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Authors: N. M. Browne

BOOK: Warriors of Ethandun
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She shrugged. ‘Maybe. I don't remember much that I learned in junior school.'

‘Well, he's here – or rather we're here with him, and he has to beat the Vikings – the ones who captured you – to take back his kingdom. He doesn't have an army and he doesn't have much of a clue and I promised to help him.'

She nodded without much interest, but Dan knew that she was trying her best to care.

‘We'd better be going,' he said. He offered her his arm, but she refused it and staggered after him on bleeding feet with something like her usual determination. She was still Ursula.

Chapter Thirty-four

Dan pointed out that Ursula's feet were bleeding and that she should ride for a while. Her head cleared a little when her bare feet were no longer in contact with the ground. While walking kept her in touch with her own body, it also filled her with yet more power; she was bursting with it and every step had made it worse. Once mounted it was harder to stay rooted in her own perspective. She was not wielding the magic, but it brought with it images and experiences like debris dumped by the tide. It made holding on to the thread of her own history all the harder as she was assaulted by random experiences that were not hers. She watched the road and smelled incense. She saw a picture of a man at prayer, earnestly contemplating his sins. She felt the cold, damp earth make his knees cramp. He had been at his devotions for many hours. Her attention was caught by a tree just beginning to bud; the tree burned, then she smelled charring flesh, felt the heat of some great conflagration, and her ears rang to a woman's screams. It was a little like watching a TV with someone manically channel surfing, and she
could not work out what the other channels were, let alone focus on what they were broadcasting. She needed help, but who could give it to her?

She might have turned to Dan, but she didn't have to be blessed with magic to know that he was halfway insane. She could see the bear in him every time she looked at him. It was fighting to get out and Dan was losing the battle to contain it. He needed help too and she was in no state to offer it. It was as well that over her time through the Veil she had become an accomplished rider, for she had no attention to spare on her physical surroundings. When she was next aware, they were riding through a marshy landscape and it was raining. Someone had wrapped her in a cloak, which was good because she had no desire to deal with rusty mail. Water trickled down her face and her hair dripped. She wanted the madness to end.

Two men leaped out of some unseen place to challenge them. Ursula had her sword out and would have fought if she could stay in the moment, but more images blew through her mind. She was lost in a crowd, then fighting in a shield wall, next weeping for a dead husband. By the time she had managed to regain her focus on the here and now, Aethelnoth and Taliesin had persuaded the guards that she and Dan were not enemies. She was not sure that was wise. Taliesin, at least, ought to have known better. She could see the nimbus of magic around him. He had power, enough to know what kind of a mess they were in, but not enough to prevent Dan running amok if Dan chose and nowhere near enough to be of any use to her. She had not thought Aethelnoth was a friend to her, but
even he did not speak out against her.

Dan came to help her off the horse. She should not have needed help but her limbs felt heavy and only partially under her own control. She fell into his arms like some kind of hopeless, romantic heroine and she sensed Dan's irritation. He loved her for her strength, not her weakness. The bear peered out at her through Dan's brown eyes.

‘Sorry,' she mumbled thickly, struggling with her uncooperative tongue, ‘I'm struggling a bit. My legs don't seem to be working properly.' She must have spoken in English because no one but Dan gave any indication of having understood her. He didn't reply but hauled her over his shoulder. It wasn't very dignified but it was effective, and she'd long ago lost interest in anything so insignificant as dignity.

Dan carried her to a small boat and then her consciousness flicked to a conversation between some men drinking ale and arguing about the reliability of Danes. It wasn't like watching TV – that was a bad metaphor – it was as if she was in another place for a fragment of time. She could smell the smoke from their fire, the mutton in their meal and the milky odour of the woman who served them. She could sense the tension in the room and the caution of the man who was speaking: ‘We still have a King,' he said.

Returning to herself was disorienting and she had to fight back nausea. Dan had set her back down on her feet and of course the power was surging through her again and she was leaning against him like some spineless stuffed toy. As for Dan, even his sweat smelled angry. He
was in a bad way. She pulled away from him and balanced on her own two legs. The mail shirt she would once have worn so easily weighed her down. It took a moment for her eyes to focus and the light wasn't good within the hall, but then she saw the King, his thin, pale face and haunted eyes, and she recognised him: it was the man who had haunted her visions over the last few days, the King in the marshes she had sought under Finna's instruction, the sad, determined praying man. She had not made the connection until that moment but she had seen his thoughts and known his fears. It was strange to meet him finally and to know that he had no idea of their peculiar intimacy.

Their eyes met and she heard his stray thought as clearly as if he had spoken it aloud.
She is beautiful.
She glimpsed herself through his eyes, tall and gaunt, her eyes dark pits in an angular face, her blonde hair plastered to her head. She could not see the beauty in her face, only pain.

Dan bowed to the King and, because she had never learned to curtsey, Ursula did the same.

‘My Liege, this is the friend of whom I spoke.'

‘Your – comrade-in-arms?'

Ursula felt Dan's annoyance at the King's slightly mocking response. She hoped he did not let the bear emerge. She was not so lost to herself that she did not notice the armed men stationed around the hall, nor the boy with a nocked arrow trained at the newcomers, at Dan and herself. She would have liked to help calm him but she did not know how, not without magic anyway, and she would not wield it, not where Finna might find her.

‘My Liege,' Taliesin began, ‘the Lady Ursula has indeed been Dan's comrade-in-arms and fought beside him in many a battle.'

‘A woman in battle – that I would like to see!' said Aelfred, with an uncharacteristic smirk.

The men and women who comprised Aelfred's court in exile tittered in the background and Dan's anger mounted.

It was up to Ursula to defuse the situation.

‘Your Majesty,' she said, ‘I have fought it is true and will do so again, but for now I am weakened and ill from my time as a Viking captive.' She produced the sword that Gunnarr had so reluctantly given her, which had been hanging forgotten at her hip. ‘I lay my sword at your disposal.' She unsheathed it with a flourish as if for all her confusion her body retained muscle memory of her days of swordmanship.

There was a mass intake of breath, though whether at the sword or her boldness she could not say. Aelfred gave her a hard stare. She found his scrutiny discomforting.

‘Both you and your sword are welcome,' he pronounced. A lean, horse-faced monk whispered in the King's ear. ‘There are rumours that you have turned to sorcery. Is this true?' Aelfred asked. ‘Though we are in exile this remains a Christian court and we have no truck with sorcery.'

Ursula's mind went blank, though at least she remained present at the scene – were she to have a fit of absence she was sure that would convince Aelfred she was some kind of sorceress weirdo. She waited for someone to come to her rescue. It was Taliesin.

‘My Lord, the Lady Ursa was nearly burned alive in the conflagration that engulfed Cippenham. I respectfully request that she should be allowed to rest before you submit her to a full interrogation.'

Ursula saw Aelfred's eyes flick between the implacable face of the monk and the eager face of the former bard; Taliesin could be charm personified when he put his mind to it and Ursula knew he was putting everything, including a hint of magical manipulation, into getting Ursula off this particular hook. Ursula's own evident exhaustion probably tipped the balance in her favour. She swayed slightly under Aelfred's attention and had to grab Dan's arm for balance.

Aelfred signalled to one of the women in attendance. ‘Take our guest to the healer. She has need of her ministrations.'

The monk snorted his derision and when Aelfred gave him a disapproving glare he tried to pretend that he had a cold.

Dan wanted to follow Ursula, she knew, to protect her and make sure that she was all right. He seemed to have no awareness that he was in worse shape than she was.

Once they had left the presence of the King behind, the woman who led her away gave her a look of disapproval so intense that Ursula felt it like a blow.

‘I don't know what you're doing dressed like that, but we're all Christian women here and not given to dressing like boys – showing all our shape and putting even the King into a state. No good will come of it, I'm sure.' The woman crossed herself and led Ursula into another smoky
dark hall, one that had a familiar feel. There was something about it that reminded her of …

‘Boar Skull? Ursa?' The voice was different, older, yet it still conveyed its power.

Ursula sat down heavily on a low wooden platform of a bed. ‘Rhonwen?' How could it be Rhonwen?

Chapter Thirty-five

Dan was glad that Ursula hadn't been made to fight to prove her manhood or her womanhood, or whatever it was that she had always been obliged to prove in order to get decent treatment from Kings. Macsen, Arturus, Aelfred – they were all the same. He could feel that fury fuelling him again and then Taliesin touched his arm, hard enough to pinch, and before he could slap him away he remembered: he couldn't afford to lose it in front of Aelfred. They could not get home. He and Ursula were stuck in this world that they did not know and didn't much care about. He needed to show that he was useful, that he was sane, or there would be no place for him in Aelfred's court. He did not know where else they could go.

Dan managed to keep very still and calm while Taliesin and Aethelnoth spoke of the military strength of the Danes and the attack on the farmhouse which could so easily have ended in a massacre. They were both diplomatically silent on how Dan managed to turn it into a rout of armed invaders rather than unarmed civilians and
for that Dan was grateful.

Asser, however, smelled a rat. He had an instinct for untruth that was of itself almost magical.

‘I find it extraordinary that Aethelnoth and Dan alone were able to defeat such a horde. Are you sure, Taliesin, that you did not call upon your arcane knowledge of the dark arts?'

‘My Lord Bishop,' said the King, ‘I do not think it appropriate for us to question our own people on their integrity. Taliesin has shown his dedication to our cause, Aethelnoth has ever been at our side, and Dan was tested by the Lord God Almighty and not found wanting. I have seen for myself that he has the strength and agility of ten. Is it so extraordinary that he should vanquish our enemies? He has God on his side. Is that not enough?'

Asser bowed his head in acceptance of the rebuke, but Dan knew that he was unconvinced. He was an astute man and he undoubtedly noticed that Dan held his breath at the question and that even Taliesin looked shifty.

The King was pleased to show Dan around the fort and Dan was impressed in spite of himself; they had achieved a lot in a short time. Much of the rotting timber had been replaced, guards were set around the perimeter and they looked awake, sober and well equipped, and in contrast to the situation a few days before, everything looked orderly and well run. When no one else was in earshot, Aelfred said to Dan, ‘I am grateful to you for saving my life and for reminding me of my life's work. I had forgotten my duty to my people. I will not forget again.'

Dan was moved; Aelfred lacked Macsen's commanding
stature and Arturus's focused ruthlessness, but he had something special that might yet make him into a decent king. For a moment the anger burning in Dan was gone and he smiled like a free man.

‘Thank you, My Liege. I am at a loss for words.'

Aelfred patted him on the arm and changed the subject. ‘Your comrade-in-arms is beautiful. I did not intend to do her a discourtesy. Taliesin has explained that you are from a distant place where warrior women are not uncommon. You will, I hope, forgive me if I find the very idea … shocking.'

Dan nodded, wondering what on earth Taliesin had said, what version of almost truth he had come up with. Obviously he could not ask the King, but he would need to catch Taliesin later. Suddenly he felt unutterably weary and perhaps that showed because the King had him taken to a thatched hall, recently repaired, which acted as a kind of barracks for the thegns who'd followed Aelfred into exile. A couple of men were sleeping on straw pallets. Dan was comfortable with that and with a nod to those who rested there but were still awake he lay down on a bed, wrapped himself in a blanket and fell instantly asleep.

Asser was standing over him in the dimness when he woke up. Dan started and reached for Bright Killer.

‘You won't need that, my boy,' the monk said calmly. ‘Come and walk with me. We have a short while before Aelfred calls his Council of War. For reasons best known to himself he would not consider making serious plans without your presence.' Asser sniffed in such a way as to suggest that he thought little of Dan's likely contribution
to such a council.

Dan got clumsily to his feet and followed Asser out of the low door; he was curious as to what Asser could want with him. Asser grabbed Dan's upper arm with his long fingers – his grip was much stronger than Dan would have expected. Dan's temper flared, but he did not pull his arm away and he did not lose control.

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