They rode for several hours, finally breaching the shelter of tall forest Aevir had led them away from the day before. Ellan asked about Baldric who had been left behind. He was well, but angry Galan hadn’t allowed him to come. She did not ask where ‘behind’ was, nor did Galan ask more about her and Aevir. There were things between them that they couldn’t discuss. They rode maybe another hour until the group came to a campsite in the late morning. There was almost no one there. A few campfires had burned recently, but only smouldering ashes remained.
A man sat huddled at the base of a tree wrapped in blankets. As she and Galan were bringing up the rear, everyone else had already ridden into the clearing when they arrived. Almost no one approached the man who was struggling to his feet. It was only as she was dismounting that the blanket fell back and she realised the man was her father.
‘Father!’ she yelled as he wobbled and sank back against the broad trunk. His face was pale and wan.
He held out a hand as she ran to him and placed it on her shoulder when she stopped, uncertain about how to touch him. She only realised right then how they had hardly ever touched.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
Galan had run up behind her, so he answered, ‘The storm brought on a bout of some kind. He fell ill last night.’
‘I’m fine, boy.’ Father pushed away from the tree and stood on his own two feet. Perhaps he wasn’t as ill as she had first thought. ‘I see you found the Danes.’ He indicated Aevir and Ander who had been strapped to his own horse. ‘Only two?’
‘The Scots will be satisfied with Aevir,’ Galan said.
Fear twisted her insides. ‘Nay, you cannot deliver Aevir to the Scots!’
‘It’s what they want.’ Galan lowered his voice to keep it between the three of them. ‘It will finally convince them to help us.’
‘I thought they were already helping you,’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘Some. They’ve been more reluctant to invade than Father thought they’d be. The King doesn’t want to draw the ire of the Danes. His son is the only one bold enough to face them and he must prove we can gather enough men before his father will be convinced to join our cause.’
Grabbing his arm, she pleaded, ‘Then stop this. Why must you cause problems when there could be peace?’
‘Enough!’ Father’s voice brooked no argument.
Galan shook his head in disappointment at her and said to their father, ‘Don’t listen to her. She thinks she’s married him.’
‘I have married him. I will not be a part of your plans to bring the Scots into a war with these people. They only want peace with the Saxons.’
‘You don’t understand anything.’ Her brother raised his arms in frustration.
Father held up his hand for quiet, gaining their attention. He stared at Ellan so hard she took a step backwards. ‘You married him...a Dane?’
‘Aye, I married Aevir.’
‘Ellan!’ Aevir called to her from across the campsite and gave a firm shake of his head when she glanced over at him.
Father had come closer so she took another step back, recoiling from the anger in his eyes. ‘How could you? It can’t be true. I won’t believe it.’
‘He’s good to me, Father.’ He slapped her and she fell to her knees.
Something rushed past her. ‘You do not touch her!’ Aevir’s shout filled up the air as he pushed a shoulder into her father’s chest. His hands were still tied behind his back.
Hurrying to her feet, she put her hands on Aevir’s chest and stood between him and her father. ‘Nay, stop, Aevir. I’m not hurt.’ It wasn’t really true. Her cheek burned, but that was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. Father had ignored her and said harsh things to her, but he had never raised a hand to her before now.
‘Stand behind me,’ Aevir ordered her, his harsh gaze on her father.
She was gratified to realise that Galan stood between them, his hands on the older man’s chest as he urged him back to rest against the tree trunk. Father returned Aevir’s harsh look over Galan’s shoulder.
‘You had no right to marry her,’ Father said. ‘She did not have my permission. The marriage cannot stand.’
‘It will.’ Aevir’s voice was deep and measured. His easy confidence made her feel better.
‘You had no right,’ Father said again. His face grew redder with anger by the moment.
‘Father, stay calm.’ Galan’s voice was soothing, but it carried an undercurrent of displeasure.
‘What of her bride price?’ Father asked. ‘You think you can just take her with nothing?’
‘I will pay you. Is that really your only objection to me marrying your daughter?’
‘Of course not. You’re a bloody Dane. That’s objection enough.’
Her grip tightened on Aevir, even though another Saxon had come over and had an arm around his shoulders to hold him in case he decided to lunge at her father again.
‘That’s right,’ Aevir sneered. ‘You’re a fool who is blind to the treasure of his own daughter. She is kind and good-hearted, strong and brave, loyal to her own detriment. If you would only open your eyes and see that. Do you even want to know if she’ll be well in my care? If I’ll take proper care of her?’
Her father said something, but Ellan was too caught up in Aevir’s words to hear him. Her eyes and ears were only for her husband who had stopped talking and stared down at her. Her hand on his chest, she whispered, ‘Do you really think those things about me?’
With his arms bound, a man holding him in a death grip and a streak of blood still on his brow, he gave her a gentle smile. ‘Of course. I knew them from the start, but I was a fool like your father. Can you forgive me?’
‘Aye.’ Tears blurred her vision so she blinked them back furiously because she didn’t want to miss a moment of seeing his face.
His eyes gentled. ‘You are my heart, love.’
Wanting to kiss him, but having no way to reach his lips since he couldn’t bend down, she placed a kiss above his heart. ‘I love you more than my own life.’
His eyes were still gentle but sad as he shook his head. ‘Nay, never more. You must stay safe.’
They were smiling at each other when thunderous yells filled the forest. Her heart stopped for the brief moment it took her to understand that they were being attacked. Or rather the Saxons and Scots were under attack. She caught sight of Oleif and several warriors who had travelled with Aevir yesterday. Other men crashed through the forest from the other direction, perhaps a score of them in total.
Having been let go by his captor who was grabbing a sword, Aevir tugged furiously at his bindings. Galan was hurrying back to his horse where he’d left his sword. ‘Galan!’ She grabbed at the knife on his hip.
Her brother paused and took hold of her wrists. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Aevir! I have to release him.’
‘Nay, he’s a prisoner.’ He sounded furious.
‘Please, Galan.’ She stared up into her brother’s eyes and pleaded as if her very own life depended upon it. ‘Please untie him. He could be killed.’ When that didn’t move him, she said, ‘He’s my husband and I could even now be carrying his child. If you ever cared for me at all, please let me help him.’ She had never once wished for Elswyth’s bravery or skill with an axe, but she wished for it now.
Galan stared at her for a moment more and, though he didn’t speak, he released her wrists. Not waiting for further permission, she drew the knife and turned towards her husband. As soon as she had cut through the hemp, he took the knife from her and shoved her behind him, wielding the knife in front of him as if it were a sword. The entire area was in chaos. Men on horses and on foot fought each other until she could not tell which were Saxons and which were Danes. A man came towards them, holding up his sword, and Aevir ducked as the man swung while keeping one hand on the front of her dress to pull her down with him.
‘Get behind the tree!’ he yelled.
She had squeezed her eyes closed, but opened them to see him stab the man in his neck. It was Egric, the one who had pulled her from the tent. Her stomach turned as blood poured out. Aevir picked up the fallen man’s sword and glanced at her. ‘Now, Ellan!’
‘Give me my sword!’ Somehow Father’s voice rose above the cacophony. He pushed away from the broad tree trunk and stepped in the direction of her brother. But it was as if his legs were too weak to carry him. He faltered and would have fallen had she not put herself under him.
‘Galan!’ she called, hoping that her brother could hear her. Father favoured his left side and the whites of his eyes showed. ‘Father, open your eyes.’
He muttered words, but they were incoherent. As she struggled under his weight to get him seated beneath the tree, he gripped his chest as if trying to claw at something. The anger had completely drained from his face, leaving it the palest white she had ever seen, as if there were no blood left. ‘Father, can you hear me?’
He nodded, but he still hadn’t opened his eyes. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Aevir approach Galan. He grabbed her brother’s shoulder and pushed him towards her. ‘Protect your sister,’ he shouted.
Only then did Galan look over at her. He paled when he saw their father and hurried over to them. Aevir took up sentry before their little group huddled at the base of the tree. ‘What happened?’ Galan asked.
‘I’m uncertain. He’s had an attack of some kind.’
Galan helped to lower him on to his back. As the battle raged around them, Father slowly opened his eyes. At first he seemed not to see them, but then his eyes focused on her. ‘Eada.’
She nearly gasped at the sound of her mother’s name. No one had uttered it for years. ‘Nay, Father, it’s me... Ellan.’
‘Eada,’ he whispered again as if he hadn’t heard her. His unfocused gaze settled on her face and he touched the ends of her hair. Perhaps this was why he had never been able to look at Ellan—he had always seen her mother in her face.
She glanced at Galan. Galan’s brows fit together and he asked, ‘Father, can you hear me?’
‘I never stopped caring for you,’ Father said, lost in whatever imagining he was having. ‘You took a part of me when you left and I never got it back.’ His breath ended on a gasp as he struggled to bring air into his lungs.
Tears on her cheeks, Ellan took his hand. ‘Father?’
‘I shouldn’t have sent you away.’ Another ragged breath. ‘I should have been better.’ His hand went limp in Ellan’s. She rubbed her fingers over his palm as if that alone could breathe new life into him. He opened his eyes, but they were mere slits in his face. ‘Forgive me...please?’
His gaze was on her face, waiting expectantly as the breath rattled out of him. She said the only thing that she could in what was almost certainly his final moment of this life. ‘I forgive you.’
Father closed his eyes and a strange peace settled over the three of them. A final breath left his body and then he was gone. Hot tears streamed down her face, turning cold before they reached her chin. ‘Father,’ she said past the lump in her throat. Her hands went to his still chest.
On the other side of him Galan made a choking sound and rose. A moment later he was pulling her to her feet and away to the back of the tree, away from the fighting. ‘Stay here,’ he said and picked up his sword which had fallen forgotten on to the snow as their father had died.
The clang of steel on steel filled her ears. Galan wiped at his eyes and made to join the fray, but she grabbed his arm and held him back. ‘Nay, Galan. Look.’
He followed her line of sight to the battle, or what was left of it. It was plain to see that many of the Saxons and Scots had fallen. Not one of the Danes had succumbed. ‘The Danes will win,’ she said. ‘Go now while you can.’
She pointed to one of the Saxon horses which picked its way through the snow some distance in the opposite direction, either oblivious to the battle or so accustomed to the sounds that he wasn’t bothered by it. When he hesitated, she tightened her grip. ‘You know it’s the only way for you to live. Go now. I can’t lose you, too.’
‘Who will protect you?’ asked Galan.
‘My husband. Go, the battle is almost over.’
He glanced towards Aevir, who had just finished off another attacker.
‘Go!’ she urged.
Pulling her against him, he pressed his lips to her temple. ‘You will see to our father?’
She put her arms around him and squeezed him tight, knowing this would be for the last time. ‘Aye, I’ll see that he gets home to Banford. Please take care of Baldric. Take him and leave the Scots. Leave this senseless war and go somewhere else.’
Remembering her father’s purse, she pulled away and tugged the pouch free from his belt. The coins inside clanged as she forced it into Galan’s hand. ‘Take this and be safe.’
‘Be well, little Sister.’ Galan placed another kiss on her brow.
‘I will,’ she said and watched him run towards the horse and mount.
She kept watching until he had disappeared through the trees. Only then did she notice that the sounds of battle had gradually begun to die away. She turned as Aevir was wiping the sword he held across the snow which was no longer pristine and white. He stopped when he saw her father lying on the ground. Their eyes met and he rose, opening his arms to her.
Stifling a sob, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms, somehow crying harder when they tightened around her. He crooned softly against her ear and pressed his lips into her hair. ‘I’m sorry, love.’
She nodded and pulled back, wiping her eyes to ask, ‘Are you hurt?’
He shook his head and showed her a hand. The knuckles were bloodied and bruised. ‘Just minor cuts and bruises.’ He glanced at her father again. Someone had covered him with a blanket. ‘Ellan, I couldn’t bear that he hit you. If it was—’
‘Nay.’ She reached up to touch his face. ‘It wasn’t you. He had been ill and then I think the battle spurred another attack. It was his time.’
His fingertips lightly traced the place on her cheek where Father had hit her.
‘How did Oleif know to come?’
‘He arose to get the horses and heard the Saxons coming. He took his horse and hid until we left and then he found our men. Thankfully, they hadn’t risen from their own camp yet and were able to circle back and follow our tracks.’
‘Can we go home now?’ she asked, wanting this to be over. Wanting to know with all certainty that he would be hers for ever.
‘Aye, we can go home.’ He pulled her against him again, but then stopped. ‘Galan,’ he said as if he had only just remembered her brother’s existence. His head swung left and right as he looked for him.
‘Nay,’ she whispered and held him tighter. ‘Please.’ She pressed her face into his chest, aware that this was another potential hurdle between them. There was no question now as to whether Father and Galan had plotted against the Danes. They had committed treason. Galan would be put to death if he were found. She couldn’t bear to know that Aevir was the cause of his death, even if it were justified.
He tensed, but went still. His heart beat against her once, twice. On the third beat, he put his arms around her again and held her tight. A sigh drained out of him and he kissed her temple. ‘I love you to madness,’ he whispered.
A grateful sob escaped her and she raised her lips to his.