Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Aisley did not know the exact hour, but the deepest darkness of the night was beginning to fade when she arose from her pallet. With fumbling fingers, she donned her gown. She'd left her shoes beside her pallet for easy access. Sliding her hand beneath her pillow, she withdrew her small purse and dropped it into one of her shoes. The coins she'd taken to town the day Rangvald had hounded her were still there. It was what she would use to compensate Taber for the loss of his clothing.

She'd retired early the night before but had lain awake for a long time. Sleep was difficult to summon when one was overwhelmed with memories and sorrow. As promised, her mother had entered the chamber to check on her. Aisley had kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady. Her feigned slumber must have satisfied her mother, for she'd left the room soon afterward and had not returned. When Diera had come to bed, she'd gently touched Aisley's back, but Aisley had not responded, and with a small sigh, Diera had settled down on her own pallet. Aisley could only hope that she was now deeply asleep.

Aisley rolled up her blanket and tucked it under her arm, then carrying her shoes, she tiptoed across the room to retrieve her cloak from the chair beside the door.

"Aisley." Diera's whispered voice cut through the darkness. Clutching the edges of her cloak as if it were her courage, Aisley stood completely still. "Aisley," Diera repeated. There was a rustle, and the shadowy form on the nearby pallet shifted. "You have nothing to fear. I shall not ask where you are going. I only wish to offer you Godspeed." Her voice broke. "I am glad you are leaving. You deserve happiness, and I pray you find it."

Tears welled. Setting her blanket and shoes on the chair, Aisley crossed the short distance to her sister's pallet and knelt. She reached out her hand and found Diera's shoulder. Diera raised her hand and took Aisley's in hers. Aisley did not speak. She was not sure that she could.

Diera pressed their clasped hands to her damp cheek before releasing Aisley's hand. "Go," she urged. "Whilst you still can."

Aisley rose and walked back to the chair. Picking up the blanket and shoes, she ran her fingers across the door until she located the handle. She lifted it and carefully pulled the door open. All was quiet without.

She took a step into the narrow passage and then turned back to Diera. "I wish you happiness also," she whispered, and then she slipped through the door and closed it behind her.

Thankfully, she knew the house and its furnishings well enough to move through it with very little light. She reached the front door without encountering anything unexpected, but when she set her hand upon the handle of the bolt and pushed gently, nothing happened. She tried again, this time with more force. The sound of grating metal filled the great hall. Aisley did not wait to listen for the sound of movement from one of the bedchambers. If the noise had woken Wulfhere, her best course was to reach the stables as quickly as possible. Letting herself out, she closed the door tightly behind her and then raced barefoot across the courtyard.

Moonlight lit her path to the cold storage room. She hastened inside, scrabbling for the candle and flint she'd left on the counter. With the door closed, she lit the candle and pulled out the barrel where she'd hidden Taber's clothes. A new sense of urgency added speed to her actions. Stripping herself of her cloak and gown, she pulled on the hose and tunic. The hose was too long and the tunic worn, but they would suffice. Putting on Taber's shoes, she unhooked the satchel she usually used for gathering plants from its place on the back of the door. She wadded up her gown and placed it and her shoes at the bottom of the satchel. Her rolled-up blanket went next, followed by the small linen bags full of dried plants. She added three of the apples she'd taken from the barrel and her coin purse. There was no room for anything more. With trembling fingers, she pulled back her long hair, split it into three portions, and plaited it into a thick rope. Tossing it behind her shoulder, she donned her cloak once more. Then she slid the satchel strap across her shoulder, blew out the candle, and left the room.

She crossed to the stables at a run. On the other side of the courtyard, the longhouse loomed. A large, dark oblong on a gray backdrop, watching her every move. A chink of light showed beneath the stable doors. Aisley pulled on the latch and slipped inside. Taber was there, holding the straps of the saddled and bridled brown mare.

"Bless you, Taber," she said.

He offered her a lopsided grin. "It's right odd t' see you in them clothes, mistress, but it seems like they might work fer ya."

"They are exactly what I needed," she said, pulling two coins from her purse. "Take these. I hope it is sufficient to purchase another tunic, at least."

He shook his head. "The one I gave ya is full worn out. There's no need—"

"There is every need," Aisley said. "And I have no time to argue."

He glanced at the stable doors, the first hint of worry appearing on his face. "What more d'you require, mistress?"

"A boost into this saddle and your silence if anyone questions you about my disappearance," she said.

He cupped his hands beside the mare, and a moment later, Aisley was seated with the reins in her hand.

"As soon as yer gone, I'll be about me duties," he said. "If anyone comes 'round, they won't find anythin' unusual in that. An' I won't have anythin' unusual t' report." He stepped back and reached for the stable door. "Whenever yer ready, mistress."

Aisley raised her hood and tucked the satchel behind her. "Now."

He swung the door wide. The pale-pink rays of early morning were painting the horizon and chasing away the darkness. Across the courtyard, a flicker of candlelight shone behind the shutters to Wulfhere's chamber. Aisley's throat tightened.

"Farewell, Taber," she said. "I shall not forget your kindness and service." And then she touched her heels to the horse's side and left the stables at a gallop.

Entering the lane, she turned toward town. If Wulfhere had heard the clatter of hooves and guessed what she was about, he would come after her. Searching the town might slow him, particularly if tradespeople were filling the roads and square by the time he arrived. She lowered herself in the saddle, allowing the mare its head while she yet could. A day's ride south was what Brecc had said. At some point, she would need to ask for directions, but for now, her focus was on putting as much distance between her and Wulfhere as she possibly could.

The sun had been up for at least two hours when Aisley spotted a group of merchants on the road ahead. With the town of Trowbridge behind her, she thought it unlikely that any of the merchants knew her, but as she drew closer, she tugged her hood a little lower over her face.

"Good day t' ya, lad." The burly man driving the cart at the rear of the small convoy called out his greeting as Aisley's horse came abreast of his vehicle. "Where're ya bound?"

Aisley cleared her throat. "South," she said.

The merchant raised an eyebrow. "Lots o' places south o' 'ere."

Aisley was reluctant to give this stranger her actual destination, especially as she had yet to discover exactly where it was located, but she could not afford to arouse suspicion. "I've a mind t' go int' South Somerset," she said, affecting Taber's manner of speaking. "Not sure 'ow far yet."

"Ah, a fellow out to make 'is fortune, are ya?" He jerked his thumb toward the cloth-covered cargo behind him. "There's money t' be 'ad in wool and linen, if yer willin' t' travel."

"'Ow far d'ya go?" Aisley asked, genuinely interested.

"Used t' be that we went all over Wessex. Sometimes int' Mercia. But nowadays, with them fearsome Vikin's all over the place, we don' go as far." He shrugged. "Yer right brave t' be on th' roads by yerself. Either that or daft."

Or desperate. The word echoed through Aisley's head, but she did not voice it. Mayhap it would be in her best interest to travel a little distance with these merchants. She'd passed a few other travelers on her way. None but she had been unaccompanied. Her safety notwithstanding, that fact alone was enough to fuel her desire to ride with others. Anything she could do to avoid unwelcome attention was worth her while.

"I confess, travelin' alone makes fer a lonely day," she said.

"Stick with us fer a bit, if ya wish," the merchant said. "But pay no mind t' Orvyn up there." He gestured toward the driver of the cart in front of his. "'E'll do 'is best t' persuade ya t' take up sellin' vegetables, but all 'e's really after is someun to 'elp 'im unload all 'is swedes an' turnips."

"I'm glad o' the warnin'," Aisley said, grateful that her hood hid the instinctive uptick of her lips at the merchant's cautionary words. It was the first time she'd smiled in a long time, and it had the rather remarkable effect of making her load seem lighter. "Where are ya headed now?"

"Shepton Mallet," he said. "It's market day there on th' morrow. Ya can continue south from there if ya don' want t' stop."

Aisley did not know how far it was to Shepton Mallet, but she would willingly accept the companionship of these merchants if it took her in the right direction. "I thank you," she said. "I'd be glad o' the company."

He nodded. "Shouldn't take us more 'un a couple o' hours t' get there."

A couple of hours. It was a good amount of time to be less noticeable on the road. Her mount had already adjusted its pace to match that of the cart horse, and Aisley allowed herself to relax a fraction. Mayhap, moving at this slower speed, she could finally eat one of the apples she'd brought with her.

They'd been traveling for several furlongs when the merchant's vehement mutter broke the silence that had descended over the company.

"Curse those heathen invaders!"

The rhythmic gait of Aisley's mount had lulled her into an alarmingly dozy state. Now, however, her heart was racing. "What is it?"

"Vikin's," he growled. "Comin' 'round the bend. Ya'd best be hopin' yer not carryin' anythin' they want."

Aisley pressed her hand against her satchel. Her coin purse had little enough in it, and she couldn't imagine the Vikings would want her dried plants. But the gown. She swallowed against her fear. If they found the gown, would they question her? Worse, would they force her to pull back her hood?

"I do not wish t' speak t' them," she said.

"None of us do. Believe me, every merchant I know's prayin' King Alfred'll put an end t' this soon. A nightmare, it is. A livin' nightmare. We never know if we're goin' t' reach market with anythin' left t' sell."

A shout rang out, and the merchant at the head of their short caravan reined his cart to a halt. Each of the other drivers followed suit. Aisley kept her head down, the pounding of her heart keeping time with the clopping of hooves as the Vikings circled the merchants' carts. Surely it could not be Rangvald and his men. If he was planning to return to the longhouse early on the morrow, he would not be this far from Trowbridge today.

A Viking spoke. He was close by. Moments later, the cloth covering the merchant's cart beside her was ripped back. Aisley did not turn to look, but if the exuberant shouts were any indication, the invaders were pleased with what they'd uncovered.

"That don't belong t' ya." Frustration filled the merchant's voice.

Another horse drew up beside Aisley's. She fought her panic.

"This!" A hand reached out and tugged on her satchel.

The strap cut into Aisley's neck, but she did not relinquish the bag. Without meeting the Viking's face, she slid her hand under the leather flap and pulled out an apple. She held it out. His exclamation was likely a curse. He knocked the fruit from Aisley's outstretched hand, and it rolled under the cart ahead of her.

The Viking at the cart called out something, and with a grunt of annoyance, the one beside Aisley guided his horse in that direction. She forced herself to take a breath. And then another. At the cart, thuds indicated merchandise was being moved. Aisley hazarded a glance at the merchant. He remained on his seat, his expression stony. Another shout, this one from one of the Vikings at the head of the caravan. The clatter of hooves mingled with guttural voices, and then they were moving away.

No one in the merchant caravan moved. Aisley's horse's ears twitched, and then as if desiring to rid itself of the Vikings' undesirable presence, it shook its head and snorted. With a curse, the merchant climbed down from his perch. Aisley dared raise her head. The Vikings were already out of sight, and her new friend was studying the contents of his cart with a grim expression.

"Thievin' barbarians," he said.

Fabric of every color lay in untidy heaps in the center of the cart. The merchant climbed up and began sifting through the material, folding each piece into a tight parcel with efficiency that spoke of years of experience. Aisley slid from her saddle and walked to the end of the cart. The cloth that had once covered the fabric was on the ground, so she picked it up.

"'Ow much did ya lose, Benwick?" The vegetable merchant had moved from assessing his cart to stand beside the fabric merchant's.

"Me best linen and three bolts of finely woven wool." He set down the newly folded bundles. "What about yer produce?"

"Two sacks gone."

The fabric merchant grimaced. "It's a good job they didn't decide t' take one o' our carts or they'd 'ave left with much more."

"Aye." Glaring down the road the way the Vikings had gone, the vegetable merchant rubbed his chin. "They must've needed t' be elsewhere in a 'urry. It's small consolation fer all we've lost, but it could've been worse."

So much worse. Aisley rolled her shoulders, attempting to work out the strain that had settled there. "I am truly sorry," she said, handing the merchant his cover.

"Not yer fault, lad." He took the proffered cloth and set it over the top of the other fabric. "But I think we'll all be glad t' get t' Shepton Mallet."

Aisley nodded. Now that she was out of the saddle, she had no desire to return to it. But she must. And since she had a far longer journey ahead than did these merchants, the sooner they set off again, the better.

It was early afternoon when Aisley bid farewell to the merchants, and she found that she was remarkably reluctant to do so. In the short time that they'd traveled together, she'd come to think of them as friends, and their encounter with the Vikings had only enhanced that sense of camaraderie.

"If ya change yer mind," the fabric merchant said, "come back. We'll be 'ere till the end of th' week, an' Orvyn can alwus use 'elp haulin' 'is swedes an' turnips."

Orvyn, who was unloading his cart one heavy sack at a time, grunted his agreement, and although Aisley rode away alone, she left Shepton Mallet feeling less abandoned than she had when she'd been in her own bed at the longhouse.

On the outskirts of town, she came upon an elderly woman sweeping the steps of a small cottage. Aisley needed directions, and to ask them of a woman who had likely lived in the area for some time seemed sensible. "Beggin' yer pardon," she called. "Can ya tell me th' way to Athelney?"

The woman stopped her sweeping and looked at Aisley curiously. "Whatever would ya want t' go there for? There's nothin' but a parcel of land risin' up out of the swamp. Can't even get t' it without a boat."

An island of sorts. Brecc's words circled Aisley's head, and her pulse increased. That was it.

"It does sound a bit peculiar," she admitted. "But I was told it's worth a visit just fer th' fishin'." She was stretching the truth rather a lot, but Aisley had no doubt the men staying with the king had resorted to fishing simply to put food in their bellies.

The elderly woman frowned. "Seems t' me there's places closer that would do just as well. The River Sheppey is known fer its trout."

The seemingly simple task of asking for directions was not going nearly as well as Aisley had hoped. "I shall 'ave to give th' river a try."

"You do that." The woman leaned on her broom looking pleased. "An' then, if ya still want t' go down to the levels, you'll want t' go east t' Glastonbury an' then south till ya see Burrow Mump. Ya'll know yer close then."

Relief filled her. "I thank you."

"I 'ope ya catch a big un, but it might be worth yer while to pick up a rod or net first."

Aisley's face flooded with warmth, but thankfully, the accompanying color was hidden by her hood. "Wise counsel," she said.

With a chuckle, the woman waved her off, and by the time Aisley had turned her horse to the south, the elderly lady was engrossed in her sweeping again.