The Viking lingered in the woods for hours waiting for the signal, whistling back when it came. Several heavily-armed English soldiers soon arrived within the clearing. The man’s eyes were filled with unease as he was surrounded by the mounted riders cutting off any avenue of escape.
“You have information to sell?” The English soldier who was their leader spoke in the Danish tongue, glaring at the man as he urged his horse forward. “Who ordered the attack upon the House of York? Quickly! Out with it! Many Vikings are patrolling these woods. We have no time to linger.”
The man regarded the six mounted soldiers who blocked him in warily. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to remain calm. “The order came from Harald of Denmark. His oldest son Gunthrum led the raid. He was sent here to kill the York’s by his father’s command.” The man saw the darkening expression on the leader’s face and knew he expected more information for the monies. “Harald wanted his own man placed on the throne in Northumbria. The Ragnarsson brothers refused him and chose another. He was angered and acted on his own in this. That is the truth. Gunthrum bragged of it after the battle to me. Another Viking is responsible for the York boy’s death. Gunthrum said it was just as well another slew the boy without his hand in it. It is all I know.”
“Who is this other Viking that you speak of?”
The man shrugged his broad shoulders, eyeing the soldiers in unease. “He is nobody of import. Just a soldier following his orders. He knew no better. Gunthrum misled the war party before the attack, not waiting for the signal to show the York’s made it safely out.”
The leader nodded and tossed the man a sack of coins, clanging as they landed in his lap. “I have another task for you, Northman. I need to know if Ambryn of York yet lives. Can you get inside the keep to find out?”
The man nodded readily. “It would be no trouble to find out. How do I contact you to meet? Who are you?”
“Never mind who I am. I am here on behalf of King Aethelred. He seeks to know the woman’s fate. Leave word at the convent just outside the city wall. Your payment will be left there.” The leader eyed the man before him curiously, his lip curling in disgust. “Are all Vikings so without honor to turn upon their own for silver?”
“Are all Englishmen such weaklings they cannot climb over a mere wall without paying another?” The Viking grinned as the leader’s face grew mottled with anger. He swung about in the saddle and rode away, the other riders following him.
The man breathed easier when they left the clearing, tucking the bag of coins within his cloak before returning to York. The next morning he managed to learn a lady was kept in the keep by a Viking who claimed her. He left that information at the convent and claimed the rest of his payment. He smiled as he rode through the sacked city, thinking of all he would have when Harald learned his eldest son was dead.
The man felt little guilt for cutting Gunthrum’s throat at the brothel, catching him unawares after the whore left his side. The man didn’t see it coming, trusting his companion.
Gunthrum couldn’t live to tell tales.
Harald gave no such order to attack the York residence.
It was imperative the Ragnarsson brothers think that Harald betrayed them. All was going as he planned it. The English were also misled this night, thinking the raid ordered by Harald as well. The shift of power within York was immediate and to his own advantage. The men supporting Ecgbert would deal well with him in the future, much more so than Harald. The man returned to his ship and ordered the men to ready to sail back to Hedeby.
~ ~ ~
Rowan returned back to the keep later than intended with Joran Ivarsson and his pregnant woman in tow. The pair argued every bit of the way from Lockwraithe Manor. When not arguing, they became so loving towards the other he was nauseated by their shows of affection. Allisande and Joran were reunited, but one wondered why to see them bickering constantly. It seemed to be the only way the two could speak to one another.
Rowan was eager to get back and reclaim his captive, sensing they must leave York in all haste. Helmet stayed behind to tend to another matter for him. He sought him out the moment they entered the hall at the York residence. Joran went to seek out his father for a long overdue confrontation. Rowan spoke quietly with Helmet out of earshot.
“Who asks about my captive beyond the city walls?” Rowan stared at Helmet questioningly. “Do they give her name?”
Helmet shook his head in disgust. “The agents I dealt with claim they are here by the order of King Aethelred. The king of Wessex wants confirmation the lady lives. I learned nothing else, not her name or her father’s. This is bad for us, Rowan. I secured enough silver from them with giving false information, but we must leave. I learned nothing of value, least of all where to send the ransom.”
“Yes, it is bad. But not so bad that we can’t get around it,” Rowan replied tightly. “Meet with the agents again at the walls, every last one of them. Find out who she is. The woman refuses to tell me. I can hardly beat it out of her. We need to send the ransom and be done with this. I must leave to take Joran and Allisande back to Norway. Hopefully you find out more upon my return.”
“There is more. Much has happened since you’ve been gone,” Helmet whispered darkly. “King Harald’s son Gunthrum was found dead in a brothel this morning with his throat cut. Ursula of York has since announced a reward for a thousand pieces of silver for her daughter-in-law’s safe return. She knows the girl is alive. Your belief something is afoot may have merit. The timing of Gunthrum’s death was no coincidence. It looks as if the countess ordered his death in retaliation for her son. Get the girl and go!”
Rowan hid his alarm as he left the hall, unbarring the door and entering to find his lovely captive napping on the bed within. He appreciated the sight of her lying there, looking achingly lovely before he shook her awake roughly. Those silver eyes were sleepy and suddenly flared with annoyance as she sat up on the bed.
“You were gone for more than a week, Viking!”
Rowan grimaced as he put a finger to her lips to silence her, his expression tense. “I will ask you again to tell me who are you. Tell me who your family is. Men arrive at the city walls in droves to bribe those here to learn of the noble’s fates. Your silence isn’t helping you, lady.”
Ambryn smirked impishly and stood up from the bed. “So, your attempts to ransom me have created a problem for you, have they? I will not help you, Viking. My advice to you is to let me go.”
Rowan glared down at her, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Do you have any idea how much they offer for this information they seek, my lady? Every Viking in this city, nay, every soul in this city, would turn upon their own mothers for far less.”
Ambryn paled at his harsh words. “You are making all up. You want me to tell you who my family is so you can ransom me back. I don’t wish to go back! Have you not figured that out yet?”
Rowan wanted to shake the woman to make her see sense. He turned away and kicked the wooden chest at the foot of her bed instead, grunting in pain and flinging her a dark look.
“You have family that wants you back! What nonsense is this? How long before you are taken by the flesh peddlers or slavers if left here on your own?” He saw her face pale at his words but she remained stubborn.
Ambryn folded her arms across her chest, raising a pale eyebrow. “That is none of your concern, Rowan the Bold. You took me to ransom me to my family. I have no desire to go back. You have the problem here, not I.”
Rowan scowled darkly at her for pointing such out to him. “The problem will be yours when every Viking in this city suspects you are who they seek!”
“It’s a pity most of the nobles here were killed by your companions,” Ambryn lamented with an infuriating smirk. “Those who knew of such information are no longer able to help you. You waste valuable time, Viking. Should we not be running by now?”
The dagger burned a hole in her skirt fold, itching to be done with this and seek asylum in the convent beyond the city. The sisters would give her sanctuary until she could figure all else out.
Ambryn still had no idea where she would go. She dismissed her plans to go back to her Dannulf holdings, knowing it was likely the first place her father would look for her if he discovered she fled York.
The funds to flee were also an issue. She wouldn’t make it far on foot with no coins of her own. She had no monies. To purchase a horse and hire escorts would only draw unwanted notice. If she didn’t find the means to escape she was at the whims of this mercenary Viking.
Ambryn had no intention of going anywhere with Rowan, knowing once she was taken from York, she could guarantee herself being ransomed back to her father or Ursula.
Rowan didn’t see her move until the dagger swung out at him. With lightening quick reflexes, he dodged her blow and jumped backward, avoiding the blade slicing across his chest. He stared at her in surprise.
Rowan then grinned mockingly as he circled her, his green eyes filled with mirth. “You’ll not get by me, lady. Drop the knife and we will talk of this.”
“Talk?” Ambryn held the knife before her threateningly. “You wish to talk, Viking? I don’t wish to talk! I wish to walk out of those doors downstairs. I will take my chances in the streets if I must. What will it take for you to let me pass?”
“I know who you are, Lady York.” Rowan smiled to hear her indrawn gasp. He never took his eyes from the dagger held in her trembling hand. “If I figured it out; so too will the others downstairs. Even now they dig up the female bodies in yon fields looking for yours to collect the silver your king offers to confirm you dead. When they don’t find you rotting in the fields it is only a matter of time before they recall you chained to the wall. Wulfstan has not thought of it, lucky for you. Most were so drunk that night they probably don’t remember ever seeing your face. But what if one of them does?”
Ambryn appeared indecisive as she listened to him, still holding the knife in front of her.
“The countess of York offered a reward of a thousand pieces of silver for your safe return,” Rowan went on to say, smiling wider to see her grow paler still. “You couldn’t walk out those doors if I let you. The moment you did, they would hand you over to her. Do you still wish for me to let you pass?”
Ambryn refused to be handed back to anyone. She knew very well who was bribing the Viking guards for information about those who survived in the attack. Ursula and her father wanted to know if she was being held in the keep.
As soon as they got such verification, they would use the Vikings to do their bidding for coin. There was not much difference between Ursula and her father at that moment. Both despised her and would stop at nothing to get her back.
Rowan the Bold was a mercenary, a sell-sword with no loyalties or morals. She heard all about him in his absence from Cera, the serf who passed food and information to her. Were she to tell Rowan she was Stephen of Whiltshire’s daughter, he would only ransom her, collect his gold, and send her back.
A dull ache in her chest formed to think of going back to Whiltshire, to lose whatever freedom she tasted so briefly. Tears brightened her eyes, her hold on the dagger tightening.
“I would rather die than go back, Viking,” Ambryn whispered brokenly and before he could react, she had the dagger to her own throat, backing away from him, her silver eyes tormented like that of a wild animal.
Rowan cursed under his breath, seeing she was serious and meant what she said. For reasons of her own she didn’t wish to be rescued by either Ursula of York or her father. He held out his hands to hear, his green eyes soft with understanding.
“Taking your own life is hardly the answer here, my lady.”
Ambryn laughed harshly, tears filling her eyes, backing away. “If I have to die to be free I would gladly die! It is better than what waits for me outside those city walls!”
Rowan knew the situation was out of control. The girl was near hysterical. If she made good her threats, he could forget collecting the thousand pieces of silver Ursula offered for her daughter-in-law’s safe return.
“Do you not understand? You ignorant barbarian! Ursula wants me dead! You give me to her and I will die!” Ambryn flung the words harshly, the dagger digging into her throat until a droplet of blood ran down her neck.
“Why does the countess wish to see you dead?” Rowan stalled for time, trying to figure out a way to disarm the girl before she did herself harm.
Ambryn wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of one hand, staring at him bitterly. “The fact she offers a reward before my father should tell you she doesn’t do such out of love. I will die by her hands if I go back!”
Rowan was uneasy, starting to believe the girl’s tale. “What makes you think the woman means you ill? You were married to her son.”
Ambryn laughed harshly and shook her head in disgust. “She wanted her son to replace King Aelle. Her house was to be spared in the attack. Alton told me all of it before we married. Ecgbert was to have been killed here with the other nobles who didn’t support Alton’s claim. Ecgbert was warned to flee before the attack.”
“How do you know all of this?” Rowan shook his head at her filling in some curious blanks since the attack.
“Ursula paid the Danes to rid herself of all of the nobles who didn’t support Alton. I learned much of this from my father during the negotiations for the alliance. You only confirmed what I suspected when you said Ecgbert was chosen by the Ragnarsson brothers to rule.”
“It could be a coincidence he was chosen,” Rowan replied with a shrug. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I overheard the Viking named Gunthrum talking to another that King Harald ordered the attack on the York’s residence. The Danes betrayed Ursula at the last to support Ecgbert. She thinks my father and King Aethelred were involved and betrayed her.”
Rowan was stunned to hear her words now spoken in his own tongue. “You know our language? Who else knows all of this that you claim?”
“Gunthrum bragged of it to another Viking in the hall.”
“Who was he speaking to that night?” Rowan’s green eyes bored into hers. “Do you know the man’s name?”
“I didn’t learn the man’s name. He left with Gunthrum right after. It was all I heard.”
“Drop the knife,” Rowan ordered her and backed away, splaying his hands wide. “I promise you that I will not turn you over to Ursula.”
Ambryn laughed harshly and shook her head. “Coming from a Viking who sells his loyalty to tyrants and warlords? Do you think me so simple to trust you?”
“My promises have never been offered to a woman, lady. You would be the first. I keep mine if made,” Rowan replied softly, his green eyes meeting hers solemnly. “I promise to keep you safe from harm as long as you are in my care. That is my word to you.”
“Will you let me go?” Ambryn relaxed her hold on the knife.
Rowan smiled at her look of hope. “No, that I won’t do.”
“How can I know you won’t betray me and give me over to her?” Ambryn stared into his eyes, trying to decide whether she could believe him and trust him with her life.
Rowan stared at her considering her words for a moment, finally walked over to the door and opened it, gesturing outside into the corridor. “Go. If you wish to run, do so. When you are caught and tossed over the wall into her hands, you have your answer. Is it not better to retreat to fight another day, my lady?”
Ambryn sighed in defeat and lowered the dagger.
Rowan shut the door, shaking his head at her, his green eyes narrowed in anger. “You might have told me all of this before I left. Now we have to pray I can get you out of this place before every Viking in the city learns of Lady Ursula’s reward and discovers you here.”
Ambryn bit her lip, realizing she put them both in greater danger by staying silent. She was wary of him as he paced before the hearth, appearing to think. She relaxed her pose with the dagger before she realized his real intent.
Before she knew it, Rowan lunged at her and grabbed her wrist in a punishing hold. The dagger fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor. Rowan made short work of tripping her to the rush-covered stone floor, straddling her, and ripping her skirt hem. He gagged her quickly and efficiently, binding her wrists and ankles, cutting off her cries of anger that he tricked her.
Rowan chuckled as she flailed and kicked to get away from him. He tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the door, slapping her buttocks soundly while she screamed through the gag.
“The next time you have a weapon, never let your enemy take you unaware, especially if it be a Viking. Now we slip out the back unseen and go to my ship. Do you have anything you might need for the journey, my sweet?” Her answer was a foul litany of muffled curses, struggling and thrashing to get away. Rowan laughed and carried her out of the room.
~ ~ ~
Rowan glowered and rubbed his injured cheek after dealing with his unruly captive during the short voyage. The moment he unbound Lady York in the shallow hold, she became a tigress, valiantly trying to avoid being taken from the city. He felt her nails on more than one occasion since. He knew the cause of her distress. She worried he would betray her and give her over to the countess of York.
Rowan divided the small cache of silver Helmet received from King Aethelred’s agents among the men to leave with their families in Norway, seeing the relief in their eyes they wouldn’t return home empty-handed and deal with angry wives.
Rowan brooded over the fact they were back where they started, without coin and no new mercenary contract to recoup their losses. The siege on the House of York was the cause of them going unpaid.
Ivar claimed Lady Ursula was to cover the contingent forces. Due to the botched siege of the House of York, they would go unpaid. Ivar was being as unaccountable as the rest in his dealing of the matter.
For that, Rowan thought it only fair he seek the ransom for his captive back to her family. Helmet stayed behind in the city to gather information trying to learn who the girl’s father was in his absence.
Rowan scowled as he saw Allisande smirking at him from the bow of the ship. She seemed to enjoy his pain in dealing with his captive. He discussed the matter at length with Joran, who agreed to stay silent of all he told him of the conspiracy in York and the lady’s identity.
Rowan fumed to know Joran thought it unlikely he would be able to handle the ransom on his own. He refused to trust Ivar Ragnarsson to handle the matter for him, knowing the lion’s share would go to him when collected.
As much as Rowan agreed with Joran’s prediction of failure in his dealing with this unknown English noble who was the lady’s sire, he had no choice. He owed this to his men for following him loyally over the years.
Lady York would not name her father, refusing to cooperate as much as he tried to threaten, trick, and cajole her. His recent failed seduction attempts to get the information from her made his face darken to recall how she kneed him hard in the groin and her nails raked the other side of his face. The lady was stubborn and determined to avoid her fate in being ransomed back to her family.
“Nothing I have said dissuades you from returning to York does it?” Joran spoke from the railing of the ship, regarding him with a grim look in his dark blue eyes. “You would be better to seek out my father to deal with this for you, Rowan. He alone can bargain with the girl’s sire. It’s folly to try to do this on your own. You haven’t the men or the power to collect the girl’s ransom. You could get you all killed if you try.”
Rowan stared out over the waves with a frown. “I owe the men this, Joran. I promised them wealth beyond their dreams should they follow me. They have swung their swords for far less.” He made a disgusted noise. “I have no choice but to try.”
“Rowan, you may wish to rethink the matter. Journey to my longhouse and take refuge with us there. I could use more able men. Think on it,” Joran countered with a frown. “Keeping an oath to your men cannot possibly be worth all of your lives.”
“It is my oath to give, and mine to keep,” Rowan replied tersely. “I have to do this. They have given up all for this one chance we now have.”
Joran regarded him with something akin to respect. “It is not easy to lead men. I agree with you there. But the choice to do this might cost you in the end.”
Rowan said nothing more, his eyes going to the oarsmen who rowed in unison as they neared the sight of land in Norway. These loyal men followed him into unknown peril and all for better lives. He couldn’t cheat them of it because the matter seemed too difficult to surmount. Somehow he would overcome.