charges are extortionate, but I respectfully decline.’
His florid complexion became that bit more like ox blood. ‘Seeing as you are convinced you are capable, I will leave you to it. I hope it works well for you, my lady.’
His tone left her in little doubt that he didn’t think it would.
‘It will.’ She gestured towards the gate. ‘I look forward to welcoming you when we have the feast to celebrate my father’s return. Unless you wish to take my prisoners by force?’
‘That would be a Northman’s trick, not mine, Lady Ansithe. I uphold the law.’ Cedric turned his horse around and rode out of the yard, swiftly followed by his men.
‘I heard everything from the hall. Are you sure you did the right thing? Leofwine needs to be rescued,’ Cynehild said in an urgent undertone, coming to stand by her after the last horse departed. Her blonde hair was unbound and she’d wrapped a fur about her body.
‘We agreed they were my prisoners and my responsibility,’ Ansithe said. ‘You’ve seen their collection of weapons. They are no outlaws, but warriors. Someone will pay gold for the weapons and for them. Far more than Cedric ever would. And his men would be spies, working against us. We’ll take them to the summer gathering and sell them there. Father and Leofwine are bound to be there as well. It stands to reason.’
Cynehild thoughtfully regarded the byre. ‘Without someone like Cedric’s warriors to guard them, how will you be able to get them to the meeting place without them escaping? Owain the Plough is hopeless.’
Ansithe let out an exasperated huff. Cynehild made it seem as though she hadn’t spent most of the night trying to work out a plan. ‘We don’t have to decide that yet, except it won’t be Cedric or his warriors.’
Cynehild rolled her eyes. ‘Have you ever thought that he might be doing it to impress you? He does want a betrothal with you, Ansithe.’
‘It is my dower lands Cedric wants. The income is a decent one.’
‘He swore it was you he wanted. People can grow to care for each other like Leofwine and I did. Seeing his excellent qualities took me until little Wulfgar was born. You should give marriage with a younger man a chance.’
Ansithe stopped listening to the lecture. Cynehild currently possessed an overly romantic heart. Simply because Cynehild had fallen in love with her husband after she gave birth to little Wulfgar did not mean every woman did. Ansithe put her hand on her flat stomach. Not that her womb had ever shown any sign of quickening. Her husband’s dying words about her shrivelled womb still hurt. And she could never confess the ache to Cynehild. The last time they had confided in each other was before their mother died.
‘I need to guard these prisoners until Owain can relieve me...unless you care to do it.’
Cynehild blanched. ‘You need to stop being so like a man, Ansithe. A woman’s place is in the home with children about her feet. Think about that while you are guarding those brutes.’
Ansithe sniffed the air. ‘Guarding beats burning the porridge.’
The door of the byre swung open, revealing Lady Ansithe carrying a large bowl of porridge. Moir’s stomach obligingly rumbled. He had forgotten how good something simple like porridge could smell.
It had gone very quiet after the horses departed and Moir had begun to wonder what was happening. If Lady Ansithe had been persuaded to sell them to the nasal-voiced Mercian warrior after all...
‘I have brought you and your men food.’
‘It will be most welcome.’ He took the bowl from her and passed it to the first of his men who drank some of the gruel before passing it on to the next man. ‘Most unexpected, Lady Valkyrie.’
‘I am not sure I like that name any more than I did a little while ago.’
‘You should. Where I come from it is a high compliment.’
‘Have you known other warrior women?’
Unbidden the memory of his mother teaching him how to hold a sword and swing properly rose to the forefront of his mind. ‘Yes. My mother’s skill with the sword took my breath away. More than equal to any man’s.’
‘What happened to her?’
Moir banished the unwanted memory. She had been a warrior until she met his father and had believed in his dreams, dreams which ultimately destroyed her. ‘Unimportant. That is all in the past. I live in the present.’
‘Living in the present sounds like something which is easier to say than to do.’ Lady Ansithe nodded, accepting his words. ‘Who are Valkyries, precisely?’
‘Odin’s handmaidens. Brave and honourable, but fierce battle maidens. They choose the warriors who will grace his table. All men admire them and seek to win their favour.’
‘And obtaining a seat at Odin’s table is something warriors long for?’
‘In my world, a seat at Odin’s table is the highest honour any warrior can achieve. For when Ragnarok arrives, Odin’s warriors will play their part in saving the world from total destruction.’ He frowned. ‘It is like achieving entry to heaven from what I know of the Mercian religion.’
‘I see.’
‘Some women from the North seek to emulate Odin’s handmaidens. Yesterday, you achieved that status. A skald should compose a saga about your exploit.’
Lady Ansithe dipped her head so all he saw was the crown of auburn braids. ‘You seek to flatter rather than to mock. My sister thought this, but I suspect an ulterior motive.’
He gritted his teeth. He left with everyone or not at all. He refused to betray his men like his father had done. Loyalty to the felag showed he was a different sort of man.
‘I do nothing of the sort,’ he said. ‘I heard you speaking to that Mercian, declining to sell us for what you implied was a paltry sum. I appreciate what you did for men you have every reason to hate and fear. We are in your debt. I firmly believe all of us wish we could turn the sands of time backwards. An impossibility, I know, but the desire is there.’
‘You heard everything?’
‘Enough to know you refused to sell us to a man with a nasal whine. He sounded the sort who will always seek to chisel and chip to get the most profit.’
‘My neighbour is notoriously tight-fisted. He would not give me the best price for you. He declared you were outlaws, possibly even wolfheads, rather than warriors who would command a decent price.’
‘But you remain convinced we are who we say we are. Not a worthless band of outcasts fleeing from justice.’ He leant his head back against the wall. A start, a glimmer of hope that there might be a way of convincing her to abandon her plan of sending them to Guthmann.
‘Can you prove it?’
‘Our swords and axes prove that we are who we say are, not some ragtag gang of outlaws.’
‘Any
