Chapter 10

Chapter 10

When Brecc arrived back at the thegn's longhouse, Rheged was out of his bed and donning his clothes for the day.

"You appear much improved," Brecc said.

"I am." He reached for his belt. "And though I appreciate how much Aisley's brew helped me, I am ready to eat some real food."

Brecc chuckled. If Rheged's renewed vigor had been an insufficient clue to his improved health, the return of his appetite was testament enough.

"How was the river?" Rheged asked.

"Quiet," Brecc replied.

Rheged grunted. "As it always is at this time of day."

"It's not that I wish it to be any different." Brecc dropped onto a nearby stool.

"It's just that you fear one day it will be," his friend finished for him.

"Think on it, Rheged. It is well known throughout Wessex that the king and all his closest men and warriors are here. For the Vikings, that means only one location must needs be attacked to decimate the Saxons' leadership."

"Guthrum took the danegeld. He made an oath to leave Wessex in peace."

"How much longer do you think that will last?" Brecc asked. "Until the gold is gone? Until their avarice overcomes their honor?" He rose and paced across the small room. "The Vikings have a history of breaking their oaths. It makes no difference which pagan god they pledge to, the oath means nothing to them when their coffers are empty. We have only to look to our neighbors, Mercia and Northumbria, to see that."

"What you say is true, but the king has men positioned at our borders. They will ensure the Vikings do not come upon us unawares."

Brecc ran his fingers through his hair. There was little point in pursuing this conversation. He and Rheged had exchanged a similar one when the royal party had first arrived in Chippenham almost a fortnight ago. Little had changed since then. Brecc's disquiet remained, as did Rheged's belief that all would be well. Thus far, Rheged seemed to have the right of it. But Brecc could not shake his conviction that should it happen, news of an imminent Viking invasion would travel far more quickly by word of mouth along the river than by a single scout navigating the countryside on horseback. The men who plied the waters to make a living were a tight-knit group. Not only would they pass along such a warning quickly, but they would also hasten to remove themselves and their boats from harm's way.

"I pray you are right, my friend," Brecc said.

"I am. You shall see." Rheged gave Brecc's shoulder a good-natured slap. "But whilst we are on the subject of rumors, I should like to know why you unexpectedly chose to take up dancing on the one night I was not there to witness it."

Brecc glared at him. "Who have you been speaking with?"

"Ah!" Rheged grinned. "Surely you are aware that one of the most important rules of rumors is that one never shares the identity of one's informant."

"That is ridiculous."

"So is the notion that you willingly danced the carole."

Brecc raised his eyes to the ceiling. "You were gone. I took your place on the dance floor. You should be thanking me."

"For enjoying the evening whilst I lay languishing upon my pallet? I think not." Rheged leaned forward. "Who was the favored young lady? My informant was rather vague on that subject."

"How very unfortunate for you." Brecc slid his arm beneath his pallet and withdrew his sword. "I am scheduled for some sword practice. Do you wish to join me?"

"That was a remarkably blunt change of subject."

Brecc slid his sword beneath his belt and started for the door. "Are you coming?"

"Aye. On one condition." Rheged folded his arms and waited until Brecc turned back to face him. "If I win, you tell me who you danced with."

"Agreed."

Rheged's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Agreed? Just like that?"

"You heard me."

"Very well." Rheged claimed his sword from beneath his own pallet. "Prepare to tell me everything."

Brecc smothered a grin. Under normal conditions, he and Rheged were fairly evenly matched competitors. But these were not normal conditions. Brecc's overarching concern about Guthrum's plans and his recent emotionally charged conversation with Aisley had left him in desperate need of a challenging physical outlet. He would fight especially hard today. And Rheged had not eaten for over twenty-four hours. Brecc reached for the door. "Never fear, you may concede at any time."

Aisley completed her second circuit around the inner walls of the royal estate, having barely noticed the lush greenery, the half dozen buildings, or the clear blue sky. Her thoughts were on her father—on what he must have suffered during the long journey to Wilton and the battle there and on how much she missed his steadying presence. Memories of his voice, his smile, and his kindness filled her and melded with words, expressions, and gestures she'd shared with Brecc these last two days.

Not many gentlemen would have been so forthright with a lady. Somehow, he had managed to separate the gruesome reality of what he'd experienced with the information she'd so desperately desired. He had shared more with her during a short walk along the riverbank than Wulfhere had shared with her in six years. Without resorting to descriptions that would invite nightmares, he had offered her enough to bring a blessed level of closure to a chapter of her life—of her father's life—that had been unsettled for so long.

Gratitude welled within her, and she wiped away another tear. She had shed many since escaping her mother, Diera, and the other women in the longhouse. Thankfully, her mother had been too pleased by her unexpected collection of cowslip to question her further on her early-morning outing. For her part, Diera had been so fully engrossed in an elaborate tapestry she and some of the other women were creating that she'd barely acknowledged Aisley's return to the longhouse. It was just as well. Their distraction had enabled Aisley to slip away again, this time to walk the estate and sort through her thoughts alone.

She reached a large oak. Slowing, she set her hand against the gnarled bark, drawing strength from the old tree's solid presence. Her eyes stung. She closed them, raising her head to face the sky above. The cold air caused her cheeks to tingle.

"What is it this time, Aisley?" At the sound of her brother's voice, Aisley's eyes flew open. "Are you plotting a way to add oak bark to one of your tinctures, or are you merely daydreaming?"

In her present condition, Wulfhere's sarcasm cut deeper than it should. "Neither. I am simply taking a moment to enjoy nature."

"In these frigid temperatures?" Wulfhere eyed her disapprovingly. "Your nose and eyes are so red, you have likely done damage to them."

If she had damaged any part of her body during this day's activities, it was her heart. Deep sorrow would certainly do that. The facial discoloration her tears had caused would fade, but mayhap it was for the best that Wulfhere thought she was suffering from the cold.

"You are right," she said. "I should return to the longhouse."

He grunted, seemingly surprised that she had agreed so quickly. "I am going that way. I shall walk with you."

They started toward the women's longhouse in silence. Aisley's feelings were too raw to discuss their father, but as the silence between them lengthened, she felt compelled to say something. "Have you enjoyed the royal festivities as much as you imagined you would?"

"Arriving late certainly put me at a disadvantage," he grumbled. "The best accommodations were already taken, and I have yet to be introduced to many of the guests. But the food and drink have been adequate."

Adequate? That was hardly the word Aisley would have used to describe the feast they had enjoyed the night before. "I thought last evening was quite splendid."

"I am sure you did." He eyed her curiously. "Was there any particular reason that Ealdorman Brecc asked you to partner him in the carole?"

"Because he wished to, I imagine." Aisley had self-doubts aplenty on that score, but a modicum of pride prevented her from sharing them with her arrogant brother. "I thought you were too far into your cups to notice."

Wulfhere scowled. "Not so far gone as all that. And I daresay I was not the only one to wonder why he would single you out."

When he could have had his pick of any of the other ladies in the room. The words went unspoken, but they hung in the air between them. After all, what gentleman in his right mind would consider a petite young woman with reddish hair and a liberal sprinkle of freckles across her nose when he could choose a tall, elegant lady with hair the color of ripened wheat and skin as white as snow?

"If you saw him approach our table, you surely know that Diera had already been asked by another."

"I noticed," he said, "and it caused me to realize that I have neglected acquiring suitors for you both for far too long." He appeared unusually thoughtful. "Two advantageous marriages would go a long way to replenishing the family's dwindling finances."

Shock rendered her momentarily speechless, but when she found her voice, it shook with indignation. "You would sell your sisters to the highest bidders to cover your mismanagement of funds?"

"You know nothing of my financial dealings."

"I know enough to recognize excessive spending on clothing and the horses in our stables," she said. "I also am fully aware that the people of Wiltshire never suffered from so much poverty when father was ealdorman."

Wulfhere reached for her arm and pulled her to a halt before him. "Leave Father out of this discussion," he growled.

"Why?" She thought she had cried herself dry, but tears were pricking the back of her eyes once more. "If he was so important to you, do what you know he would have wished you do. What he would be doing if he were still here."

"And just what do you think that is?"

"Taking care of the people under your stewardship," she said.

He released her arm with a snort. "Further proof that you speak out of ignorance. I have taken care of you, Diera, and Mother since the day Father died. And I shall continue to do so by finding you and Diera wealthy husbands."

Aisley was beginning to feel nauseated. "And the common people of Wiltshire? What of them?"

"Their misfortune can be placed firmly at the feet of King Alfred," he said. "He was the one who ordered the men to enter a battle when he was incapable of leading them to victory. He was the one who drained Wessex of all its wealth to pay for that mistake. Wiltshire lacks men to work the fields and money in the coffers because of the miscalculations of our king."

No hint of sorrow for their suffering. No concession that he might have done more to ease it. Six years before, King Alfred had been young and inexperienced, certainly, but if Brecc's account of the Battle of Wilton was to be believed, it was the men who had broken ranks and begun a premature celebration, not the monarch.

Revulsion clawed at her throat. "You accept no blame and would malign the king while staying as a guest in his residence?"

"I speak the truth as I see it." He lowered his voice. "And believe me, I am not the only nobleman in Wessex to feel this way."

"And what will you and these others of whom you speak do when the ring-giver offers you each his gifts at the banquet this evening?"

"We shall accept them willingly." Wulfhere began walking again, crossing the short remaining distance to the women's longhouse in long strides and forcing Aisley to run to keep up with him. "Only a fool would turn down such a gift."

"It is given in exchange for loyalty to the king," she reminded him.

"Aye. And he has it." He waited for Aisley to take hold of the doorlatch. "For now, at least."

"Wulfhere!"

"Good day, Aisley," he said.

She watched him walk away. Her heart that had ached so acutely such a short time ago now felt numb.