Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Aisley did not know how long they had been traveling; she simply knew she could no longer feel her feet, her fingers, or her face. Wulfhere and her mother rode side by side several paces ahead of her and Diera. No one spoke. Every ounce of their energy was being exerted on staying upright in their saddles.

Hunched over against the cold wind, Diera tipped to her right and then caught herself. She moaned.

"Wulfhere," Aisley rasped. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time a little louder. "We must find somewhere to rest."

Wulfhere turned his head and scowled. "As I have told you twice before, there are no inns to be had anywhere near here. We have no choice but to continue."

"There are farmhouses." The squat buildings were difficult to make out in the darkness, but Aisley had noted at least three they had already passed, located not far from the road. She glanced at Diera again. Her sister had yet to lift her head, and Aisley's concern for her welfare was rising. "I do not think Diera can last much longer."

"Diera?" With a mumble of frustration, their mother wheeled her horse around and rode up next to Diera. "It would behoove you to show a little more fortitude, young lady. None of us is enjoying this experience."

Diera did not respond. Instead, she listed slightly to the left.

Their mother reached for her arm and shook it slightly. "Do you hear me, Diera?"

Aisley's chest tightened. "It must be the cold, Mother."

"How long has she been like this?" The irritation that had laced their mother's voice moments before was now alarm.

"I noticed her swaying in her saddle soon after we rode through the last village."

"That was at least six furlongs ago." She reached for Diera's hand on the reins. "Her fingers are like ice."

"She has a blanket just like the rest of us," Wulfhere said.

"For Diera, one blanket was obviously not enough," their mother said. "We must find somewhere where she can truly warm up."

Wulfhere gestured toward the open fields that surrounded them. "If you know of a nearby inn, I would welcome the suggestion."

"If we cannot find shelter, we can at least light a fire," Aisley said.

"Need I remind you that we were forced to make this excursion with nothing but the clothes we wore to the banquet on our backs." Wulfhere's tone was curt. "No coins, no food, and no flint."

"Then we must find a farmhouse forthwith," their mother said in a rare show of support for Aisley. "And until we reach one, Diera must have your blanket as well as her own."

With a disparaging mutter, Wulfhere drew the blanket off his shoulders and tossed it toward Diera. Aisley caught one corner before it fell between their mounts. Urging her horse closer, she passed it to their mother, and between the two of them, they settled it over Diera's head and shoulders.

"Not much longer, Diera," Aisley said. "We shall have you indoors soon."

"We must hasten, Wulfhere." Their mother had yet to leave Diera's side. "Your sister's condition is serious."

"As will mine be now that I have no covering," he grumbled. "You realize that even if we find a place, the inhabitants are likely sleeping off their Twelfth Night celebrations and will not even hear us at their door."

"They will answer," Aisley said. "They are sure to be farm laborers, and as soon as the sun rises, they must be up tending to the animals." She tightened her grip on the straps. "As hard as it may be for you to comprehend, they cannot afford to drink themselves into a stupor."

Wulfhere glared at her, but Aisley ignored him. Urging her horse into a trot, she started down the road. It did not matter if Wulfhere kept pace with her or stayed back with Diera and their mother. Diera's situation was dire, and Aisley would not stop until she'd found someone who would take them in.

The moon's position in the sky had shifted, but daylight—with its accompanying easement in temperature—was still hours away. Brecc flexed his stiff fingers still entangled in the charger's mane. Fleeing the royal estate on a horse without a saddle was exacting a heavy toll on his body. His back and thighs ached from holding his position during their race from danger. Even the more leisurely pace the king had set since they'd left Chippenham behind was more exacting than it would have been had he been seated on his saddle.

"What say you, Brecc?" The king kept his voice low even though they had not passed another person or dwelling in many furlongs. "Is that a settlement up ahead?"

Brecc peered into the darkness. Moonlight illuminated a short section of the road, outlining the hedgerows and trees on either side of them. Beyond that, a hazy gray filled the space where fields surely lay. "I have yet to see any buildings, Sire."

"The sound of the running river has increased," the king said. "We are riding closer to it now, and if memory serves, it cuts through several villages and small towns. I would wager we shall come upon one shortly." He paused. "We must acquire saddles and bridles there."

Brecc's aching muscles wholeheartedly concurred, but his head was less sure. "As eager as I am to be seated on a well-fitted saddle, I wonder how we might locate such things at this time of night and in an unfamiliar community."

"I have pondered the same," the king said. "An inn, I believe, is most likely to serve our purposes." He glanced at Brecc. "I assume you carry no purse."

"No, Sire."

King Alfred grunted. "A hard lesson for us both. We would do well to never attend a banquet without one attached to our belts again."

"Aye." Brecc had already spent far too long ruing the loss of his own mount, sword, purse, and cloak. The lack of each of those things had already proven to be critically detrimental. "It will be difficult to attain the supplies we need without coins."

"Difficult, yes. But not impossible." The king's voice became thoughtful. "I imagine there is a merchant or innkeeper about who would be eager to procure clothing as fine as ours in exchange for simpler apparel. Mayhap that same fellow would be willing to offer a couple of saddles, bridles, and supplies for a royal ring."

"Are you willing to offer those things to another?"

"I am," the king said. "Such an exchange will be doubly beneficial. It will not only aid us in gaining the items we need, but it will also allow us to continue our journey with a level of anonymity. The Vikings will be looking for a king and his escort. By the time the sun comes up, there should be no sign of either one. Our best hope for reaching our final destination is to appear like any other traveler on the roads."

"You have a place of refuge in mind, then?"

"I do."

The king offered nothing more, and Brecc questioned him no further. It was enough that they could claim a direction.

Barely resisting the urge to pinch her nose, Aisley took a breath through her mouth. The smell of damp wool and sheep droppings was so strong, it was hard to think of anything else. But she must. Discovering the shepherd's hut so soon after beginning her search for shelter had been a miracle, and although the flock of sheep filling the other side of the one-room structure were pungent companions, they also exuded warmth. A warmth they all—particularly Diera—desperately needed.

By a single candle's light, Wulfhere stepped over something on the ground and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "By all that is holy, Aisley, I do not think you could have chosen a situation any less inviting than this one."

Biting back her retort, Aisley turned away from him and tucked her own blanket over the two already wrapped around her sister's shivering body. On Diera's other side, their mother was rubbing Diera's hands between her own.

"Take this fer the young lady in distress, mistress." The old shepherd pulled a sheepskin off the pallet where he'd obviously been sleeping and offered it to Aisley. "There ain't nothin' warmer."

"You are very kind," she said, "but it seems wrong that after disturbing your sleep, we should now also take your bedding."

He clucked his tongue against his almost toothless gums. "'Tis nothin' mistress. It's not often that I 'ave company, so I 'ave little more than a refuge from the cold to offer ya, but such as it is, yer welcome to share."

"My mother, sister, and I are most grateful," Aisley said. "My brother may yet choose to remain outside with the horses, but I would not have you concern yourself if he makes that decision."

"Surely you will not do that, Wulfhere." Their mother turned her concerned expression from Diera to Wulfhere. "It is perishing cold outside."

Wulfhere scowled at Aisley before responding. "You have nothing to fear, Mother. As unfortunate as our current circumstances may be, I am fully aware that duty demands that I remain indoors with you."

Their mother offered a sigh of relief. "I will feel much better if you are here."

Aisley attempted to swallow her aversion. If her brother cared one jot about duty, he would not be with them at all. He would be at the royal estate, fighting beside the other thegns in defense of their king. Her thoughts returned to Brecc, and for the first time since fleeing Chippenham, she did not push them away. She pictured him as she'd last seen him, standing before her, his dark eyes claiming hers as he begged her to leave. A lump formed in her throat. She had fled, but what of him? Had he escaped the Viking attack, or was he lying wounded—or worse—on the floor of the great hall? She bit her lower lip, willing her tears to stay away. How long would she have to wait to learn Brecc's fate?

He had promised he would come to Trowbridge. God willing, if Diera was sufficiently recovered, they could be on their way again by morning and would be home by day's end. Once there, they would be obliged to wait for news. If the king had been captured or killed, word would reach them soon enough. They might not immediately learn the fate of all the thegns who had stayed to fight with the king, but until she knew differently, she would pray with all her heart that he was safe and well.

A single tear escaped. She swiped it away, grateful that the light was too poor for others to notice.

"Aisley?" Diera's voice was so weak, it was little more than a whisper.

"Diera, can you hear me?" Their mother paused her chafing of Diera's hands long enough to smooth her fingers over Diera's hair instead.

"Aisley?" Diera said again.

Wulfhere had stopped his pacing and stood watching.

Aisley reached for Diera's hand beneath the sheepskin cover. "I am here."

"I ..." Her brow creased as though forming the words was difficult. "I am not so terribly cold as I was."

This time Aisley allowed the tears that had filled her eyes to fall. "That is good, Diera. That is very good."

Diera moved her head in a slight nod. "Yes," she murmured. "So much better."

Aisley squeezed her hand gently and then raised her eyes to meet the shepherd's. "We are indebted to you, shepherd. Your generosity has likely saved my sister's life."

The older man shifted his feet awkwardly. "The name's Borden, mistress. An' I'm right glad t' be of service." He hesitated. "I've a crock of milk in the corner. Won't take me long t' start a fire and get it heatin' up. Warm milk works wonders, it does, when my lambs get caught out in the cold. Mayhap, the young lady would benefit from some too."

Aisley looked to her mother, who nodded her approval. "I thank you, Borden," she said. "Some warm milk would be most appreciated."

Brecc pounded on the door a second time. The noise filled the silence of the dark town square, yet it appeared that it was insufficient to rouse the innkeeper.

"I fear good fortune may have truly abandoned us, Sire," Brecc said.

"Crosdon," the king said. "That is the appellation you must use for me until we are safely away from here. There is to be no more use of my titles or proper name."

"Yes, Si—" Brecc caught himself. Barely. "Very well, Crosdon." Though he could see the wisdom behind it, the king's newest command was going to be especially difficult to obey.

"Knock again," the king said. "The man cannot ignore us much longer."

Brecc fisted his hand and pounded a third time. If the innkeeper would only rouse himself, this rural inn promised to be an ideal location for their needs. It appeared large enough that it would likely possess spare tack in the stables for their horses but was located in a town small enough that the Vikings hunting for the king of Wessex would ignore it.

From somewhere nearby, a dog barked. A second took up a similar baying.

"It appears that we have woken the animals in town, even if the residents are yet in their beds," Brecc said grimly.

"Someone will come to our aid." The king was adamant. "Again, Brecc."

Brecc raised his arm, but just as he lowered it to knock for a fourth time, a bolt thudded back, and the door flew open.

"Enough!" A burly man with a scraggly beard growled the words even as the blade in his hand glinted in the moonlight. "Who are ya that ya'd make such a din in the middle o' the night? D'ya have no common decency?"

Beside Brecc, King Alfred stiffened. Doubtless, he had never before been spoken to in such a manner.

"I beg your pardon," Brecc said, attempting to buy the king time to adjust to his new role. "I am the one guilty of knocking on your door at this unearthly hour. But I would have you take it as a tribute to your well-positioned and inviting establishment."

"A tribute?" The innkeeper's eyes narrowed. "'Ave ya been in yer cups, man?"

"I have not. And neither has my companion. We are the victims of a senseless attack that lost us our saddles and bridles, and we come seeking replacements."

The innkeeper picked up the candlestick he'd set on a table just inside the door and raised it so he could see the two bareback horses more clearly. "If what ya say is true, ya should 'ave been poundin' upon the doors o' the tanner an' blacksmith rather than an innkeeper."

"If time were our ally, we would most certainly stay at your fine establishment whilst waiting for the local tanner and blacksmith to provide us with the items we need." The king spoke for the first time. "As it is," he continued, seemingly unaware that his decision to take a pseudonym had done nothing to erase his royal bearing, "we must be on our way again before daylight."

The innkeeper shifted his candle again, this time to more clearly view the king. The gold thread on King Alfred's purple tunic caught the light, and the innkeeper shifted his gaze to Brecc's clothing. "Yer noblemen," he said. "Those 'oo usually travel with the king, I daresay."

"We are," Brecc responded.

The innkeeper's jaw twitched, and the look in his eyes changed from irritated to calculating. "D'ya 'ave coins enough fer the saddles yer wantin'?"

"We are willing to barter," the king said.

"With what?"

The king raised an eyebrow. "Unless I am mistaken, I believe you took a moment just now to admire our tunics. We are willing to offer you our finely spun woolen attire in exchange for plain linen clothing and two bridles."

"An' the saddles?"

King Alfred pulled a gold ring from his finger. The red gemstone at its center sparkled in the candlelight. "A gold-and-ruby ring for two saddles, two cloaks, and sufficient food to feed my companion and me for three days."

The innkeeper's eyes widened, but he set down the candle and folded his arms. "Nobles or not, I don' do business with strangers. 'Specially those 'oo don' give me their names."

"Ealdormen Crosdon and Edlin," Brecc said, assuming his father's name and giving the man King Alfred's new designation.

"Ealdorman Crosdon and Ealdorman Edlin," the innkeeper repeated. "An' where d'ya hail from?"

There was no point in dissembling. The fellow had already guessed that they were members of the royal entourage, and most locals would know the king and his followers had gathered in Chippenham to celebrate Twelfth Night. "We travel a great deal," Brecc said, "but most recently, we are come from Chippenham."

The skepticism in the innkeeper's eyes lessened. The truth had served them well. "I 'eard the king an' 'is party was there this week."

Brecc did not look at King Alfred. "You heard aright. And I believe the king will be most appreciative of any assistance you might offer his men."

The innkeeper stood a little taller. "'E'll 'ear of me 'elpin' ya out, then?"

"Most assuredly."

Stepping aside, he gestured them into the inn. "The name's Fitch, and ya'd best come in if I'm t' be findin' ya tunics."

"And the saddles and bridles?" the king asked.

The innkeeper grunted. "I'll 'ave me boy check the stables fer any spare tack we 'ave lyin' about." He shrugged. "It won' be what yer used to, mind, but I daresay it'll do the job."

With a nod, King Alfred entered the room. "We are much obliged, Fitch. The sooner we have the items we need, the better."