Читать книгу Sold To The Viking Warrior - Michelle Styles - Страница 11
ОглавлениеGlad she had listened to her dog? Liddy kicked a small pebble, sending it clattering on the path. Coll gave her a look as if asking permission to chase it. Liddy shook her head and the dog stayed beside her.
‘Where are you taking me? We need to be going in the other direction towards the stronghold, towards Thorbin,’ Liddy said when Sigurd turned down another fainter track.
Sigurd stopped so quickly she nearly ran into him. ‘I promise you—we will arrive in time for Thorbin to hear your petition. In fact, I will make certain of it. But we do it my way.’
‘You allowed me to think you were a lone traveller, but there are other Northman in your company,’ she guessed, her heart knocking against her chest. Her curse had struck again. She was going to be the ruin of Cennell Fergusa, rather than its saviour.
‘You failed to ask about the finer details. You can hardly blame me for that.’
‘Northmen always travel in packs. I’ve been a fool. Of course, it is an invasion force and you need to get someone inside.’ A sort of nervous excitement filled her. She had more options than taking Sigurd’s promise to release her father and brother on trust. She could spy out the land, determine where her father and brother were being held and free them in the confusion of the attack.
His lips quirked upwards. ‘Thorbin certainly thinks there will be an invasion. He has fortified his stronghold. It can withstand siege.’
‘It is why you need someone on the inside—to open the gates.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I can get inside and then hide until late at night. I will be able to open the gates.’
He picked up a stick and threw it for Coll. The wolfhound chased it and then came to Liddy with a sheepish air as if he knew she wouldn’t approve. ‘I will set a trap that he won’t be able to resist. The problem has been the bait, but you have solved that difficulty.’
She fingered her mark. Had he missed it in the dim light? Thorbin would turn away in disgust. ‘You don’t understand. He won’t...that is... I am not desirable. You picked the wrong sort of woman.’
He merely picked up the stick where Coll had dropped it. ‘I have the right woman.’
‘But...but...’ Liddy struggled to explain. If she mentioned her curse, he might abandon her.
‘Why not wait until you hear the full scheme?’ He put a steadying hand under her elbow. She jerked her arm away from him. ‘Better than making wild guesses, I always find.’
‘What happened the last time you and Thorbin met?’ Liddy asked to distract her from the unintentional comfort the light touch brought.
‘He thought he had killed me. This time I have the measure of the man. He has grown soft and arrogant. I will win this time, Eilidith of Cennell Fergusa. I have learnt from my mistakes.’
The breeze whipped his hair from his face. He appeared utterly determined. Liddy glanced down at the ground. He might be the best hope her family had of surviving. She’d be foolish to walk away from him.
‘Then I am grateful you survived. I hope Thorbin will be less grateful.’
A rumble of laughter rang through the morning air. Soft and low, doing something to her insides.
‘Is it something I said?’
‘You are refreshing, Eilidith.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘Come meet my crew. Come learn what I will have you do.’
‘I would be better off being the one to open the gate,’ Liddy said to the ground. ‘I can’t see Thorbin being interested in me.’
‘You’ve never met him. I have. You will be perfect. Trust me on this.’
* * *
‘Keep your dog under control until my men have been introduced. I would hate for anything to happen.’
At Sigurd’s words, Eilidith curled her hand about the wolfhound’s collar. He nodded, pleased she had obeyed. He knew he’d almost lost her when he started to explain about his scheme, but she had recovered and stayed, rather than running, proving his instinct correct. The time had come to avenge his mother and make good his vow.
Sigurd whistled softly through his fingers. Within a few heartbeats, Hring Olafson, an older warrior who Sigurd knew more from reputation and whom Ketil had decreed would be second in command of the felag, appeared from the shadows with a double axe in his hand, closely followed by his other oarsmen.
‘Where are the rest?’ Eilidith asked. ‘You can barely number more than twenty.’
Sigurd gestured to his men. ‘Except for the ones who guard the boats, they are all here.’
‘This is your invasion force?’ Eilidith knelt beside her dog. ‘Perhaps I should have stuck with my first plan.’
‘They will be enough, you will see.’
‘We had given you up for dead. You were supposed to return three nights ago,’ Hring said, enfolding him in a rough embrace. In a lower tone in Sigurd’s ear, he added, ‘Get rid of the woman. She will slow us down. She doesn’t look the sort who would entice Thorbin to do anything. He prefers blondes with large bosoms. She won’t get close enough to wield a knife.’
‘This is the newest addition to our enterprise,’ Sigurd said, ignoring Hring. The older warrior remained sore that he had not been confirmed as the leader of this expedition. ‘Lady Eilidith is the key to getting in.’
‘The key or the lock?’ Hring asked, making an obscene gesture. ‘Thorbin has only one use for women.’
The rest of men joined in the crude laughter. Eilidith’s face went scarlet. She might not be fluent in the North language, but there was no mistaking the meaning of the disrespectful gesture. Sigurd ground his teeth. Hring was far from his first choice on this expedition, but Ketil had insisted.
‘If I had needed a whore, I would have bought one, Hring.’
‘Even still, is it wise to trust a woman like that?’ Hring touched his lower lip. ‘The gods have marked her.’
Sigurd held up his hand and the laughter instantly ceased. ‘Continue along that line and I will assume you wish to challenge for the leadership.’
Hring held out his hands as the rest of the men fell silent and backed away. ‘It was a bit of fun. Harmless banter. That is all. If you want to stake all on this woman, then as leader it is your privilege. You’ve got us this far. Allow me to formulate a plan on what happens when we fail.’
‘Seven days ago you proclaimed that we would perish when we set foot on land. Has your ability to foresee the future improved?’ Sigurd said, steadily.
The other man was the first to look away.
‘We have a duty to help Lady Eilidith,’ Sigurd proclaimed, ignoring Hring. Once he had succeeded, Hring would be the first to praise him. For now, he kept his focus on the ultimate prize—Thorbin. Everything else was a distraction. ‘She bears Ketil’s ring as proof of the great friendship Ketil bore her father. A man who turns his back on the ring’s promise is a man who has broken faith with Ketil.’
‘May we see this ring?’ Hring asked. ‘I know what these Gaels are like.’
Sigurd wasn’t sure how much of the exchange she had understood, but Eilidith held up the ring with its seal without prompting. He gave Eilidith a pointed stare and she gave a faint shrug before examining the ground.
‘Her father swore allegiance to Ketil,’ Sigurd said, making sure he looked each of his men in the eye, rather than pondering on the mystery which was Eilidith. ‘Thorbin has ignored the friendship and falsely imprisoned him. Should Ketil ignore the insult?’
‘No!’ his men roared as one and beat their swords against their shields. The roar caused Coll to howl along with them. At the noise, everybody laughed and the tension eased.
Hring inclined his head. ‘I stand corrected. You were right to take up her cause. Lord Ketil should never be mocked in this fashion.’
‘Ketil’s wishes must be adhered to.’
‘Ketil wants Thorbin alive.’ Hring scratched the back of his neck. ‘Do you think you can still do that? After what you have seen?’
‘If possible, I believe is how the order goes,’ Sigurd responded. ‘One never knows what might happen in battle.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Ketil trusted my judgement. You should as well.’ Sigurd pointed his sword towards the sky for emphasis. As if on cue, the sun broke through the clouds and made it gleam. He could not have planned it better. ‘Without question.’
* * *
Liddy found the pace the Northmen used to travel across country was quick but not overly exhausting. The North language was fairly easy to understand and she was grateful that her father had made her learn it. She simply had to concentrate far more than she was used to.
The jibe about her warming Thorbin’s bed rankled. She had failed with Brandon. He had not even waited until the cockerel crowed after their wedding night to abandon her bed. And she knew she was no assassin who could seduce and then stick the knife in. But she had kept her face blank and trusted Sigurd would see the folly of such an action without her having to confess to her many failures.
* * *
‘How much about our leader do you know?’ the warrior who had challenged Sigurd asked in heavily accented Gaelic. One half of his face was covered in a network of scars. Scars on men were different from birthmarks. Scars meant battles fought and won, while a birthmark made people turn away.
‘I know Ketil has sent him,’ she replied, digging her chin into her shoulder. ‘He has promised to right the wrong which was done to my family. It seems the quickest way to achieve my goal.’
His smile made the scars on his cheeks seem more lurid. ‘But do you know why?’
‘I suspect he is a good enforcer. He moves like a true warrior. I understand the tribute was short and the last man who tried to enforce Ketil’s will ended up in a barrel.’
‘Yes, there were few volunteers for the job after that was made public. Sigurd was the only one who had the guts to put his name forward.’
‘Why are you here?’
‘Because I go where I am sent, but Sigurd wanted this.’ Hring nodded. ‘I, Hring Olafson, will tell you the tale. They are half-brothers—Thorbin and your warrior. Close until their father’s death from a cart accident, Thorbin caused Sigurd’s mother to be put to death and nearly killed Sigurd.’
Liddy missed her step. Sigurd’s earlier remark about his mother took on new significance. It was why he knew Thorbin was responsible for what had happened in that grove. He had waited for his revenge.
‘How did his mother die?’ she asked carefully in the North language.
‘Sigurd’s mother was supposed to burn to death as is our custom when a great lord dies. One of his women volunteers to join him in the afterlife. Always.’
‘Why did she do it?’
‘I heard it was to save Sigurd’s life after he attacked Thorbin. Thorbin inherited everything.’ Hring shook his head. ‘Thorbin lit the pyre, but an arrow arced from out of nowhere and killed her before the flames licked her feet.’
‘And Sigurd is supposed to have fired the arrow. Is that your point?’ Liddy said, staring at Sigurd’s broad shoulders. Knowing Thorbin’s reputation, she suspected he had deserved to be attacked. ‘How difficult. To be faced with a choice like that. Knowing that she had tried to save him.’
Hring grabbed her elbow. ‘That doesn’t bother you? He dishonoured the gods. Some might consider him cursed.’
Liddy touched her mark. Would this warrior think she had dishonoured the gods as well? ‘Do you?’
‘Lord Ketil knows what he is doing and I trust him. He chose Sigurd, but Thorbin makes sure the gods favour him and they have thus far. Luckiest bastard I have ever heard of.’
Not the words of endorsement for Sigurd Liddy had hoped to hear.
‘Everyone is defeated one day,’ she said more to calm her nerves than to Hring. ‘Sigurd will make Thorbin hold to Lord Ketil’s promise. He is Lord Ketil’s emissary.’
‘I like you, Lady Eilidith. You have faith. You are not worried about such things as curses.’
Hring clapped her hard on the back and Liddy stumbled, grazing her hands on the rough ground. She shook her head at Coll, who gave a low rumble in the back of his throat.
‘A problem?’ Sigurd asked, coming to stand beside her. ‘You tripped over that large stone, Eilidith. You should watch where you put your feet.’
Liddy wiped her hands on her cloak, shrugging off his steadying hand. She was doing it again—trying to see the best side of things. The sheer impossibility of what she was about to attempt swamped her and she wanted to sink down into a heap of tiredness and never get up. ‘Next time, I will pay more attention to where I put my feet.’
‘We can stop and rest,’ Hring suggested with a sly smile. ‘If this lady is the key which will open the locked door, we want her in the best condition.’
He gave her a look that suggested, even in her best condition, she’d have no hope of catching Thorbin’s eye.
Liddy straightened her cloak and tried to ignore the sinking in her heart. If they rested for too long, she’d miss her chance to petition Thorbin during the assembly day. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Look where you are stepping in the future.’ Sigurd turned back to his men. ‘We will get there, my lady, never fear. Even if I have to carry you. Hring the Grizzled, go bother someone else with your nonsense. The Lady Eilidith is safe with me.’
Hring immediately moved off.
‘Are you going to explain what that was about?’ he asked softly. ‘You should have informed me that you speak the North language.’
She shrugged. ‘The Northmen have lived here for most of my lifetime. Someone had to know what they were saying.’
‘And what was Hring saying?’
‘Hring saw fit to inform me of various rumours about your past. Apparently you dishonoured the gods and they will get their revenge whereas your half-brother always ensures that his doings find favour with the gods.’
Sigurd’s face became hardened planes. ‘The gods have more to worry about than mortal men and their deeds. I believe you are responsible for your own success or failure. If you believe in a curse, you are more likely to see things that way. My mother died free.’
‘I see.’ Liddy pressed her lips together to keep the truth about her curse from spilling out. Sigurd did not need to know about her dead children.
He shrugged, but a muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘I would have saved her if I could, but I was too late and could only ease her suffering. It was a long time ago, back in the North Country. Does it make a difference to what I will do? I think not.’
Liddy gestured with her hand. ‘Some of those women...back in the grove...did they suffer greatly?’
His eyes held a haunted quality. ‘It is far from an easy way to die. Not one I’d wish on anyone.’
‘But do you dishonour your gods by speaking this way?’
He gave a half-smile. ‘My god is my own business, but I haven’t followed my father’s religion since that time.’
Liddy wrapped her arms about her middle. He couldn’t be Christian. He wore long hair and was leading a pagan war band. And she had put her life in his hands. ‘Will you make sure that isn’t my fate?’
‘It won’t come to that.’
‘Even still...’
A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘Stop worrying. Trust me. Your fate will be different.’
They arrived at a small knoll overlooking the fort just as the light turned to dark. Liddy was impressed that Sigurd had indeed known a quicker way.
His assessment proved correct. The fort’s gate was firmly shut with great ceremony as the last few rays flickered in the sky. The carts trundled out into the gloom. Liddy could hear various grumbles about the way the Northmen treated the Gaels, but not too loud and they were soon hushed.
Liddy started forward, but was hauled back against Sigurd’s hard body.
‘Where do you think you are going?’ His deep voice rumbled in her ear.
She half-twisted. His closeness did strange things to her body. She frowned. Ever since she had watched the two tiny coffins being lowered into the ground, her body had had no feeling. Right now she had no time to go back to that indescribable pain. She swallowed hard and concentrated on the fortress.
‘To wait by the gate. To be first in the queue when they open for the assembly day. There are sure to be dozens of petitioners and I want to make sure mine is heard.’
‘We stay here a while yet.’ He draped his arm across her shoulders, preventing her from moving. Another warm pulse coursed through her. She screwed up her eyes and willed her lungs to fill with air. The trouble was that a small part of her wanted these pulses to continue.
Her gaze followed the line of his other arm. A group of Northmen rode up and demanded entrance. The gate swung open and another smaller group came out.
‘What are they doing?’
‘Searching. We wait until other islanders arrive. Then we will go forth as part of a crowd.’
‘Will they find us here?’ she asked.
Sigurd lifted a brow and exchanged a glance with Hring, who fingered his axe. ‘I’d prefer surprise, but we would be more than a match if they did discover us. A small patrol holds no fears for us.’
Liddy caught her bottom lip, something she always did when she was nervous. ‘Where should I hide?’
Sigurd settled down with his back against a tree. He patted the ground beside him. ‘Keep close and you will come to no harm.’
Liddy sat down with Coll between her and the Northman. The last thing she wanted, if she survived, was rumours that she had taken up with a Northman. She touched her birthmark. Not that any would be interested in her in any case. She had nothing to charm a man.
* * *
Sigurd woke with a numb arm. Some time in the night, her dog had moved to her other side and Lady Eilidith had moved closer. One hand was splayed against his chest. It felt right to hold her in his arms. He tried to remember when he’d last held a woman like this, just to sleep. Possibly Beyla all those years ago when he thought the world a very different place.
In the pale light, he watched her softly parted lips and the curve of her neck for another heartbeat. Something panged deep in his chest. He would do his best to protect her, but Eilidith was the bait. She was going to give him the excuse he needed to finally complete the first part of his vow and avenge his mother. First he did that and then he fulfilled the second part—regaining his father’s lands and becoming a great jaarl, rather than a half-breed good-for-nothing as Thorbin’s mother had proclaimed. If he lost sight of his goal, he lost everything.
He gently eased Eilidith away.
She blinked up at him, momentarily unfocused. Then recognition set in and she pulled away. Her dog gave a soft woof.
‘Time to begin, my lady,’ he said. ‘Are you ready? Shall we teach Thorbin a lesson?’
She nodded. ‘Coll and I are eager to play our parts, but Thorbin may listen to reason.’
He leant forward and adjusted the kerchief so that her flame-coloured hair was completely covered and less of a distraction.
‘You, yes, but your dog will stay with my men.’
She gave a hiccupping laugh. ‘Good luck with that. Coll will find a way to be with me. Your men won’t be able to hold him.’
‘They can and they will.’
A tiny frown appeared between her brows. ‘Why?’
‘Thorbin’s guards won’t let you anywhere near him with that dog. For my plan to succeed you must make your petition. You must be able to show Ketil’s ring to Thorbin yourself.’
The tension flowed from Eilidith’s face. ‘I knew Hring had it wrong. You would not have me play the whore.’
He stared at her astonished. She’d been worried about that? He captured her hand between his. Her fingers were long and narrow. The inside of her wrist was naked and vulnerable. Her eyes met his with a clear gaze. He realised he was staring. He hurriedly dropped her hand.
‘You are not the type,’ he said and knew from the flash of hurt in her eyes, his voice was a tad too harsh and he had put it badly. Her sensibilities shouldn’t bother him, but they did.
‘I never considered a whore for this,’ he said, trying again. ‘Thorbin knows how faithless women can be. You are perfect for what I need.’
Her hand grabbed on to Coll’s fur. Silently he willed her to see the sense. Making her a present to Thorbin would be something Thorbin would expect and would have planned for. His half-brother was thorough in that regard. They needed to be as inconspicuous as possible. Thorbin had to have no inkling until Sigurd sprang the trap.
‘If Coll senses I am in danger, he will find a way to get to me, but he can stay here.’
The air went out of Sigurd’s lungs and his neck eased. Eilidith was truly a gift. There was no pouting or demands that he list her undoubted charms as most of the women he’d dealt with would have done—instead, she turned her mind to the next problem. An attractive woman who was sensible—he couldn’t ask for more.
‘Hring will take care of him for you. I will inform him how to keep Coll under control.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Now we need to move.’
She remained where she was.
‘Do you think we will emerge alive?’
He reached out and cupped her cheek. Her soft skin trembled beneath his fingers. ‘Thorbin failed to kill me once. He won’t succeed this time. Trust me to get this right.’
Her tongue flicked out and moistened her lips. ‘What are we going to do? Tell me now or I will go straight to the gate and proclaim that Ketil’s men are here.’
With great reluctance he let her go. Soon, he promised his body, he would taste her lips, but he needed her courage first.
‘Warriors are allowed to challenge for the leadership,’ he said, forcing his mind to work, ‘if, and only if, they are in the assembly. A decree from King Harald Finehair in order to stop disputes. Thorbin seeks to prevent anyone from Ketil’s felag from reaching the assembly. That is where you come in, you are going to get me into the assembly today.’
Sigurd hunched down and outlined his plan, concentrating on the important aspects of it, rather than thinking about how her lips might taste or how her hair slowly turned a glossy red in the rising sun. Such considerations had no place in the here and now. He had to focus on his task as he had a thousand times before. Focus kept him alive.
Eilidith was useful to him as a reason to challenge something Thorbin could not duck or forestall on—that was all. He knew what was important in his life and where his future lay. It had nothing to do with a flame-haired woman and her overgrown wolfhound.
* * *
The gates finally swung open mid-morning after much grumbling in the growing throng that they normally opened at dawn as they had done on previous days. The crowd began to shuffle with much jostling and shoving to get a good position.
Against her natural instincts, Liddy obeyed Sigurd’s instructions and waited. According to him, they wanted to be in the centre of the stream of people going in. They were less likely to be questioned, more likely to make it to the great hall where Thorbin would hear the petitions. Her stomach had twisted itself into knots. The last thing she wanted was to be questioned about who her companion was. Her ability to lie was laughable.
She put her hand out to pat Coll and encountered empty air. She curled her fingers into her palm and wished Coll was there, but he was back being fed dried meat by Hring and she was here with Sigurd, trusting that her curse would not ruin everything.
The queue moved forward and then stopped abruptly. Sigurd changed his gait as they inched forward. To her sidewise glances, he appeared much more flat footed and slow, rather than possessing the arrogant swagger of a Northman warrior.
A large warrior jostled a fishmonger’s wife and she told him what to do in no uncertain terms in Gaelic. All banter ceased. The man stared at her while other people nudged each other. When she finished her tirade, she said very loudly in Norse that she wanted to go in to sell her fish, the freshest in the land. He nodded and waved her on.
‘Most Northmen don’t know the Gaelic language,’ Liddy whispered. ‘They taunt him. It is what passes for sport in this country these days.’
‘They should be careful. Not everyone from the North is ignorant or tolerant.’ Sigurd watched the warrior who was inspecting the woman’s basket of fresh fish with a dubious expression. ‘Gorm used to be well thought of. Slow to anger, but when he does, watch out. His double-axe skill is legendary.’
‘Is that his name? Gorm?’
‘Yes, that is his name—Gorm the Two-Axed. We served together briefly a few years ago against Ketil’s great rival, Ivar the Boneless, and his band of dark Northmen, the men from the Black Pool, or Dubh Linn as you Gaels call it.’ Sigurd pulled his hood more firmly over his face and leant on his stick more, giving the impression that he was old and feeble. ‘He fights with two axes and no shield. I saw him clear an entire ship of Gaels on his own and emerge with only a slight cut on one arm.’
A shiver went down Liddy’s spine. The people were playing with fire. All it would take was for someone to point out what was being said. ‘Is he still...a great warrior? He seems to be running to fat.’
Sigurd was quiet for a long heartbeat. ‘He broke his leg in a fight after a feast more than two years ago. See how he still walks with a limp. I’d prefer him not to be against us should it come to a full-on fight.’
Her heart thudded. If he knew Gorm, then Gorm would know him. Any hope of surprise would go. Her mouth tasted like ash. And she would be condemned as an accomplice. Any hope of rescuing her father and brother would be lost. She stared up at the clouds. There were too many people behind them to run. She kept trying to remember the sound of her seanmhair’s voice as she declared that Liddy would do great things, rather than thinking about Brandon’s scorn.
‘Gorm will recognise your voice.’ She kept hers to barely above a whisper.
Sigurd nodded. ‘It is why you must speak if he acknowledges us.’
She risked a glance at him. He had straightened up a little and was surveying the crowd. ‘No one will ever take you for a servant. Stoop and keep your eyes on the ground.’
His breath fanned her ear. ‘Your lover, then.’
Something warm curled about her stomach. Lover? She was finished with such things. She’d been no good at bed sport with Brandon and Sigurd had made it very clear that she was undesirable—not meant for the jaarl’s bed. ‘A servant will provoke less comment.’
He raised a brow. ‘Say what you will, but make it convincing.’
‘Why did you choose me?’ she asked as they moved ever closer to Gorm’s inspection.
‘I knew I needed a distraction. Luckily the fates sent you along. Thorbin has even given up hunting wild boar, something I never thought I’d see him to do. He used to live for the chase.’
Gorm was five people away and demanding the cart be searched. The farmer instantly complied. The hay and straw was stabbed repeatedly with swords from all sides.
‘I can see why you didn’t try smuggling yourself in a load of hay.’
‘I saw this happen to three carts on my first day of spying,’ he said. ‘Until then I had favoured that idea.’
Gorm started towards them, waving his hand and signalling to another guard that he wanted to deal with them. Liddy forgot how to breathe.
‘Whatever you do, act naturally,’ Sigurd said in a low voice. ‘You look like a doe who has just heard the hunter’s tread.’
‘Turn towards me, pretend we are in close conversation,’ she retorted. ‘It won’t be so bad then. I can’t see him.’
He took a step nearer. He was nearly touching her. His breath fanned her cheek again. ‘I still think my idea of lovers was a good one.’
Liddy wriggled to make some more space. Lies dripped from his lips as easily as honey dripped from the comb during the September harvest, the same as they had dripped from Brandon’s when he’d courted her. In her mind she listed the reasons Brandon’s mistress had given her for why she was undesirable to men, starting with her birthmark. Her breathing eased. ‘You should have told me about this possibility before I agreed to help you.’
‘I discovered too many people knowing my business leads to disaster. Has the danger gone?’
Liddy raised up on her tiptoes and peered around Sigurd’s bulk. ‘Yes, he wanted the farmer’s lad to help him unload the cart. He wasn’t signalling about us after all. I panicked.’
‘Keep on the side closest to Gorm. I’m depending on you, Eilidith, and your dazzling smile.’
‘My smile never dazzled anyone.’
‘We are going to have to do something about your persistent lying.’
Liddy shook her head, smiling a little at his foolish words. She knew what they were designed for. It had been a long time since anyone depended on her. Mostly they looked with horror at her, the woman who had caused her children’s deaths, and tried to forget she existed.
Sigurd walked at her side, leaning on his staff as if he had trouble standing straight.
‘Keep your head bent and your mouth shut,’ she whispered as they neared the gate. ‘Someone else has joined your friend Gorm. They seem to be looking for someone. They are unloading the sacks of grain for a second time.’
‘Thorbin always had a paranoid streak. Who would hide in a sack of grain?’
The guards finished with the grain and motioned her and Sigurd forward. His hand squeezed hers. ‘For luck.’
She drew back, knowing that her cheeks flamed. One simple touch and the ice she’d been encased in ever since Keita had given a terrifying gurgling sound and stopped breathing vanished. It was as if all the vile things Brandon had said to her and about her meant nothing. This man had touched her voluntarily. No, not voluntarily—to distract her from what was to come.
She withdrew her hand rapidly. ‘No more of that.’
A dimple flashed in the corner of his mouth. ‘If you say so, I was merely trying to play a part.’
‘We agreed on another part,’ she said between gritted teeth.
‘What is going on here? Why do you come to this fort?’ a booming Northern voice asked.
Liddy jumped and then slowly turned towards the warrior. ‘I come seeking my father and brother.’
The warrior’s brows drew together. Liddy tried not to think about the axe which hung from his belt. ‘And your father is?’
‘Gilbreath mac Fergusa. Chief of Cennell Fergusa.’
‘You speak the North language. Good. It is good to see the women make an effort.’ He gave a coarse laugh.
‘Enough to get by.’ Liddy wriggled to keep her gown from sticking to her back. Now she had started, the words flowed more easily.
‘Your companion? Why is he here? Why does he allow a woman to speak for him?’
She kept her gaze on the warrior, refusing to look at Sigurd. ‘My servant has lost his wits and his tongue. They say a witch cursed him last New Year. A woman like me would hardly walk across Islay on her own.’
‘The North’s peace runs here. Women are safe.’
Liddy remembered the sacred grove and knew he lied. She lowered her voice. ‘Outlaws. My mother worries about outlaws. But I believe that despite his lost tongue, my servant could use his staff if any outlaws approached us in the woods.’
Sigurd made some mumbling sounds and seemed to shrink deeper into his cloak.
‘It is fine, Colum,’ she said. ‘The warrior simply wanted to know about your ailment. I don’t believe the witch’s curse will pass to the next unworthy soul.’
Sigurd reached a trembling hand out as if to paw the large Northman.
Gorm drew back. ‘You may take your suit to the council, but keep your servant under control. You are in luck. Today is the day Lord Thorbin hears such things.’
‘Hopefully he will see the justness of my cause.’
Sigurd made another series of mumbling noise and started spinning around.
Gorm averted his eyes. ‘Keep your servant under control, my lady, or you both will be in trouble.’
He then began berating the farmer behind them, demanding that the load of fish be completely unloaded. Liddy hurried through the gate and started up the crowded road.
A hand on her elbow detained her. ‘Cursed by a witch? Lost wits? I thought we had agreed something else.’
Liddy gave Sigurd her sweetest smile. ‘You let me choose.’ Her low voice matched his. ‘You should trust me. He never asked to speak with you. He believed you bewitched. He couldn’t wait to have you gone.’
Sigurd rolled his eyes heavenwards, obviously not appreciating the role she had assigned him. ‘Preserve me from independent women with come-hither smiles.’
‘My quick thinking allowed us to pass,’ she retorted. ‘We are in.’
He raised a brow. ‘Now it is my job to ensure we get out of this place alive.’
‘With my father and brother.’
‘I know the bargain we struck, Eilidith. But I promise you—your life is important as well.’
Liddy studied the road rather than looking at the variety of warriors who stood just inside the gateway, far more than she had considered. What hope did Sigurd and his men have against them?
‘I will hold you to that promise.’
