Loveweaver (29 page)

Derisive, Ailwin snorted. “Order? In your absence, I was in authority, and did what
I
saw fit. I devised a plan of action where none existed and seized opportunity before you
and
it were lost!”

“Reason eluded you, so intent were you to march in at any cost! Did you consider the price, that Byrnstan and Llyrica’s life would be forfeited?”

“Had you dealt with your wife in the start, we would not be here in this hut! No doubt we would be marching back to London victorious of the Battle at Lea.!”

“We are in this hut, Ailwin, since you thought it necessary to fall upon and kill Haesten, a defenseless man who lay dying in his bed! Is that the type of soldier you have become?”

This struck Ailwin speechless, the color rising to the roots of his blond hair and his hands tightening into fists. Eadwulf shifted his considerable weight from one foot to the other, obviously seeing this argument stemmed from men at personal odds. Ashen and small, Llyrica sat back, looking to shoulder the blame. Slayde regretted this.

But Brynstan threw his hands in the air. “We know of one perfect human, and He is our Lord! The rest of us are flawed and take wrong turns! Go from this moment, children, and think clearer in future days!”

Though heated, Slayde felt some humor filter through, that only Brynstan would call them children. This intervention that Byrnstan had practiced for years opened a way for StoneHeart to concede a bit of his pride.

Ailwin must have had the same thought. His shoulders fell a bit, though his face remained tight. But his silence said that he, too, was not quite ready to admit aloud his fault.

“Neither action,” added Eadwulf, “that StoneHeart and Brynstan enter the fort alone, nor that Ailwin lead an attack, was ideal. But decisions were made by all on hand using what resources we had. As men, we do not just think with our heads, but also with…” He hesitated and looked to Brynstan.

The priest nodded and could continue where Eadwulf should not. “With our hearts. StoneHeart indeed had his wife to think of and whether wise or foolish, did what he could to satisfy all. And Ailwin, you were spurred with no less fervor and more hot blood than your ealdorman. A heated moment of battle drove you to a misjudgment just as surely as StoneHeart’s love of a woman drove his.”

Ailwin shook his head as if scoffing the notion. But then his face softened, and Slayde wondered if his second now considered the truth of Byrnstan’s words.

Slayde shifted his position to relieve a strain on his wound, and to stall before making an admission. “I will impose no punishment on Ailwin for his actions. Moments before he charged in, I myself had come close to killing Haesten.” He gave Ailwin his stoniest glare. It ensured that Ailwin would receive StoneHeart’s share of the guilt from one man to another. “I bear you no lasting ill will. And as my side heals, this day will foster tales of the Battle at Lea without mention of this mishap coming from me.”

StoneHeart locked eyes with Ailwin, a dare.

Ailwin held fast for a long while, but then blinked and looked aside. He quickly regained his straight posture. “I sought to do my duty, ealdorman. My intention was to subdue your captors and see you released. My one error is regretted and I have worked since to ensure proper procedure and order.”

Ailwin’s statement would suffice, was more than Slayde would have expected. He nodded acceptance. “With this incident discussed and set aside, you will tell me what plans have been made for the future of this fortress. But first I need to hear what is at issue that so troubles my wife.”

The noise of a commotion outside caught the attention of all inside the small hut. Slayde leaned forward, trying to interpret shouted words beyond the walls.

Breathless, a young soldier rushed up to the doorway. “The king has come! King Alfred has come!”

“Stop, brother! It is of no use, and will make matters worse!” Llyrica pulled on Broder’s arm. Her usual resilience was long worn away and she scarcely had the strength or the heart to hold on. 

Bloodshot, sunken eyes and lean body, on whose clothes hung too loosely, spoke plainly of Broder’s troubles. He was going mad with grief. “You say StoneHeart had awakened and yet you did not make my one small request of him! Let go of me and
I
shall!”

The defeated inhabitants of Haesten’s hall paid little attention to Broder’s present tirade. It differed little from his last screaming outburst. Talk was that the Vikings of Fortress Lea were to be escorted to a Dane encampment to the north, and likely they cared solely for their ordeal to be over. Even the Saxon soldiers had quit the hall, trading the excitement of the meeting outside for the subdued mood within.

“Be patient just a bit more, I pray! You must not rush out where StoneHeart meets with his king.” Llyrica lowered her voice, but kept it stern. “Slayde will allow it, I am certain, though Ailwin would not! And do not tempt Ailwin again to use his sword against you! I have come between you often enough!”

Broder’s face contorted. “Ailwin is as much my enemy as StoneHeart and I would see him dead as well!”

“Wish no one dead, but be reminded that StoneHeart kept Ailwin’s sword from Haesten. Ailwin cannot be reasoned with, but StoneHeart can.”

Perhaps pondering these words, Broder’s arm relaxed somewhat within Llyrica’s clasp. His ceaseless demands on her attention were again her task, further fraying the last threads of her composure. 

But a blessed reprieve, the activity outside of the hall diverted her thoughts. Through the open door, she could see lingering violet clouds drifting past the first stars of evening. The rain had ceased as torches and fires sprang up in the yard. Countless black shapes rippled against the bank of the earthworks, the shadows of StoneHeart’s army and King Alfred’s. She tried to pick out her husband among the hundreds of men who now gathered to celebrate victory and to plan the final phase of the campaign.

She could not see him, but reflected on their last moments. With her help, he had managed to stand, get dressed and prepare to welcome his king. As they left the hut he kissed her forehead and gave her a smile that scarcely hid his pain and weakness. Ailwin, Eadwulf and Brynstan were waiting, so she unwillingly put him in their care.

She worried for his well-being and for their fledgling love. Caught between her unsettled need to stay with Slayde and this black cloud of Broder’s hysteria, she had no time to sort her thoughts.
I cannot go to Slayde now. He is enmeshed in his duty.

What started as a small headache was growing rapidly.

Broder abruptly broke free and started again for the door. “My father will be denied entry to Valhalla while you and your demon husband scheme more evil!

“Brother!” Returned to the crisis at hand, Llyrica ran and did her best to hold on to him. “Stay! I will help! Father will have his burial at sea.”

Broder threw down her arms with freakish strength. With hands that she feared would wring her neck, he gripped her by the shoulders. Fevered eyes beseeched her with pitiable tears. “How can you help, sister, when you do more harm than good? Since I was a baby and you but four summers old, we thought our father dead. But when you were eight, mother told you he lived and bade you keep a promise to make him suffer. You kept that promise and it made me suffer as well! You married StoneHeart, our father’s enemy! You …”

“Do not recite it all again! It changes nothing. I must have a moment to think.” Llyrica pressed her fingers to her temples. Surveying the hall, she saw Lorna and the two youths, Lunt and Egil huddled in a corner. Four other youngbloods, Broder’s friends from their ill-fated sea battle, lounged nearby.

Unnamed, unplanned, a deed must be done. Broder must have an end to his suffering and be paid for the wrongs he charged against her. Until this was accomplished her life with Slayde would not begin.
Lord, all I wish is to be somewhere alone with my husband.
But he had obligations to fulfill and so did she.

Once more, it fell to her to quell her brother’s recklessness. Her resolve did not ease her misgivings, but impulse spurred her on.

Llyrica pinned Broder with unblinking eyes. She summoned authority into her words, would be unyielding. “Listen! Listen to me! You know I can keep a promise. So do as I say now and I
promise
you that I will see your request fulfilled.” She paused, waited to judge that Broder listened and understood. “
I promise
.” Silenced, frowning, Broder fell under her command. “Now go to your friends yonder. Sit and wait but a short time.”

Llyrica took his hand, squeezed it and glanced out the door into the dark. StoneHeart’s army would be occupied for many hours.

“Come now,” she said, leading Broder to his comrades. “I promise that within two days, Valkyries will carry Haesten up to your gods.”

If I am lucky, I can be there and back before Slayde has missed me long. I miss him before I have left! Now I pray he will understand why I do what I will do
.

“I will return anon and tell you what is to be done,” she directed Broder. “If you move before I say, all chance will be lost.” The decision made, she must now manage to get Haesten’s body on a ship and out to sea by early morning. The old cape that accompanied her to Lea, she pulled over her shoulders and head, then slipped out into the dark.

Buried in the field beyond the earthworks of Fortress Lea, lay Haesten’s body. He had been wrapped in herb-soaked cloths and covered with the timeworn cloak woven by his first wife. Among his fallen warriors, he rested where white stones marked their cairns.

Shaking with apprehension, Llyrica waited by one of StoneHeart’s ships. She had chosen it for its manageable size, close access to the riverbank and an easy push off to start the journey. Moored alongside the fleet of others, this small, low vessel promised to move effortlessly toward London with the river high and swift due to the recent rain. Night would conceal the first part of the course; a Saxon vessel in the busy estuary of the Thames would provide anonymity for the last.

Less than an hour had passed since she had made her promise to her brother, too little time to have yet been discovered missing. StoneHeart and King Alfred’s armies reveled on. She sucked a breath, knowing this undertaking was risky, but without alternative.

By her strict order that they use no light at all and be as quiet as the dead, Broder and his small band of followers were to unearth Haesten’s body and carry it down. A muffled footfall followed by Broder’s whispered
hail
confirmed that all had gone well.

He and his six comrades would be enough to wield the boat.

Llyrica helped Lorna into the vessel, then held it steady in the rippling current. She addressed Broder and Egil. “Lift Haesten over the strake. Quickly. Now lay him there in the deck and cover him with the cloak.” Then beside the body, Llyrica carefully placed two wood planks and the small urn of oil in which a small flame burned. It would be used to light a torch.

The odors of herbs, earth and the warlord’s decaying flesh arose to taint the fresh scent of night as they all climbed aboard with their few bundles of provisions. Llyrica released the tie from the moor, pushed them away and hopped in. “Lie low for this first bit,” she whispered, hunching over. “We will let the boat drift, then lean into the oars upon my word.”

Her heart pumped so hard that breathing was nearly impossible. She listened for indications that a Saxon soldier may have spotted an errant ship flowing down river. But nay, the sounds of commotion grew distant and she peered over the strake of the boat.