Her Heart's Surrender Page 11

  It would be traitorous to admit she wished she could see him. Foolish to pretend men weren’t going to spill blood outside the hall door. Or to pretend Hella couldn’t be killed in battle.

  She worked in the herb garden and took leaves from fresh plants to use as poultices, ointments, and teas for wounded men. The task helped clear her mind. Njord must have known about the impending attack. Hella kept the information from her. To prevent her from getting word to Diarmaid? To keep her from running straight into an enemy camp? He must think her ignorant if he believed she’d do something so desperate.

  “His grace is keeping to his own council this morning.” Ulrika lowered herself into the dirt beside Ealasaid. “He’s troubled. Perhaps he needs a visit from his concerned queen.”

  “If he wanted me, he would come in search of me.” She stripped rosemary stems off a plant and dropped them into a woven basket. “He hid this from me. He allowed me to think we weren’t in danger.”

  Ulrika snorted. “He is king. It’s his right to keep secrets. It’s mostly hearsay about Diarmaid and his army passing between the thralls, but I reckon some of it is true. They claim he’s taking victories in the name of his father, Cairbre the Kentigern. Three burnt towns does not a conqueror make, but defeating a king in battle could do it. He will ruin Freysteinn and could take Solstad if he has enough men willing to fight for him.”

  Uneasiness twisted Ealasaid’s insides. “He was once my brother. It’s difficult to think of him as the enemy. He never cared much for me. What would he say if he knew I’d married a vikingr?”

  Ulrika frowned and plucked at the plant before her. “I expect he’d execute you, my lady. You and everyone you love.”

  “I thought the same.” Fragrant rosemary filled her basket and scented the air. Herb work usually calmed her, but today it didn’t help. “What if I could explain Hella wants to live here peacefully? That the Norsemen want to establish trade routes and villages instead of wage war.”

  “If Diarmaid believed that, he wouldn’t be out to kill every Norseman he could find. Don’t give in to foolish notions. They will riddle your mind with holes of what could be and what might have happened. No good end will come of such thinking.” Ulrika wagged her finger. “We must prepare for battle as well as we can and face the certainty things will get bloody and horrific before it’s over.”

  Ealasaid met her friend’s gaze. “Do you think we’ll die like the men and women in Kilsarn?”

  A flash of fear washed over Ulrika’s face. “I hope not, but only the gods know with any certainty.” She grinned, revealing a few gaps between her teeth. “There’s a reason I was born a female. Anyone would know better than to put a sword in my hand. I’d be more likely to trip on it and hurt myself than an enemy.”

  “When I was a girl, I wanted to learn how to fight. My father forbade it, and my brothers teased me about it. I wouldn’t be much use with a sword either.” She rolled a rosemary stem between her fingers. “I’m better with herbs than in pursuits of strength.”

  “These old bones say the weather will turn colder much quicker than we all thought. Diarmaid may have a change of heart once he faces the north winds. Perhaps the fighting can be avoided yet.” A measure of doubt still carried in Ulrika’s voice.

  Ealasaid dusted off her hands. “Come with me and we’ll make ointments. We may need them.”

  “As you wish, my queen.” Ulrika’s joints popped as she rose. “Ah, I know why Roman soldiers chose valiant deaths on sword points. Growing old with creaking hips and knees brings no joy.”

  “Don’t say such things. I’d be lost without your service and your friendship. You should sleep closer to the fire tonight and warm up those reluctant bones.”

  Ulrika laughed. “It’s the same as reheating meat, Ealasaid, I’ll grow tougher with each try.”

  Ealasaid hooked her arm around Ulrika’s. If she hadn’t know about an outside threat, she would have thought it one of the last beautiful days before winter. A crisp wind and clear sky reminded her more of spring than months of snow.

  A group of women carrying bushels of apples and gossiping passed by.

  The tallest woman shook her head. “I heard the king cut out his eye. They sewed the hole shut, but he doesn’t wear anything over it. It’s a gruesome sight. He did the same thing to every head they found. He must have a collection of eyes.”

  The one in the middle glanced around as though she worried someone might overhear. “He’s the queen’s brother. Everyone has heard the way she talks to Hella. She must have sneaked a message out to Diarmaid that the king mistreats her. The demon’s come for justice. Or perhaps she’s been waiting for the time to be right before she brought him in to kill our people and take our lands.”

  Ealasaid’s heart beat so fast, she worried it would thud out of her chest.

  “Those are traitorous thoughts no matter how true they might be,” the third woman said. She hitched her basket of apples higher on her hip. “Hella was a fool to marry her. He could have married any woman in Solstad or Freysteinn. In all of Northumbria if he’d put out the word.”

  The second woman adjusted her hood. “The queen is a völva. He discovered she produces potions, some with ill effects. It’s been whispered she might have used herbs to cause King Ingvar’s death.”

  Bile burned the back of Ealasaid’s throat. She’d feared those words might come from accusing mouths. Her hands shook as she clutched her basket.

  Ulrika marched toward the women. “Enough of this profane talk. Ealasaid is your queen. You shouldn’t speak of her or the king in such a manner.”

  The women froze when they saw Ealasaid.

  She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, but her eyes were blurry with tears. Nothing she’d attempted had won the hearts of Freysteinn’s people.

  The tall woman dropped to her knees. “Forgive me, my queen. It’s nothing but idle talk.”

  The others kneeled beside her with their heads bowed.

  “Which of you have I harmed?” Ealasaid kept her voice level.

  “None of us, your grace,” the apologetic woman said. “You have worked beside us and our kinfolk to prepare for winter.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand why you spoke against me. Is it jealousy?”

  None of them answered.

  She shook more from anger than fear. “Boredom, then? I’m certain we can find more work to keep your idleness at bay.”

  “Yes, your grace. We’ll gladly accept any tasks you present.” The tallest woman’s hands shook as she spoke. “Anything to help our people.”

  “You will all take your apples to the storehouse. When they’re put away, join Ulrika at Hilmir. She’ll find something for you to do.”

  Three relieved faces peered at her. These were common women, not thralls who were easily punished. If she’d ever spoken in such a manner about a queen or any woman above her caste, she would have been beaten bloody. It wasn’t in her to seek revenge in such a manner. More work seemed like the worst punishment she could dole out to them. Ulrika would delight in making their backs ache.

  “There will be no need for talking as we prepare the evening meal, then grind our queen’s herbs for medicines the warriors will most likely need. It will be a good time for reflection.” A gleam came into Ulrika’s eyes. “Don’t take long putting your apples away. There’s much to be done.”

  The women gathered their bushels again then scurried away.

  Ealasaid slumped the moment they were out of sight. “Those things they said must be on everyone’s tongues.”

  “No, no, sweet girl.” Ulrika wrapped her arms around Ealasaid. “You were right in guessing their jealousy. You’ve risen high and with power comes hateful thoughts and deeds. The punishment you dealt is far gentler than anything I would have given them. Acting fair and just when you want to flog them is no easy thing. You’re well suited to be queen.”

  Ealasaid nodded, but her mouth dried as Hella approached. His expression reflected ange
r and trouble.

  “Ulrika, go find your new charges.” Hella waved her away. “I need to converse with my wife.”

  “Yes, your grace.” She released Ealasaid, took both herb baskets, and left in the direction of Hilmir.

  Ealasaid wiped the tears from her eyes. Her single ally had been dismissed, and it left her uncertain beneath Hella’s piercing gaze. “M’lord.”

  “I overheard. You handled them well. The thrall and I agree their punishment could have been more severe given the accusations they made. I’ll see to it they’re kept busy for some time.” He stood tall, but weariness lined his face. “I trust you have your own tasks to attend?”

  She nodded. “I'm doing as well as I can with rumors about my brother flying in every direction.”

  “I will kill him. You know this.” Said with utter calm. A hard glint of dislike reflected in his eyes.

  “He must be punished. I’m certain the people of Kilsarn and the other villages he sacked never hurt him. What he did showed you he wants to destroy not only the men of the north, but everyone who deals with them.” She lowered her gaze. “I don’t agree with his actions. There is no use in slaughtering the innocent. The things the old king did happened years ago. What good could come of starting a new war over it?”

  “It’s my hope this quarrel ends swiftly. I need a favor from you.”

  Her heart lightened. “How may I help you, Hella?”

  “We’ve had a meeting. Erik and Njord will oversee the evacuation of Freysteinn. No one but men who can fight will remain. I need you to take charge of the women, children, and elderly and lead them to Solstad. There are still crops to be harvested there. Someone must see to these things so our people and the refugees survive the winter. With all of you working together, I feel confident you’ll be able to accomplish what we men will fail to do this year.”

  He acted as the king now, not her husband. What he asked wasn’t personal, it wasn’t for her safety but for the good of the people he ruled. Ealasaid nodded as she tried to find the words to tell him she didn’t want to go. They would need her in Freysteinn to help tend the wounded.

  “Duty first,” he reminded her. “I’ve always known you are a capable woman. You will not let me down.”

  “I respect your request, but—”

  “I have spoken.” His tone left no room for arguments.

  “We’re truly going to fight them? Two thousand men who want your blood and to take your head?” She hugged herself. “It’s madness, Hella. We should flee, all of us.”

  “And let them say Hella Ingvasson is a coward?” His eyes burned with anger. “I won’t have it. Running would cause our people to lose respect for us.”

  “I don’t care. It’s more important for us to keep our lives.” She gripped his tunic. “Will you do as I asked before and send a messenger? Try to sway Diarmaid from this path.”

  “No. Forgive me, Ealasaid, but my mind is made up.”

  She loosened her hold on the cloth. “I fear for you on the battlefield because I believe Diarmaid is as cruel as they say. Being your wife is a great honor. You are a good man and I hope you win this battle.”

  He twined his fingers between hers. “Shall I give him a message from you?”

  “No, m’lord. That will not be necessary. We share blood but little else. Nothing I could say will interest him. Most men don’t find much use in a woman’s counsel.”

  “I’ll give him your regards nevertheless.” He released her. “There’s not much time to accomplish everything we need done. I hope you arrive safely in Solstad.”

  Brittle disappointment filled her. “Thank you, my king.”

  She slipped free of his grip and hurried toward Hilmir. Much remained to do. It would be a full night with no sleep. Who knew how long it would be before she got any real rest? On the word of one farm boy, the whole world turned upside down.

  The punishment Ulrika intended for the women who mocked Ealasaid would turn into truly important deeds. They needed all the help they could get in order to mix the remedies for wounded men and to organize carts so no child or elderly person would be left behind. She pushed the hall door open. The great room smelled of ground herbs mixed with oil. Thralls, karls and noblemens’ wives worked together at the tables. Other women were hard at work polishing armor and oiling chainmail. Some men gathered at one end of the hall where they sharpened their swords and axes.

  Birgir spotted her and ran to her. “Ma, is it true the men are going to fight?”

  “I’m afraid so.” She kneeled next to him. “Your da intends to protect Freysteinn and keep the enemy army from reaching Solstad.”

  Birgir worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Is it my Uncle Diarmaid?”

  She hesitated then folded him into her arms. “It’s him. Remember the stories I told you about him? Bad men injured your uncle and killed some of our most loyal men. He still holds anger in his heart, and he wants to hurt us because of it.”

  “But you’re his sister and he’s never met me. We’ve done nothing to him.”

  If only Diarmaid saw it that way. “Revenge is a strange thing, dear boy. It’s hard to forgive some wrongs. It was many years ago when the Norsemen and my people fought, but the wounds have festered.” She would never forgive Ingvar, and in a way, she understood her brother’s hatred of the invaders. “Diarmaid hasn’t been able to forgive. He believes the only way to make things right is to treat his enemy the way they treated him.”

  “Doesn’t make sense, Ma,” Birgir said. “We should talk to him.”

  “It’s doubtful he would listen.” She patted his back then released him. “We have to be brave no matter what happens. It means obeying orders we’re given and helping others when they need it. Things are going to be difficult until your da gets everything settled.”

  “Are you afraid?” He watched her with big blue eyes. A small frown pulled at his round cheeks.

  Terrified, but how could she tell him and hope to keep his spirits up? “A little. Are you?”

  He nodded. “Don’t tell Da. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me.”

  “Oh, Birgir. He wouldn’t be. He understands.” Thank the gods her son was too young to hold a sword. She could still protect him from the ravages of battle, even if she couldn’t keep him from worrying about the consequences.

  “I can help Da. I could brush his horse or carry weapons for him,” Birgir suggested. “Will you tell him?”

  “You’re coming back to Solstad with me. Your father ordered it. Everyone who isn’t needed in battle will go. There are still crops to bring in.”

  His face fell. “He’s sending us away. What if he doesn’t come back?”

  “I don’t know, my love. Everything is unclear for now.” No one knew what to expect, and she didn’t have any words of comfort for her own son. She couldn’t even keep her family together. Why did Hella think she could lead an entire village to Solstad without mishap?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Clusters of men trickled into Freysteinn, sometimes in big groups and sometimes smaller bunches. Ealasaid took precious moments away from finishing preparations to greet as many as she could. She struggled to find the words to tell them she thought they were brave and valiant for fighting against their enemies. Nearly all of them claimed they were glad to fight, but soon many of them would be dead.

  After a long night of loading supplies into oxcarts and fretting, she wanted nothing more than to curl up near a fire with a blanket and sleep. Birgir ran to and from the hall, collecting items she thought of at the last second. He helped without complaint, but she caught him sneaking looks at Hella, Erik, and Bjorn as they formed strategies with Njord and some other men. In the mid-afternoon, two road-weary riders approached Hilmir. Ealasaid and Ulrika fetched them refreshment as the workers in the hall gathered around. They were Saxons, former thralls Hella had sent to gather information about Diarmaid’s movement through the countryside.

  “He rides with two thousand men at his
back. They were sent with the blessings of Cuthberht Ironfist, one of the Saxon king’s lords. He controls lands near Edinburgh and gave shelter to the Kentigern boys after the Bloody Raven cut his path through here,” one of the men said. “Diarmaid seeks a stronghold in the north and feels Solstad would do nicely.”

  “Boys?” Ealasaid couldn’t stop the word from coming out of her mouth. “Someone other than Diarmaid?”

  “Aye, your grace. Eoghann Kentigern survived the raid as well and serves as Diarmaid’s right hand.” The Saxon took a drink of mead. “He’s a fair sight prettier than his older brother. Less vicious too, they say.”

  “Did anyone speak of Artair?” Was there a chance her eldest brother, lived as well?

  “No, my lady. No one mentioned such a name.” The former thrall returned to his drink. Ealasaid sat heavily on a wooden bench. All those stories she’d told Birgir of her brothers. She’d believed Eoghann and Diarmaid perished the night she’d been kidnapped. Now there was word of both, and she couldn’t reach either.

  Hella stared at her, questions on his face. Did he have concerns about her loyalty?

  She folded her hands together and tried to concentrate on what the Saxons were saying, but her attention wandered. One day she’d been a silly girl who dreamed about fae and now she feared the world she’d come to love would be destroyed by the brothers she’d once admired.

  “Stay and fight with us. You’ll be rewarded,” Hella said to the former thralls. “You’re free to choose, to leave with our women and elders if you like, but there’s more to life than tucking your tails.”

  The words made her ill. She rose from the bench and left the hall, taking refuge in their bedchamber. Hella’s armor laid on the bed and filled the small space with the scent of oil. She sat next to it and dragged her fingers across the cold rings in his chainmail. Let it be enough to keep him safe. He’d never stand back while his men fought. Their numbers were too small even with the men Bjorn led from Solstad.