Читать книгу The Viking's Touch - Joanna Fulford - Страница 12

The following morning Wulfgar left Hermund in charge of the ship and, accompanied by Thrand, Beorn and Asulf, set off for Drakensburgh. Built on a low hill and surrounded by a deep ditch and a high, spiked wooden pale, it wasn’t hard to find.

‘Balder’s toenails! The place is a fortress,’ said Thrand. ‘Whoever lives here is a man of some importance.’

‘Is this a good idea, my lord?’ asked Beorn. ‘It could be a trap.’

All three men looked at Wulfgar. He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, but keep your wits about you all the same. Come on.’

They reached the wooden bridge that spanned the ditch and, when challenged, identified themselves. It seemed they were expected. There followed sounds of a bar being removed and then the small wicket gate swung open to admit them. From there they were escorted across a large compound in which stood various buildings. Wulfgar noted a barn, storehouses, workshops and small dwellings before at length they came to a large timbered hall. Fantastically carved pillars flanked the great oaken doors. However, the atmosphere within was more sombre. The only light came from the open portal and the hole in the roof above the rectangular hearth pit where the remains of a fire smouldered in a bed of ash. Through the gloom Wulfgar made out smoke-blackened timbers adorned with racks of antlers and wolf masks. Trestle tables and benches were stacked against the walls, but at the far end of the room on a raised platform was a huge oaken chair, carved with the likeness of birds and animals. The air smelled of smoke and ale and stale food.

‘Wait here,’ said the guard. With that he departed and left them alone. The four looked around.

‘A gloomy lair,’ muttered Asulf.

Thrand nodded. ‘You said it. What manner of man lives here?’

‘A powerful one. That chair looks more like a ruddy throne.’

‘Let’s hope its owner is as gracious as his lady.’

In the event it was Lady Anwyn who came to greet them a short time later. Wulfgar felt a pleasurable sense of recognition. She was accompanied by the old warrior he had seen before: Ina. With them was a young boy—the one on the pony, he assumed. Even if the facial likeness had not been apparent, the red-gold hair and green eyes would have proclaimed him her son. Just for a moment he was reminded of another child and another hall and his throat tightened. Forcing the memory from him, he watched his hostess approach.

When word was brought of the men’s arrival Anwyn had wondered if Lord Wulfgar would be one of their number. Indeed, in some part of her mind she had hoped he might. Even so, seeing him there caused her pulse to quicken a little. Last time they met she had been on horseback. She had not realised just how tall he was.

‘Good morning, my lady.’

Recollecting herself, she returned the greeting. ‘You are come to use the forge.’

‘The carpenter’s shop, too, if you have no objection.’

‘None,’ she replied. ‘What is it you require?’

‘We’re going to need a new yard, and there’s a crack in the ship’s rudder that needs reinforcing. If we can fashion a couple of steel plates, that should do the trick. We could also use some bolts.’ He paused. ‘Naturally we will pay a fair price for the wood and the iron.’

‘Naturally.’

He thought he caught a gleam of something like amusement in her eyes, but it was so quickly gone he couldn’t be certain. All the same it intrigued him. He saw that she was wearing a different gown today. The soft mauve colour suited her, enhancing the delicate pink and whiteness in her cheeks and providing a foil for that wonderful hair, confined in a neat braid. He tried to visualise what it looked like unbound, what it felt like to touch.

Aware of his scrutiny but unable to read his thoughts, Anwyn became unwontedly self-conscious and looked away. Mentally chiding herself, she took a deep breath. She was no green girl to be discomposed by a man’s casual regard.

‘I’ll show you the forge,’ she said.

Even as she spoke she knew there was not the least need for her to go with them; Ina could have done it. On the other hand they were visitors here and it was a courtesy. She averted her eyes from Wulfgar’s. Courtesy had nothing to do with it. The truth was that she did not want to lose this man’s company just yet.

They left the hall and set out across the compound. He fell into stride beside her, leaving the others to follow. Despite the decorous space between them every part of her being was aware of him, every part alive to his presence. He made her feel strangely self-conscious, and yet she could not have said why. It was not an unpleasant sensation exactly; rather it was unaccustomed.

For a moment or two neither of them spoke. Then Wulfgar glanced in the child’s direction.

‘Your son?’

‘Yes. Eyvind.’

‘A fine boy. His father must be proud of him.’

‘His father is dead.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘Recently?’

‘Ten months ago.’

‘It cannot be easy for a woman alone.’

‘I manage well enough.’

‘So I infer if yesterday is aught to judge by.’

Something in his tone brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks. Quickly she changed the subject.

‘You are not from these parts, Lord Wulfgar.’

‘No, I grew up in Northumbria.’

‘You have kin there still?’

‘Some.’

He didn’t qualify that and Anwyn didn’t pursue it. After all, it was none of her business.

‘And now you live the life of an adventurer.’

‘That’s right.’

‘It must be exciting.’

‘It has its moments.’

Before she could reply they reached the forge. The smith looked up from his work and, seeing who it was, made his duty to her.

‘My lady?’ He glanced from her to her companions, surveying them with open curiosity.

Anwyn smiled. ‘Ethelwald, we need your help …’

Having performed the introductions, she briefly outlined the situation. The smith listened attentively. ‘It is not a hard task, but I have work on hand that must be completed first. I cannot begin anything new until the morrow.’

‘And the job will take how long?’ asked Wulfgar.

‘A few days, no more,’ the smith replied.

‘We have other places to be. Can it not be done sooner?’

‘No. I must honour the agreements made before you came.’

His men exchanged quizzical glances but, though Wulfgar noted it, he continued to eye the smith steadily.

‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘A man should keep his word. We’ll wait.’

Ethelwald nodded. ‘In that case I’ll do what I can.’

They left him then and made their way across to the carpenter. Ceadda, too, had a task in hand but, on hearing that the newcomers required only tools and would do the work themselves, he readily agreed to let them use his premises.

‘Good. I’ll leave you men to talk, then.’ Anwyn took hold of Eyvind’s hand and then turned to go. Instead she encountered gentle resistance.

‘Mother, can I stay and watch? I won’t get in the way, I promise.’

Anwyn hesitated. Seeing it, Ina interjected. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him, my lady.’ He glanced at their visitors. ‘Make sure he comes to no harm.’

‘All right.’

Eyvind’s face lit with a smile. ‘I promise I’ll be good.’

She returned the smile and squeezed his shoulder gently. ‘See that you are.’

For a brief moment she looked over his head and her gaze met Lord Wulfgar’s. The blue eyes held a gleam of amusement.

‘We’ll all be good,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

Anwyn fought the urge to laugh. There was something about that deadpan expression which was both provoking and enigmatic. Unable to think of a suitable reply and all too conscious of that penetrating gaze, she decided that the wisest course lay in dignified retreat.

The men worked steadily, but it was a hot and arduous task. They were not at all sorry when, an hour or so later, a servant appeared with a jug of ale. Wulfgar acknowledged a moment of disappointment that Lady Anwyn had not brought it herself, but then mentally upbraided himself. Why should she? There must be a dozen tasks awaiting her attention within doors. She had kept her word and let them use the workshops; they had no further claim on her time.

The delay with the iron work was a nuisance, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. Rollo would just have to wait. If he didn’t like it, that was too bad. No doubt they’d make up for lost time with a series of successful raids later. Not that they lacked for wealth. Previous expeditions had proved lucrative enough. We could retire soon … Hermund had been right about that. Retirement from adventuring meant putting down roots again, staying in one place. Wulfgar smiled in self-mockery. It wasn’t going to happen. He was already seven and twenty, long past the time when he might have remarried. Not that he had ever felt the least inclination to do so. In any case, a mercenary’s life was not suited to such responsibilities. His choices now did not hurt innocents. The decisions he made invariably carried a degree of danger but, in the long run, they were likely to benefit his crew. They knew the risks and accepted them. Grown men were not vulnerable in the same ways as women and children, a lesson he had learned too late.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the sensation of being watched. Looking up, he met the child’s eyes. Immediately the boy looked away. Wulfgar smiled, but said nothing. Although the lad was curious, he was also shy. Nothing would be gained by trying to force his confidence. How old was he? Four? Five, perhaps? Too young to have started military training yet, at all events. If he lived so long. Life was precarious, especially for the young. Had that not been clearly demonstrated to him?

‘You’ve got a ship, haven’t you?’

As the boy’s voice recalled him, Wulfgar took a deep breath. ‘That’s right. She’s called the Sea Wolf.’

‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘She was damaged in a storm. Her sail and rudder need mending.’

Eyvind listened attentively. ‘Is she fast?’

‘Very. A warship needs to be.’

‘Have you been in lots of battles?’

‘Quite a few.’

‘Were you scared?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Did you kill people?’

‘Aye, when they tried to kill me.’

Eyvind nodded slowly. Then he looked past Wulfgar and smiled. His companion turned and, with pleasurable surprise, saw Lady Anwyn standing there.

‘I’ve brought you more ale,’ she said, ‘and a platter of bread and meat. You must be hungry by now.’

As soon as he saw the food Wulfgar realised he was. His men must be feeling the same. ‘Thank you. It is most welcome.’

She set the platter and jug down on a bench and then held out a hand to Eyvind. ‘Come.’

He tucked his hand in hers and then looked back at his erstwhile companion. ‘Can I come and see your ship?’

‘If you wish,’ he replied. ‘But first you had better ask your mother.’

Eyvind looked up her. ‘May I? Please?’

Anwyn hesitated. These men were strangers and, though they had shown no ill intent, she did not know how far they were to be trusted.

Her anxiety did not pass unnoticed. Wulfgar met and held her gaze. ‘Perhaps you would like to come too, my lady?’ The blue gaze held a distinct gleam. ‘With as many of your escort as you wish to bring.’

Rosy warmth bloomed in her cheeks. ‘I don’t know.’

‘What don’t you know?’ he asked.

‘We’ve barely met and, well, I …’

‘You suspect I might hold the boy to ransom, or carry you off, perhaps?’ He surveyed her keenly and the gleam intensified. ‘Now that I come to think of it, the notion is most pleasing.’

‘Pleasing? To whom?’

‘To me, certainly.’

‘So that you could sell me for a profit later?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t sell you,’ he replied and was gratified to see her blush deepen. ‘However, the situation doesn’t arise since I am not in a position to do any such thing. You are therefore quite safe.’

Safe was not the word she would have chosen just then. Nor was she entirely sure how much of what he said had been spoken entirely in jest. The expression in his eyes was sufficient to bring back all her former self-consciousness.

Seeing her indecision, he smiled faintly. ‘Should I not receive the benefit of the doubt?’

Anwyn was silent, trying to order her scattered thoughts. He was an avowed mercenary, a pirate. She had known him less than a day. How far could she trust him? Eyvind looked up at her anxiously.

‘Please, Mother?’

‘I think you’re outvoted,’ said Wulfgar.

She threw up her hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘All right. I give in.’

Eyvind jumped up and down with glee. ‘Can we go now?’ ‘Why not?’ replied Wulfgar. ‘No time like the present.’

In spite of his suggestion that she might bring a large escort, Anwyn contented herself with Ina and half-a-dozen others. As the ship couldn’t go anywhere it seemed unlikely that Wulfgar would do anything untoward. They rode back to the bay, she having lent him a horse for the purpose. When they arrived it was to the sound of hammering and banging. Men swarmed all over the deck and the sand where the striped sail was still spread above the tide line. Eyvind took it all in wide-eyed.

Beside him, Anwyn quietly surveyed the vessel’s sleek lines. Built for speed and manoeuvrability, she would descend on an enemy like a hawk on its prey. Resistance would be swiftly overcome. Her crew were hunters, too, like the man who led them, the stranger beside her now. The knowledge sent a frisson down her spine.

‘A fine ship,’ she observed.

‘Would you care to take a closer look?’ he asked.

Eyvind regarded him eagerly. ‘Can I go on board?’

‘Of course.’

The child looked at his mother, waiting.

‘You may go.’ She looked at Ina. ‘Stay with him.’

The old warrior dismounted and lifted the boy down in his turn. Wulfgar summoned Hermund.

‘Go on ahead and show our guests around.’

‘Delighted, I’m sure.’ Hermund gestured towards the vessel and the three of them set off.

Wulfgar turned to Anwyn. ‘My lady?’

Seeing little other choice now, Anwyn dismounted. He followed suit and once again she was forcefully reminded how powerful he was, in every sense of the word. It did little for her equanimity. Neither did that unfathomable blue gaze.

‘Shall we?’ He glanced towards the ship.

She inclined her head and they set off together, he shortening his stride to match hers. Although he made no move to touch her, his closeness set her skin tingling. Yet what she felt was not fear. It was a strange mixture of anticipation and excitement.

‘How old is Eyvind?’ he asked.

‘Five now.’

‘It must have been hard for him to lose his father.’

‘He has Ina.’

It wasn’t what he expected to hear, and the words elicited a swift sideways glance. However, her attention was apparently on the three in front.

‘A woman alone is vulnerable, too,’ he said.

‘I have protection.’

‘A dozen men?’

‘There are plenty more.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Ah, yes, I had forgotten—forty more—hiding in the dunes.’

It drew a rueful smile. ‘All right, I fibbed about that part, but there really are more than a dozen men.’

‘I’m glad to hear it, given the warlike nature of your neighbours.’

‘Grymar was presumptuous.’

‘You are charitable.’

‘I cannot afford to be at odds with his master.’

‘That would be Lord Ingvar?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is he so powerful, then?’

‘Powerful enough to make me want to keep the peace.’

She had spoken matter of factly, but he heard the seriousness beneath and understood it. However, she did not elaborate further.

Anwyn’s attention was claimed now by the ship. It was an arresting sight. She guessed the vessel to be roughly seventy feet long and perhaps fifteen or sixteen feet wide. Clinker built, her strakes were formed of solid oak planks fastened with tree nails and iron bolts and caulked with a cord of plaited animal hair. Anwyn’s gaze moved on, taking in the wooden planks that comprised the deck; the tall mast; the rowers’ benches and wooden storage lockers; the circular rowlocks in the main strake and the great oars—sixteen to a side. However, it was the magnificent prow that seized her imagination; a piece of oak intricately carved in the likeness of a snarling wolf.

‘She’s beautiful.’

‘She’s not the largest vessel afloat, but she’s swift enough and handles well.’

‘How long have you had her?’

‘Three years or so. We captured her as a prize of war.’

‘Oh.’ Looking at that carved prow again, Anwyn was forcefully reminded of the company in which she found herself. ‘You must have taken many prizes over the years.’

‘Enough,’ he replied.

The word was casually spoken, but it sent another tremor through her. In their way these men were every bit as dangerous as Ingvar’s war band. Though she said nothing, he sensed her unease.

‘What are you afraid of, Anwyn?’

The use of her name brought the warm blood to her cheeks, but she could detect nothing in his manner that suggested over-familiarity. On the contrary, it had sounded natural on his lips.

‘I … nothing.’

‘Something, I think.’ The tone was quiet, inviting confidence. Her confusion mounted.

‘I hardly know myself. Perhaps it is because I have never been so close to a warship before.’

‘Then let us allay your fear.’ He ran lightly up the gangplank that had been erected to allow easier access from the sand. Then he turned back to face her. ‘Come.’

The word was both invitation and command. Anwyn took a deep breath and followed. Around them the smell of brine mingled with rope and wood and tar, and the air rang with the sound of male voices, punctuated at intervals by laughter.

Having reached the top of the gangplank, she checked a little, mentally negotiating the step down on to the rowing bench and thence to the deck. Wulfgar saw the hesitation.

‘Allow me.’

Strong hands closed round her waist. There followed a brief sensation of absolute weightlessness before she was set down beside him. Just for a moment she breathed the scent of wool from his tunic and beneath it the musky scent of the man. It was unexpectedly arousing, like the warmth of his hands through her clothing.

‘Welcome aboard the Sea Wolf,’ he said.

In the name of self-preservation she took a step away, but had forgotten the now angled deck and stumbled. A strong arm caught her by the waist and prevented her from falling.

‘Oh, I … er, thank you.’ Her heart was thumping so hard she was sure he must hear it.

If he was aware of any awkwardness, it was not apparent. ‘Take care. I would not have you break an ankle.’

‘Yes. No.’ Her face reddened. ‘I mean I will take care.’

Gently she disengaged herself from his hold and was relieved when he made no attempt to stop her. Rather he spoke about the ship, pointing out various aspects of her design as they went. Anwyn relaxed a little. In front of them she could hear Hermund patiently answering Eyvind’s questions. Wulfgar surveyed the pair for a moment.

‘The boy has an enquiring mind.’

‘Enough for half-a-dozen children.’ She smiled fondly at her son. ‘He has really come out of his shell.’

‘He was not always so forthcoming?’

‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘His father was overly strict with him. It made the child shy and fearful.’

He thought he detected anger beneath the quiet tone and was suddenly curious. ‘Some firmness is essential, but a child should not be afraid of its father.’

‘My late husband was not a patient man.’

‘I see.’

Anwyn had no wish to talk about Torstein. He was a part of her life she wished to forget. Accordingly she changed the subject.

‘Do you have sons, my lord?’

He should have been expecting that, but it caught him unawares. ‘No.’

‘A wife?’

‘No.’

He did not elaborate and something about those succinct replies forbade further inquiry. Perhaps the life of a mercenary was incompatible with domestic ties. Such men took their pleasure where they found it. She shivered a little. Had he ever taken a woman by force? Almost immediately she rejected the idea—a man like this would never have a problem getting women to share his bed. Her experience was limited, of course, but she guessed that most would not object. That thought led to others, unexpected and disquieting. Quickly she looked away lest he should read her face.

‘We have trespassed on your time too long, my lord. We should go.’

‘I think it is we who trespass,’ he replied. ‘All the same I cannot regret that we did.’

Anwyn smiled. ‘Nor does my son.’

‘And you, my lady?’

‘No, of course not.’

They reached the gangplank and he stepped up ahead of her, offering his hand once more. Strong fingers closed over hers. The touch sent a charge along her flesh. When they gained the beach once more she called to Ina and Eyvind. They rejoined her and the whole group walked back to the horses. Anwyn half-expected that Wulfgar would take his leave of them then and remain. However, it seemed that was not his intention.

‘I must find out how work is progressing on the yard,’ he said.

Anwyn nodded. ‘Of course. We have kept you away too long already.’

‘It was a pleasant interruption.’

‘I am sure that Eyvind will talk of nothing else for days.’

They remounted and rode slowly back to the homestead. The tension that Anwyn had felt earlier was missing now and she felt a little ashamed of her suspicions. You suspect … I might carry you off? The idea should have been abhorrent. Pirates took slaves to sell them on. I wouldn’t sell you. The implications of those words should have been abhorrent, too, but the thoughts they engendered were rather different. The realisation sent a flush of warmth through her entire being. Mentally giving herself a shake, she reflected that Lord Wulfgar had been amusing himself at her expense. Moreover, if he had intended harm he would have done it already. In spite of his avowed profession there was much about him that did not seem to fit the conventional image of a mercenary. It was something of a mystery, like the man himself.