Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Brecc cracked open the barn door and peered outside. The sounds of battle continued from the great hall, muffled by the thick wall that now separated them. The king stood at his side, waiting. Behind them, the cattle looked on in silence, their eyes shining eerily in the darkness.

"Are we clear?" King Alfred asked.

"It appears that way." They should move quickly. Time was against them, and Rheged and the queen had obviously made their escape already. Yet Brecc hesitated. If there was anything worse than leading the king into the unknown, it was doing so unarmed. Brecc turned to scour the barn. The sliver of moonlight entering through the crack in the door illuminated the nearest wall. Three buckets, a spade, and two pitchforks. Crossing the short distance between them in three long paces, he grabbed a pitchfork.

"I will take the other one," the king said.

Brecc passed the rudimentary tool to the king. "If we make our way to the stables, we should be able to acquire mounts."

King Alfred nodded grimly. "It will not take Guthrum long to realize the king of Wessex is no longer in the great hall. He will redirect his attack, and the stables will be his next target."

Brecc's thoughts immediately flew to Aisley. Had she done as he'd asked and gone directly to the stables? Had there been enough time for her to flee? And what of Rheged and the queen? He tightened his grip on the pitchfork. This was not the time for worry; this was the time to act.

Pulling the door open a little more, Brecc paused for two heartbeats, then stepped outside. "No one in sight," he whispered.

King Alfred grunted his approval. "Then, we go."

Keeping to the shadows, they hastened along the length of the building. Shouts and screams filled the air. Occasionally, running figures flitted in and out of view, their identities and destinations unknown. A clash of blades sounded from the direction of the great hall's main doors. Men's shouts followed. And then the clang of more blades making impact. There was no way of knowing who was involved or how long it would last, but any skirmish that drew the Vikings' attention away from locating the king was welcome.

"Now is our chance, Sire," Brecc whispered.

The king needed no further prompt. Leaving the safety of the wall, he started across the central square with Brecc matching him stride for stride. They were three-quarters of the way across when Brecc heard a familiar crackle. It was a sound he appreciated when sitting around a campfire; it was one he dreaded during a conflict.

"They've lit a fire."

"I smell the smoke." The king glanced over his shoulder at the great hall. "Where is it coming from?"

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a gust of frigid air hit them, and then, like a newly released wild beast, flames roared across the stable roof, consuming the thatch and sending ash spiraling upward. The doors to the stable burst open, and the shriek of terrified horses cut through the groans of weakening timber.

Brecc dropped the pitchfork he was holding and broke into a sprint. A cluster of people stumbled out of the stables, a few of them leading horses. The animals were tugging wildly at their ropes. Moments later, more horses appeared, bolting for freedom across the courtyard and grassy area.

Weaving through the frantic cluster of men, women, and horses near the doors, Brecc entered the burning building. "Rinc!" he yelled. At least a dozen more mounts tore past him in a flurry of hooves. "Rinc!"

"Over 'ere, sire!"

The boy's voice came from his right. Lifting his arm so it covered his mouth and nose, Brecc ran down the narrow path between the stalls. Already, the smoke was making visibility all but impossible.

"I need two fast mounts, lad," he called. "Do you have any left?"

A thud at Brecc's right had him pivoting. The whites of Rinc's eyes shone through the gloom. The boy was tugging at a rope.

"This 'un, sire. I reckon 'e's the strongest charger in the stable, but 'e's got 'imself in a bind by tanglin' 'is lead rope through the wooden slats."

"Fetch me a knife."

"'E'll bolt, sire. The moment Forca senses freedom, 'e'll be gone."

"Let me worry about that," Brecc said. "A knife, lad. Quickly." With a cough, the boy disappeared, only to reappear moments later carrying a short-handled blade. "Good," Brecc said. "Now, listen closely." Rinc coughed again but appeared to be listening. "I need you to pass me the lead rope of the next horse you come upon. The moment I have the rope in hand, I'll cut Forca free and will lead them both out."

"Beggin' yer pardon, sire, but given 'ow upset they are, they're not goin' to take kindly to walkin' nicely."

"I realize that." It was going to take every ounce of strength Brecc possessed to hold on to two frantic horses. He could only hope that King Alfred would be in a position to help as soon as Brecc reached the doors and the horses smelled freedom.

"Hand me one of the ropes." The king's voice cut through the horses' shrill cries and the creaking roof.

Brecc straightened, relief coursing through him. The king had followed him inside. "You heard King Alfred, lad."

The boy's gasp produced another coughing attack, but he scuttled out of the stall.

"There's no time to saddle them, Sire," Brecc warned. With one hand firmly grasped around Forca's lead rope, he placed Rinc's blade against the portion trapped in the slats.

"I am aware." There was no hiding the stark reality of their situation. Above the shrieks and thuds, they could hear the voices of the other stablehands working to free the last of the horses from the other end of the stables. "There is no more time for any of us. The servants must leave when we do." As if to underscore the king's words, the roof above them cracked, and a shower of sparks rained down on the straw-covered floor. Instantly, the straw ignited. "Fire in the stables!" King Alfred shouted. "Everybody out!"

"'Ere, Yer Majesty," Rinc wheezed, staggered up to the king and handing him the rope of a white horse.

"Outside, lad," the king urged, taking the rope. "Make no delay!" Flames were licking up the edge of a nearby stall. The horse on the other end of the rope reared, but the king held firm. "Brecc?"

One more slice and the rope in Brecc's hand gave way. The charger backed into the corner of his stall, his hooves pounding the hard floor wildly.

"I have him, Sire," Brecc said, wrapping his fingers more firmly around the rope. The stallion shook his head violently. Brecc felt it all the way to his arm socket. Gritting his teeth, he tugged at the rope. "Now is not the time to allow fear to overcome your courage, Forca."

Two more newly freed horses cantered out of the stable. The king followed, leading the skittish palfrey in his custody. With an anxious snort, Forca trembled.

Allowing his instinct to overrule logic, Brecc released his hold on the rope with one hand and set it on the stallion's shoulder. "Steady, boy," he said, willing the cough that threatened to erupt to subside. "We can escape this inferno together if you'll allow it." Forca shook his head again, but notwithstanding the rapidly encroaching fire, his quivering seemed to lessen a fraction. "We don't have time for a long discussion," Brecc continued, attempting to keep the urgency out of his voice. "But if you will behave nicely, we shall speak at length once we are gone from here."

Barely daring to hope, he lowered his hand from Forca's neck and set it below his other on the rope. Slowly, he backed out of the stall, steadily pulling the rope as he walked. Forca shifted uneasily, and then he took a few hesitant steps toward him. Another timber cracked. Forca reared, his nostrils flaring.

"Come, Forca," Brecc said, pulling the rope more sharply. "It is time."

Miraculously, the stallion responded. He stepped out of the stall and was soon trotting toward the open door with Brecc running beside him.

Brecc's lungs were burning, and the air outside was only marginally better than the air within the stables. Straining to see through the swirling smoke, he searched for the white palfrey the king had been leading. King Alfred had left the stables only moments before Brecc; he would not have gone far unless he'd been forced to. Setting his hand on the hilt of the dagger Rinc had given him, Brecc scoured the area. Had the Vikings set the stables alight and then left to do the same to the other buildings in the royal estate, or were they waiting nearby, watching for the king to appear?

"Brecc."

The low voice had come from his right. Guiding Forca in a slow circle, Brecc studied the area more carefully. Movement near a large tree caught his eye, and then he saw a patch of white appear from behind the trunk. Forca snorted. There was a responding nicker.

Unwilling to give away the king's location to anyone else who might be watching, Brecc slowly walked the stallion toward the tree. The white palfrey materialized from the shadows, and on her back sat King Alfred.

"Your Majesty." Keeping his voice low, Brecc inclined his head. "You are mounted."

"Aye. The tree helped. The mare is still unnerved by the fire, so the sooner we are gone from here, the more likely it is that I shall remain seated."

"I am twice amazed, Sire. Riding bareback is no mean feat and is most certainly not how you were taught."

"And yet, have we not all tried it at one time or another?" The king paused. "You have ridden without a saddle, I assume."

"I have." Brecc eyed the stallion uneasily. He'd made his previous bareback escapades early in his youth, and he would prefer a gentler mount for this attempt, but given their current situation, he was fortunate to have a horse at all. He led Forca to the tree and tied the remaining portion of the lead rope to the lowest branch. "Any sign of Viking warriors nearby?"

"None that I have seen," the king said. "I saw the lad who assisted us stagger out of the stables. I pray he will survive. I pray all these people will survive." His voice cracked. "Am I in the wrong to abandon them in the midst of this awful destruction?"

Desperately wishing that Ormod were here to advise the king, Brecc placed a foot on a large knot in the tree's trunk and pulled himself up. "If you do not flee, there is no hope left for your people. The loss they experience today will be but a small taste of what is to come if the Vikings are allowed to rule Wessex."

"I go so that I may return," the king said.

"Your people will cling to that truth, Sire."

King Alfred released a troubled sigh. "Then, we shall have to ensure that it occurs."

Brecc slid his leg over Forca's back. The charger startled, dancing away from the tree. Wrapping his fingers through the horse's mane, Brecc dropped into a riding position. Forca's muscles rippled beneath him. Should he wish to, the stallion could unseat him in an instant. Brecc could only pray that the horse would choose a different response.

"Steady, boy." Reaching for the lead rope, Brecc pulled it free. Forca skittered away. Brecc dug his knees into the horse's sides. "Steady."

The palfrey nickered, and Forca's ears twitched. King Alfred wheeled his horse around so that it faced the estate gates standing open against a burning orange sky.

Brecc lowered himself over Forca's neck. "Whenever you are ready, Sire."

"We ride for Wessex," he called, and then his horse was galloping toward the exit.

Clutching a portion of the lead rope with one hand and Forca's mane with the other, Brecc tapped his heels to the horse's side. Moments later, he was flying across the ground in King Alfred's wake.

Warning shouts filled the air. People scattered. A single spear sailed past, narrowly missing the white palfrey's rump, but both horses continued undeterred. Up ahead, two Vikings stepped into their path, racing to pull the gates closed before the horses and their riders reached them. Hunched over the stallion's neck, Brecc gave him his head, reaching the gates half a horse length ahead of the king and three horse lengths ahead of the Vikings. Their mounts thundered through the exit. With shouts of frustration, the Vikings let another two spears fly, but both weapons fell short.

Taking the path that followed the river, they continued around the first bend. The cries of consternation behind them faded. Brecc raised his chin a fraction and inhaled an icy breath. They had no secure destination and no knowledge of where Rheged and the queen had gone. Many of the thegns were likely killed, and Aisley's fate was unbearably unsure. But the king of Wessex was alive and free. Notwithstanding the losses in Chippenham or what lay ahead, that was what Brecc must focus on now.