The Viking's Defiant Bride (14 page)

‘You let me think you were really going to maim those men. You let me make a fool of myself.'

Wulfrum caught her wrist before she could deal a second blow.

‘No, you didn't make a fool of yourself. Anything but.'

‘I believed you back there.' Elgiva tried in vain to disengage herself from his hold. ‘I really believed you.'

‘Yes, I know. I needed you to believe it.'

‘So you used me to make yourself look magnanimous.'

‘No, I used you to resolve a dilemma. Believe me, I am grateful.'

‘Oh, good.'

Wulfrum smiled down into the amber eyes, thinking how very attractive she was when she was angry. ‘Come, now, admit that this was better than the alternative.'

Elgiva was silent, but under her ire she knew he was right. He was also detestably arrogant and high-handed and much too close for comfort. The silence stretched between them.

‘Admit it.'

‘All right, the way it worked out was better,' she conceded. ‘Let's just say I don't approve the means.'

‘Then for that I am sorry.'

Elgiva wondered if she had heard aright, but there was no trace of mockery in his face or his tone.

‘I must govern these people, Elgiva, and they must learn to obey me. In that way only lies their peace. The sooner they learn it, the better.'

He let her go then and she watched him walk away, turning over his words in her mind. Knowledge of the stratagem still rankled, however, and she felt foolish to have been so easily deceived. In truth, she had played her part to perfection. He must have enjoyed it enormously. Elgiva kicked a loose stone at her feet. Men! They were devious and ruthless in the pursuit of their goals, and Wulfrum was no exception. In future, he would not find her so easy a dupe. She had to admit his apology had sounded sincere enough, but then so had everything else. It was impossible to tell whether he meant it or merely wished to placate her.

She began to walk back to the bower, her annoyance still
simmering. Part of it was directed at herself for having fallen so easily for a ruse. Surely she should be able to read him better. He was her husband, after all, and yet it seemed to her now that she knew nothing about him. On the other hand, he seemed able to read her with uncanny precision. He could read a situation too, and manipulate it for his own ends. The man was insufferable. Worse, he was right—on this occasion, at least. The matter had fallen out better than she or anyone else could have devised. Except that he had devised it, of course.

‘Hateful brute!'

Elgiva sent another stone scudding out of her path. He was an arrant knave, a domineering, overbearing rogue. However, he was not cruel. Sweyn would have punished the prisoners with the utmost rigour and would have enjoyed doing it. She shivered. Wulfrum was the lesser of two evils, although bad enough. Glancing across the intervening space betwixt herself and the barn, she saw him there speaking with some of his men. By chance he glanced round and she saw him smile. Disconcerted, Elgiva returned him a cool look and kept on walking.

A
s Wulfrum's men began to set about the necessary repair work, Elgiva experienced mixed feelings. More than anything she wanted to see Ravenswood prosper again, but could never have foreseen the circumstances in which it might happen. That Wulfrum was a strong and capable leader was in no doubt. His word was obeyed without question and he supervised the work with a critical eye. Nor was he above getting involved when occasion demanded it. Gradually, life began to move into a routine as a sense of order and purpose were established.

Wulfrum too noted this with satisfaction. He determined that Ravenswood would be prosperous again and bent his energies to that end. Slackness and mediocrity had no place in his scheme of things and he oversaw the ongoing work with a keen and critical eye. The Saxon workforce might resent his presence, but they were quick to recognise a master who would not be trifled with and bent themselves to their tasks accordingly. They discovered also that he was fair. While he would not tolerate poor workmanship of any kind, he was ready to praise when praise was merited. Nor did he punish lightly. However, a culprit got only one warning. The message was not
lost on the rest. Moreover, no one knew where he would be at any given time and he tended to appear when least expected.

One morning, having left Ida to supervise the serfs clearing a ditch, Wulfrum decided to see how the repairs on the root store were progressing. Heading that way, he had barely taken a dozen strides when a movement near the women's bower caught his eye and he saw a small child running from the doorway. He recognised Ulric. Wulfrum grinned, expecting to see an anxious Hilda appear in pursuit at any moment. Even so, he kept his eye on the boy, following his erratic progress, only to see him stumble on a stone a moment later and fall hard. For a second there was silence. Then the air was rent by howling.

Wulfrum sprinted across the intervening space and picked the child up. A swift inspection revealed little actual damage. The tears were more about fright than pain. Lifting Ulric into his arms, he held him close and spoke as he might to soothe a timid horse, letting him understand he had nothing to fear. Eventually the tears abated and the sobs quieted to shuddering breaths. Wulfrum ruffled the child's hair and smiled. Very shyly Ulric smiled back.

Elgiva watched in silence from the doorway. She had seen her nephew run from the nursery and, as Hilda had been busy changing Pybba's soiled underclout, she had offered to go in pursuit. Her surprise could not have been greater to discover Wulfrum there first. The readiness and ease with which he comforted the child moved her to no small degree. She could never have believed a man so physically powerful could be capable of such gentleness. It was an altogether different side to him and one which drew her in spite of herself.

Sensing a presence nearby, Wulfrum turned and she saw him smile. ‘Were you looking for the boy by any chance?'

‘Yes.' She drew closer, looking the child over, but he seemed none the worse for his mishap.

Wulfrum noted her expression. ‘He's not hurt, are you, lad?'

Ulric burbled a reply and smiled.

His large mentor grinned. ‘I'll take that as a no.'

Elgiva found herself smiling too. ‘Hilda will be relieved. Ulric ran off when her back was turned.' She paused. ‘Thank you for taking care of him.'

For a moment Wulfrum was thrown by the warmth of that smile. To cover it he looked away and surveyed the child instead.

‘How old is he?'

‘Three.'

‘A fine boy. Like his brother. A man would be proud of such strong healthy sons.'

‘And yet my brother showed little enough interest in them.' Elgiva bit her lip. ‘Do you think me disloyal for saying it?'

‘No. But you are not as your brother, I think. These little ones mean a great deal to you.'

‘Yes, of course. I am their aunt, after all.'

‘It is more than that,' he replied. ‘You like children.'

‘Yes.'

‘That's good.'

The tone was light enough, but Elgiva sensed more beneath, and a suggestion that brought sudden warmth to her neck and face. Just then, however, Hilda appeared on the scene, holding Pybba in her arms. Seeing Ulric's present situation, she checked uncertainly. Wulfrum glanced at her and then handed the child to Elgiva.

‘I'll leave him in your capable hands.'

With that Wulfrum took his leave. Elgiva watched him go. The man continued to surprise. Just when she thought she understood his character, some new facet was revealed. Clearly he liked children and would not suffer them to be hurt or abused. Had he not saved her nephews from Sweyn? And now he had shown unlooked-for kindness to Ulric. Then she recalled the latter part of the conversation and was jarred by the unspoken implication. Once she had wanted children. Had she married Aylwin she would have borne his sons without com
plaint. Wulfrum was another matter—he was her husband, but how could she bear his seed without compromising everything she held dear? Elgiva took a last look at his retreating figure before turning abruptly away.

 

Having spent some time at the root store and found everything progressing as he would wish, Wulfrum returned to the hall. There he found the two healers embarked on their morning round of the injured. His glance slid over Osgifu and came to rest on Elgiva. She was changing a dressing, her whole attention on the task as her hands moving surely and gently about their work. Occasionally she spoke quiet words to her patient. It was Harald, one of his own men. A youth of seventeen, Harald had received an arrow in the shoulder in the battle for Ravenswood and then contracted a fever afterwards. For some days his life had swayed in the balance and it was only thanks to the skilled care he received that he survived at all. Now it seemed he was recovering, for he was able to speak to his nurse. Wulfrum saw her smile. He could not hear the words she spoke in reply, but, from the expression on the young man's face, they were having a most powerful effect. Wulfrum's eyes narrowed.

Before he had time for further thought, Ironfist appeared. One look at the giant's expression was sufficient indication of bad news.

‘What is it, Olaf?'

‘Half the work party for the barn roof failed to turn up this morning. Their companions said they'd gone down with the flux.'

‘And have they?'

‘It's true, my lord. I've just come from the village. They're sick, all right.'

Wulfrum frowned. ‘Is it known what caused this? Tainted meat, perhaps?'

‘No, lord. It seems only a few had eaten meat. The rest had bread and pottage.'

‘We must find out. I've seen what the flux can do to entire armies. Somehow this must be checked—I can't afford to lose the better part of the work force.'

‘I know not how it may be done,' replied Ironfist, ‘but we have with us those who may.'

Wulfrum followed the other man's gaze to the other side of the hall. Elgiva was still with Harald. The young man never took his eyes off her. It occurred to Wulfrum for the first time that Harald was a good-looking youngster and well made withal. He had, besides, a most winning smile. It drew the like from Elgiva. The earl frowned. Leaving Ironfist, he crossed the intervening space until he stood by the pallet bed. His wife glanced up in surprise.

‘My lord?'

‘I would speak with you and Osgifu when you have finished here.'

The tone, though quiet, was distinctly cool and two women exchanged glances.

‘As you will, my lord,' replied Osgifu.

Elgiva's hands continued with their task on the bandage. Wulfrum looked down at Harald.

‘You are recovering well, I see.'

‘Indeed I am, my lord. Thanks to this lady.' Harald's eyes spoke his admiration louder than words. Wulfrum saw Elgiva smile again in response and his jaw tightened.

‘I hope it will not be long before you're on your feet again.'

‘I hope so too, my lord.' Harald threw another fond look at Elgiva. As she fastened the cloth strip into place, her hands rested a moment on his breast.

‘I'm glad to hear it,' replied Wulfrum.

At last Elgiva got to her feet and he took her arm, leading her aside. Osgifu followed them. As Wulfrum explained the situation they listened in silence, though Elgiva exchanged a troubled glance with her companion. It was Osgifu who spoke.

‘I would need to see the sick for myself, lord.'

‘You may go into the village. Ironfist will accompany you.'

Elgiva looked up at him. ‘May I go with her?'

‘No. You will remain here and prepare whatever medicines are necessary.'

‘But I may be able to help.'

‘Even so.'

‘But—.'

‘I have said.'

She bit her lip, but remained silent, watching the other two depart. Then she turned away.

‘Stay!'

Elgiva paused. ‘Lord?'

For a moment the amber eyes met his and he caught a glimpse of anger there and something else besides that said more plainly than words what she thought of his decision. Wulfrum concealed the smile that would otherwise have risen to his lips.

‘You will tend to your duties here.'

‘Whatever you say, lord.' The tone was cool and level, but it carried a nuance of criticism that did not escape him.

‘Osgifu will assess what needs to be done.'

‘Indeed she will, and right well too. But if this is an epidemic, it will require more than one pair of hands to deal with it.'

‘If it is an epidemic.'

For a moment she was silent before the amber eyes met his own. ‘You still think I might run away, don't you?'

‘The thought had occurred to me.'

‘Do you think I would leave my people when they are sick and dying?'

‘It did not stop you before.'

He saw the colour rush to her cheeks, but she held his gaze. ‘That was a moment of madness I regret. Besides, I had a much better chance to run afterwards, but I did not take it.'

‘Because you knew I would find you eventually.'

‘Because I would not leave my people to the tender mercies of the Vikings.'

‘But they are at my mercy, are they not? You included.' Wulfrum watched the colour deepen in her face to a most attractive shade of pink.

‘Then let me help them.'

‘You are helping them.' Wulfrum gestured to the men she had just left. ‘Saxon and Dane alike have much to thank you for.'

‘That is not what I meant and you know it.'

‘Nevertheless, it is where your duty lies at present and where it will remain.'

The tone was casual enough, but Elgiva could not miss the note of iron beneath. With an effort she forced back the protest that sprang to her lips and held on to her temper, aware of his eyes on her the while.

‘Then I shall return to my duties, lord.'

‘When I give you leave,' he replied.

Elgiva stopped, every line of her body rigid. Wulfrum waited, wondering if she would yield to the impulse to hit him, for he correctly divined it was in her mind. The provocation had been great—and deliberate. Would she rise to the bait? In a part of his mind he hoped she might.

The silence stretched out, but Elgiva said nothing, forcing herself to remain still under that penetrating blue gaze. The bastard was enjoying this. He would enjoy it even more if she tried to defy him now, but she wasn't about to give him an excuse to touch her. She saw his smile widen. The urge to hit him grew stronger, but she controlled it.

‘You may return to your work, Elgiva.'

Her chin lifted. Throwing him a most expressive look, she turned on her heel and strode away. Wulfrum watched her go.
He wasn't sure his decision to keep her here was the right one, but time would tell. Meanwhile, she would remain where he could see her.

 

Elgiva initially headed for the women's bower where she paced the floor for some minutes in impotent ire, her pride in complete revolt. It seemed his arrogance knew no bounds. After a while, though, when her temper cooled a little, her thoughts went next to Osgifu. If the problem in the village was the flux, then they would need something to reduce fever, a soothing tea to calm the stomach and a tincture of white clay to bind the gut. She might as well get on with the preparations now. Even if the Viking would not let her go outside the pale, she could still do something useful. Thus she went to the still room where she and Osgifu kept their herbs and dried them for their potions and salves. After making up the fire and setting some water to heat, she selected a jar of willow bark. Then she began to prepare an infusion.

 

After three hours' work she had prepared a goodly supply of medicines for Osgifu. It was a satisfying job in many ways and a soothing one; she could forget about everything else and concentrate only on what she was doing. She was so absorbed that she didn't hear the door open.