Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Brecc passed through the wide gate and exited the royal estate. The sun was slowly rising above the horizon, casting a pale-blue light over the mist hanging across the River Avon. Pulling his cloak more closely around his shoulders, he followed the path that ran along the estate walls until he reached the fork that led to the bridge and the entrance to town. A goose honked, and above Brecc's head, a V formation of the large birds sailed southward, no doubt seeking warmer climes. If Brecc had wings, he'd be tempted to follow after them.

Moving away from the gravel path, he crossed the ice-crusted grass to the riverbank. The sound of his footsteps followed him, magnified by the imprisoning mist. He would be hard-pressed to see much of the river this morning. At least, not until the mist rose. It would have been wiser to wait, but after a fitful night, he'd been more than ready to quit his pallet and set his mind on something other than a petite young lady who had so fully captured his attention that he had deigned dance three caroles, and who had made him smile more in one evening than he had done in the previous six months.

He'd spent half the night attempting to reverse whatever charm Aisley had placed upon him. Less than one day in her presence should not cause his thoughts to deviate so fully from their normal course. Mayhap she'd actually placed her spell upon him in her youth and it had been lying dormant during the intervening years. Now that he thought on it, his memories of her observant nature, her burning desire to aid her father, and her expressive green eyes were more firmly seated than most recollections from so long ago. But those memories did not stir the same feelings in him that he'd experienced while holding her hand last night.

A dog barked in the distance, and from the other side of the royal estate wall, a cockerel crowed. It would not be long before the sounds of servants starting their work in the king's stables and kitchen broke up the steady rush of running water coming from the river. Releasing a frustrated sigh, Brecc started along the riverbank. If he were fortunate, the morning mist would rise by the time he reached the riverbend, and the waterway would open to his view.

He spotted the small hooded figure as soon as he rounded the bend. The person was bent over at the water's edge and appeared to be gathering something on the ground. Disinclined to enter into a conversation with a stranger, Brecc veered right, moving off the path so as to pass by without interrupting the other person's activity. He'd taken only four steps through the damp grass when his foot landed upon a stick. The wood cracked, and with a cry of alarm, the figure at the riverbank leaped upright, causing the hood of their cloak to drop. A curtain of copper-colored hair tumbled out.

"Aisley!" Brecc froze. "Whatever are you doing here?"

She placed a hand to her chest. "Currently, attempting to calm my racing heart. As of a few moments ago, gathering cowslip."

"Gathering cowslip?" Brecc stepped closer, and for the first time, he noticed a small basket lying at Aisley's feet that appeared to be filled with greenery.

"I could hardly believe it when I saw it." Enthusiasm rang in her voice. "Cowslip usually blooms in April and May, but just look at this." She picked up a stem from the basket and held it out to him. He caught the flowers' faint perfume. Or mayhap it was Aisley's perfume. He could not rightly tell. "Every part of the plant can be used for one ailment or another."

Brecc shook his head slightly, as though the action would somehow clear his mind.

"You are out here in the early hours of the morning to gather plants all alone?"

"I do not make a habit of requesting a servant to assist me at this hour, especially as I rarely see another soul." She cocked her head to one side and looked at him curiously. "Why are you here?"

Over the last few weeks, an inner voice had sounded a warning, and experience had told him that it should not be ignored. Even to his own ears, the reason sounded ludicrous. But it was better than the alternative. He was not prepared to tell Aisley that he was here because thoughts of her had prevented his sleeping.

"I enjoy coming to the river when it is quiet," he said. "It is a good time to watch the watercraft arriving."

She was still studying him. "Is there a particular boat you are waiting for?"

Brecc hesitated. How much more should he share? And how had she gained such remarkable perception? "Might I suggest that of the two of us, you are the one better versed in mind reading?"

Her smile was so slight, he barely caught it. "When one prefers to sit and watch over participating, it becomes easier to catch things that are not spoken."

It was a phenomenon he was all too familiar with. And if he were being fully honest with himself, that same type of instinct told him that he could trust Aisley. He did not wish to alarm her, but she was a native of Wessex. She knew the threat the Vikings posed to their people, of the continued skirmishes occurring along their borders. His concerns should come as no real surprise.

"Reports recently reached King Alfred that the Viking chief, Guthrum, is amassing a large number of men along Wessex's border," he said. "The king has scouts monitoring the Vikings' movements and is confident that they would get word to him should the Vikings' movements develop into anything truly threatening."

"But you are less sure," she guessed.

"I have seen how quickly the Vikings can rally. If Guthrum breaks the oath he made after the Battle of Wilton and chooses to launch an attack from the water, his men could travel the Avon far more quickly than a Saxon could ride to Chippenham, no matter how speedy his mount."

She turned to look downriver.

The water was clear of all boats. Brecc prayed it would stay that way.

"This Guthrum," she said. "He is the one who led the Vikings at Wilton, is he not?"

"He is."

She remained silent. Brecc waited, sensing her warring emotions.

"Do you know how my father died?" she asked softly.

He had promised to answer her questions, but it would not be easy. For either of them. "Allow me to carry your basket," he said, "and we shall walk a short distance together."

She handed him the basket filled with cowslip, and he offered her his other arm. When she'd slid her hand around it, he led her back to the path.

"I spoke to your father twice before he died," he began. "The first time was when I sought him out after our first day's ride so that I might give him the herbs you sent."

"How was he then?"

"The journey had been difficult for him, but your gift lifted his spirits immensely. He spoke very fondly of you."

"I am not sure that I have yet thanked you for making that delivery," she said. "It was very impertinent of me to ask it of you."

"It was my honor. I saw how much the tea eased your father's discomfort."

"Did it truly?"

He nodded. "The next time I saw him, we were on the battlefield. He was weak but insistent that he participate. He held the line with Wulfhere beside him. The Vikings were unprepared for the heart with which we fought that day. Ultimately, they were forced to retreat."

Aisley's wide eyes met his. "But the Saxons were not the victors."

"We let down our guard." Bitterness filled his voice. "It should not have happened. When the Vikings retreated, our men—exhausted yet exhilarated—broke ranks to celebrate." He paused as the memories of that awful scene came flooding back. "I saw your father. He had given his all."

"It was the illness that took him, then?"

Brecc shook his head. "The Vikings returned, and we were unprepared for them. They swept through the battlefield like howling fiends, slaughtering everyone in their path. Your father was too weak to fight or to run."

Silent tears were rolling down Aisley's face. "He did what he set out to do," she whispered.

"Aye." He stopped, set the basket on the ground, and raised his hand to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks. She was cold, and he longed to comfort her but did not know how. "He was a good and honorable man, Aisley. He fought for his home, family, and people, and loth though he was to leave you, I believe he was at peace with knowing that his life would likely end on that quest."

"No matter whether it was his illness that took him or the actions of an invader." Her voice broke.

"They both take equal amounts of courage, I believe."

She managed a watery smile. "The last words he spoke to me were of courage. He said that we must be brave together."

"Losing your father at a young age most certainly required that."

She looked up at him then, the discernment he was beginning to recognize shining in her tear-filled eyes. "How old were you?"

"Eight years of age. My father was an adviser to King Aethelwulf. He and the king died within a few months of each other. As you know, the kingdom then fell to King Aethelwulf's older son. Prince Alfred was only ten years of age at the time, and as we were experiencing similar losses, we spent much time together." He shrugged. "It seemed natural to continue that close association even after he became king."

"You were brave together," she said.

"I suppose that is true."

She took a deep, unsteady breath, then picked up the basket. "It might be best if I return to the longhouse before my mother and sister awaken."

Brecc nodded. "Even if you return bearing a bounteous crop of cowslip, I believe that would be wise."

Her tears had stopped, but he suspected her emotions were too fragile for further conversation, so without a word, he offered her his arm, and they started back the way they had come.

Already, the mist was rising, leaving everything in its wake dripping with moisture. A loud plop sounded from the river.

Aisley started, and Brecc gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "A duck diving for its first meal of the day," he said. "There is a whole family of them living beneath the willows over there." He pointed to the large tree hanging over the river. "At first, they were rather loud in their disapproval of my being on their portion of the riverbank each morning, but we've smoothed things over, and they now tolerate my presence without a single quack."

This time, Aisley's smile reached her eyes, and Brecc felt the tightness in his chest ease. He'd likely shared more than he should have with her, but she had lived with the weight of not knowing about her father's final days for too long. She might need time to ponder what he'd told her and to grieve anew, but he was fully convinced that Aisley was every bit as courageous as her father. She would manage as nobly as Kendryek had.

"I thank you for talking to me so freely." They were approaching the entrance to the royal estate. Her feet slowed to a stop, and she withdrew her arm from his.

"If my account has caused you pain, I am truly sorry."

She shook her head. "Your show of trust and understanding means more than I can say."

"I believe you have exhibited similar amounts of those qualities."

"Then we are even." She smiled again, and his heart warmed. "Good day to you, Brecc."

"Good day, Aisley. Oh, and watch for the cats patrolling near the stables. If caught unawares, they will make almost as much noise as the ducks."

She nodded. "A valuable warning. I shall avoid all creatures, great and small, and wish you a similarly quiet return."