Chapter Thirty-seven
Tormod was ready for them. His warriors were ready for them. The Britons just didn’t realise it yet. They had obviously thought to surprise them and perhaps besiege them in the fort, but if there was one thing Tormod had learned to expect in his life, it was deceit.
“Lady Aoife!” Lord Marcant shouted. “I am delighted to see you. I had been informed there were none of Cadell’s people left alive within these walls after a terrible slaughter wrought by your Norsemen.
How fortunate to discover you are still alive.
Although, I am not sure you truly count as one of Cadell’s people anymore, do you?
Especially if you and your husband are the ones to have betrayed him. ”
“I have betrayed no one,” retorted Aoife.
Tormod took her hand. “There is no need for you to speak to him. You do not need his approval. It would be worth nothing to you.”
Aoife turned to him, her face clearly troubled. “You are right. Although perhaps they are right as well. Perhaps I am a traitor, for I no longer see myself as one of them.”
Tormod gave her a tight smile. “It is possible to stand in two worlds. You do not have to choose one over the other.”
Aoife put her head on one side, considering his words, then turned back to Lord Marcant. “But I am not as much a traitor to my people as the ones who murdered my father. Or the ones who plotted against him. Against their lord. Against their husbands. That is a far, far worse betrayal.”
“None of that matters,” Marcant said, waving his hand as if the whole idea was inconsequential.
“No one else will ever know. Within the hour you will be the only one of the Norse warband that invaded left alive. The poor, unfortunate daughter your somewhat misguided father married off to thieving Norse scum in exchange for the illusion of safety. However, I will rescue you from his evil clutches, from the clutches of the man who had your father murdered in an attempt to gain all his land, not just the small area on which your pathetic excuse for a village stands.”
Tormod noticed Rhydderch and Father Bricius exchange puzzled glances. Now, that was interesting. Perhaps the Britons were not united in their plan. Perhaps Lady Ula and her loyal followers were about to be betrayed as they had betrayed Cadell. Tormod stifled a grin at the thought.
“Marcant—” Ula began.
Marcant gestured for her to be quiet and she obeyed, confusion etched on her face.
“Now, Lady Aoife, if you come towards me now, I will take you from this place. You and I will go to the king and claim all of these lands to hold in trust for our sons,” Marcant said.
Ula stared at her brother while Rhydderch and Father Bricius tried to argue with him but he did not even seem to be listening.
“Your plan had its merits, sister,” Marcant said. “But this is far easier. And arguably legal. She is, after all, the eldest of Cadell’s daughters, and with a strong husband to take control I am sure Rhun will be happy to grant us these lands to rule together.”
“I will never marry the man who murdered my father,” Aoife retorted.
“Ah,” replied Marcant. “That particular honour fell to Father Bricius, so you have no worries there. And soon, Lady Aoife, I will take revenge on your behalf on the man who not only stole your virtue but will bear the blame for the murder of your father and most of his household.”
“How can you do this?”
“The only weapons we will find here will be Norse swords and axes. They came by ship in the night and hacked to pieces all they found within the fort. My sister and her priest were visiting me at the time and, of course, I had to come and seek justice. You witnessed the carnage and it confused you, left you accusing your own stepmother of treachery and it was just as well that I arrived to save you all. You will marry me, and all these lands as well as my own south of the river will be ours. We will become the most powerful family in Strath Clut.”
“That was not part of the deal,” Ula shrieked.
“I was to rule here, with Bricius. We would marry my daughters to your allies and their sons would inherit one day, far in the future. You cannot marry her, she is part Pict and has been defiled by this, this… Look at her. She is no longer even modest and—”
“Lady Ula… sister,” Marcant began. “You seem to forget I am in control here. Not you. The Lady Aoife provides me with a link to the Pictish kingdom, not to mention as Cadell’s oldest child, she has the right to petition the king for these lands on behalf of any sons she bears.”
“No!” Ula shouted.
“You can’t be serious,” said Father Bricius.
“Very serious.” Marcant laughed. “I’m sorry, sister.
Did you really think I did all of this for you?
No, I will destroy the Norsemen and go to the king at Doomster Hill with the sad news all of Cadell’s family and household are dead, apart from you and your daughters, murdered by the Norsemen.
I will marry his daughter and destroy his murderers and will, therefore, have won the right to rule these lands, as well as my own.
And now I have located Lady Aoife, it’s time to move things along. ”
“I carry the Norseman’s child already,” Aoife said.
“Then it will be stillborn,” promised Lord Marcant. “A minor inconvenience. Just like the two of you.” The comment was aimed at Father Bricius and Rhydderch.
“But Marcant,” Ula began as the priest stared at Marcant and then at Ula.
Marcant smiled at them, then nodded to one of his soldiers.
As the soldier drew his sword, Rhydderch turned his horse and, with a swift kick of his legs, was through the gates.
Bricius opened his mouth as if to speak to Ula, then he too rode out through the gates.
Ula covered her face with her hands as the sound of fighting outside the palisade could be heard.
Then Marcant shouted an order, and the noise was drowned out by the fighting in the courtyard.
All was chaos.
Tormod thrust Aoife behind him and fought off a soldier who had headed straight for him. Then Arne came from the hall behind them and Tormod pushed her into his arms. “Get her out of here! Take her to the longship and out onto the loch.”
Aoife waited only for a moment, then allowed herself to be hurried by Arne towards the rear of the great hall.
She knew where he was taking her, and was surprised only at the fact the Norsemen had found the secret passage so quickly.
She should have realised—her vision had shown Arne and his men at the loch-side end of the passage.
Down through the wine cellar they headed and then along the dank, narrow passage through the rocks.
“Elisedd mentioned it,” Arne offered by way of explanation. “And when we saw the Britons approach, we looked for it in earnest. It is a sensible precaution. And we would have never found the exit from the outside. We must hurry so I can return to the fight.”
“But what if there are soldiers coming through the passage?” asked Aoife.
“There is someone guarding the other end, don’t worry,” Arne assured her.