There were far more men in the hall than Ellan had been expecting. She had assumed that this would be a simple questioning. Lord Vidar would ask her about her father and she would answer and the whole thing would be done in mere moments. When the door opened to reveal the hall filled with his warriors, along with several of Banford’s notable elders, she wavered in place as she understood this would be more extensive than she had anticipated.
The space was small and plain compared to Alvey’s great hall. The walls were lined with ancient tapestries of hunting scenes that hadn’t moved since she’d been a child. Some of them were threadbare in places. Instead of tapers lighting the room from above, there were several candle trees set about the room along with a hearth for light and warmth. The tables that were set together near the centre of the room to form one large table had been pushed to the side, so that Lord Vidar could sit at the far end of the room, facing the door. He wasn’t very old, perhaps the same age as Aevir, but he had a presence that made him seem older. He reminded her of a king on a throne. His expression was just as forbidding as she imagined a king’s to be.
Henrik’s hand returned to her back, a gentle reassuring pressure that nudged her forward. Ellan reminded herself that she had nothing to fear from the man who had given her shelter for the past several months and put one foot in front of the other. Yet as she walked towards him and the men turned as one to watch her progress, it was very difficult for her to believe that was true. She wanted Galan or Elswyth with her, but she had no choice but to face this alone.
‘How is Aevir?’ Lord Vidar’s deep voice reached her from halfway across the room.
‘His fever is still raging, but he awoke for a few moments and was lucid as we spoke.’ Well, mostly lucid. Her fingers tingled with the memory of how he had held her hand. She wasn’t certain that he’d known what he was doing when he’d laced his fingers with hers.
‘That’s good,’ he said. Some of the fierceness drained from his face, gentling his features. Perhaps it was the stress of the day and dealing with the injured that made him look so stern. ‘I owe you my thanks for taking an interest in his care.’
She bit the inside of her lip to hide her smile. The first few moments after they had arrived were a hectic blur. She had gone directly to the warriors’ quarters to find Aevir on a thin straw mattress that stunk of things she’d rather not ponder. His wound had been clean and dressed, but the fact that no one had been at his side had torn at her heart. The warriors present had bristled at her intrusion, but had been quick to obey her when she ordered him taken to her father’s home where she could care for him herself. Panic had made her brave.
‘He was kind to me. I’d simply like to repay the favour.’
Lord Vidar nodded, but his gaze searched her face as if trying to uncover her true intention. ‘While you’re here I ask that you stay close to your home. No going into the wood or the village without an escort. I’ll have a man stationed at your door at all times for your safety.’
For her safety, or because there was suspicion hovering over her family? Her stomach churned in uncertainty.
‘I’ll see to the watch, Jarl, if it pleases you.’ Henrik surprised her by speaking over her shoulder. She hadn’t realised that he’d followed her across the room. ‘I’ll have a man there at all times.’
She glanced over at him in gratitude, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he anticipated more than friendship growing between them.
‘I assume you’ve heard that your father and brothers are missing?’ Lord Vidar’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘Aye, and I assure you that I have no idea where they have gone.’
‘Many of us suspect that Godric has gone to join the Scots. A few insist that he’s loyal to Alvey.’ He inclined his head in the direction of the village elders, who all watched her with the same disapproving expression her father so often wore. ‘The fact is that we cannot know until we find them. The only thing we do know is that aside from Elswyth, and Rolfe who spoke with them the morning of their disappearance at Alvey, you were the last to speak with them. What did you talk about?’
She took in a deep breath as all the air in the room seemed to be centred around her. She tried not to flinch under the pressure and made certain that her shoulders were straight as she stood tall. Making her voice strong and clear, she gave an abbreviated account of their conversation. At the last moment, she decided not to mention the potential betrothal in the hopes that it wouldn’t come to pass. She wasn’t even entirely certain Father hadn’t been bluffing. She ended with Father’s insistence that she leave with him the next morning. ‘I feared that he wouldn’t allow me to return to Alvey, so I told him that Lady Gwendolyn had gifted me with a golden bracelet that I needed to retrieve. It was only then that he let me go with the promise that we would leave in the morning. The next day he was gone.’
Lord Vidar stared at her without speaking, giving her the sinking feeling that he knew there was a part she’d left out. ‘He mentioned nothing to you about the Scots?’
‘Nay, my lord. I’m afraid he’s never held me in high regard, so I’m certain he would never tell me anything that might incriminate him.’ It was true. Father had ever only spoken to her to issue orders.
The elders shifted on their benches. Having them here was like being interrogated in front of her father. Most of them were friends of his. There was no doubt that they knew more about his communication with the Scots than she knew.
‘Wait a moment if you will, my lord.’ Desmond, Banford’s leader, rose to his feet and walked towards her. He was older, with thin white hair, and he walked as if one leg was a smidge shorter than the other.
She couldn’t help but shift from foot to foot as he gave her the same disapproving look he’d given her when he’d found her playing dice with his son. She and the boy had each only been ten winters of age, but Desmond had looked upon her as if she’d been determined to lead his son down the path of debauchery. The stain of her mother’s actions had painted her as objectionable even as a child. She had to force herself to hold his gaze, but the action only made his scowl deepen as his bloodshot eyes looked into hers.
‘This woman is withholding information.’
How did he know? Her gaze darted to Lord Vidar whose expression had gone from acceptance to suspicion. ‘What do you mean, Desmond?’
The older man looked very pleased with himself when he said, ‘Her father told her—’
Afraid that she might lose all credibility if she wasn’t completely honest, she hurried to intervene. ‘Father told me that he had arranged my betrothal with a Saxon. He didn’t give me a name and I didn’t think my potential betrothal was pertinent to the issue at hand.’
‘Everything is pertinent.’ Lord Vidar’s words were clipped and sharp.
Unable to meet his gaze, she stared at the floor. ‘Of course, Lord. Forgive me.’ Her heart beat in her chest like the wings of a crazed butterfly.
Turning his astute gaze to Desmond, he asked the one question she was burning to know the answer to. ‘How do you know her father spoke to her about this?’
For once, Desmond did not look smug. ‘I didn’t, but I suspected as I had helped him arrange the betrothal. Her father may not be here to see to it that the contract is carried out, so I must step in and see it done.’
Ellan opened and closed her mouth several times as her racing thoughts tried to make sense of what was happening. ‘I’m not certain it was an official betrothal.’
Desmond scoffed, ‘It was an official betrothal. Ask Tolan of Stapleham. I’m certain he’ll remember speaking with Godric.’
The village sounded familiar. If she wasn’t mistaken it was in Alvey’s southern lands. ‘Tolan? Is that the man Father wanted me to marry?’
He nodded, looking entirely too pleased with himself. ‘He’s a prominent man in Stapleham and a distant relation.’
A vision of Tolan as some version of Desmond passed through her mind, same thinning white hair and yellow teeth, and she had to work hard to suppress a shudder. She turned to Lord Vidar with what had to be sheer desperation on her face. ‘I never agreed to a betrothal. In fact, I’m interested in marrying someone else. A Dane.’ She said this in her sternest voice and smiled in satisfaction when Desmond’s eyes bulged. While marriages between Saxons and Danes were encouraged by Lord Vidar and Lady Gwendolyn, many of the village elders were having difficulty accepting that a Saxon woman might choose a Dane.
‘You will marry a Saxon as your father intended, girl,’ Desmond said.
He stepped forward threateningly, but Lord Vidar intervened. ‘Enough. Who is this Dane, Ellan?’
Her lips trembled as she searched for a suitable reply. She hadn’t meant any Dane in particular, except perhaps Aevir, but he himself had already told her that he wouldn’t marry her. Giving his name now would get her nowhere. Lord Vidar’s mouth drew into a straight line as he tired of waiting for her reply and his brow furrowed.
Desmond’s voice rose. ‘The girl has already been betrothed to Tolan. She cannot move forward with any sort of involvement with any Dane, regardless of who he is.’
Lord Vidar raised his hand for quiet and addressed the elder. ‘Do you know if any monies exchanged hands? Was there a bride price paid to her father or a dowry of some sort?’
Desmond shrugged. ‘I have no knowledge of the particulars, Lord.’
‘Without Godric, we cannot simply assume the betrothal is legitimate. This Tolan will have to speak for himself.’
Panic compelled her to say, ‘But... Lord...please, I would marry a Dane, not this Saxon man I’ve never met. Wouldn’t marriage to a Dane be better for peace?’ Elswyth had married Rolfe for that very reason. ‘Don’t you want marriages between Saxons and Danes?’ She only barely managed to keep from throwing herself at Lord Vidar’s feet as she pleaded.
Lord Vidar gave her a nod and his expression softened. ‘If there is indeed a Dane you favour, bring him to me. Let him plead his side and we will proceed from there.’
Desmond sniffed in rebuke. Ignoring him, she nodded her thanks, her hand moving to press against her heart to keep it from jumping out of her chest. Turning on her heels, she fled the hall with Henrik behind her. The only thing that mattered at the moment was getting Aevir well. She would have time enough in the coming days to figure out a way to avoid this marriage.