her made her sprint faster towards the manor. It stood on a gentle slope about a half mile inland. It was too far away to reach before the boats touched the beach, but maybe she had a chance to warn everyone of the invaders. They wouldn’t see the monsters coming without her warning. Even knowing where the fortress stood, she could hardly make out a light through the heavy fog.
Her legs pumped, toes digging deep into the sandy shore as she struggled to run, her blood prickling and settling heavy in her calves. She already had a painful stitch in her side, but Merewyn forced herself to keep going. She imagined she heard the wind striking the leather of a Northman’s cloak. It spurred her to move faster and sooner than she had imagined possible she was running through the open gates of her home.
‘Close the gates! The Northmen have come!’ She barely managed to get the words out before she collapsed in a heap, struggling to catch her breath while her lungs constricted painfully in her chest.
Someone grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet as the gates swung closed.
‘How many?’ a voice called out. She had no idea who had spoken in the chaos.
‘Five ships, perhaps more.’ She shook her head in frustration. She’d been too frightened to count and unable to see them clearly. There could have been more hiding in the fog.
‘Dear God, they’ll overrun us!’
A low roar filled her ears, and she realised it was the sound of the beasts just outside the gates. Their battle cries were fierce and almost inhuman. Her knees trembled and her blood ran cold. The horde had been so close on her heels it was a miracle she’d made it within the walls before they caught her. She immediately offered up a prayer of thanks and tried to remember what Alfred had told them to do if they were attacked while he was gone.
‘Merewyn! What in God’s name have you done?’
Merewyn turned to see Alfred’s wife, Blythe, approaching. There was no denying the censure in the woman’s eyes. ‘The Danes are here—’
‘How dare you lead them to us? This is what comes of your morning walks. Didn’t Alfred forbid them?’
‘They were coming straight for the beach. They already knew where the manor was.’
The blow was so unexpected, Merewyn staggered. The imprint of Blythe’s hand burned hot on her cheek and her eyes stung with tears.
‘Get below. I’ll have to deal with this.’ Blythe was already looking past her to the gates.
‘Wh-what of the children?’
‘Alythe has them all except Annis and Geoff. They just ran to your chamber. Take them with you.’
Merewyn ran to find her brother’s youngest children. She was thankful she never allowed them to follow her to the beach in the mornings. Already she could hear the banging at the gates and the wood groaning as it struggled to withstand the assault. The hollow echo of the initial chop of an axe splitting into the gate reverberated through her and made her stomach clench with the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before the wood gave way.
* * *
Eirik used the thick hilt of his sword to bash through another door. Another empty chamber. He bit back the sour disappointment and stalked to the great hall. It, too, had been abandoned by the Saxons, but was now filling with his men. The lady of Wexbrough Manor stood glaring at him from her place in the far corner. Her guard had been disarmed and knelt, tethered, at the other end of the room. The servants and workmen had been gathered in the yard. Only young boys, women and old men—none capable of putting up much of a fight. That only left the family members, who were conspicuously absent. He knew they were hiding.
It shouldn’t matter. They weren’t here for captives. This was merely a scouting trip. The location was prime for a command post for the spring invasion and it hadn’t yet been thoroughly assessed. Eirik would send men to report to his uncle, who was wintering to the south, and then leave to spend the winter at home, a place he hadn’t seen in almost two years. Taking the girl wasn’t part of that plan, and he assured himself it wasn’t why he hoped to find her. He wanted to see her up close to understand what it was that drew him to her. To appease his curiosity.
His sharp gaze took in every shadow in the hall, searching for a glimpse of the blue gown she wore or a tendril of the dark hair that had streamed out behind her as she’d run. She would be hidden with the rest of the family, wherever that was. They didn’t have time to search. The hair on his neck stood upright, a warning that they needed to make haste and had already spent enough time at the manor. Whether the lack of an adequate guard was a reflection of its lord’s arrogance or its king’s desperation in calling all the able-bodied men to him, Eirik didn’t know. But the possibility that someone had escaped from the manor to summon nearby warriors to their aid was very real. Every instinct insisted they leave now.
The need to find her pressed tight on his chest and threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs. It was madness, sheer and utter madness. Eirik recognised it and kept a tight rein on it, refusing to give up control.
He stepped over bowls and tankards, all signs of an interrupted breakfast, and stopped when he stood before the lady. Two chests of tribute, danegeld the lady had called it, were spilled on the floor between them. ‘This is all you offer? You’ve already told me of your household’s relation to your king. Doesn’t your lord husband rank high enough to deserve more generosity from his king?’ He kicked a gilded tankard so it came to rest at her feet.
If the woman had been shocked that he spoke her language, she never revealed it. Even now, she regarded him with the contempt he assumed she reserved for the lowest slaves.
‘What more do you want from us, dog? Your hounds are already tearing apart the chapel.’ Her words were punctuated by a loud crash coming from the general direction of that building.
‘If you have nothing else to offer, we’ll take your grain.’ The tribute was no more than what she should pay. The lord of the manor had led a particularly brutal offensive against his uncle’s men to the south just months ago. It didn’t bother him at all that the loss of the grain meant she and her lord would face a particularly harsh winter. He repeated the words in his own tongue and they were greeted with sounds of disgust. Gold was exceedingly preferable to grain. Eirik smiled and raised his hand to a group of men who stood nearby awaiting his command. It was the signal to carry out his threat.
‘Nay!’ she yelled when the group moved to leave for the granary.
Almost at the same time, a shrill scream pierced the still morning air. The smile dropped from his mouth and his heart picked up speed in his chest. It was the girl. Eirik knew it without even knowing how he could be so sure. His feet were leaden, but moved faster as he followed the sound through the wide doorway that led to a pantry.
Shelves stacked with sacks of foodstuff lined the walls. Oak barrels had been stowed three deep against the wall, but a portion of them were pushed aside revealing a hidden chamber in the floor. A door that led to the underground chamber was thrown wide, leaving a yawning black hole in the earth.
His half-brother, Gunnar, had just ascended the steps inside. A figure was slung over his shoulder, struggling to be released.
‘What have you found?’ Eirik lowered his sword and took in the sight of the slender girl in the dark blue gown thrown over his brother’s shoulder. Her chestnut hair spilled down his back and her fists beat futilely against him. Possessiveness, hot and fierce,
