Ambryn lay on her side next to the fire much later, staring into the flames, listening to Rowan’s deep even breathing next to her. This was her chance to flee if she but had the courage to take it. She bit her lip, looking about the dark forest, hearing its nighttime sounds with a fearful glance.
Even if she managed to retrace her steps back the way they came, she would only run amuck with the Vikings who chased them from York. She wouldn’t make it to the convent on foot without a horse. The minute she got up and tried to take the animal, Rowan would only wake up and stop her.
Tears of frustration filled her eyes to think of Rowan learning all from Halfdene Ragnarsson in another day, of being sent back to her father. She resisted it with everything in her, believing he would heartlessly marry her off once more.
She didn’t truly believe her father was aware of the York’s plans to kill her but he put her at risk nonetheless, thinking of nothing but his own greed and not seeing their true intentions. For that, she would never willingly go back.
~ ~ ~
Stephen stalked inside the small keep. He eyed Ursula coldly as he saw her sitting before the fire in the hearth. His retainers lingered near the doors. He gazed at her in open hostility as he came forward.
“Your reward has put my daughter in further danger,” Stephen stated harshly. “I demand you withdraw it at once until I have time to negotiate with the Vikings for her ransom.”
Ursula smiled in an ugly manner. She set aside her embroidery in a basket at her feet, regarding Lord Whiltshire in amusement. “Why would I do that, my lord? I care not what becomes of your harlot of a daughter. I have it in good stead from my man in York a Viking has claimed your daughter. They fled the city. A thousand pieces of silver was offered for each of their heads just yesterday. That only furthers my cause in this.”
Stephen gnashed his teeth. “You now offer a bounty for them both?”
Ursula stood up and met his fierce glare with a serene expression. “My son is dead. I find it only fitting the one who caused it should die. It appears the Viking who took her hasn’t much hope of living to demand any ransom from you, my lord. Right now, every Viking in the north hunts them down for me. I need do nothing but sit back and wait.”
“You evil self-serving bitch!” Stephen stepped forward to strike her, his hand shaking with the effort before he got his anger under control. “You’ll not get away with this! If you persist in trying to see my daughter dead, I’ll make certain the Vikings learn who you conspired with from the start!”
“Go ahead and tell all what you think you know of it, my lord. You don’t know half by far. Even Aethelred doesn’t know the real goal here,” Ursula countered and shrugged, unworried by his threat. “I’ve lost my home in York after the invasion with no heir to keep it. I have no other reason to return now that my son is dead. Your daughter stole all from me! For that she will pay!”
“Ambryn did nothing to you or your son,” Stephen shot back harshly. “He was run through by a Viking during the attack! You blame her for no reason!”
Ursula trembled in fury, her face twisted in hatred. “Alton went back for her! We fled to seek safety! He ran back to save her! And now he is dead! For that I cannot forgive it!”
“Now you admit you deliberately left my daughter there to die,” Stephen replied coldly, his silver eyes filled with contempt. “That was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Who did you pay to see it done? I can assume the Vikings betrayed you at the last?” Seeing her stiffening expression, he laughed suddenly, harshly. “I did warn you what would happen when you chased the crown in Northumbria with Aethelred’s blessing. You refused to listen. You put your trust in the Danes. That is why your son is dead, and for no other reason! I will tell you again that I had no hand in this. However Ecgbert was warned away from the wedding feast was not by my doing.”
“How is it so few knew of the attack for it to not be you that betrayed me? I will have my satisfaction your daughter lies as dead as my son, my lord,” Ursula snarled under her breath. “Let us see which of us finds her first. I have all of the Northmen doing my bidding for me. Who do you have?”
Stephen glared down at her, longing to throttle her and squeeze the life from her. “Let us hope a fortune in gold buys them time to get away, my lady. If any harm befalls my daughter, you will answer to me.” And with that he spun on his heels and strode away, snapping at his retainers to follow him.
Standing outside while they readied their mounts, Stephen eyed his man-at-arms thoughtfully. Regaled was his most trusted man. He alone could be counted upon going to York to offer the ransom for Ambryn. He could only pray it came in time.
“Go to the city wall in York. Tell all who will listen, lord of Whiltshire offers a fortune in gold for the lady’s safe return to her family. That should even things out for them.”
Regaled nodded gravely. “I pray it comes in time for Lady Ambryn, my lord.”
Stephen nodded and watched his man mount up and separate from their group, heading north towards Northumbria in all haste. He refused to believe it was too late to save his daughter.
Ursula wasted little time in sending her own agents to York before him. He could only hope the Viking who held her learned of the offer of gold before they were caught.
To think of what the horde of Vikings pursuing them would do to Ambryn made him tense, feeling uneasy with the first stirrings of panic growing within him. For the first time in his life Stephen felt helpless. It was not a feeling the Wolf of Whiltshire liked one little bit, gnashing his teeth to hope the Northman who took her got away.
~ ~ ~
They were slowed down by rain at dusk, forced to take shelter under an old dilapidated wooden cart. The conveyance was abandoned in the woods with a broken wheel. Rowan was sure the heavy downpour slowed their pursuers and took pity on his captive.
Ambryn was drenched to the skin and shivering in his arms. He lifted her down from the horse. He tied the horse under a tree with enough overhanging foliage to keep the animal dry. He tried to light a fire with his field kit but the felt was soaked and the wood too damp. Soon it went out, smoking before being snuffed out in the downpour.
They crouched under the cart when it soon became dark, the sky lighting up with the intensity of the storm. Ambryn was shaking, her face stark with fear during the loud thunderstorm. Each time lightening flashed, she quaked even more. Rowan could see she was terrified, her eyes wide with fear.
“It’s naught but a storm, lady.” Rowan tried to comfort her, but could see she was terrified. He pulled her closer to him, feeling her trembling violently as lightening crackled and lit up the sky and thunder rumbled overhead.
Ambryn hid her face in his chest. She pressed tightly against him, making him grit his teeth to feel her tempting body now molded to his. It took every bit of his control not to try to distract her from the storm in another more pleasurable way.
He swore he would not touch her.
No, he would return her to her family unscathed. He would not have this shrewish lady accuse him of being a despoiler of women to add to her growing list of complaints of him.
The girl burrowed her face in his neck. She clutched him to her tightly unaware she was making him quite aroused by her innocent movements. Rowan cursed the tightening in his loins the more she rubbed against him, gritting his teeth in the darkness. He soothed her comfortingly, hearing her whimper in distress as thunder cracked loudly overhead.
“That is but Thor waging battle. He is the god of storms. His anger is said to be the thunder you hear while slaying giant monsters with his mighty hammer named Mjöllnir. It means lightening in my tongue,” Rowan said at her ear gently. “They say each time Thor’s hammer strikes his foe, you see the lightening in the sky to show his victory. See, there it is again.” He pointed to a streak of lightening in the sky, holding her tightly. “Thor fights well this night.”
Ambryn grew quiet in his arms. “How many gods do you have?”
“More than you, lady.” Rowan smiled to know he succeeded in earning her interest away from the storm overhead. “Each one has their own powers. Odin is the chief of the Aesir gods, the ruler of all Asgard, the home of the gods. Freya is his wife. Thor and Loki are their sons.” He talked of his gods and each of their powers, all the while holding her comfortingly against his chest.
Ambryn listened with rapt attention while he spoke of his pagan religion at great length. He spoke of his heaven. It was called Valhalla, a place where only the bravest Vikings who died in glorious battle went after death, to a great feast to be lauded as heroes for eternity.
Rowan was explaining all matter of their rituals when he felt her grow slack in his arms at last. He smiled against her damp hair, inhaling her sweet fragrance against his better judgment. His eyes closed, his hand buried in her long silken hair.
~ ~ ~
Ambryn woke up with a start and sat up quickly. She banged her head on the underside of the cart. She heard Rowan chuckle nearby at her blunder. She peered out from under the cart to see him wiping down the horse before saddling it. She regarded him with a disgruntled expression.
“Are we followed yet?” Ambryn rubbed her sore pate as she got out from under the cart and gazed back the way they came with a frown, unaware how appealing she looked with her hair loosened from her braid and waving about her shoulders, her face flushed from sleep.
Rowan shook his head. “They ran into trouble during the storm as we did. I found a stream not far from here. If you wish to wash we have time before we leave. And do nothing foolish and try to run, lady. You’d not get far.”
Ambryn avoided his eyes shyly, thinking of last night and the way he held her until she fell asleep. For the first time since she was a child, she slept during a storm. “How long before we reach Halfdene’s camp?”
“A half day’s ride, no more,” Rowan replied and removed some things from his saddle bag, offering them to her.
Ambryn gratefully took the cloth, the small chunk of soap, and the comb, knowing she must look a fright, feeling self-conscious of her appearance and smell until he pointed behind him to the direction of the stream.
Ambryn walked a few hundred feet and sighed in pleasure to see the small, fast-running stream. She looked back and bit her lip indecisively before she removed the damp silk robes. She placed them over a bush to dry as she washed her face, neck, and all she dared without stripping down nude. She used the comb to put her hair in order, braiding it neatly before rising to dress.
Ambryn hated to put the dirty robes back on but had no other clothing. She felt considerably refreshed by the time she returned to see Rowan throwing leaves and branches down upon the path to cover the horse’s tracks in the mud.
“Why are you doing that?” Ambryn frowned to see him pull more brush out and spread it around.
“They will come this way soon,” Rowan told her as he spread more leaves about. “I’m covering our trail. They will think we head into the woods. It may give us more time before they double back to find our tracks.”
Ambryn eagerly helped him, spreading leaves and branches everywhere he indicated. He finally agreed they hid any sign of them staying there and recovered the cart with a heavy branch to hide it.
Rowan mounted up and pulled her up in front of him. Ambryn could see by his grim expression they were hardly safe. He looked back worriedly before he kicked the horse into a smart trot.
They rode for hours, only stopping to meet the call of nature or rest the horse. Ambryn was sore and fatigued, her posterior bruised and smarting in the saddle. Rowan gave her the bread and cheese from his bag and encouraged her to eat before they set back out.
Ambryn felt badly as she nibbled on the bread and cheese, knowing he ate nothing himself. She watched Rowan soothing the horse, seeing him offer it the remaining bread with renewed guilt, wishing she dared to trust him.
Because of her, they were hunted like animals and likely to be caught. Her silver eyes grew pained to think of this handsome young Viking dying because of her. Anger flared in her eyes suddenly to feel sorry for the greedy mercenary. He just used her to line his own pockets, intending to sell her back to her father. He played upon her soft feelings only to learn whatever he could from her.
Ambryn was determined to be free of Rowan at the first opportunity. If not for the storm, she would have run last night, knowing they didn’t have far to travel before they arrived to Halfdene Ragnarsson’s army camped not far away. There, Rowan would learn she was the wealthy Whiltshire heiress.
Her bid for freedom would be lost.
Ambryn was practical enough to know that she was more vulnerable on her own pursued as they were from every Viking in the land. She had no choice but to follow this mercenary praying it didn’t lead her to certain death.
~ ~ ~
Rowan squinted in the distance, seeing smoke from the campfires. He slowed the horse, looking down at his captive grimly. “When we arrive I will seek out Halfdene. You will remain at my side at all times. You won’t say a word. Do you understand?” He sighed as she nodded. “He has hundreds of men down there. Our chance of outrunning them is impossible should things go badly. Do you still insist on remaining silent, my lady?”
“You give me no choice, Rowan,” Ambryn said coolly, not meeting his eyes. “I’ve pleaded with you to let me go. Whatever happens now is as much your fault as it is mine.”
“Very well,” Rowan allowed with a tight smile. “I should warn you, Halfdene is just as ruthless as Ivar even if I prefer him far more to his brother. He cares only for monies and means to finance his wars. If he takes you from me, I cannot fight them off. He wouldn’t treat you well, Ambryn. You can expect he will toss you to his men for sport when he is done with you.”
Ambryn swallowed hard at the image in her mind but refused to give in. “You had a choice to let me go, Rowan. You refused to do it. If it comes to that, I hold no blame to you.”
“A woman like you has no place here,” Rowan snapped harshly as he spurred the mount forward, gesturing to the camp now seen in the distance. “Halfdene might see the sense in keeping you alive but he has little regard for the English. Or Christians, for that matter. You don’t know what you could endure before the ransom is delivered.” Rowan glared down at the girl when she remained mute.
Rowan urged the horse forward, dreading this with everything in him as he finally entered the Viking camp near the edge of the river. He acknowledged those he knew with a nod as they passed, aware of eyes on him the minute he rode in.
He saw Halfdene’s tent in the center of camp by the Ragnarsson’s black raven insignia upon it and dismounted, bringing Ambryn with him, keeping an eye upon all those about him. Many Vikings sat before a fire in the center of the camp drinking and jesting. Most hadn’t noticed his arrival.
Rowan called out to Halfdene outside his tent, sending Ambryn a warning look before the tent flap was flung back. Ambryn tried not to stare but the man was a veritable giant, golden haired like his brother Ivar, but larger, with a full golden beard streaked with gray and piercing pale eyes.
Halfdene Ragnarsson was bare-chested, dressed in leather and animal skins like all the other Vikings. He wore a large silver necklace with a dragon pendant dangling from it. His huge biceps were tattooed with the inky tribal designs many of the Vikings had. His welcoming grin when he saw Rowan froze upon his lips as he noticed her standing at his side.
“I thought the rumors I heard to be false,” Halfdene said sourly in his Scandinavian tongue as his eyes flicked briefly over Ambryn. “The woman isn’t worth your life, my friend. Why have you brought her here?”
“I need your help,” Rowan said in a hard tone, his green eyes meeting the leaders intently. “I had nowhere else to go.”
“Come in before more of my men see you,” Halfdene ordered brusquely as he allowed them both inside.
Ambryn dutifully said nothing. She pretended to not know what they were saying as Rowan instructed her. Rowan was pleading their case very well as both men sat to discuss the matter.
“You should be warned Lady York now offers double the price in silver for both of your heads,” Halfdene informed him tersely with a scowl. “You should not have come here, Rowan. I cannot say I’m not tempted to collect it.”
“Would you see me dead, Halfdene?” Rowan regarded him with an inscrutable expression. “I saved your life once. You said you would repay me in kind one day if it was within your power. That day is upon us, my friend.”
“What do you want of me?” Halfdene asked in annoyance. “I have ten score of men out there ready to collect upon Lady York’s price on your heads. You just ride into my camp asking a favor? We are at war in this land, Rowan. You ask the impossible of me.”
“I need to know who she is,” Rowan said darkly, eyeing Ambryn who appeared to be looking around the tent from the opening of the enclosure. “The lady will not tell me. She doesn’t trust Vikings. I have to send a ransom to her father and leave these shores.”
“You have no idea what a prize you have captured, my friend.” Halfdene chuckled heartily and rubbed his bare chest. “You have before you the White Wolf of Whiltshire’s youngest cub. King Aethelred’s most powerful earl, no less. She is Ambryn of York, and worth a queen’s ransom. Her father is one of the wealthiest nobles in Wessex next to Aethelred. His army has been a constant thorn in our side in Mercia. Now do you know how foolish it was for you to bring her here?”
“I ask for nothing more than an hour to get ahead of your men,” Rowan allowed, his expression searching. “A head start on your trackers is nothing for you to allow me. You owe me this, Halfdene. I will never ask you for more. You have my oath.”
Halfdene considered his offer and rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. “You cannot outrun my trackers, Rowan. Why would you try? Why not just give over the woman? I’ll let you leave here with your head.”
Rowan grinned, haggling further. “I think I can outwit your trackers, my friend, since I trained them all. Look upon this as a test to see if they applied themselves. I wager you a golden coin from the lady’s ransom they don’t catch me.”
“You will be slower than they,” Halfdene pointed out thoughtfully, his pale eyes lit up with the challenge. “With you and the woman riding one horse, they will have you before you are halfway to the inlet. I see no gold in this for me, only the silver for both of your heads.”
“So be it,” Rowan cajoled with an easy grin. “If they catch me, they catch me. If not, you can take them to task for it and drink to my seeking Valhalla before you.”
Halfdene grinned despite himself, sobering as he glanced over at the girl. “You know what my men will do to her if they catch you? Think on that, my friend. Spare you both. Give her over to me. I will treat her kindly and seek the ransom from the Wolf of Whiltshire. I will even toss you a coin or two for bringing her to me for your trouble. The war here is not without cost.”
Rowan’s grin remained fixed, seeing Halfdene eyeing Ambryn with growing lust. His green eyes were cold, knowing he couldn’t trust this man to keep his word in that regard. Halfdene would waste little time in forcing himself on Ambryn before cutting her throat for the silver.
“I like my chances, Halfdene. Give me an hour before you send out the trackers. Or have you so little faith in your men’s skills against mine?”
Halfdene grinned widely at the younger man’s audacity. “I like you, Rowan. For that I’ll give you two hours to get ahead of my men. Now go before I change my mind.”
Rowan stood quickly and gestured to Ambryn. “Come, we have to leave.”
Ambryn followed him outside the tent and tried not to look terrified of what she just heard. Many battle-roughened Vikings now noted their presence in front of Halfdene’s tent.
Halfdene soon arrived outside. He held up his hand as many made to approach them, all going for to their sword hilts. The leader looked up at Rowan in the saddle as he pulled Ambryn up before him.
“You have two hours, Rowan, and my debt to you is met. We meet again in Valhalla, my friend.”
Rowan nodded grimly looking at the horde of menacing Vikings who watched him spur the animal around and leave the camp. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know they weren’t pursued. Halfdene would keep his word on that much, but little else.
What worried Rowan more at that moment was where they would hide when the trackers were set upon their trail in just a few short hours.
Rowan pushed the horse as hard as he dared, fuming and knowing every minute that passed was precious. He estimated the distance to the inlet. They had miles to go. They would cut it very closely, getting there just before nightfall. Ambryn looked fearful as she looked back, her expression filled with terror.
Rowan wished to alleviate her fear but he was angry at her for making him seek out Halfdene to learn her identity. Now they could be sure they would be chased, not just with men and horses, but the trained wolves the trackers used to hunt them. The men he could outwit, but the wolves were another matter.