the contingent of warriors for Banford early the next morning. They took one of the smaller boats that she learned was called a karvi. She was surprised that it was smaller than the other ships the Danes owned. It seemed plenty large to her with around a dozen benches. However, she had never even been on a fishing boat before, so she distrusted the thing.
Henrik held her arm to help her to board. Her knees knocked together after she stepped aboard and felt the sway of the water beneath her.
‘You’ll be fine.’ He smiled in reassurance and she was happy to see that it was a genuine smile and not one born of contempt at her inexperience. ‘Sit here near the middle.’
She nodded and allowed him to guide her to the middle of the ship where she took a seat as the other men practically vaulted over the sides as if they had been born to the vessel. The dozen men took their places both on the benches in front of her and behind her. Two of Lady Gwendolyn’s warriors walked out into the water behind the longship, using their great strength to push them off. The boat glided on the surface of the river and then took off with a jolt as the men took hold of their oars and plunged the paddled ends into the murky water. Her stomach tumbled at the unfamiliar sensation of floating. Tilting her face up to the morning sun, she closed her eyes and imagined this was what a bird must feel when she flew. It was very freeing to have the cool air caressing her cheeks as she floated along with the rhythmic sounds of the oars cutting through the water, taking them closer to Banford with each stroke.
A snickering at her side brought her quickly back down to land. Opening her eyes, she glared at the source. Henrik had taken the seat beside her at mid-ship, the morning sun giving his hair a burnished halo.
‘It wasn’t my intention to disturb you.’ He gave her a crooked grin and it appeared to be friendly rather than impudent.
She nodded and decided to humour him. ‘’Tis my first time on a boat,’ she said, pulling the fur cloak Lady Gwendolyn had loaned her tighter about her shoulders.
‘I can tell. Let me help you. Look.’ He slapped his own shoulder and indicated that she should look at his back. ‘You’re sitting too stiffly. You’ll be sore by midday.’ He softened his shoulders a bit and his back bowed very slightly. ‘If you relax, you can allow yourself to drift with the river and its turns instead of fighting them.’
He was probably making too much of her posture, but placating him wouldn’t cost her anything, so she modelled his pose. Her hips immediately seemed to sink down a bit, making it easier to sway with the motion of the water. ‘It does help. Thank you.’
‘My name is Henrik.’ He smiled again.
‘Aye, I know. You’re one of Aevir’s men. Thank you, Henrik.’
The warrior was wide of shoulder with muscular arms, though he was a bit on the thin side, without the filled-out frame Aevir possessed, probably due to his youth. His nose was well formed and his mouth seemed to perpetually curve in a grin. His eyes were blue with specks of brown and perhaps set a smidge too far apart on his face, but he was still handsome. His beard was short and well kept, except it hadn’t filled in well yet. She gave him what she hoped passed for a smile, though she was still too concerned about Elswyth to feel much joy.
A flicker of interest appeared in his eyes, and his chest puffed out the slightest bit. ‘You’ve noticed me.’
She flushed. It was Aevir she had been busy noticing. She had seen Henrik many times sitting with Aevir or on the sparring field at his side. ‘I...I notice all the newcomers—’
He chuckled and said, ‘I’m only teasing you. I shouldn’t when you’re concerned for your sister.’
She nodded, but couldn’t resist her continued study of the man. No other Dane had been so friendly with her. He couldn’t be more than twenty winters. How old was Aevir, for that matter? Much to her consternation, her mind was able to instantly conjure up a perfect image of Aevir...just as it had every night as she lay in bed trying not to think of him. His face spoke of experience and a hint of bitter knowledge, but he wasn’t old. Perhaps twenty and five or so. Did five years make such a difference in a man? In many ways, Henrik was his complete opposite.
Henrik glanced back down at her and she dropped her gaze, lest she give encouragement to him.
‘Aevir has been kind to take me under his command.’
Realising that this might be an excellent opportunity to learn more about the Danes, as well as to keep her thoughts occupied so she didn’t worry constantly about Elswyth, she forced herself to talk to him and found that he was rather pleasant. Unlike some of the rowdier Danes, he seemed mellow and was easy to converse with. He wasn’t arrogant, though he didn’t mind boasting about the occasional battle, and he was quick to ask her questions about her own life. The conversation flowed so smoothly that it was afternoon before she knew it.
The warriors rowed the ship towards the muddy bank until one of the men in front jumped out to splash through the shallow water near the shore. He held a lead line and pulled them until the bottom of the ship jolted across the sandy bottom.
‘We are to take a break,’ Henrik responded to her questioning look. He blushed charmingly as he stood and gently took hold of her elbow to guide her over to the side of the ship. All of the other men seemed to be looking at her strangely. Henrik jumped over the side and took hold of her waist, turning neatly to place her on the shore so that she didn’t get her clothing wet. When she stood mutely wondering at the strange tinge of colour high on his cheeks, the pink turned to red. ‘You can...’ he gestured towards a copse of trees ‘...see to your needs.’
Her eyes widened as she finally understood that this stop was for her. Most of the other men had stayed in the boat. It was her turn to blush when she realised that they wouldn’t need to leave it to relieve themselves. She was probably the sole reason they had stopped. Turning blindly in embarrassment, she hurried to the thicket of trees and made certain that she was well hidden before seeing to her personal needs.
