Summer Of The Viking. Michelle Styles

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      He waited to see if she’d accept his word. If he said from a North country, she might get the wrong idea. Northumbrians didn’t distinguish between the North countries. He hated that he was dependant on her. But the gods had spared him for a purpose.

      ‘Where?’

      ‘Sand, Raumerike.’

      ‘You are right.’ A smile hovered on her mouth. ‘I’ve no idea where that is.’

      ‘How far do you need me to walk?’

      Her neat teeth worried her bottom lip, turning it deep red. ‘Off the beach and into the long grass. We can shelter there until all danger is passed.’

      The long grass was a lifetime away. ‘What are you afraid of? What is on this beach?’

      She glanced over her shoulder, watching shadows. ‘I have my reasons. Trust me.’

      Their gazes locked. What choice did he have but to trust her? He hated relying on anyone.

      ‘After that water and shelter,’ he said. Instantly her brow darkened so he added, ‘Not for long. I...I wish to go home in peace. Peace, you understand?’

      She tapped her fingers together.

      ‘Please.’

      Her brow cleared. ‘I know of a vacant cottage where you can rest...before you continue your journey.’

      Relief washed over him. His luck had changed. The gods had spared him for a reason. ‘You won’t regret it.’

      ‘I had better not.’

      The sun had dried his sea-soaked tunic to complete stiffness. It rubbed salt into his raw back with every move he made, but that was nothing to the way his legs ached. About the best he could say was that they remained attached to his body. He did not know how long he had swum for and how far the tide had carried him. Then there were the rocks where the waves had dashed him. He could hear them pounding, pounding, pounding and knew he had barely got out alive.

      A great shaking racked his body.

      He put out an arm, trying to balance, trying to keep the life-giving liquid down.

      ‘Help me...please.’

      She sighed and grabbed him about the waist. The simple touch did much to steady him. ‘People are coming to scavenge for sea coal. Neither of us wants to meet them.’

      ‘Slow, yes.’ Even though some of the words were unfamiliar, he understood the urgency in her voice.

      He nodded and started to shuffle forward, forcing his feet to lift and his body to stay upright. The third step sent him tumbling to his knees. A cry escaped his lips.

      Silently he cursed for showing weakness to a woman.

      The girl made a face and grabbed his arm, steadying him. ‘Stumbling will make things worse.’

      ‘Your daughter?’ he asked.

      ‘Stepdaughter. Merewynn. I’m Alwynn of Yoden.’ She paused and frowned with intense concentration. ‘A place so tiny that you will not have heard of it either.’

      He stared at the grass-covered dunes. What sort of man sent a woman out on the beach, where he knew danger was? Where these scavengers lurked?

      ‘Your husband?’

      ‘Dead,’ she answered, keeping her gaze away from him.

      Her answer explained everything and nothing. Widows must find it as difficult to keep property in Northumbria as they did in Raumerike. Someone had turned her out of the hall. And now they were forced to search for washed-up items on the beach. The Northumbrians bleated that the Northmen were barbarians for attacking Lindisfarne, but they were barbarians not to look after their women better.

      ‘But you must live somewhere,’ he persisted. Women this lovely were not without a protector for long.

      ‘Keep going. Don’t stop. We’re nearly to a spot where we can shelter. I mean to keep you alive.’

      He stopped and looked down at her face. A faint sheen of sweat shone on her forehead. She appeared as if a strong wind might blow her over, but he could sense the steel underneath.

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because I don’t kill creatures who wash up on these shores. I wait to see if they are innocent or not first.’

      * * *

      Alwynn concentrated on putting her feet down, rather than looking up at the dune. Every time she looked, it seemed they had barely gone a few steps, but her gown was now plastered to her back from the exertion. The warrior had closed his eyes and once again appeared insensible to their surroundings. With each step they took, he leant more on Merri and her. Typically male. She’d learnt the hard way.

      ‘He’s very heavy,’ Merri complained, stopping for the third time in as many steps. ‘Can’t we rest?’

      ‘He requires more liquid. Small beer might be best,’ she said instead. ‘He has had too much salt water. You saw how the fisherman’s youngest recovered once he had small beer last March. It will be easier to fetch some when we are at Gode’s.’

      ‘Where do you think he is from? I’d never heard of the place he said. Raume, was that what he said? Is it north or south of here?’

      ‘Does it truly matter? Right now he is alive.’

      ‘What if he were an exiled prince?’ The girl gave a little shiver. ‘Or a Northman? Do Northmen come from every country to the north or from just one country? What if they were not all like the monsters who attacked Lindisfarne?’

      There were times when Merri’s questions made Alwynn’s head spin. What did she know about the politics? Or where countries were? Or how people behaved? All she knew was that Northmen were monsters who had no respect for anything or anyone.

      ‘He is a stranger, that’s all I know. His accent is unlike any I’ve heard before but he can speak our language. Goodness knows where Raumerike is. Somewhere.’ Alwynn adjusted her hold on the man’s waist. ‘Once we know who he is in truth, then we can decide what to do. But first we save his life.’

      She gazed back at the beach where she’d found him. The morning sun sparkled on the waves. Nothing to show the power of last night’s storm beyond the debris which littered the high-tide mark.

      She couldn’t abandon the man, but she wished she knew where Raumerike was. She’d have to wait until the priest in the next parish returned. He knew things like that. And the question would have to be asked carefully. The last thing she wanted was for Lord Edwin to start wondering why she wanted to know.

      His accent was very strange and she had never seen the markings on his clothes before. True, the garments were fine, far finer than any around here, but the gold embroidery was different.

      There were many countries besides Northumbria. She used to ask about going on pilgrimage and seeing other places, but Theodbald had СКАЧАТЬ