Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Aisley peered into the dark corner where the roof met the wall. There had to be a spiderweb there. She was sure she'd seen one the evening before, when her candle had illuminated the spot directly above her pallet far better than this morning's overcast daylight was doing. Hopping off the stool she was using, she dragged it a little closer to the wall and climbed up again. There. From this angle, the gossamer threads were clearly visible. Offering a silent prayer that the spiderweb's resident was gone for the morning, she reached up and swiped at it with her hand. The hairlike threads clung to her fingers. Pleased, she climbed off the stool and held her hand over the stout crock she'd placed on the floor.

As carefully as she could, she scraped the cobwebs into the crock and replaced the lid. Few people would believe that spiderwebs could save a life, but Aisley knew full well how effective they were with healing wounds. The more she could collect, the more she would have at her disposal when the king's men needed them. She carried the crock to the small shelf Brecc had built for her behind the partition. The pouches of dried herbs that she'd brought from Trowbridge lay in a tidy row beside a pot of honey and three strips of rolled-up linen. She frowned. It was not nearly enough for what was undoubtedly ahead. The next time one of the men went to market, she would request more honey, garlic, and linen.

Setting down the crock of spiderwebs, she picked up her cloak and set it around her shoulders. It had been over four weeks since she'd arrived at Athelney, and despite the frequent coming and going of the thegns, her life had fallen into a comfortable pattern. On most days, she divided her time between caring for any who had made their way back to the island with an injury, conversing with the queen, assisting with a few of the household chores, and spending time with Brecc.

She glanced at the position of the sun coming in through the shutters and smiled. It was coming on noon, and that meant Bertwin would be relieving Brecc from his guard duty at the shoreline. A quick look over her shoulder told her that the door to the small chamber remained closed. The queen's newest needlework project had been consuming a great deal of the lady's time. Aisley did not mind. She had much to keep her busy, and although she had come to admire the monarch's wife very much and enjoyed their time together, their discussions—no matter how interesting—could not compare with the joy she experienced when she was with Brecc.

Slipping out of the cottage, she closed the door behind her and hastened across the grass toward the portion of the shore where the thegns docked the punts. She passed the small grove of trees that blocked the view of the dock from the cottage and caught sight of two men—one dark and one fair—standing at the shoreline. Bertwin had reached Brecc before her.

She slowed her steps, giving the men time to pass along whatever information needed to be shared and allowing herself the luxury of admiring Brecc's tall, handsome figure. It had taken several days for his nasty cut to fully lose its angry appearance and at least a week more before it had not pained him at night, but he had set aside his crutch two weeks ago, and was now walking with only a slight limp. To her immense gratitude, his leg looked to be on the path to a full recovery.

As though he sensed her approach, Brecc turned his head and greeted her with a warm smile. "Good day, Aisley."

"Good day," she replied.

Bertwin gave her a friendly nod. They had spoken not long ago in the cottage.

"I was just telling Bertwin here that if you are willing, I should like to take you out on one of the punts."

Aisley blinked. She had not left the island since the day she'd set foot on it. "May I, really?"

"Most certainly."

With the thegns' loathing of Wulfhere permanently fixed, Aisley had lost her fear of being discovered by her brother. She knew that he would not survive an attempt to reach her. Her dread of re-encountering Rangvald, however, had been more difficult to shake. There was something about the shrewd Viking that unsettled her still.

"Will we see anyone else?"

"Unless one of the groups arrives back unexpectedly, it is highly unlikely."

It would be rather wonderful to see something more of this area than the same view of the island she had every day. And the opportunity for a boat ride with Brecc was too good to ignore.

"If no one else is in need of the punt, I should very much enjoy going with you."

Brecc smiled and offered her his hand. "Come. Allow me to assist you into the boat."

Descending the bank with her hand in Brecc's proved infinitely easier than climbing up it in an excessively weakened state had been, and in no time at all, she was seated on the wooden seat inside the long, narrow craft. Brecc took his position on the platform at the end of the boat, set the pole in the water, and pushed. Smoothly and silently, they glided away from the island.

Clouds hung low over Burrow Mump, but to the south, sunshine and a patch of blue brightened the sky. Brown bracken and broken reed heads lined the shore, but the vegetation's annual transformation from the muted colors of winter to the verdant green of spring was well on its way.

"Look, Brecc," Aisley cried, pointing to a spot beneath a leafy birch tree. "Crocuses."

"Do you need to gather some?" His arms were poised on the pole, ready to adjust their direction if necessary.

"Not this time, but I am glad to know where to find them."

"What would you use crocus for?" he asked, pushing the punt forward again.

"It can be used for stomach ailments and smarting of the eyes."

He laughed.

"Why would you laugh at such a thing?" she asked.

"I am not laughing at the crocus's healing properties," he said. "I am simply in awe of your knowledge. I daresay I could ask you about any plant we pass and you would have an answer for me."

She felt her cheeks redden. "Not every plant. And I wish I knew a great deal more about other things." She pointed to an enormous gray bird with a black head and long, thin legs wading through the water ahead of them. "I do not know what that is called. Do you?"

"That is a common crane."

"There, you see? Common to you and many others, I wager. But I was ignorant of its name until this very moment."

He smiled. "I am glad we can learn from each other. If I see any of the only half dozen other birds I can recognize, I shall let you know."

It was Aisley's turn to laugh. She knew full well that Brecc's knowledge of birds was greater than that. The men used bird calls to message each other on a regular basis.

"Where exactly are you taking me?" she asked.

"There." He pointed to a small wooden structure sitting atop a gentle rise on the other side of the water.

Aisley studied it curiously. "What is it?"

"A church." Brecc guided the punt to the bank not far from a trail that appeared to meander up the rise toward the building.

"Truly?" There were no dwellings anywhere in sight. Indeed, as far as Aisley could tell, there were no people anywhere near this place beyond herself and Brecc.

"Aye." Favoring his uninjured leg, he jumped onto the land and tied the rope attached to the punt's end to a nearby sapling. "It has been all but abandoned by the local people, which has served the king's purposes very well."

Aisley gasped. "This is where the king comes to offer his prayers?"

"It is. I have brought him here more times than I can count. He feels a special connection to this humble place, and I believe he has been gifted heavenly direction during his many hours of worship." He reached for her hand and guided her out of the boat. "Would you like to see it for yourself?"

"Very much."

They walked the sheep trail hand in hand, and it was not long before they reached the isolated church. Brecc pushed open the door. It creaked. Aisley stepped inside and paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the muted light before moving any farther. Eight tidy rows of pews filled

the modest structure, four on each side of a narrow aisle. At the front of the building, a simple wooden cross hung above a wooden lectern and a stone christening font.

Taking her hand again, Brecc led Aisley to the nearest pew, and they slipped onto the bench. For some time, neither of them spoke. A sense of peace—such as Aisley rarely felt in the midst of everyday life—filled her.

"Would you like to offer a prayer before we leave?" Brecc whispered.

She nodded, and they both slid to their knees between the pews. Aisley closed her eyes. Her mother had taught her a few prayers, but in this church, she felt that she must speak her own. "Father God," she whispered. "I am thankful." It was as far as she could go. A wave of gratitude swept over her, bringing with it the sting of tears. She had been granted her life, her freedom, a place on Athelney, and Brecc. What more could she possibly ask of God?

"Amen."

Upon hearing Brecc's softly spoken word, Aisley opened her eyes. His head was bowed still, and as she watched, he spoke again.

"Father God, I, too, wish to express my gratitude for all things. And as King Alfred leads the Saxon people into battle, I would ask that Thou wouldst bless the noble and good men fighting for their homes, families, and livelihoods."

"Amen," she whispered.

He looked up and met her tear-filled eyes. "It will be well, Aisley. I truly believe it."

She nodded, and together they rose to their feet and slowly made their way out of the church. Standing on the flagstone step outside, Aisley watched Brecc lower the latch on the church door. Then he moved closer. Wrapping his arms around her, he lowered his head and kissed her tenderly.

"I love the goodness of your heart," he said.

"As I love the nobility of yours," she responded. "I am thankful that you brought me here. I now understand more fully why King Alfred visits this sacred place so often."

"Aye," Brecc said, reaching for her hand once more. "It is reassuring to know that our king feels it necessary to commune with God, and methinks it likely that he feels what we experienced today on a far more regular basis."

"King Alfred wishes God to go with him when he leads you to battle against Guthrum."

"I do not believe there is a thegn on the island who does not desire that," Brecc said, leading her back toward the punt. "But I would like to think that God pays special attention when a monarch humbly petitions Him for such a blessing."

Aisley tightened her grip on Brecc's hand. Sometime soon, he would be tossed into the midst of that mighty battle. And no matter how valiant the warriors or how noble the cause, there would be some who did not survive. Despite the peace she had so recently experienced, her fears for Brecc's safety resurfaced.

"Would that no one had to go to battle at all," she said.

They had reached the boat. Without a word, Brecc pulled her into his arms and held her close. With her head on his chest, she watched a common crane take to the air. It sailed above them, its strong wings flapping against the slight breeze.

"I need you with me to teach me more about birds," she said brokenly.

"And I need you with me for more reasons than I could possibly name." He ran his hand down her hair, soothing her troubled heart with his touch. "It will be well, Aisley."

It was an echo of what he had said in the church, but she'd needed to hear it again.

"I shall try to be brave."

"Of that I have no doubt." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "We shall be brave together."

She looked up at him. "My father used to say exactly that."

He smiled. "So you told me."

"And you remembered?"

"Aye," he said, releasing his hold upon her so that he might guide her onto the punt. "And I always will."

Brecc leaned over the table and studied the scrap of parchment. The appearance of the roughly drawn map of Wessex he'd fashioned six weeks ago had changed significantly. No longer was there clear space with dots marking the location of towns of significant population. Now the entire map was covered with crosses—almost the entire map. With no small measure of relief, he placed a cross over the last remaining blank space. Hingston Down. Radolf and his men had returned from Cornwall with just enough time to allow Brecc to make his report to the king within the monarch's prescribed deadline.

Rolling up the parchment, he carried it with him to the door of the small chamber and knocked.

"Enter!" The king's voice reached him through the door.

Brecc opened it and walked in. The king was alone in the room. The queen, her maid, and Aisley were taking a walk while the sun shone.

"Good day, Sire." Brecc bowed. "I have the final report from our men's scouting expeditions."

Setting aside the book of scripture he had been studying, King Alfred gestured Brecc toward the second chair in the room. "Sit. Tell me what you know."

Brecc sat down. "A communication network is in place throughout Wessex," he said. "To the best of our knowledge, the only ealdorman other than Wulfhere who is actively colluding with the Vikings is Gimm."

"Ealdorman Gimm of Dorset." Anger flashed in the king's eyes. "Another who sat at my table in Chippenham and accepted the ring-giver's gift."

"It appears that his integrity is as weak as his singing," Brecc said, recalling Gimm's awful rendition of Caedmon's Hymn at the Twelfth Night banquet. "He and Wulfhere are known to be close associates. It is likely that they chose this path together."

"And they shall suffer for it together." King Alfred rose. Brecc instantly did the same and waited as the king paced the narrow room three times. "Are we sure there are not others?"

"There are three more who have shown signs of weakened resolve, but as far as your men could ascertain, they have not entered into any official agreement with the enemy. In those instances, as you ordered, new contacts have been established in the community."

The king stopped his pacing and faced Brecc. "Then we are ready?"

Brecc's pulse quickened. "We are, Sire."

King Alfred glanced at his book of scripture. His jaw tightened, and he squared his shoulders. "Are all the men returned?"

"All but Odda and those who rode with him." Brecc had not been privy to Odda's assignment, which suggested it was of a clandestine nature.

King Alfred frowned. "No matter. If needs must, we have sufficient thegns to spread the message without them." He paused. "I would have you organize those already here into pairs. On the morrow, they are to travel to every established contact to deliver the royal command."

Brecc tensed. If he was to deliver this vital edict to the thegns, every word must needs be correct.

The king took one more turn around the small space and then spoke with a voice that rang with authority. "King Alfred of Wessex commands all fyrds to prepare for battle against the Viking invaders. The Saxon army is to gather at Egbert's Stone on the southern border of Wiltshire, east of Selwood Forest on Whitsunday."

Mentally, Brecc repeated the order, committing it to memory. Whitsunday. He took a moment to consider the date. It was three weeks hence. That would give the word time to spread and the men time to sharpen their blades, fashion spears, and travel to the appointed spot. But Brecc guessed that the king had chosen this particular date for another reason entirely. On Whitsunday, Christians commemorated the descent of the Holy Spirit onto Christ's disciples. For all who believed, it was a day of empowerment.

"That is all."

The king's curt reminder pulled Brecc from his thoughts. He bowed. "It shall be done, Sire. I will speak to the men directly."

Crossing to the door, he pulled it open. On the other side of the larger room, the outer door also opened, and Odda walked in. He took a quick look around the vacant space before marching purposefully toward the small chamber.

"It appears that Odda has returned and is anxious to speak with you," Brecc said.

"Have him enter." The king had yet to resume his seat. "And you'd best stay to hear what he has to report."

Stepping aside so that his associate could enter the chamber, Brecc noted the weariness on Odda's face and the mud on his hose and the lower portion of his cloak. He had been riding hard and long.

"Good day, Sire." Odda entered and bowed.

"Odda." The king acknowledged him with a slight inclination of his head. "I am glad to see you returned safely. A report of your doings, if you please."

"As you commanded, we traveled to Trowbridge in search of Wulfhere."

Brecc flinched. He had made no secret of his attachment to Aisley, but he'd presumed he would be told when the king chose to make Wulfhere accountable for his actions.

"And you found him."

"We did, Sire. With a Viking blade in his back."

This time, Brecc did nothing to conceal his shock. "A Viking blade?"

"Aye. According to the stablehand at the house, the ealdorman was found on the side of the road not more than three hours before we arrived, his horse and purse both gone."

"Did anyone know of a reason the Vikings would have turned on their erstwhile ally?" the king asked.

"The stablehand—Taber was his name—said the Viking went to the house to speak with Wulfhere repeatedly over the last few weeks, and each time he left, he did so in a fouler mood than before."

King Alfred gave Brecc a silent, knowing look. No one else on the island knew the full reason for Aisley's desperate flight from home, so Brecc remained silent, too, willing to follow the king's lead.

"They obviously had a falling-out," the king said. "The cause is immaterial. Rangvald did us a great service. Not only did he rid our land of an unscrupulous traitor, but he also left behind a powerful message for all those who might contemplate following in Wulfhere's footsteps. Let us pray that others quickly learn that a Viking chieftain's oath—no matter which of their pagan gods they choose to entreat—is worthless."

It was a lesson King Alfred himself had been forced to learn when the horde had attacked Chippenham.

"What of Wulfhere's mother and sister?" Brecc asked.

"They were yet at the house," Odda said. "We told them there was no longer a place for them in Wessex, but if they wished to live elsewhere, we would convey them to the nearest ship." He glanced at his muddy clothing. "We are just come from Portsea, where both women boarded a craft bound for Normandy."

A portion of the tension in Brecc's chest released. Aisley had been deeply hurt by her mother and sister, but she would not wish them killed. That the king had orchestrated this compromise—a dire punishment without the loss of life—was a credit to him.

"You have done well, Odda," the king said. "I thank you for your efforts on behalf of the crown."

Odda bowed. "Glad to be of service, Sire. And now, if you would excuse me, I shall attempt to rid myself of half of Hampshire's mud."

He left the room, and the king turned his attention to Brecc once more.

"And so, punishment has been administered—and the Vikings took charge of the worst of it." He sighed. "After you have given the men my charge, I would have you be the one to tell Aisley of her family members' fate."

"As you wish, Sire."

"It is, indeed," the king said, his expression softening slightly. "And I rather think it is also as Aisley would wish."