The Silken Cord (4 page)

Ariana quaked with cold as Wulfgar dragged
her to shore. Her arms were numb and her fingers felt encased with
ice. She collapsed upon the sand, shuddering. Wulfgar dropped down
beside her, gasping for air. The wind pierced through her and she
sucked in a harsh breath. When she tried to speak, her voice
emerged as a hoarse croak. The ocean was often a watery grave.
Those who didn’t drown died of cold and exposure.

They must get warm.

The slave rolled to her and sat up. His
large hands brushed her face and coursed down her arms, sieving
water off her skin. He kissed her brow, then her lips. Quick,
gentle kisses meant to soothe her.

Instead, panic climbed her throat. What if
he decided to kill her? Alone and defenseless, she was too weak to
fight him. Surely he also needed warmth.

He trembled beside her and she clenched her
jaw against the blustery winds combing the beach. His big body
acted as a shield to protect her.

"Must…find shelter," he mumbled.

He stumbled to his feet and Ariana cried out
as the sharp breeze cut through her wet clothes.

Come back!

The words screamed inside her mind, but she
couldn’t speak. Her tongue felt like a leaden weight inside her
mouth.

He bent down and pulled her up. Ariana
struggled to stand but her legs refused to support her weight. She
threw one arm about his neck and the feel of his faint warmth
tingled up her frozen flesh.

“We must…get warm.” Wulfgar half-dragged,
half-carried her as they sought protection from the frosty
winds.

He staggered and she pushed against him,
helping him stay upright. Together, they trudged inland, picking
their way through the darkness. If only they could find a cave or
tree to shelter them. The wind buffeted her, spitting rain as they
picked their way over the scratchy heather. Farther inland, thick
peat moss covered the shadowed ground. If they could get a
spark.

“A fire. We have fuel,” she said.

He grunted a reply.

Her teeth chattered. Her common sense told
her she didn’t have long before she died of exposure. Without her,
Dafydd’s fate would be sealed. She must live.

Please, God. Please help us.

She prayed silently as they plodded on. And
then, she caught the faint scent of smoke. A large, dark shape
unfolded ahead of them, showing a faint light. A hut. Hopefully the
inhabitants would help them.

She tried to point in that direction, but
her arm dropped against her side, too heavy to lift. Wulfgar headed
toward the shadowed darkness, then pounded on the door.

“Open!” His voice sounded gruff and
strained.

The door creaked and opened just a bit. They
found themselves staring at the point of a spear. A fire backlit a
tall man’s thin shape as he faced them.

“What do you want?” he asked in Gaelic.

“Sh…shelter, please,” Ariana responded
through chattering teeth.

The man eyed them both before backing away
and admitting them into his humble home.

The door closed behind them, shutting out
the wind. Ariana tried to smile at a plump woman who stood beside
the fire holding a sharp knife. The woman’s eyes widened with fear
and Ariana couldn’t blame her. If they lived alone on this island,
they must be wary of strangers.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

“We…we are castaways, thrown overboard
during the storm,” Ariana said.

The man’s gaze swept their wet clothing and
soggy hair. Her explanation must have satisfied him, for he lowered
the spear and stood back, giving them access to the fire.

“Warm yourselves,” the woman said.

Made of what looked to be drift wood, the
one room hut offered only the barest protection from the storm. The
glittering fire made it snug and warm.

A small babe lay nestled in a cradle beside
a pile of sleeping furs. The woman stayed close by, watching over
her child.

“Very…sweet,” Ariana murmured as she gazed
at the sleeping child, so innocent of the chaos outside.

The mother smiled shyly. “He’s a good babe.
He hardly ever cries.”

“What are your names?” the man asked.

“I am Ariana and this is Wulfgar.”

Ariana purposefully omitted their titles.
Until Jenkin found her, she didn’t want these people to get any
ideas about ransom or other evil intentions. The man stared at the
slave collar around Wulfgar’s neck and undoubtedly guessed his
status.

“I’m Callum and this is Gara, my wife.”

“You’re Scottish. Thank you for taking us
in.” Ariana shivered.

Wulfgar stood close beside her, never
turning his back on Callum. Ariana realized it was a defensive
gesture.

“You say you are castaways?” Callum
said.

“Yes. My…er, our men should find us by
morning.”

“I have no change of dry clothing to offer
you,” Gara said.

“That’s all right. I feel warmer already. We
should be able to leave as soon as the storm passes.” Ariana hoped
Jenkin and the others found them by then. But Wulfgar’s men would
fight to take him back.

Unless she could first convince Wulfgar to
help her.

Wulfgar crouched before the fire, his entire
body trembling. She felt the same. He’d saved her life when he
could have left her to the sea. She didn’t understand, but now she
owed him a great debt.

Wulfgar looked at her from over his
shoulder, his long hair plastered to his head. His lashes were
spiked with rain; lashes any woman would envy. She saw the glitter
of his eyes and the flash of his white teeth as he smiled. They
were safe for the time being. How different would their lives have
been had he not committed treason and they had met at court?

Ah, but she would never willingly go to King
William’s court. She hated all Normans. They had successfully wiped
out most of her family. Four elder brothers, her father, and
numerous other family members and friends. Except for Dafydd, Aunt
Frida, and Rhodri, her small cousin, all her family had been
killed. She must save Dafydd or she would have no one left.

In silence, Ariana watched as Callum placed
more peat moss upon the fire. When it appeared it would burn long
and hot, they all rested for a time.

Wulfgar had saved her life, but what about
later tomorrow? Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and decided not
to think about that now.

* * *

Ariana awoke slowly, blinking her eyes. The
glaring sun blinded her and she quickly closed them again. The cry
of a babe awoke her, followed by the opening of the door. The
squawk of sea birds and the roar of the ocean filtered inside the
drab hut. The sharp aroma of brine stung her nose and the grit of
sand on the dirt floor dug against her cheek.

Turning her head, she found herself staring
at Wulfgar’s profile. He sat on the floor beside Callum, talking
quietly as the two men shared a piece of cheese. Gara and the baby
were gone and Ariana assumed the mother had taken her child
outside.

Wulfgar’s eye was black and swollen from the
beating he’d suffered yesterday. An ugly welt creased his left brow
and his soft beard hid other cuts and scratches. Their swim in the
ocean had cleansed the wounds around his eyes and jaw. His split
lips were full and her gaze centered on his mouth. His dark hair
fell in unkempt lengths to his shoulders. The Normans from the
auction had worn their hair cut short. Wulfgar's shaggy appearance
must be from his enforced servitude rather than his personal
preference.

With him so close by, she felt strangely
safe. An odd notion, surely.

Resting her head back, she closed her eyes,
her body still weak from their ordeal at sea. Opening her eyes
again, she sighed, reconciled to dealing with her predicament.

She looked about the hut, finding no
furniture and no ornaments of any kind. A few weapons leaned
against the wall and one cooking pot rested over the fire. The
aroma of mutton stew made her mouth water. These people seemed
destitute, yet well fed.

What might Wulfgar be saying to Callum? What
if he promised a reward if Callum helped him escape? Though they
weren’t starving, Callum and Gara looked in great need. If they
decided to help Wulfgar, Ariana could do nothing to stop them.

She sat up and stared at the two men, her
mind filled with suspicion.

“Good morning, lady,” Callum greeted her
with a smile, looking anything but villainous.

She peered at him with doubt. “How do you
know I’m a lady?”

Callum glanced at her sodden cloak lying
beside the fire. “Your clothes. They’re too fine to belong to a
serf.”

Although Ariana’s dress was almost dry, the
colorful embroidery at the neck and cuffs was soiled and torn. What
a shame. Aunt Frida had crafted the gown for Ariana’s last
birthday. She reached for the gold filigree girdle around her waist
and discovered one jeweled dagger still remained. She mourned the
loss of the second dagger, for the pair had been a gift from her
father only months before his death.

A moment of panic flooded her. She must find
a way home as soon as possible. Dafydd needed her.

She licked her dry lips. “How far are we
from the mainland?”

“Two islands over,” Callum said.

“And have you a ship to get there?”

He shook his head. “Only a small dinghy. I
herd sheep here on the island for Lord Dunbar. He sends a ship from
time to time to check on us, but otherwise we keep to
ourselves.”

Her hopes soared. “But could you take us to
the mainland in your dinghy?”

Callum hesitated. “The seas are too rough
right now. It would be dangerous to try a crossing.”

She gripped her coin purse beneath her
robes. Buying Wulfgar had nearly emptied it, but there should be
enough to get them to the mainland and then home to Wales. She must
be careful, though. If these people knew she had silver, they might
try to rob her. Years of war had taught her to be careful. “I can
pay you once we arrive.”

Callum’s eyes widened at the prospect. “I’d
need to discuss it with my wife first. I don’t like leaving her
here alone. Too many Vikings pass by the island and she and our
babe would be defenseless.”

Ariana looked away, thinking this over. She
didn’t want to be responsible for any harm to Gara and her babe.
“You’re right. You should keep Gara and your child safe. May we buy
your dinghy instead?”

He shook his head. “Without the boat, we’d
be stranded here. On calm days, I use the dinghy to catch
fish.”

At least the man was honest. A greedy man
would have tried to make a deal and think about the safety of his
wife and child second. The only other alternative was to wait for
Jenkin to find them. In the dark of the storm, he may not have been
able to recognize this island amongst so many. It could take time
for him to search and find her here.

Ariana stood and brushed a hand across her
wrinkled dress. Walking to the doorway, she stepped outside. Gara
was nowhere to be seen. She assumed the woman had gone behind the
hut where a makeshift fence surrounded an enclosure filled with
bleating goats and sheep. Ariana headed toward the beach, scanning
the sea for some sign of her father’s ship. The mast had been
destroyed and she wondered how Jenkin could steer the boat without
being able to catch the wind. They would be forced to unite with
the Norman’s on their ship.

“My men will find us soon.”

She jerked, realizing Wulfgar had followed
her out and stood behind her. For some insane reason, she longed to
confide her troubles to him. Then she remembered who she was, and
who he was, and why they were here.

She stepped away and looked at him. "Your
men have no right to take you from me. You’re no longer a
knight.”

His jaw hardened. "True, but I’ll rectify
that soon."

She wanted to ask him what he meant by that.
She truly did. But not now. Not when she found herself in a highly
vulnerable position. "I’m alive, thanks to you. But I must get home
with haste."

“Why?”

She hesitated. Should she tell him about
Dafydd now, or wait until her men arrived? “I will tell you when
I’m ready. You are still my slave.”

“You enjoy reminding me of that, yet I wish
to warn you it won’t always be so.” He stepped near.

She backed away and tossed her tangled hair
away from her face. "Don’t think saving my life has won you any
special favors."

His brows quirked together and he shrugged
one shoulder. “I would never harm you. Haven’t you learned that by
now?”

A laugh burst from her mouth. “Other than my
men, I trust only God.”

He snorted. “God has no place in
battle.”

“But you are a Christian, aren’t you?” She
knew even his King William was a Christian, despite the many people
he had killed.

“Yes, but I have little use for
religion.”

She gasped at his blasphemy. “Surely you
rely on the arm of God to help you.”

He lifted a pointed spear he had
accommodated from Callum. “I rely on my own arm. This I know. This
I trust. God is too fickle. He lets too many bad things happen to
good people.”

“No, you’re wrong. God loves all His
children. But he lets each of us choose how we will live, both good
and bad. We must rely on Him so we can fight against evil. The
power of prayer is strong.”

“You are very naïve.” He chuckled.

Ariana tensed. Perhaps she was naïve, but
she couldn’t deny God’s influence in her life. In spite of all the
horror she’d witnessed in the past, she still felt the Lord’s
presence each day. “If I am naïve, then you are cynical and
lost.”

A sarcastic smile spread across his handsome
mouth. “Perhaps you’re right, my lady. Perhaps you’re right.”

* * *

Wulfgar stared at Ariana. Her snarled hair
fell about her shoulders like rays of sunshine when the first
golden hues strike the land. Her small, delicate features showed
smooth, fair skin that would quickly sunburn. Ah, she was lovely.
But he had no time to think about this woman now. He had yet to
discover who Lady Ariana was and what she wanted with him, yet he
had discerned she was in trouble of some kind.