The Viking's Defiant Bride. Joanna Fulford

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СКАЧАТЬ gently bathing the cut lip. Osgifu sat very still throughout, though her hands trembled slightly in her lap. As she had no access to her medicine chest, there was relatively little that Elgiva could do for she had no arnica or salve to hand. The best she could manage was a cool compress on the bruised area of the face.

      For some time neither woman spoke, each trying to come to terms with the terrible events that had shattered the peaceful course of their lives and changed it for ever. Eventually it was Osgifu who spoke first.

      ‘Are you all right, child? They did not hurt you?’

      ‘No, I am quite well.’

      ‘Thank God for it. And the children?’

      ‘Both well too.’ Elgiva cast a glance at the open window and shuddered. If Sweyn had had his will, both her nephews would be dead, impaled on the spears of the horde beneath. It had been prevented. Remembering Wulfrum’s ringing command, she could only be thankful he had appeared on the scene when he did. Seemingly he had no taste for the slaughter of babes, either. He had kept her out of Sweyn’s clutches too. She knew that if he had not, the other would have exacted a terrible revenge for she had bested him and caused him to lose face before his comrades. It was not a thing he was likely to forgive. There could be no forgetting the expression in the cruel grey eyes.

      Unable to read her mind, Osgifu guessed accurately enough the thoughts passing through it. She had been stunned for a short time, then disorientated, lying still until she could be sure of her bearings. None of the invaders had paid any further attention to her and she had heard much of the conversation in the room, listening with mounting concern for Elgiva. The girl turned to her now.

      ‘Did you hear?’

      ‘Aye, enough.’

      Before they could speak further, Ulric broke free of the woman who had been holding him and came to them. Elgiva scooped him up and sat him on her knee, holding him close, speaking words of reassurance. The tears that had risen in her eyes unbidden were swiftly quelled. A show of weakness would not help anyone, least of all herself. If she hoped to survive the ordeals that lay ahead, she would need every ounce of courage she possessed. The trouble was that she had never felt so afraid in her life.

      Chapter Three

      Wulfrum rejoined Halfdan and Olaf Ironfist outside. His men were already moving among the bodies of the slain, collecting weapons and armour along with any valuables they might find. The fighting had been fierce while it lasted—the Saxons had put up a brave defence even though they were heavily outnumbered. He admired courage and it had been shown here this day. Their leaders had fallen and many besides, but a goodly number had been taken prisoner. They stood roped together under heavy guard. From their sullen expressions he knew them unbowed, though they feared for their lives even now. It was well. It meant they would do nothing foolish. He had no intention of shedding any more blood for he would need able hands to work these lands in future. However, it would not hurt his cause to leave them in doubt a while longer.

      Wulfrum turned away from the prisoners and met the keen gaze of his sword brother. Halfdan lowered his voice.

      ‘Hold this place well, brother. Lying as it does on the road to the north, it is of strategic importance to us.’

      ‘You may depend on it.’

      ‘I know it.’ Halfdan clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I could think of no better hands to leave it in. Even so, it will keep you busy. The place seems to be strangely neglected.’

      Wulfrum glanced around. ‘It looks to have seen more prosperous days, but they will come again, I promise you.’

      ‘Why would any man worthy of the name allow his holdings to fall into such disrepair?’

      ‘I know not.’

      ‘Unless of course there was no man in view,’ said Halfdan, his tone thoughtful.

      ‘Perhaps, yet the Saxons were organised and fought valiantly. It suggests a leader, does it not?’

      ‘Belike he fell in the fighting, then.’

      ‘Most likely. The Saxon losses were heavy. I shall make enquiries.’

      Before further conjecture was possible they were interrupted by the approach of two of their fellow Danes, dragging a captive with them. The man’s hands were bound before him and his face beneath a layer of grime was ashen. From the shaven crown and long robe Wulfrum recognised one of the Christian priests. He glanced once at Halfdan and then watched in silence as the trio came to a halt before them.

      ‘Look what we found, my lord.’ The guard’s lip curled as he glanced at the prisoner. ‘The craven swine was hiding in the barn.’

      ‘Hiding, eh?’ Halfdan’s expression mirrored the guard’s as he looked the priest over. ‘Scarcely surprising, I suppose. He’s a poor specimen by the look of him. Must be fifty if he’s a day.’ He turned to Wulfrum. ‘What do you want to do with him? Shall we have him spitted and roasted like an ox? Or shall we flay him and nail his hide to the door of his accursed church?’

      ‘Beg pardon, my lord,’ said the guard, ‘but we burnt the church down.’

      Halfdan followed his gaze towards a distant plume of thick dark smoke. ‘Ah, yes, so we did. Pity. We’ll spit him, then.’

      Grinning, the men moved to obey.

      Wulfrum held up a hand. ‘No, not yet. He may prove to be of use.’ He fixed his gaze on the trembling form. ‘How are you called, priest?’

      ‘Father Willibald, my lord.’

      Halfdan stared at the earl in disbelief. ‘You want this shaven ass?’

      ‘Aye, I do.’

      ‘Very well, as you will. Put him with the others, then.’

      With ill-concealed disappointment the guards dragged the priest away.

      Halfdan watched them a moment before turning back to his companion.

      ‘Have some of your men search the forest hereabouts. ’Tis likely some of the serfs have taken refuge there. We should not lose valuable slaves thus. Besides, if left on the loose, they may foment trouble later.’

      Wulfrum nodded for it had been his thought also. ‘It shall be done, my lord. If any are hiding, they will be found and brought back.’

      ‘Meantime, let the injured be carried into the hall and treated. There must be those among the Saxon women versed in the knowledge of healing. They must be identified and put to work.’

      ‘It should be easy enough. I’ll wager that priest will know.’

      Wulfrum was right. Two minutes was all he needed to elicit the relevant information. Hearing the names, he hid a smile. It seemed that his beautiful future bride had other talents to her credit. He strode back to the hall and collared one of his men.

      ‘Have the guards bring the Lady Elgiva down here,’ he ordered. ‘And the woman called Osgifu.’

      Wulfrum seated himself casually on the edge of the long table and waited. A few minutes later the guards reappeared, СКАЧАТЬ