Summer Of The Viking

Alwynn put her hand on Merri’s shoulder. Her sentiments exactly. ‘That’s right. If he is alive, we nurse him back to health.’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise, sweetling.’ Alwynn knelt beside Merri and gathered her hands within hers. ‘But don’t get your hopes up.’

‘If he is dead, can I have his sword? I can see it gleaming in the sunlight next to him. I could start learning how to use it. I’ve no desire to be a nun!’

‘Merri!’

With her cheeky smile, the girl appeared unrepentant. Alwynn sighed. Merri knew precisely how to wrap her around her little finger, always had...from the very first time they met. She had been the one bright light in her marriage and she could not have loved her more if she’d been her own.

‘If you want me to stay away from the body, you have to promise me something.’ Merri tapped her fingers against her mouth. ‘I’m not good without a cause.’

‘Be good for me and we will have a decent meal tonight.’

Merri’s eyes lit up. ‘Something other than yesterday’s pottage?’

‘I promise. I will make some of the singing cakes you love so much.’

Merri screwed up her face. ‘But I want the sword as well. You sold all my father’s swords. How can we hope to hold the estate without a sword? People want a strong lord or otherwise they might not pay what they owe us.’

‘Which people are you talking about?’

‘You know...I hear rumours.’

‘You shouldn’t listen to servants’ gossip.’

Alwynn hugged her arms about her waist and turned her mind away from the problems which had plagued her for the past few months. They could wait until she’d investigated the body.

No man could have survive that storm. And she hated the thought of robbing the dead but she was certain she could see the dull gleam of gold on one of his fingers. Anyone else would have no hesitation. And once she had searched the body, she’d arrange for a decent burial. It was more than most would do. But it didn’t make her any easier. A distinct feeling of being unclean crept over her.

‘If he has a sword, we sell it. Swords are not for young ladies from a good family. Ladies become peace-weavers and woo with gentleness.’

Merri squatted down, resting her chin on her knees. ‘Then you’d best hope he is alive as I’m never going to be a peace-weaver. I’m going to learn how to fight and regain the fortune my father lost.’

Rather than answering, Alwynn made her way to the body. Up close, he was even more magnificent. The seawater had moulded his tunic to his torso and she could see the muscles of his back. A man to take your breath away. Or break your heart.

‘Right, I’m going to turn you over.’

She reached down and touched his sun-warmed shoulder.

His hand shot out and grabbed her ankle. Alwynn stifled a scream as she broke free and retreated a step.

The man was no corpse. He was alive!

Everything altered. She might be willing to rob a dead man, but not someone who lived and breathed. And she knew she could not do as Lord Edwin commanded. She was a healer at heart, not a murderer.

‘Easy now, I mean you no harm.’ She placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The muscles rippled under her palm, but they eased.

He gave a slight groan as she pushed him until he lay on his back.

‘Do you understand? I want to help you.’

She looked directly into his face. The face of a rugged warrior, one which had been tempered by time, but remained attractive. She hated to think what he’d been through out on the rough sea last night. His face sported several bruises and his arms were scraped raw where he had been dashed against the rocks. There were no obvious signs of internal injuries, but his blue-tinged lips revealed that he must be close to death.

His startling brown eyes held a mute appeal. Her heart twisted. She wanted to save him and not just because she’d promised Merri. She could spend days staring into those eyes. She shook her head to clear it. It made little sense. This man was a complete stranger.

‘I want to help,’ she said softly. ‘I want to get you somewhere where you’ll be safe. If you stay here, you will die and I think you want to live.’

Chapter Two

Alwynn sat back on her heels. A light breeze blew across her face and the clouds skittered across the blue sky. The warrior was alive and in need of urgent help, but not here. Not on this beach, not ever.

She and Merri were alone on the stretch of sand, but other beachcombers would arrive soon. And they would follow Edwin’s orders, rather than help her save the life of an unknown warrior. She knew that instinctively.

A cold shiver went down Alwynn’s spine. They would be here at any moment. And once he was discovered, someone would act...unless she acted first.

‘Merri, I need your help. You must be very brave, sweetling, and obey me without question.’

Merri reached her side in a heartbeat. ‘He is alive? Is he a prince?’

‘Barely.’ Alwynn automatically straightened Merri’s couvre-chef. ‘And I think he is a warrior of some sort, probably foreign. But well-to-do. The sword is silver encrusted and he wears arm rings.’

Merri’s eyes grew wide. ‘A Northman? You aren’t going to tell me to leave so you can run him through with his sword, are you? You promised to save his life. You can’t be like all the other adults.’

Alwynn slowly shook her head. Perhaps she should be, but something deep within her revolted at the thought of killing an innocent man. ‘There isn’t any sign of a boat. Or other people. Northmen travel in packs. We learnt that from Lindisfarne and the raid last year.’

‘Or any other corpses!’ There was no mistaking the ghoulish delight in Merri’s voice. ‘If it was a boat, there would be more bodies on the beach. They said dozens were washed up last year and those who had not drowned had their heads cut off.’

‘Merri! Who have you been talking to? Neither of us were on the beach then! I sent the steward!’

‘Oswald, Oswy the Gristmiller’s son. He knows these things.’ Merri tapped a finger against her lips. ‘Why did this warrior fall off his ship?’

Alwynn swallowed hard and tried to control the knot in her stomach. Her parents would have told her to tell the authorities. Lord Edwin was the new authority in this part of Northumbria and she knew what his answer would be. But when had following the rules ever brought her any happiness? The last thing she wanted was this man’s death on her conscience.

‘Since when do Northmen travel alone? Or fall from ships?’ Alwynn dusted her hands on her apron. She knew all about Northmen and their ways. One of her cousins had survived the Lindisfarne raid. She had heard all about how the Northmen attacked without warning or provocation. And the butchery. How they had no pity for anyone else, let alone God’s servants. If this man was a Northman, innocent or not, she’d have no hesitation, but...

‘No, he’ll be from somewhere else. Until we know for certain, we give him the benefit of the doubt.’

Merri nodded, accepting her word. ‘I’m not frightened of him. He has a kind chin.’

‘Kindness comes from deeds not looks.’ The instant the words left her throat, Alwynn heard her mother’s voice. She’d always vowed she’d be different and here she was spouting meaningless phrases. Her mother had been a master of that—say something witty and seemingly profound while expecting everyone else to do the hard work.

Merri’s face adopted her stubborn look. ‘I still think he is one of the most beautiful warriors I have ever seen.’

Alwynn gave Merri a no-nonsense look. ‘Right now, we save his life. And we keep quiet about it. We take him to Gode’s cottage. With any luck, he’ll be gone before she returns.’

‘Who do you think he is? Could he be a prince?’

‘I’ve no idea, but he is a person of consequence. A simple seafarer would not be wearing gold rings.’

‘If you save his life, he’ll reward you and then we won’t have to worry any more about the debts my father built up. He’ll fall instantly in love with you, too.’

‘I’ve little time for your stories today, Merri.’ Alwynn glanced over her shoulder. The sun had risen higher in the sky, warming her back and neck. Soon the beach would be flooded with treasure seekers and other scavengers. ‘The sooner we’re off this beach, the better.’

‘What about our basket of sea coal? We can’t carry both.’

‘People are more important than things. Always.’

Alwynn put one arm about the warrior’s shoulders and pulled him to standing. His body buckled and a deal of seawater spewed out.

‘Better out than in,’ she muttered as her knees threatened to give way from the sheer weight of him. ‘Get on the other side. Help me to balance. Dropping him would not do either of us any good.’

Merri ran quickly to the other side and wrapped an arm about his waist. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’

Giving a nod, Alwynn started forward. The man’s feet dragged a bit, but the movement seemed to rouse him. His deep brown gaze held her again.

‘Walk,’ she commanded. ‘Walk or die.’

* * *

Valdar jolted from the comfort of swirling blackness into piercing light. The sunlight on the yellow sand hurt his eyes, nearly blinding him.

The woman’s insistent tone had called him from the cocoon of darkness which had held him in its embrace since he had heaved his body on to the sand.

He knew a few things.

First, he was alive and intended to stay that way. The lad’s mother had been right about the Norns deciding when men died.

Second, his lungs were on fire and his belly was heaving from the amount of salt water he’d drunk in that desperate swim. As it was, a few more feet of water and he’d never have made it out of the surf alive. But he knew the perils of half-drowning. His elder brother had died of it. Dragged from the harbour after his boat overturned, seemingly fine, only to collapse a few hours later. He needed fresh water to replace the seawater which he’d inhaled.

Third, and potentially most troubling, he knew that he was in Northumbria. The accent was incredibly distinctive. He’d heard it several times in various markets over the years. And Northumbria was the last place he wanted to be. The Northumbrian king had declared that all Northmen were to be killed. No Northumbrian was supposed to trade with a Northman.

The Lindisfarne raid might have garnered gold for the detested Viken, but it had made trading more difficult for everyone else.

In fact, it had been partly responsible for the mutiny. Frozen out of their usual markets, Girmir had demanded they raid Northumbria and get gold like the Viken. Horik had objected as he had no quarrel with the Northumbrians and he’d heard of what had happened to another Viken raiding party last year—butchered.

Horik had wanted to find new markets to the south, something Valdar agreed with, but Girmir feared travelling off the end of the earth.

He needed to be north of here. His friend and fellow countryman Ash Hringson had planned to attend the market in Orkney this autumn with his young son. He would be able to get passage home from there. Then he could expose Girmir as an oath-breaker.

But before that, he had to recover and recuperate away from danger. The Picts, or possibly the Gaels, might be more amenable than the Northumbrians...if he could make it there.

He glanced at the older of the women who now held him upright. She was not in the first blush of youth but there was something about the way her green eyes flashed and her chin was set which took his breath away. She was the personification of a Valkyrie.

The floral scent of her hair filled his nostrils, replacing the fishy tang of the shore. He knew that her shaking him earlier had wakened him from the shadowlands. But beauty could turn treacherous and he had no reason to think she’d protect him, particularly once she knew his true identity. No, she was off limits. He’d learnt his lesson about women along ago and Kara had proved herself no different.

He had loved her too much and she had used him. He was never going to be used again. And he was never going to be the one to love more than the woman again.

‘Water?’ he asked, but the word came out as a guttural groan. He tried again. ‘Water. I need water. Please.’

His stomach heaved again and he knew that the sands of time were slipping away from him. The memory of his brother’s drowned face haunted him.

‘You understand? Water?’

The woman cocked her head to one side, resembling an inquisitive bird. Her brow knitted. He tried to mimic drinking.

She gave a slow nod. ‘When we get somewhere safe, I’ll get you something to drink. But now we walk.’

He tried to form the words to explain and the effort caused the skin about his mouth to crack. The dried salt caused it to sting as if it had been attacked by a thousand needles.

Valdar’s body ached as if a thousand frost giants had stomped on it. His mouth tasted of the sea. He tentatively risked a breath. Another splutter of air mixed with seawater. Valdar attempted to ignore it, but his chest continued to heave.

‘I need water now or I die.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t understand what you are saying.’

‘Water or death,’ he yelled. ‘Your choice.’

She cringed. ‘There is no need to shout.’

He put up his hands in a gesture of supplication. ‘My throat. Too much seawater. Fresh water or I die.’

She nodded and said something to the young girl, who quickly went and fetched a large jug of water from beside a basket. The woman held it out. ‘Here you go. Drink. Then walk.’

‘Thank you.’

Valdar downed it, revelling in the sweet taste. Not water, but cooled mint tea. ‘More.’

She shook her head. ‘You’ll be sick. Soon.’

He swallowed. Some of the sea taste had gone, but he still felt parched. ‘Need more. You will get me more.’

‘Soon, first you walk.’

He shrugged off her arm. ‘I will try.’

She gave him a questioning look, but he stood straighter. She moved away from him. Cool air rushed in where her warm body had been. ‘Merri, let him stand.’

He attempted to move forward, but his knees threatened to buckle. He was weaker than a newborn colt. He took a step and the world swayed and the enveloping darkness beckoned once again. ‘Please.’

She came and put her arm about his waist. Her dark head barely reached his shoulder. And she had green eyes shot with silver. ‘Next time, maybe you listen.’

He shrugged her off, put his hands on his knees and tried to draw in deep breaths. Each time he tried, he found himself gasping for air. ‘Leave me. Let me breathe. Bring water.’

‘Time is running out. We need to get off this beach.’ She used her fingers to mimic walking.

Valdar shook his head. Her accent was pleasant and he found if he concentrated, he could understand her well enough. However, the effort made his head spin. ‘Where there is more to drink.’

‘You do speak my language.’

‘I have travelled far. Across many seas.’ He grabbed his throat. ‘After the drink, my mind clears. I can speak best...better.’

Her brow furrowed. ‘And you are from...?’

‘A place so tiny and far from here you will not have heard of it. Trust me.’

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 always refused. He had visited the Franks before his first marriage and after that had seen no reason to go anywhere. So she’d remained by his side, managing the garden and being blissfully ignorant about his mismanagement of the estate.

There was something about the storm-tossed man’s gaze which reassured her that he had no intention of harming them. But whatever the risk, she had to take it. Leaving someone to die on this beach made every fibre in her body revolt, no matter what Lord Edwin had ordered.

Time to stop obeying people blindly and take charge of her life.

She’d made that vow on the day she discovered her late husband’s debts and she intended to keep it. This was the first test of her resolve. She no longer blindly followed the rules.

‘Here you were saying how strong you were,’ she said briskly. ‘You wanted to take over the feeding of Purebright. Are you saying you aren’t strong enough to manage the pony now?’

‘If I don’t complain, does that mean...?’ Merri’s eyes gleamed.

Alwynn shook her head slightly. Only Merri could think looking after that cantankerous pony was a privilege, rather than a chore. Merri was ready for added responsibility. She’d shown that over the past few turbulent months. ‘I was going to tell you when we arrived home after collecting the sea coal. But, yes, provided you help me now, you may look after Purebright.’

The man mumbled something incoherent, plucking at her sleeve. Alwynn cocked her head to one side, listening.

The sound of rough voices travelled on the wind.

‘Shall we move forward? One step at a time? We are nearly in the tussocks of grass. We can stop there and rest out of sight. Wait until everyone has gone.’

Merri squared her too-thin shoulders. ‘I believe I can make that. Purebright would want me to.’

They reached the cover of the grass-topped dunes just as several people arrived at the beach. They were armed with a variety of cudgels, sticks and a pitchfork as well as baskets for gathering sea coal.

Alwynn’s heart knocked against her chest. It pained her that this place had come to this. Before the Northmen attacked Lindisfarne, they had welcomed seafarers and looked after anyone who might be stranded. Not now. They had lost too much.

The men started laughing and joking about the dead and what treasure they might find on the beach. Silently Alwynn wished them to hell along with the Northmen who had caused this change. Her Northumbria was hospitable rather than murderous.