and he drank the draught down, though his stomach tried to rebel against the bitter liquid.
Once the nausea passed, he tried to place the name, but Oswine was not familiar to him. Not that he’d expected it to be, not when his own name was still an enigma. ‘Your lord has not challenged the Danes?’ The frustration clouded his mind, but he pushed back the darkness and focused on the bowl before him as she raised a spoonful of stew to his mouth. He felt like a child, but the fact that it was she who wielded the spoon somehow eased the shame of being spoon-fed.
‘The Danes at the settlement control him now. He won’t do anything to disrupt their hold.’
Finishing that bite, he asked, ‘But these Danes that plague you, are they the same ones controlling Oswine?’
‘Nay, not precisely. The man at the stream was one of the rebels. The rebels broke off from the Danes at some point and answer to no one. The man you killed bore the rebels’ markings. But it hardly matters. The Danes at the settlement care little for our problems. One is hardly better than the other,’ she said, her voice tight with bitterness.
She wasn’t his problem, yet he couldn’t help thinking that she shouldn’t have been out alone when he’d come across her. Not in peaceful times, but especially not with the threat of the rebel Danes. She was a prize any man would find alluring and, with no man to protect her, they could have easily taken her. The thought of her at the hands of that brute he’d killed made his gut clench.
What could he do about it, though? He had to keep moving, to figure out where he belonged and who he was. He undoubtedly had other responsibilities waiting for him somewhere in the world. The thoughts made his head ache, so he forced himself not to think as she brought another spoonful to his lips. Just as he was taking the bite, there was a brisk knock at the door.
Aisly almost dropped the bowl when the knock sounded. A knot of dread churned in her belly as she stood and placed the bowl on the stool. She was expecting Wulfric’s visit any time now. Since Godric’s death, his visits had alarmed her, but she was especially wary after the way she had challenged him the day before. Not that her words had helped. He’d still sent the couple to Lord Oswine. They’d only been allowed to take the few possessions they’d been able to carry and, with the full force of winter only weeks away, their exile would almost certainly mean death, unless Lord Oswine was merciful.
Now it wasn’t just herself she worried about, but the foreigner as well. There was no doubt that Wulfric would have a say in his fate.
She crossed the room and opened the door to see her brother, Alstan, alone. A wave of relief threatened to weaken her knees, but she managed to keep her composure. She was surprised to see him. He lived in a small house at Lord Oswine’s manor and shouldn’t have heard about her guest so soon, unless Cuthbert had sent word yesterday. Lord Oswine wouldn’t have wasted any time sending one of his most trusted men to investigate, particularly since a rebel Dane had been involved. The look on Alstan’s face told her that he was very unhappy with her, though that wasn’t really an unusual look for him.
‘You’ve come to see the foreigner, I presume. Come in. He’s just breaking his fast.’ She stood back and cast a quick glance towards the tapestry as Alstan stepped inside.
Alstan’s colouring was very similar to her own, with his green eyes, though his hair was a bit darker, only shining copper in sunlight, and his face was more freckled from his days spent in the sun. He stared down the length of his sharp nose, fitting her with a glare so fierce she felt her back straightening for the inevitable confrontation. Since Godric’s death a few weeks ago, he’d become almost domineering.
‘Aye. You and I will speak afterwards.’
Aisly clenched her teeth and gave a brisk nod. There was no sense in arguing. He’d say what he wanted whether she agreed or not. Instead of replying, she led him over to her bed, pulling the tapestry back slightly to give them more room to stand by the hearth near the foot of the bed. ‘Foreigner, this is my brother, Alstan. He’s one of Lord Oswine’s men.’
‘Who are you?’ Alstan’s deep voice filled her home with authority.
She stifled the urge to remind him that the man had no memory; certainly Cuthbert had told him that. Her guest was still pale, and though his eye was partially covered with the poultice, the skin there was still very swollen and discoloured.
The foreigner spoke up, delivering nearly the same story to him as he had to her. The same story she’d already relayed to Cuthbert the previous day when he’d been unconscious.
‘Aisly tells us you fought the rebel Dane with bravery. Why is it that you chose to fight him when you could have continued on your way?’
‘I would never leave a maiden to defend herself,’ came his immediate reply.
She couldn’t help it. Her gaze was drawn to him with those words and she sucked in a breath as she found him watching her. His single unharmed eye was warm and intense, and an odd tenderness softened her heart. Nay, he’d never leave someone weaker to fend for themselves. She wondered what woman had claim to him. For certain there was one out there somewhere waiting for him.
But then Alstan’s harsh voice cut through the moment. ‘How do you know what you would never do? You don’t even know who you are.’
‘Alstan!’
The foreigner didn’t even blink, simply narrowing his eye as he answered, ‘I know that I would not leave a helpless innocent to face the wrath of a brute.’
Aisly bristled at the word ‘helpless’ and opened her mouth to defend herself, when Alstan tightened a warning grip on her elbow. She cut her eyes at him but held her tongue. For now.
The foreigner’s gaze darted to that point of contact. His brow furrowed as if it displeased him and she couldn’t stop a trembling smile from starting as a pleasing warmth wrapped around her.
‘And I am indebted to you for that, foreigner.’ Alstan’s hard face didn’t match his words. He seemed angry, not grateful. ‘You saved my sister’s life. It is the primary reason you still have yours.’
The foreigner gave a curt nod.
Aisly intervened before her brother could continue his pompous display of power. ‘Why would you seek to kill him? He’s done nothing to us.’
Alstan continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘The man you killed was one of those renegade Danes. A few of us came across a group of them back in early summer and fought them off. He was one who escaped. Did you not recognise him?’
The foreigner’s eyes narrowed again. ‘Nay.’
‘I thought you might...given how you’re a Dane yourself.’
‘What?’ The word tore from her lips before she could get a handle on herself, and she looked to the foreigner for some sort of denial. None was forthcoming. He lay stoically watching her brother, his jaw tight. Tension crackled in the room.
‘It’s in the way he says his words. He speaks like one of them. His size,’ Alstan explained. ‘While I admit my debt to him for keeping you safe, I believe it’s dangerous for him to stay here.’
‘He
