Paying the Viking's Price Read online

  ‘I thought we shared something special. You made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. I wanted to remake the world for you. Athelstan and his family had nothing to do with our future. I thought I was protecting you.’

  ‘When I need that sort of protection I will ask.’ He gave a cynical smile. ‘You were a pleasant bed partner, Edith. Untried but enthusiastic. I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t attempt to seduce me when I came in just now.’

  Edith’s cheeks burnt. Pleasant and untried? She had thought him so much more. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Next time remember, Edith, I prefer honesty. Faithless women mean nothing to me.’

  He turned on his heel and left the room.

  * * *

  Brand rode his horse slowly, keeping pace with the covered cart. The prisoner, Athelstan, walked behind with his hands tied and Edith rode within.

  ‘Why did you do it, Edith?’ he muttered. ‘Why did you abuse my trust in this fashion?’

  He’d gone over and over it in his mind. Despite what had passed between them, Edith wanted everything her way. She could have confessed and asked for help when it first happened.

  He’d have listened sympathetically, but he had no choice to act otherwise. Edith would have saved herself though. She would have shown where her loyalties lay. The worst thing was the knowledge that what they had shared had been tainted. It had been a lie from start to finish. He had thought she was turning to him. In reality, she had been trying to deflect attention away from her servant.

  He had longed for her to say those words about sharing something special and now he wished that she had left them unsaid.

  Halfdan’s orders were clear. He could not challenge something like that. It did not make it any easier to know that Athelstan was Godwin’s father and probably a good man who had been caught on the losing side of a fight. For Edith he refused to have any pity. She had made her choice long ago.

  ‘We halt here for this evening,’ he said, pulling his horse up. ‘Make a camp. There is water near here. I rested here on the way out to Breckon.’

  Edith stumbled out of the cart. Despite the jolting she must have had, she managed to look as if she had stepped straight from the bath. His loins tightened. Despite everything, he still wanted her. And he would have her. Only, he would know not to trust her with his heart. He had considered it. Going to Jorvik had been devised as a test. There was always the remote possibility that Halfdan had forgotten about Edith’s existence and that, once he knew, Brand would be ordered to marry her.

  Brand shook his head. He’d come very close, but he would never come that close again. When they got to Jorvik, he would send for a bride from back home, someone who would provide the right sort of loyalty.

  ‘Why have we stopped?’

  ‘It is best to make camp early. There have been reports of bands of outlaws. I camped here on the way to the hall. It has a good aspect.’

  ‘It seems strange to think of outlaws and bandits roaming the countryside. Northumbria used to be such a peaceful place when I grew up.’

  ‘Why? Men like Athelstan have survived and they have nowhere to go, nothing except to prey on innocent travellers. Halfdan is intent on having his peace kept. They will be brought to justice in time.’

  She pressed her lips together. ‘You are attempting to frighten me.’

  ‘On the contrary, I am telling you the truth, rather than treating you like a child to be kept in the dark about matters.’ As her face did not clear, he added, ‘You must not be concerned as you will be protected. I will deliver you to Halfdan for his judgement safe and sound.’

  ‘Brand, I’m sorry.’ She raised her bound hands. ‘I never meant for it to happen like this. You have to know that. I have been thinking in the cart and I wanted you to know that this had nothing to do with my feelings for you. I meant what I said in the bedchamber. I love you. I wanted to...to protect you. But I also had a duty to the people who had served my family. What passed between you and me was beyond all imagining. I didn’t want to jeopardise that. I didn’t explain it very well.’

  ‘You have deep feelings for me? Funny you can only tell me about them after your little deception is discovered.’ Brand forced his lips to turn up into a cynical smile. He’d heard those sorts of lying words before and made the mistake of believing them in Constantinople. He’d wanted to believe them in the bedchamber but the small sane spark of him refused. It had taken every ounce of will power to turn on his heel and leave. ‘One might even call them self-serving.’

  She visibly flinched. ‘I knew before then. I was simply afraid to say something. I do have deep feelings for you Brand. I want what is best for you.’

  ‘You have a strange way of showing it. You never showed me the slightest regard.’ Brand stopped and regained control of his temper. ‘Do you know what you did to me? What could have happened?’

  She wet her lips and her hips swayed. ‘If there was anything I could do to make it up to you, I would.’

  She came closer to him and brushed her body against his. His body responded instantly. He pushed her away from him. Disgusted at her and, more important, disgusted with himself for wanting to believe in her. When was he going to learn that whenever a woman was in difficulties she resorted to seduction?

  ‘Are you worried about your punishment?’ he asked, making his voice drip with scorn. ‘Do you think I would make it easier for you? Maybe allow you and Athelstan to escape if you kissed me or pretended that you might have feelings for me?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I had hoped to persuade you about Athelstan—but for myself, I expect the punishment. I simply wanted to let you know I admire you. I hoped you might have feelings for me and want to understand why I felt compelled to do it.’

  He shook his head. ‘You lied to me and you expect me to think you have great feelings for me? It is far too convenient, Edith.’

  ‘I never lied.’ She stood up straighter. ‘I omitted to tell you of Athelstan, that much is true. But then what punishment did the man who saved you when you were younger risk? Did he ever confess to your father’s wife?’

  ‘You have no right to bring that up!’ White-hot anger surged through Brand. Odd had refused to come with him, sending his son Sven instead. Years later, Brand heard he’d died after his father’s wife had turned her fury on him. He would have saved him if he could, but the two situations were not the same. Odd had not been in love with that woman.

  ‘I’ve every right. Your friend risked his life to save yours, disobeying orders.’ Edith glared at him. ‘Why should I do any less for a man who has shown me and my family great loyalty and personal courage?’

  Anger shot through Brand. How dare she use something private? He knew the sacrifice Odd had made. ‘Do not compare the two. They are not the same!’

  ‘Why?’ she persisted.

  ‘Because they are not.’ Brand stared up at the sky and watched the clouds as he sought to control his temper. She had wronged him because she always thought of others, not herself or him or them. ‘You like to pretend that you are doing it for the good of others, but really you do these things so that you can be lauded as being good. Why should one man’s life matter more than anyone else’s? You destroyed everything between us.’

  ‘If I did, then there wasn’t much to destroy.’ She held out her hands with tears streaming down her face. ‘Please tell me there was more between us than just desire.’

  Brand’s stomach knotted. Even now Edith sought to use him. It reminded him so much of when he had faced Teresa in Constantinople with the information that she had plotted against the emperor. He had believed her and men had died. He refused to make that mistake again. But he could not bear the thought of one hair on her head being harmed.

  ‘Get out of my sight. Run and don’t come back if you must. Or face up to t
he punishment you deserve. But don’t ever expect me to understand what you did. Or try to dress it up as feelings for me. You used me! You used what we had and I can never forgive you for that.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Edith dropped her hand to her side and allowed the tears to flow unhindered. Much of what Brand shouted was true and she had no defence. Not one he’d accept. She knew she’d destroyed any chance she had of happiness with him but she had hoped he could begin to understand.

  All about her she was aware of the stillness of the glade and the various men pretending to go about their jobs rather than listening to her argument with Brand. She wanted to curl up in a ball and die. She had confessed her feelings for him, wept in public when she never wept and he’d thrown it back in her face. She was only thankful that there appeared to be far fewer men in the group—but by nightfall everyone would know.

  No doubt there would be jokes and back slaps. All at her expense. Deep anger and resentment filled her. She didn’t need to hear it. She would take his advice and go.

  With Brand’s words ringing in her ears about leaving, Edith marched out of the camp, expecting someone to stop her. No one did. With each step she took, a steady calm descended. It was better that she had discovered about Brand’s lack of feeling now rather than building up any expectation about a long life with him.

  She put her hands on her knees and drew a deep breath. She was sick of putting her duty before herself. No one thanked her for it. She wanted to have her dreams, rather than living for someone else. But was this the right way to go about it?

  Running away would mean others would suffer for something she had done. She had to face the consequences of her actions. Maybe Halfdan would listen and spare lives when Brand would not. She had to do something to fight.

  Straightening her shoulders, she started back towards the camp.

  The sound of a snapping twig made Edith freeze and press back against a tree. From the opposite side of the camp, men advanced stealthily towards the camp, but the men in the camp seemed unawares.

  Horror flooded through Edith. Brand and all his men were in danger. She attempted to scream, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard and tried again.

  ‘Brand!’ she shouted. ‘We are under attack! To arms! To arms!’

  Brand and his men instantly had their swords out, but the others rushed forwards, shouting their battle cry in Norse. She saw the first Norseman fall and knew that this was no ordinary attack. It had been planned.

  When she caught a glimpse of a great hulking shadow she knew. Hrearek had not made his way to Ireland, but had gathered men here, intent on revenge. Edith remembered what Brand had said the first time they played tafl—Hrearek was a formidable opponent. Brand could not know if anyone was loyal or not.

  She had unwittingly provided Hrearek with the opportunity. He must have guessed that she’d react that way. Had Halfdan’s messenger even been from him?

  She grabbed a knife from the fallen Norseman. She ran towards where Athelstan stood, with his bound hands, and started to saw away.

  ‘What are you doing, my lady? Hide! Save yourself!’

  ‘Freeing you to fight.’

  ‘Why? We should run. The Norseman brought the trouble on his own head.’

  ‘It is a trap. Brand is in danger. I know the outlaws’ leader.’

  ‘Why should I lift a finger to help him? He wanted to kill us both.’

  ‘Because I ask it, Athelstan.’ Edith made one final swipe with the knife and tried to think of a reason which would appeal to Athelstan’s better nature. ‘He is a good man, the best. If he dies, we both die.’

  ‘I die anyway. Keep your head down, my lady, and hope for the best. We may yet escape.’

  * * *

  Edith’s shout had given Brand that instant of warning. Silently he cursed his folly. It had been too easy for the attackers.

  He had been too distracted with his problems with Edith to notice the obvious signs. He’d been set up, but by whom? Was that why Athelstan had been so complacent? Was this the start of renewed hostilities? ‘To me, men!’

  He drew his sword and pivoted with metal meeting metal. The bone-jarring crash reverberated up his arm and he knew the attackers were not Northumbrians, but Norsemen. But which ones? His jaw dropped as a man emerged from the thicket. Hrearek. He’d been played. The messenger from Halfdan was false. He’d come from Hrearek. Hrearek knew of Brand’s past and had used it. Brand ground his teeth, furious with himself.

  His sword dispatched the first attacker and he turned to meet another.

  Brand redoubled his efforts to reach Hrearek, his sword flashing and men falling.

  Finally he met Hrearek. The great warrior stood with his fellow countrymen’s blood on his axe.

  ‘You false worm!’ Brand ground out. ‘You do challenge!’

  ‘At a time and place of my choosing. You know I always play the game until the end.’ Hrearek made a mocking flourish with his sword. ‘You were always predictable, Brand. Your lust blinded you. I knew you’d doubt her and I would find a chance to strike.’

  Their swords clashed and Brand circled Hrearek, probing and jabbing, countering each stroke of Hrearek’s sword with one of his own.

  ‘Why?’ Brand ground out.

  ‘I want what you have and I will finally have it.’ Hrearek gave a little smile as spittle bubbled in the corner of his mouth. ‘When you are dead, I will enjoy your woman and then I will kill her slowly. Afterwards, I will take your bodies to Halfdan and he will proclaim me as the jaarl as he should have done after I arranged for the truce to be broken. You were supposed to die that day.’

  Brand half-checked his sword. Hrearek breathed evil. ‘You will not prevail.’

  ‘Where are your men, Brand? Who will be your saviour...this time? You are alone as you always have been.’

  Sweat dripped down Brand’s back as the swords clashed and clashed again. Always moving about the glade. Closer to the trees and then further away. They were well matched. Each knowing the other’s strength because of the years of practice, both watched for the tiniest hint of an opening. Hrearek feinted to the left. Brand blocked it and moved to his right. His left foot twisted on a tree root. He stumbled, hitting his knee on the ground. Hrearek’s sudden swipe with his sword resulted in the sword spinning out of his hand, landing on the other side of Hrearek.

  ‘The great Brand Bjornson felled by a tree.’ Hrearek laughed, raising his sword for the killing blow. ‘You should have known I would return. I do not forget those who have done me wrong. Look on me and despair.’

  ‘You will not succeed, Hrearek!’ Edith shouted from where she stood, paralysed with fear. Her stomach knotted and she found it impossible to turn away from the horrific spectacle. One after another the men had stopped fighting and stood watching the two Norseman warriors battling it out. It was a fight to the death. She clenched her fists. Brand had to win, but how? In the next heartbeat he’d be dead.

  She started forwards but Athelstan grabbed her arm. ‘It is not your fight. One Norseman is like another.’

  ‘Let me go!’ She fought against his hold. ‘This is my fight. I refuse to allow Brand Bjornson to be killed. I love him. Help me, Athelstan.’

  Hrearek turned towards her and made a slight salute with his sword. He raised it above his head and prepared to strike the final killing blow, but as he brought it down Brand twisted out the way.

  ‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘I beg you.’

  ‘No! I can’t allow you.’ Athelstan twisted her arm so that the knife fell to the ground. He stood straight, far straighter than he had since he’d returned. ‘I’ll do it. I know that man. We have a score to settle. He is the one I overheard boasting about how he broke the truce. You were right. Your lord is innocent. I should have gone when you first asked, my lady.’
r />   He grabbed the fallen knife and started forwards. Edith fell to her knees, hand stuffed in her mouth, unable to turn her head.

  Everything happened in slow motion—the slice of Hrearek’s sword towards Brand, Athelstan’s cry as he ran with his knife, Hrearek’s sudden pivot as he sought to fend off Athelstan, Athelstan’s one desperate stab forwards.

  Hrearek blocked the attack. Easily. Almost lazily, he swiped the knife away before jabbing his sword. Even before he withdrew the blade, Edith knew it was deep, potentially fatal. In that instant Brand twisted to the right and drove his sword upwards, connecting with Hrearek

  The Norseman toppled to the ground dead. Brand retrieved his sword and cleaned it on the spring grass before replacing it in its hilt, the studied action of a man who had performed the same task a hundred times before. The tight expression of his lips showed Edith how shaken and upset he was. She sat back on her heels and waited, understanding that Brand needed time to finish his rituals.

  The other warriors started to round up the remaining attackers and started to lay out their fallen in preparation for a pyre. Hrearek, Edith noticed, had no attention paid to him.

  ‘I owe you a life-debt, Edith,’ Brand said, coming up to her and raising her up. ‘Your shout saved my life and many of my men’s lives. And you caused Hrearek’s death.’

  ‘Not me,’ Edith replied. Her legs trembled so much that she doubted they could hold her. She wanted to throw her arms about Brand and check that every particle of him was unharmed, but after what had passed between them, she didn’t dare. ‘You owe Athelstan one. He wielded the knife.’

  Brand glanced over to where the man lay. Blood bubbled out of Athelstan’s mouth and Brand knew what that meant. Death would come within a few heartbeats. He turned back to Edith and wondered if she guessed what this man’s future was?

  ‘Indeed I owe him a life-debt,’ Brand said, bowing his head. ‘I will honour it to the best of my abilities.’

  ‘Will you allow him to go free now?’ Tears shimmered in her eyes. ‘He is a ghost to you. He could take a different name and serve as your loyal subject.’