Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Time and distance had lost all meaning. Aisley felt as though she had been riding forever, but in reality, the sun was only now beginning its descent behind the peak the locals called Burrow Mump. It had been almost thirty-four hours since she'd last had a meal. Her stomach had long since given up on issuing painful and noisy complaints and had turned to causing her limbs to tremble with weakness instead. Indeed, she was unsure which would finally claim her first: hunger or exhaustion.

Over the noisy calls of the area's waterfowl, a man's whistle reached her. It was a familiar tune. One that marked him as Saxon. Desperate for help, she scoured the surrounding grassland. The terrain was too rugged to be considered good pasture for cattle, but stone walls portioned off sections of it, suggesting they were used as animal enclosures. She nudged her horse closer to the wall. The horse nickered nervously, and from the other side of the wall, a large sow raised her head and grunted irritably. Half a dozen piglets took up their mother's cause, squealing their displeasure.

"Oy!" From halfway across the paddock, a man shouted at the noisy swine. "'Nough of that, ya ridiculous creatures. That 'orse ain't done nothin' t' ya!" He moved toward Aisley, and she reined her horse to a stop. "Sorry fer all the fuss," he said. "Anythin' out o' the ordinary seems t' set them off."

"It's a quiet lane," Aisley said. "I don't suppose many pass by."

The man glanced to his left, where a wooded area appeared to rise out of the marshland. "These last few weeks, there's been more than ever afore. But not so many that its noticeable to most." He cracked a smile. "Just the pigs."

She wished she were in a position to exchange pleasantries with the man and to admire his piglets, but despair was beginning to set in. "I am lookin' fer Athelney," she said. "I wus told it wus nearby."

It was as though a shutter came down over his previously friendly face. "Why would ya be wantin' t' go there?"

It was almost exactly what the woman in Shepton Mallet had asked, but Aisley felt sure that this time, a vague response about fishing would not suffice. "I 'ave a message fer someone and wus told t' take it t' Athelney."

"The island's been uninhabited fer years."

"So I imagine. But as o' several weeks ago, some gentlemen took up residence there."

Indecision flickered in his eyes. "Ya say there's someone ya know over there?"

"Aye." She wanted to beg, to plead with him to help a lady in distress, but instinct told her to hold her tongue, to maintain her false identity just a little longer.

His gaze shifted from Aisley to the piece of land. He mumbled something and then turned back to face her. "Yer only chance of gettin' there is t' find Edris and persuade 'im t' take ya in 'is boat." He pointed at her mount. "The 'orse'll 'ave to swim behind. The water's not deep, mind, but it's too much fer the likes of us."

"And this Edris, does 'e live close by?"

"Take a left jus' past th' big oak an' ya'll see 'is cottage. Can't miss it."

Aisley wanted to weep with relief. "I'm most grateful."

The sow's loud grunt eclipsed the man's response, but Aisley was already urging her horse forward for what she prayed were the last few furlongs of her protracted journey. She turned left at the large oak tree, and just as the swineherd had said, a small cottage immediately came into view. And seated on a short stool outside the front door was a grizzled old man filleting a fish over a bucket of reddened water. He looked up as she approached.

"‘Evenin'," he said.

"An' to you." Maintaining a colloquial accent was becoming more and more difficult as her tiredness increased. Taking her courage in both hands, she pressed on. "I'm in need o' someone t' take me t' th' island."

"Now?"

"Aye."

He shook his head. "It's too late. I'm fixin' me evenin' meal. If ya come back in th' mornin', I'll take ya then."

Aisley's trembling hands tightened around the reins. "I cannot wait that long."

"Hm." The fisherman went back to his filleting. "Seems t' me ya 'ave to."

"Ya do not understand." Tears pricked Aisley's eyes. She blinked them back. "My errand's no trivial matter."

The fisherman gazed at her with narrowed eyes. "Who are ya?"

"A friend." She swallowed. "A friend t' you, an' a friend t' the gentlemen at Athelney."

"Yer name?"

"It's best that ya not know it."

"Is that so?" Rising, he dropped the fish into the bucket and set his bloodied hands upon his hips. "Why?"

"Fer yer own safety as well as mine." Her voice shook. "I ... I can pay ya fer yer service."

For two long breaths, he said nothing, then he reached for a rag and wiped his fingers dry. "I'm not afraid o' what might come," he said, "but if ya truly feel that yer life's in danger, then I daresay I can wait another hour t' make me dinner." He stepped off the small porch and started down a narrow path toward the water. "Be warned though. Them men who's on the island right now, they don't take kindly t' me takin' people over there. If they won't let you get out o' th' boat, I'll bring ya back 'ere, but nothin' more. Yer on yer own after that."

Aisley slid from the saddle and set her travel-weary limbs upon the ground. Clinging to the saddle for stability, she willed her legs to work as they should. She had come so far, and now she had only to follow this old fellow down to his boat, yet she was not sure she could manage it.

"I thought ya said this was urgent?" His voice was punctuated with a splash, and Aisley looked up to see him dragging a small boat off the grassy bank and into the reeds.

She took one shaky step forward. And then another. Holding fast to the horse's straps, Aisley continued moving until she reached the edge of the grass.

"Hand me them straps and get in," Edris said, reaching for the reins. "I'll give 'em back t' ya once yer inside the boat."

Aisley eyed the small craft. It was floating, but it was impossible to gauge the depth of the water beneath. Channeling every drop of energy she yet possessed, she leaped off the bank. Her feet hit the bottom of the boat with a thud, and the vessel rocked wildly from side to side. With a small cry, she grabbed the sides.

"Steady," Edris warned. "Take a seat." Aisley eased herself onto one of the planks that traversed the width of the hull. The boat swayed again. She clung to her seat as Edris climbed in. He handed her the reins. "Yer goin' t' 'ave t' coax th' 'orse into th' water," he said. "I'll row you an' me across, but I can't pull anythin' that big. She's goin' t' 'ave to do 'er own work."

Turning slightly so that she was almost facing her horse, Aisley tugged on the reins. "Come on, girl," she called. "It's time fer a swim."

Her horse bent its head and sniffed the water before backing up two steps.

"Ya'd best be quick about this," Edris said. "We're losing light."

Aisley did not need to consult the sky to know how low the sun had sunk. "Come on, girl." She clicked her tongue, and the horse pricked up its ears. Edris set his oars in the water and pulled. The boat moved away from the grassy bank. Aisley clung to the straps. Edris pulled another stroke, and the straps became taut. "Now, girl!" Aisley cried.

Tossing its head nervously, the horse took a tentative step toward the water. And then, with a splash that rocked the boat, it plunged in.

"That's it!" Edris said, rowing faster now. "'Old on to 'er, an' she'll manage jus' fine."

Edris was right. After the first few floundering steps, the movement of the horse's legs fell into a steady rhythm, and as the boat cut through the swampy water, the animal followed with remarkable calm. Reassured that her mount would make it across, Aisley set her sights on the raised piece of land directly ahead. The woodland was turning black with the coming of evening, but at the water's edge, a single light shone.

"Someone's spotted us," Edris muttered. "Ya'd best be thinkin' up somethin' convincin' to say, lad, or ya'll not be settin' one foot off this boat till we get back t' th' other side."

"Who goes there?" A man's voice carried across the water.

"Edris, with a visitor to Athelney," Edris shouted back before giving Aisley a resigned look. "A name would've been 'elpful."

"Forgive me," she said.

Releasing a troubled sigh, he steered the boat toward the man on shore. "Not sure this fellow's goin' t' be so accommodatin' as me."

Aisley peered through the dimming light, trying to make out the guard's features. Medium height, broad shouldered, gray hair and beard. Her heart sank. Not Brecc or Rheged. She did not know how many others were here—but if this guard had not been in the great hall when Rheged had called her to the front, the chances were good that he would not know her.

The boat touched the shore with a soft bump. Torchlight flooded the small vessel.

Edris winced and averted his eyes. "Fer goodness' sake, stand back with yer torch. Ya know who I am."

"Aye, but not your companion." The light fell over Aisley. "Your name and the reason you are come, if you please?"

Aisley tensed. She could not give the guard her true name. Not with Edris listening. If Wulfhere and Rangvald were both searching for her, no one outside those living on this isolated island must know she had come here. "Avi," she said. "Avi o' Trowbridge. And I bear a message o' vital importance t' those livin' at Athelney."

"What proof do you have?"

"Ealdorman Brecc'll vouch for me."

"Ealdorman Brecc is not here."

The unexpected blow left her thoughts reeling. Even though Brecc had told her he would be about the king's business until Wessex was reclaimed, she'd not considered her course of action should he not be at Athelney when she arrived. "Then send fer Ealdorman Rheged," she said desperately. "'E, too, knows me."

"Ealdorman Rheged is not here."

Despair was rapidly consuming hope. "Then allow me t' wait fer 'em," she begged. "Or take me t' th' gentleman in charge." She dared not use King Alfred's name or title. Edris may have guessed his identity, but she refused to be the one who confirmed his suspicions. "Ya may isolate me from all else on this island, but do not send me away afore I've spoken to one of 'em. Yer leader's plans—indeed, 'is very life—'ll be greatly impacted by th' news I bring."

In the water behind her, the horse splashed, still scrambling for footing.

The torch shifted so as to illuminate the thrashing animal, and the guard issued a grunt of frustration. "Toss me the reins," he said. "I shall assist your mount out of the water."

Aisley handed the straps to Edris, who threw them toward the shore. The guard caught them, and within a few moments, the horse had circled the boat and was scrambling up the bank. With an anxious nicker, it reached solid ground and shook the moisture from its coat.

"What about the lad?" Edris was readying his oars. "I must get back afore it's full dark."

"Let him out." There was no mistaking the guard's reluctance, but it did nothing to quell Aisley's relief. "I am taking you at your word, Avi, and if I find that you have deceived me, you shall suffer the consequences."

Aisley stood. "Ya shall not regret it, sire." She took a hasty step forward. The boat listed, and she stumbled.

"Careful, lad." Releasing an oar, Edris placed a calloused hand upon her arm. "I'll not move away till yer off."

On unsteady legs, Aisley clambered over the boat's hull. One foot sank into the boggy grass. She pulled at it. Her wet foot emerged, but Taber's shoe was missing.

"My shoe!" she cried, bending over to retrieve it even as her other foot sank lower in the mud.

"Give me your hand," the guard said.

The mud released the lost shoe with a squelch of protest. Aisley tossed it onto the shore and reached for the guard's outstretched hand. He grimaced as her slimy fingers connected with his, but he gripped her hand tightly and pulled. Her feet slipped, and she found herself up to her knees in water.

"Where's your strength, lad?" the guard grumbled. "You're not being required to climb a cliff."

Clawing her way onto the bank, Aisley pushed herself into a sitting position. It was the best she could manage. "Forgive me." She reached for her shoe with a shaky hand. "I 'ave eaten very little an' traveled a long way."

The older man's disdainful look would have been more hurtful had she not been too exhausted to care. For now, all that mattered was that she had arrived at Athelney. Once she'd had some sleep and—God willing—some food, she would decide what was to be done if Brecc and Rheged were not expected back in the near future.

The rhythmic splash of Edris's oars traveled across the water, and Aisley swung back to see the gray silhouette of the boat disappearing in the distance. "Edris has left, an' I did not pay 'im fer 'is service," she said, tugging her satchel onto her knee.

"Have no fear, you shall see him again." The guard crossed the short distance to where the horse was now grazing. "He makes his appearance here more often than he's welcome."

"I am most grateful t' 'im."

"So, I imagine." He gathered the horse's reins and started walking away. When Aisley did not follow, he turned. "Remaining there is not an option. Get up and stay beside me. There's to be no wandering off."

What little pride she yet retained prevented Aisley from telling the guard that in her current state, placing two footsteps in succession would be a huge accomplishment. Wandering off was all but impossible. She tugged on her sopping shoe, and then placing one hand on the boulder at her left, she pressed down and pulled herself upright. She swayed.

The guard shook his head in disbelief. "I believe you may be the feeblest arrival on the island yet."

Indignation flared, warming her chest and giving strength to her weakened limbs. A reproaching retort rose to her lips, but then she remembered her position. Or at least, the position this guard believed she held. Clamping her mouth closed, she redirected her pique. Following after him without a fall would be proof enough of her fortitude. Until she knew exactly who she could trust on this island, she would be Avi, not Aisley.

"Your mount can stay in the enclosure with the other horses," the guard said, leading her to an area of grass bounded by a wooden fence. Two horses raised their heads and watched curiously as the man lifted a rope on the gate and led her mount in. She watched silently as he took off her mare's saddle and bridle. "The tack can stay with you," he said, carrying it out of the enclosure with him.

"Very well." He had not offered her an alternative, but keeping the saddle and bridle nearby seemed wise.

"You can sleep here," he said, dropping the tack at the entrance of a small tent pitched beneath a large pine tree. He inclined his head toward her satchel. "Did you bring a blanket?"

"I did."

"Good."

For the first time, it appeared she had given the correct response. It was a small thing, but it gave her the courage to ask a few questions of her own. "Ya said that Ealdormen Brecc and Rheged are away. D'ya know when they're expected back?"

"No."

Aisley had hoped Brecc, and possibly even Rheged, would be willing to accompany her when she first approached King Alfred. The thought of facing the king alone filled her with dread. There could be no doubt his anger at what Wulfhere had done would be swift and fierce. And as a member of the traitor's family, she would be considered blameworthy. It was quite possible that she would be subjected to the full measure of the king's ire and punishment. Yet after so desperate a journey, she could not delay delivering her news out of fear. "What of th' king?" she asked.

The guard stared at her stony-faced. "Not here."

His response, although disheartening, was not wholly unexpected. Aisley had the distinct impression that even if the older man knew more, he would not share it with her.

"An' I'm t' stay right 'ere till they come?"

"Either that, or you may return across the marsh first thing on the morrow," he said grimly.

Surely he would not place her here if he knew she could be waiting for weeks. Having to monitor her for an extended length of time would be sufficient incentive to come up with an alternate plan.

Silently praying that she was right and that Brecc's or the king's return would not be long in coming, Aisley lowered her satchel from her shoulder. A gown, shoes, bags of healing plants, and a blanket. She was grateful for each one of those items, but she was in desperate need of something else. "I shall abide by yer rules," she said, "but I would ask one thing more afore ya leave me 'ere." He raised his eyebrows, but before he could respond or her wounded pride could interfere, she continued. "Some food. It don't need t' be much, but if ya have any yer willin' t' spare, I'd be most appreciative."

One look at the guard's face told her that whatever redeeming points she'd garnered by bringing a blanket had been lost.

"I shall see what I can find," he said.

"I thank you." Aisley wrapped her arms around her satchel and pressed it against her empty stomach. Until Brecc or Rheged returned or she was miraculously granted audience with the king, the guard's grudging assistance was the most she could hope for.