Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

EAST ANGLIA, SEPTEMBER 1066

H ad he made the right decision?

Moon’s jaw tightened. Yes. No matter what people might say, there was no other path for him. He had to go, or he would not be able to live with his conscience.

Around him all the men were tense, intent on the same objective, stopping the Norse invaders before they progressed further into the country.

The morning before, at the market in town, he’d happened on one of the riders sent ahead of the marching army of King Harold. The men were headed for York where a group of invaders led by the king of Norway, the formidable Harold Hardrada, had landed some weeks previously and were creating havoc. The savages had to be stopped at all costs and able-bodied men were asked to join the volunteers already on the move.

Though he himself could be considered, according to Saxons at least, as a “savage”, Moon had not hesitated. He would join the expedition. Back at the village, he’d informed his best friend that he would be amongst the men marching on York. Nothing Torsten had said had dissuaded him. This was the purpose he had been looking for. For months now, he’d been kicking his heels in the village he’d lived in all his life, wondering what to do. At eight and twenty, it was time he did something he could be proud of, and what better than defend the country that had welcomed his Danish father years ago when he’d come in search of peace and acceptance?

Armed with an axe, Moon had left the village in the middle of the night and found the camp of Saxons nestled in the riverbend. As expected, he’d been accepted all too readily, once he had pre-empted all doubts about his intent by addressing them in their language. A man of his stature was a choice recruit.

And so here he was, marching amongst Saxons, about to face warriors many would argue were his own people. This was what came of belonging to two groups, he reflected bitterly, you always had to choose sides. But Moon knew he could not stand by and wait for his country to be torn apart the way it had a long time ago when other groups of Norsemen had spread fear and desolation through it. He was half-Dane, true, but he was also half-Saxon, through his mother Frigyth, and he saw it as his duty to stop anyone trying to harm his people.

For all that, it would be no easy task. There would be the gruesome battle at the end, of course, but even before that, the men were going to be sorely tested. The rigors imposed on the army were relentless, and Moon had to watch as more than one man stumbled. Not long after they had set off that morning, an older man had fallen, never to get back up again. No one had stopped to help, instead doing their best to avoid stomping over him. Indeed, there was no point dragging along a man who would be of no use once they stood in front of Hardrada’s army.

No, this was not for the faint-hearted and never had Moon been more grateful for his strong constitution. He could not imagine how someone half his size would fare.

Darkness was already falling when they stopped for the night at the foot of a hill. All around it was a chorus of groans and grunts, soon followed by a few snores. The men were exhausted. Some of them had joined by the south coast and had been marching for longer than a day. Moon unstrapped his axe from his back and stretched. Like the majority of the men, he had to see to his personal needs as a matter as urgency. The opportunity to do so during the day had been non-existent. No sooner had he walked away from the bushes than he was accosted by a rather scruffy man who introduced himself as Farmon.

“Halfdan,” Moon replied, nodding in greeting. He rarely used his real name, even when meeting strangers, but if ever there was a time where it was apt, it was now, as it meant “half-Dane.”

“I noticed you joined the army this morning, at the same time as me and my friends,” the Saxon said, gesturing toward the men standing behind him.

“Yes, I did join this morning.”

Whether that was at the same time as them, Moon had no idea, and in all honesty, he didn’t care. Farmon, however, didn’t pick up on his lack of enthusiasm and carried on explaining that he too had heard the rider calling out to all able-bodied men at the market place.

“As soon as I heard him, I knew I would join the expedition. It seemed the only thing to do. We cannot stand by and watch while our country is ripped to pieces. But I cannot help but wonder at your motives, my friend. What are you doing here?” Farmon nodded to him. The meaning of that gesture was clear.

You’re not one of us.

As Moon had been fighting with his conscience ever since he’d left the village, he did not take too kindly to the reminder. As a result, he took an instant dislike to the man, even if he knew the question was a fair one. After, all, he did look like a Norseman because, as luck would have it, his mother happened to be blonde and fair as well. In fact, he was the epitome of the giant Norseman Saxons feared, and he towered over Farmon and his friends, a fact he decided to use to his advantage. It wouldn’t be the first time he intimidated someone into more respect.

“I was born here, and my mother is a Saxon,” he all but growled. “That is precisely why my parents chose to name me Halfdan. It means ‘half-Dane’, as you might have guessed. And my motives for being here are obvious to me. It is all that matters. They don’t have to be obvious to you.”

The man raised both hands in surrender, impressed by the ice in his voice as well as his stature, just as expected. “Of course, I’m just saying. Only I saw another Norseman in the ranks earlier. I thought that one joining the army was odd enough, but two...”

Another Norseman? Moon frowned. Now he was interested. Who could that other man be? Someone from the village in all probability. But who? Not one of his brothers. He would have known if they had considered joining the army. Not Torsten either, who’d seemed opposed to the idea, despite having an Icelander as a father. So who? His cousins, who had a Saxon mother as well? Curiosity got the better of him. If there was another man with the same dilemma and motives as him in this crowd, it would be worth going to see him. That way they could support each other’s decision.

“Do you have any idea where he might be?”

Farmon gestured to a place behind him “Last I saw him he had settled for the night next to the horses, somewhere over there.”

“My thanks.”

Moon walked over to the place Farmon had indicated and after a while, spotted a head of blond hair amidst a sea of brown and dark. In the fading light it was shining like a beacon, drawing him in. A Norseman, if he’d ever seen one. He maneuvered to find himself next to the man. Or rather boy, he amended as he got closer. The frame was far too small to be anything else. Unless... The heckles at the back of his neck rose as a horrid thought passed through his mind.

Unless the boy was no boy at all but a reckless, impossibly stubborn female.

He knew someone who fit that description excatly, someone who always got herself involved in scraps and never behaved as she was supposed to. Someone who should be in the village right now, tucked up in bed.

“Eyja?” he called, incredulity making his voice barely audible.

She turned to face him slowly, as if fearing an outburst on his part. Blue eyes, of a blue that had always put him in mind of frost and a full mouth, the color of winter berries. Yes, all that was familiar. It was her. But... Her blonde hair, shiny as the sun, had been cut short, much too short, and her slender body was swamped in clothes that had been made for someone twice as big as her.

What the hell?

“Moon.” She sounded calm, even if she looked guilty to have been found out.

They stared at each other a long moment. Moon could not fathom how she could be standing next to him. They had been walking all day at punishing speed. If he, with his strong, long legs, had found the march taxing, how had she coped with it? Oh, he knew she was no weakling, but still...

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked in Norse. She would have joined the ranks at the same time as him, during the night. He knew that because he had seen her only the day before, when he’d gone to talk to her brother, Torsten, to tell him about his intentions to join the army, the only person he’d told. So, had she overheard their conversation? Was that what had given her the idea to go and face the Norsemen?

“I heard you talk to Torsten yesterday morning,” she answered, confirming his suspicions. He closed his eyes, as guilt and irritation flooded him. How had he not guessed the imp would be spying on them and getting unsuitable ideas? She was always snooping around, always getting herself into all sorts of trouble, as she was proving in spectacular fashion by joining an army of men headed for a massacre. Oblivious to his rising anger, she carried on, as if her bewildering decision could be in any way justified. “I thought what you said about defending our country made sense, and I’m just like you. I, too, was born here, I, too, have a Saxon mother, I, too, want to stop invaders from?—”

“But you’re not just like me, are you!” he roared. Was she really that na?ve? “Haven’t you forgotten one small detail? Just look at yourself!”

She stiffened under the onslaught. “If you mean that...” Even though they were talking Norse, which no one would understand, she lowered her voice to hiss at him. “If you mean that, unlike you, I’m a woman, then it makes no difference.”

By the gods, she really was that na?ve.

“Does it not?” He crossed his arms over his chest, thereby emphasizing the difference in size between them. She barely reached his shoulder and probably weighed half as much as he did. It did make all the difference, how could she not see it? “Why did you cut off your hair and don men’s clothes if you thought you being a woman amidst a sea of men would be of no import? Why didn’t you just come in your skirts and long hair?”

She had no answer to that, he was pleased to see.

Doing his best to quell his rising anger, he allowed his eyes to wander over her. The result of his examination was disastrous. She didn’t have any weapon that he could see, save for the dagger he knew she always carried in her boot, the blond curls framing her face made her look even more delicate, and the way her clothes swallowed her body was highly suspicious. How in the name of Odin had she ever thought she could pass as a warrior? She looked like a reed amidst a forest of oaks, and just as breakable. What was he to do with her? As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, what with him heading for war, now he was saddled with a rash waif!

“And just in case you thought your disguise was a brilliant one, it’s not. You look about as believable as a boy as I would as a girl if I put on a dress. Which is to say, not at all,” he added before the infuriating woman pointed out that he looked just like his sister Aife. He wouldn’t put it past her. She had an unfortunate tendency to be contrary.

Eyja stared at him, appalled. “But I thought...” She ran a hand through her hair and grimaced.

“What? You thought that having short hair was all that was required to be a man?” he huffed. Really, she was na?ve beyond belief if she did. “Well, it’s not. I have longer hair than most women and yet I don’t think anyone would doubt my identity.”

The way she swallowed when he straightened to his full height was a small but very real satisfaction. For a moment it looked as if he had the upper hand. Then the maddening woman lifted her chin and looked at him square in the eye.

“Of course I know there is more to being a man than having short hair. But I didn’t think anyone would take a peek between my legs. Or are you saying men ogle each other’s staff all the time?” she replied, displaying the spirit she was renown for. How had he thought she would ever back off? She never did. He wasn’t even sure such a thing was possible. His respect for her increased begrudgingly. Whatever else she was, she was no coward.

“We don’t ogle one another’s staff as a matter of course. And there is no need to take even a glance between your legs to know you’re not a man.”

She bit her bottom lip, looking crestfallen. “I thought no one would pay enough attention to see anything amiss. After all, why would a woman be here?”

She had a point, not that he would ever admit it. No one would expect to see a woman here, and the men were all too focused on not falling behind to pay too much attention to the others around them. But she was forgetting something.

“Even if that were true and the men didn’t notice your frail physique, which I doubt, you look nothing like a Saxon,” he said through gritted teeth. “That in itself is enough to attract attention and put you in danger. One of the men was just telling me he’d thought it odd to see Norsemen like us join. Apparently, he’s suspicious of our motives. I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept a close eye on us.”

Her face fell. “Oh. I didn’t think of?—”

“No, you didn’t, did you? Damn it, Imp, your brothers are going to kill me for this!”

Moon buried his axe into the ground in an angry gesture. Eyja would have told no one she was coming, he knew, because if she had even hinted at her intentions, they would have stopped her, and rightly so. This was no place for a vulnerable woman.

“Your father…” He swallowed instead of finishing the sentence. Her father, Wolf, would not only kill him, he would make sure to draw the process out for as long as possible and enjoy every moment of it. No one hurt a member of the Icelander’s family and lived to tell the tale. Least of all, his only daughter.

“I will tell them you had no hand in my decision, which is nothing but the truth.” Eyja waved his protests away. As if that would be enough, as if it were so simple! She’d always been wild and impulsive, but this was beyond what he had imagined her capable of. Cutting her hair off and dressing herself as a boy, leaving the village without a word, joining an army bound for battle armed only with a dagger. It was extreme, even for her.

“And they will just accept that, will they?” She was even more na?ve than he’d thought if she truly believed that. Anyone involved in that disastrous decision of hers would find themselves impacted. He might well have to flee if he survived the battle, because he would face retribution in the village.

Really, what a mess this was.

Just then Farmon drew up next to them. “Ah, I see that you’ve found the young Norseman. An acquaintance of yours, is he?”

The tilted head made it clear he’d watched the two of them converse and picked up on the connection between them. It would not do to pretend otherwise, as it would only make him more suspicious.

“Yes. As it happens, he’s...” Moon did his best to sound natural when referring to Eyja as a man. “My cousin Eirik. We discussed my decision to join the army last night but I had no idea he’d actually come.”

He chose his brother’s name, which happened to start like her own, in case he forgot to call her by a fake name when taken by surprise. He could always tell everyone that Eyja was a diminutive in Norse for Eirik. The Saxons might not question it. They thought them odd creatures and would accept whatever he told them, if he said it with enough aplomb.

“Your cousin, is he? Well.” Farmon arched a brow and looked at one and then the other in quick succession, obviously trying to make sense of the information. “I guess Norsemen come in all shapes and sizes, even in families. Let us hope the ones we are about to face take more after young Eirik than you.”

The man to his right sniggered. “If they do, they won’t know what hit them.”

“Aye, we’ll quickly make them regret their decision to come over here and steal what’s ours.”

The Saxons were still laughing when they made their way to the river to have a drink. Moon turned back to face Eyja. She hadn’t uttered a single word during the exchange with the men, which had surprised him. It had been the wisest thing to do, undoubtedly, but she wasn’t exactly renowned for her patience. He’d lost count of the amount of times she’d been unable to hold her tongue when the situation demanded it.

As if to prove he was right to marvel at her unusual compliance, she glared at him and launched her attack.

“So, I’m your cousin, am I?”

She didn’t seem best pleased by the lie. But what did she expect? That he would wash his hands off of her and let her face the men on her own? He would not. Even if he had not asked for her presence, he could not abandon her now.

“Yes, you are until I say differently,” he snapped. Naming her as his cousin would ensure the men knew that she— he —was under his protection. It was the best he could do. “You are not to leave my side for a moment, do you hear? Make sure you talk as little as possible, and try to modify your voice when you do. Better yet, just leave and go back home while you still can.”

“I’m not leaving,” she instantly answered, as he’d known she would. Why was he even bothering? She would never agree to be ordered about.

In any case, and even if he would never tell her as much, he didn’t really like the idea of her being alone on the roads. Without a mounted king urging her on, she wouldn’t walk anywhere near as fast as they had done today so the journey back would take her two whole days. It wasn’t safe for a woman to be on her own for so long.

But her staying here was no solution either. They were going to war, damn it, not to pick mushrooms!

“Fine. Stay then,” he said between his teeth. “But do as I say, or so help me, I will become your worst nightmare.”

For the sake of everyone around them, Moon worked hard at maintaining a calm surface but deep down, he was furious.

The imp had really gone and done it this time.

Sitting in the grass next to Moon, Eyja did not know how to feel.

Part of her was annoyed to have been found out so quickly. That had not been the plan. She had intended to pass unnoticed, which should have been easy in this crowd. Since Moon towered above the others, it was not difficult to spot where he was and avoid him. All day long she had stayed well behind, hidden in the throng of men, in the hope he wouldn’t know she was here, because there was no prize guessing he would not approve of her joining the army. But her luck hadn’t held out. As soon as they had stopped for the night, he’d seen her. Just as she had imagined, he did not seem best pleased to have been saddled with her. However, it was clear that he felt it his responsibility to stay with her. She would not be allowed, or able, to shake him off.

Eyja did not look forward to having to endure his foul mood for days on end.

Another, bigger part of part of her, was relieved not to be alone anymore. The day had been horrid, much more than she had anticipated. The grueling pace imposed on the men, she had fully expected, but it didn’t mean it had been easy to cope with. Her feet were burning, her legs felt as weak as distended ropes. King Harold was bent on surprising the Norsemen before they could regroup and organize themselves and was marching his recruits on relentlessly. As a consequence, she had seen more than one man left behind by the side of the road. No, she had guessed the march would tax her strength to the limit.

But what had been much worse was the way they had all ogled her, made her feel like an oddity and a stranger. Because of the way she looked with her blond hair and blue eyes, they had been suspicious of her origins. That had been bad enough, but on more than one occasion she had caught a questioning look on a man’s face. Thanks to Moon’s comment, she now knew that they had been wondering if aught was amiss. They had been questioning her motives as well as her physique.

Fortunately, everyone’s focus had been on putting one foot in front of the other as quickly as possible and she had been able to melt into the crowd before questions could be asked.

But now they had stopped and she could feel dozens of eyes on her, which was why she was grateful for Moon’s presence by her side. Before she could think, she wiggled closer to him. Never had she had more cause to appreciate his bulk and strength. People would think twice about bothering him or his “cousin”.

“Tell me what I can do to pass off as a man,” she whispered in his ear. Now that she had been found out, she might as well make the most of his help.

“You can’t,” was his irritated answer. “Everything about you is wrong. You’re too small, too delicate, you move like a woman, you sound like a woman, you smell like a woman, you even eat like a woman.”

He nodded at the piece of bread she was holding, as if to prove his point. She frowned, looking at her fingers. What could he possibly mean? “How do you mean?”

“Where did you find those clothes anyway?” he added instead of offering explanation as to what she was doing wrong. “They’re too big for you, another reason why you look all wrong. How many people have you seen wear clothes that were not made for them?”

She hesitated, knowing he would hate her answer. But there had been no choice. Her brothers were far too big for her to even think of using their clothes.

“After I heard you and Torsten talk, I saw Hilda had placed some clothes by the riverbank to dry. I took them,” she finally admitted. The woman’s son Ari was sixteen yet apparently bigger and stronger than her, judging from the way the shirt and braies fit her. But there had been no time to take them in and anyway, having spend her childhood running after boys in the forest, she was not really skilled with the needle. She was much more at home with snares.

“So you mean you stole them?” As predicted, Moon was not impressed.

Eyja felt herself go red to the roots of her hair. A bad idea. Moon would tell her she blushed like a woman, no doubt. Thankfully, it was now full dark so he might not see. Still, for more safety, she lowered her head. “It’s not stealing. I fully intend to give them back when I return.”

“Mm. But will he want them with a dozen slashes and holes in them? That’s the question.” This time she knew she had blanched. Moon let out a little irritated noise at her reaction. “Bloody hell, Eyja, what do you expect will happen once we’re facing the Norsemen? That they will take one look at us and run like startled coneys? They will fight us, and what’s worse, they will fight to the death. They are skilled, determined warriors.”

He was right. This was no game. A good number of the men around them would be dead in a couple of days time, and they would have died a horrible death.

She stared at Moon, as the reality of the situation sank in. They were going to war.

They might never come back.

“Yes, they are,” she whispered.

If he heard the consternation in her voice, he chose to ignore it. “Which brings me to your dagger.”

“My dagger?”

He nodded toward her left leg. “I expect you are carrying it in your boot as you always do? Well, what do you expect to do with it? Cut your cheese into neat little cubes, like only a woman would do?” He sounded so irate that she recoiled. They’d had their disagreements over the years but he had never spoken to her so scathingly before and she didn’t know how to deal with it. “This is war. You need a real weapon, not something that belongs in a kitchen. Why didn’t you take your father’s sword? It’s the best one in the village.”

“I... I thought about it but I can’t wield it.”

He groaned at her admission. “Of course you can’t, because?—”

He did not finish the sentence. There was no need. Because you’re a woman.

Everything collapsed within Eyja. Yes, she was a woman, armed with only a small dagger, a woman who had never fought or even slapped anyone in her life, who had no idea what she was doing. For the first time, the enormity of what she was about to face struck her. What was she doing here? She would not last a moment against the Norse warriors, most of them she expected to be Berserkers. She had heard her father and his friends talk about the half-crazed warriors enough times to know they could not be disposed of like ordinary men. Once the killing frenzy had seized them, they were virtually invincible and fought to the death.

Though her appetite had quite deserted her, she forced herself to finish the last piece of bread she’d been handed by one of the king’s men. She would need all her strength in the days to come.

“I’m tired,” she said once she had finally managed to swallow the mouthful of hard dough. “I’d better get some sleep while I can, and hope I do not look like a woman when I sleep.”

“Good luck with that, because you do,” was all the answer she got.