not cut off my head and send it back to my brother as a warning? Go on. Do it now.’
‘My enemy wants you dead. Why should I want to do that job for him?’ Something stirred in his lifeless eyes—a flash of warmth and admiration that was so quickly concealed Cwenneth wondered if she had imagined it. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I learnt that in Constantinople and it kept me alive.’
‘We do share a common enemy, but we will never be friends. Temporary allies at best,’ she said, tapping her finger against her mouth. The enemy of his enemy... She wanted to fall down and kiss the ground. They were on the same side. He needed her alive and unscathed.
‘You take my point.’
Her heart did a wild leap. She was going to see Lingwold’s grey walls again. She’d never complain about the tapestry weaving being done incorrectly again or the subjects her sister-in-law considered suitable for gossip, but which bored her senseless. She’d be back with her family and people who understood her.
‘Then you’ll be taking me to Lingwold.’ She clasped her hands together to keep from throwing them about his neck. ‘My brother will pay a huge ransom for me. I swear this on my mother’s grave. He has many men pledged to him. He could send an army against Hagal, assist you in getting rid of your enemy. My brother hates being taken for a fool, and Hagal played him.’
She knew in her relief she was babbling like a brook. When the words had all flowed out of her, she stood, waiting for his agreement. The silence grew deafening. The bravado leaked from her veins as his stare hardened.
‘We’re allies,’ she said in a small voice. ‘It makes sense.’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll never go to Lingwold. Your brother’s assurances aren’t worth the spit it takes to say them. If I took you back to Lingwold, I would be truly fulfilling Hagal’s promise to your brother. I know what will happen to me if I enter Lingwold with you even if Hagal has been destroyed. After I’ve finished with you, you may go where you please. Your fate is not linked to mine beyond that day.’
‘I failed to consider that.’
Her brother could be every bit as ruthless as any Norsemen. War had brutalised the idealistic youth she’d known. He bragged about outsmarting them and leaving a band of them to die in a burning house. He proudly proclaimed that it was the only reason Thrand had left him alone for the last raiding season. Her brother might listen to her story, but only after he’d taken Thrand’s head. If Thrand had acted on her advice, she’d have ended up betraying the man she depended on to save her life.
Thrand nodded towards the muddy track. ‘Time to go, your ladyship. Walk—or would you prefer to have your hands bound and be tossed on the back of my horse? I’m in a generous mood after your display of courage. Not many women have asked me to take their life.’
‘I’m not a sack of wool. I will walk. Where are we headed? South to Jorvik?’
‘North to fulfil an oath to my late helmsmen. But I intend to return to Jorvik before the next Storting.’
‘When is that?’
‘Less than a month.’ He made low bow. ‘That will have to satisfy you, Lady Cwenneth. And you had best keep up. I have no time for stragglers, particularly when they are pampered Northumbrian ladies.’
Cwenneth touched her neck, her hand automatically seeking the reassurance of her lost pendant and Richard’s lock of hair. She forced her fingers down. ‘I will walk until it is time to stop. Have no fear on that. I won’t need special assistance.’
‘I shall be interested to see you try.’ He raised his voice so it rang out loud and clear. ‘Lads, the lady is for walking and reckons she can keep up. Do I have any takers? Will she be able to and for how long?’
All about her, Thrand’s men began to wager on how long she’d last. Several remarked on how all Northumbrian ladies were pampered and unused to hard work. One even predicted she would not make but a few yards beyond this place before she demanded to ride. Cwenneth gritted her teeth and silently damned them all to hell.
* * *
‘Do you always keep at this pace?’ she asked, trying to wring out her gown as she trudged through the mud. She must have blisters on top of blisters. Every fibre of her being longed for a warm hearth, a roof over her head and a soft bed to sink down in. But with every step she took and mile she passed, she took satisfaction in proving another Norseman wrong.
‘Getting through the woods and putting distance between us and the massacre is a priority.’
‘We’ve put miles between us and...and where the massacre happened. Surely it must be time to find shelter for the night.’
Every sinew in her body ached. She hurt even where she didn’t think she had muscles.
Thrand half turned from where he led his horse through a muddy puddle and lifted an arrogant eyebrow. ‘We need to make up for lost time. I want to get through these woods before night falls and the rain starts in earnest. We camp in safety. Does that suit your ladyship? Or has my lady changed her mind and now wishes to become a sack of wool?’
The exaggerated patience of his tone grated on her frayed nerves. She stopped and put a hand in the middle of her aching back. ‘Leave me at a farmhouse. Do your raiding or whatever you are going north to do and pick me up on your return. I’ll wait patiently.’
‘How would I know that you’d stay there? Waiting patiently?’
‘I’d give my word.’ She fixed him with a deliberately wide-eyed gaze, but kept her fingers crossed. If the opportunity to go happened, she wouldn’t linger, but she would send a reward once she made Lingwold. ‘No one has questioned it before.’
He made a disgusted noise. ‘If I had taken your word earlier, I would still think you the tire woman. Underestimating my intelligence does neither of us any credit.’
Cwenneth ground her teeth. Fair point. She forced her feet to start marching again. ‘A necessary deception. I had no idea if you were friend or foe.’
‘Once having deceived someone like that, how do you build trust? I’m curious to hear your answer, my lady.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Cwenneth admitted and concentrated on skirting the next puddle. ‘But you should consider the suggestion if you think I am slowing proceedings down. A good commander thinks of all his men. My late husband used to say that.’
‘Consider being left at the farmhouse.’ He slowed his horse slightly and kept pace with her feet. ‘Hagal and his men will begin hunting you once they suspect you live. They will not stop until you are dead or you have defeated Hagal. How will you ensure that farmer’s loyalty when his crops are threatened? A good commander should think about all eventualities before coming to a decision.’
Cwenneth’s stomach knotted. Hagal’s men, in particular Narfi, knew every farmhouse in the area. They were bound to check once they discovered the buried bodies and that hers wasn’t there. Her flesh crept. Thrand was right—why would any farmer shelter her? She wouldn’t be safe until Hagal was dead and she was back inside Lingwold’s walls. ‘I failed to think that far ahead.’
‘If you want to stay alive, let alone gain the revenge you want, you will have to start thinking ahead and you will stay with
