Chapter Eighteen
Tormod watched Aoife approach. The smoke and heat in the hall contrasted with the fresh chill of the night air behind him.
It was very late; it must be after midnight as there were only a few hours of night at this time of year.
The outline of the Midsommerst?ng could only just be seen against the darkness of the sky and the moonlight illuminating a trail over the water.
As she grew closer, he searched her face for any sign of censure or deception but saw none.
In front of him now, she asked, “Was what Bjorn said true?”
He knew he should simply tell her the story, however, then she would know he was not the great leader she thought he was. He realised he wanted her to trust and respect him more than he had thought.
“Do you have a son already?” she asked.
“What did Ragna tell you?”
“That I needed to speak to you.”
Before he could begin to respond, one of the villagers staggered towards them, a horn of mead clutched in his hand, his red cheeks revealing how much he had already imbibed.
“Jarl Tormod, the very man. As it is now midsummer, perhaps you will grant me a gift? The lands at the north of peninsula. The lands I have petitioned for more than once and have not yet been allocated. They go to wrack and ruin, herre.”
Tormod gritted his teeth and stepped between the man and Aoife. “You know the reasons why that land has not already been allocated, do you not?”
“Yes, although—”
“Then you know I am not going to simply allocate ownership of it without first discussing it at the Thing.”
“Yes, Jarl Tormod.” The man pulled at his collar, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. “But I merely hoped that in the meantime…”
Tormod nearly laughed. “No, Erik, ‘in the meantime’ will simply become your claim for ownership, and I am not ready to hand that land to you and yours. Not without a proper discussion. Not after what happened to your farm back home. Now…”
“Herre, that was a misunderstanding—”
For a moment Tormod thought Erik wasn’t going to let the matter drop, then his wife appeared in the doorway with a horn of mead and ushered her husband back indoors, apologising to Tormod as she did so.
Shaking his head, Tormod turned to speak to Aoife, but she was gone from his side.
He wondered if she had returned to their room, but sensed that she had not.
He started towards the shore and stopped short when he saw her.
A pale figure crossing the shingle. He watched and listened, hearing more than seeing each step she took on the beach before she sat on a large rock by the water’s edge.
The way she was looking out across the water, she could have been waiting for someone or pining for her past life.
Was she happy here? Did it matter to him?
He stopped the train of thought, suddenly aware it mattered to him more than he wanted to admit.
Silently he crossed the green, grateful the sheep were too lazy to make a noise and announce his presence.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
She jumped and turned to face him.
Was she startled at his presence, or had she really been expecting someone else? He glanced around to see if there was anyone else there.
“I was just watching the moonrise,” she said.
“It’s beautiful,” he replied, looking at the silvery trail shining across the water, then following it up to the bright circle high in the night sky.
She shivered, although he didn’t think it was all that cold. “Perhaps we should go in.”
“We can warm each other up,” he said, smiling.
“I…” She stared at him. Again, he couldn’t read her expression. She glanced behind her, out across the rocks, and his suspicions returned.
“Is there someone else here?”
“Shh.” She reached out and pulled him close to her. For a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. To distract him, perhaps? Instead, she whispered close to his ear, “I think there’s someone on the water.”
He took her hand and led her swiftly into a gap in the rocks, which offered them some protection. He held still for a minute or two, but neither heard nor saw anything. “Are you expecting someone?” he asked, attempting to pull away from her.
She held him tight and frowned. “Who would I be expecting? I don’t know anyone.”
“Elisedd?”
She laughed. “He will surely be in his bed. Most of the children are already in their beds, are they not?”
Tormod acknowledged that with a curt nod. “Someone else then.”
“No, there is no one else.” Her gaze had been drifting across the water, but now she turned sharply to him, as if she had just caught his implication.
“Why do you think that? It was you who wanted me to leave the hall. How would anyone have known to meet me? I left the hall with you, then you stopped to speak. I am here for you and no one else. Although we are not the only ones who are out here. Bjorn and—Shh, there is something else. Listen.” There was fear on her face.
At first, the only sound he heard was another couple somewhere further along the beach where there were a few crannies a couple could meet and have some privacy. It was clear what they were up to and they were no threat to the settlement.
But then he heard it. Another sound. The regular splash and dip of oars and low voices out on the water.
Aoife must have had better hearing than he did because she jerked in his arms, trying to push away. “Can’t you hear them? Can’t you hear what they are saying? Why do they come?” The fear on her face was obvious. Enough to jolt him from his suspicions and consider that maybe she did speak the truth.
He strained to listen.
“… Cadell… field… missing…” Only a few individuals’ words carried well enough to make out. One thing was clear, though—they were speaking Brythonic, not Norse.
“Do you know who they are?”
“No, I was waiting for you, and then I heard the sound of the oars. Please, you must believe me.”
The assurances would, only a few years ago, have convinced him, but he’d learned since then that he was not a good judge of women. Ingrid had proved that.
He wondered where the watchman was. There should have been one at the far side of the rocks and one on the other side of the small bay, both tasked with ensuring the village remained safe from attacks by sea.
Unless these men out on the water had already disposed of the watchmen.
There were many places a small boat could land around the coast—too many to be easily defended.
It would have been more of a problem if the Britons’ sea-skills were better than they were.
The watchman to the north would not be able to see the boat yet, though Tormod had given specific orders for everyone to watch for attacks coming from the sea after the attack on H?kon’s field.
Then the words “ready” and “attack” carried across the water and there was a clink of metal. A sword, most likely.
Tormod enclosed Aoife in his arms and held her tightly so that he could whisper in her ear. “Go to the hall. Raise the alarm, but tell the men to approach quietly and not be seen. Find Ulf or Arne as Bjorn is otherwise engaged—ask one of them to alert him—and then go to our room. Bar the door.”
“But—”
“If you want to show your loyalty to me, then go, do this.”
She looked straight into his eyes, kissed him quickly, then turned and swiftly made her way, keeping to the shadows of the rocks, back to the edge of the village. He watched as she reached the hall door and slipped inside.
Then he turned back to the water. The boat was closer now and not of Norse design.
Only the dip and swish of the oars could be heard as Tormod waited, his hand clasped around the pommel of his sword.
He regretted that he did not have the comforting weight of his axe on his back, but he had not come out here with the intention of fighting.
At least not with weapons. He listened for the sound of his men approaching, but heard nothing. A feeling of dread grew in his belly.
Where were his men? They should have been here by now.
Had he been right to trust Aoife? Perhaps she had not done as he asked, but intended to simply escape and ensure her own safety.
Had she betrayed him, just as Ingrid had?
He shook off the thought. No, that made no real sense.
She had been beaten at the abbey and her family had been only too happy to be rid of her. Where would she go?
He closed his eyes, trying for a moment to clear his mind and try to work out all the layers of betrayal.
Why could life not be simple? His people had a lot to offer these Britons.
They could give them access to markets far in the east that they did not even know existed, bring fine goods from there in return.
Not to mention more and more of this large island was under Norse control.
Soon even Paris would be theirs and all the riches that great city had to offer.
He heard a tiny sound behind him. He opened his eyes and turned, sword drawn.
Aoife gasped and dropped his shield, which thudded on the pebbles. Her eyes were wide, and she stared not at him, but at his sword, which was pointed directly at her throat. She gulped. Neither dared to breathe.
The sound of the oars paused.
He lowered the sword and Aoife sank down, huddling into the rocks, then she picked up his shield and handed it to him. Tormod hefted it, ready to fight.
When he turned back to look out across the water, a small boat had rounded the rocky headland and was only a stone’s throw from the beach. He could hear low voices and catch most of what they were saying. One man wanted to go back, but the rest thought they should press on.
“The others are at the edge of the beach,” Aoife whispered. “Bjorn is by the rocks at the other side. Ylva has gone back to the hall.”
“Go,” he murmured. “As quickly as you can. Go back to our room and bar the door. Arm yourself with a weapon and wait for me.”
Aoife did not leave.
“Go.” He gritted his teeth. “I do not wish to lose you so soon. And I cannot fight if I am thinking only of keeping you safe.”
Another splash indicated just how close the boat was getting to their hiding place. Tormod tried to push Aoife into leaving, but she seemed frozen in place. He realised she was listening.
“So we’re clear.” The voice was low but carried across the dark water. “Destroy the livestock and anyone who tries to stand against us.”
“What of Lady Aoife?”
“Cadell’s orders were clear. No one is to be spared.”
“But…”
“The Norsemen believe we will not attack for fear of harming her, but our orders were clear. She matters less than this land. Our land.”
“But…”
It was the same voice again. Tormod smiled grimly.
At least one of Cadell’s men thought their behaviour wasn’t right.
He wasn’t exactly surprised, just disappointed.
And then a sense of rage began to build in him.
He understood these men would not hesitate to kill him or any of his kin, but the fact they would also be willing to kill Aoife, one of their own, disgusted him.
“Lady Aoife is a traitor. She has proven it before. You know her father escaped from Alt Clut only because she was in league with the Norsemen and warned them away.”
“That is ridiculous, Siward. If she were truly in league with the Norsemen, then why did she save her family? You know there have always been rumours that she was… touched.”
There was a silence and then laughter. “Well, she’s certainly been touched now — by that Norse scum.
Now, once we round these rocks, there is a beach where they have built their settlement.
Set fire to what you can, kill anyone who stands in your way - even the Lady Aoife herself, Godwin.
She is as good as dead to her father. Now we must go the rest of the way in silence. ”