Chapter Ten
A couple of the younger lads eyed Ella curiously as she joined the tail-end of their group walking along the road. She gave them a quick nod and grunted as she pulled her cap closer and kept her eyes down. Luckily, the pace the tall man at the front of them set discouraged idle chatter. The last thing she needed was to have someone strike up a conversation.
At this time of year, the fields lay barren, so these men would be looking for work from the Viking lords who’d taken over many of the tenants’ holdings. Hacking branches or small trees for firewood, clearing snowdrifts, mucking stables or whatever else needed tending in exchange for food, clothing or the occasional coin.
Ella just hoped she wouldn’t be put to the test too quickly since she didn’t have the muscular strength that even the slightest of these boys had.
If only Moire hadn’t shown up when she did. If only Ella had been able to speak to her first. If only she had been able to talk to Bronwolf, as well. Would he have helped her? She didn’t expect that he would actually take her somewhere. That would be too obvious, but if she told him that Ivar was determined to marry the princess—and she was not the princess!—surely, he’d realize what danger she’d placed herself in? If…
But thinking of if only didn’t help. Moire had exposed her, unwittingly or not. Ella had waited too long to speak to Bronwolf. And Ivar’s anger would not be diminished any time soon.
No man wanted to be made a fool of. Especially not one with status and power. She’d learned that much from King Aelle. His reputation was as ruthless as Ivar’s. He’d thrown Ragnor into a pit of snakes and laughed with the telling of the Danish king’s slow death. She was certain Aelle would attack York as soon as the weather warmed, but she hoped that once she told him Ivar’s intention to ruin Aethelthryth—and that the prince now knew she was in Manchester—that Aelle would take action sooner. And she would be safe in Crayke.
But first, she had to get through the sentry posts that Ivar had set up at intervals along the main road. From listening to the conversations at the dais, she knew they were relay stations meant to alert the prince if Saxon warriors were spotted, but the posts also served to watch for any kind of suspicious travelers, as well.
She also knew that Bronwolf often rode out to check with the soldiers assigned to the stations. It might even have been what he was doing yesterday that made him miss the Boar’s Feast. Ivar would want to make sure none of the men at the posts had left them unattended just because it was Yule and the man wouldn’t ride out himself. Ella felt a small smidgen of hope. If Bronwolf were to appear suddenly at one of them… Then she shook her head. Hoping for such a rescue was about as helpful as believing in forest faeries or wondering about if only’s. Besides, he was back in York. If anything, he’d be riding with search parties, not coming to inspect a way station that he may have just visited the day before.
“Ye don’t talk much, do ye?”
Startled, she looked up at the boy who’d spoken. Pointing to her mouth, she shook her head.
“Ye’re a dumb mute?” he asked. He shrugged as she nodded. “’Tis just as well. My da—he’s the one in front—says it’s better to say nothing when we get searched.”
Searched? Ella felt a chill run through her that had nothing to do with the cold temperatures or that she wore only a threadbare wool jacket over her linen shirt. If they were searched—touched—would the guard detect she was female? She’d bound her breasts with a strip of cloth so they wouldn’t bounce, but looking flat and feeling flat were two different things.
She grunted her assent and the boy turned away. She’d hardly had time to arrange her scrambled thoughts when they rounded a bend and the first station came into view. One soldier stepped out of the small hut as they approached. Another one soon joined him. Ella swallowed hard and kept her eyes down.
“What’s your business on the road this day?” the first one asked.
The tall man—presumably the father of the boy who’d spoken to her—explained they were looking for an honest day’s work.
The second soldier gestured to the group. “Line up.”
Ella thought she heard giggling from inside the hut and when something landed with a thud and a female voice cursed, the guard gestured again. “Be quick about it!”
She squirmed into place between two of the younger boys near the end, hoping she’d blend in with their size.
“Spread your feet. Arms out,” the first guard ordered and then began to pat the first man down. As the boy had said, none of the Saxon men said a word.
The second guard started halfway down the line. He was only two away from Ella when one of the women inside the hut giggled again. He looked toward the door, a sudden grin on his face as he stepped back.
“No sense in wasting time on the rest of this scraggily group,” he said. “We’ve got warm wenches waiting for us in there.”
The first guard hesitated, then nodded. “Ja. I’ve found no weapons on the men.” He pointed down the road. “You can go.”
Ella released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and hoped her suddenly jellied knees wouldn’t give way. Somehow, she managed to make her legs work.
She’d made it past the checkpoint.
• ♥ •
Bronwolf dismounted and looped his stallion’s reins over a twisted branch of gorse, leaving the horse enough lead to graze.
This place itself hadn’t been hard to find, given that it was only a few hundred feet from the main road. A road that Ivar had sent two of his soldiers on as soon as Aethel—Ella—could not be found last night She must have stayed to forest trails or the men would surely have found her, even in the dark.
After what Lynet and Deira had told him about Ella heading north to Aelle, he’d scattered his men to the east and west, but that didn’t mean Ivar wouldn’t send reinforcements this way now that it was day. Time was of the essence.
Was she still here? Bronwolf looked around the ruins and tried not wince. The village had been completely burned to the ground. A few walls remained partially standing here and there. He wondered which cottage had been Ella’s home. He didn’t want to think about her returning from her berry-picking to this smoldering, smoking destruction. To find her parents, as well as the other villagers, slain. To realize the other young girls had been taken captive.
He swallowed hard. War was not new. From the time the Romans built their empire, expanding in all directions, men had fought and killed each other for land. But his people had done this. For the first time, he wondered about the sense of it. He’d never questioned the need to raid. The North Way had little farmable land, the winters harsh, long, and cold. Their people needed more to survive than what the land provided. He understood, too, that once a foreign people were conquered, they had to be subdued. But this? The village had been pillaged, then destroyed. Innocent peasants had been murdered. He was tired of it all.
And, in that moment, he knew what he was going to do. The Christians celebrated what they called Epiphany on Twelfth Night. Like the Nordic rising sun come to shed light on the world once more, their ritual heralded the coming of a savior…of a new era. And Bronwolf was ready for a new era, as well.
His grandfather had invited him more than once to join him on the Faroe Islands where the Vikings and the native inhabitants lived together in harmony. He would finally take the offer. And, if Ella wanted to come with him, he could think of no better person to be his wife. He half-laughed, half-snorted. Only weeks ago, the prospect of a wife would have had him running for distant hills. Alone. But that was before he’d met the woman brave enough to impersonate a princess. Could he persuade her to go with him? First, he had to find her.
“Ella?” When only silence answered him, he tried again. “Ella? It’s Bronwolf. It’s safe to come out.”
Nothing. There was no rustle of movement in any of the overgrowth nor footsteps over charred wood and broken stone. Not even a bird chirped. And then, in the utter stillness he heard something. Or rather felt it. The earth rumbled, the sound of pounding hooves coming closer.
By Thor’s hammer! Ivar must have sent men right after he left. Or maybe they’d been ordered to trail him. Quickly, he grabbed his horse’s bridle, leading him into the nearby woods, not a minute too soon. He put his hand over the stallion’s muzzle as a group of five soldiers thundered by, although he doubted they could have heard a whinny.
He remained hidden for several minutes in case other soldiers followed. When the earth ceased to shake in one direction and nothing else could be heard, he ventured out again.
“Ella? If you’re here, come out quickly so I can get you away.”
Silence. Bronwolf looked around once more, ready to leave, when something in the distance fluttered in the breeze, catching his eye. He walked over the rubble toward the shell of the kirk. A piece of fabric had gotten caught on a sharp rock. Leaning down, he loosed it and felt his eyes widen. It was a piece of the gown Ella had been wearing last night.
Increasing his pace, he crossed over what had been the doorway to the kirk. Grass had been trampled here and, as he bent over, he could make out the indentation of a footprint in the soft dirt. A small foot. Ella had been here. But where had she gone? Other than a couple of half-standing walls, there was no place to hide. Certainly, the kirk was empty.
Then his eyes caught on a trunk, half-hidden in weeds. He walked over and lifted the lid. Buried beneath a few tunics were Ella’s gown and ruined slippers. He rummaged through the rest of the contents. All men’s clothes. Closing the lid, a smile came to his lips. The clever, little minx had probably disguised herself as a lad.
Vaulting onto his horse, he turned north, now knowing what he was looking for. He just hoped no one would recognize her before he did.
• ♥ •
As the peasants continued to plod along the road, Ella considered her options. Crayke was still a good two days’ walk, and she knew, from listening to conversations, that there was at least one more relay station along this road. At some point, she was going to have to make her own way, but for now, it seemed sensible to stay with this group.
Feeling a bit more confident for having passed the first check, Ella turned to the boy who had spoken to her earlier. She thought his name was Peter.
“How far are you going?” she asked, lowering her voice.
If he were surprised that she could speak, he didn’t show it. “As soon as my da sees work that needs doin’, we’ll stop.”
She supposed that was as good an answer as any. Since the Vikings had started raiding further south a few years ago, few landholders had been able to keep their homes which mean the peasants no longer had a lord to rely on. Although in the spring and summer they could till the soil for the conquerors and help with the fall harvests, there was little to support them during the winter months. Many of them had no families left, thanks to the raids, so it didn’t much matter how far they traveled. With luck, she might be able to stay with them all the way to Crayke.
The sound of thundering hooves behind them made the whole group pause. At the sight of five men riding abreast they all moved to the side of the road to let them pass. Ella froze at the sight of Ivar’s banner fluttering in the wind. She turned her head quickly, shielding her face with her hand, as if to avoid the pebbles thrown up. Luckily, the other peasants did the same.
“Criminy!” Peter said, wiping dust from his face after they’d galloped by. “Where do ye think they’re off to, ridin’ like the devil was on their tails?”
“I don’t know.” They were riding after her, although she couldn’t say that. Ivar had probably sent men out in all directions. Cold dread settled in her stomach. If he’d dispatched soldiers the morning after the Boar’s feast, when most men were nursing thick heads, he was no doubt furious. She realized, that regardless of reality, she’s still been hoping—foolishly—that the prince might just figure a mere servant girl wasn’t worth the pursuit. Stupid thinking on her part. She’d wounded his pride. She might as well have poked a bear with a sore paw.
At least, the soldiers hadn’t stopped to question the group, probably because they’d think she would be wearing a dress. That was something to be thankful for, but would they be waiting for her at the next stop?
That thought stuck with her as they trudged along. Her ears were attuned for more men following, but the road behind them remained empty. She should be thankful for that too, but her mind was too busy thinking of how she could slip away if those five soldiers were waiting up ahead. There was forest along both sides of the road, but the trees had been cleared a good hundred feet on either side to insure that ruffians and thieves could not pounce on unsuspecting travelers. If she ran toward the safety of the woods she would be noticed. Even if she walked, she would call suspicion to herself since the soldiers were searching for her.
By mid-afternoon, with the sun already low in the sky, they approached the second way-station. The apprehension that had been building relaxed a little when she saw no band of five horsemen waiting. Their orders must have been to ride all the way to Crayke, if necessary.
This time three armed men stepped out of the small, timber building. The first two assumed the same inspection as the first group had, while the third man who seemed to be their leader walked along the line of peasants.
“Did any of you see a young woman along the way?”
Ella’s heart started to pound. The soldiers had asked about her. Perhaps warned these guards that she might be heading this way. Please, Lord…
“A woman?” Peter’s father asked. “By herself?”
The Viking gave a curt nod. “She stole something from the prince, then ran away.”
Stole? She had not stolen anything, except maybe his pride. Her heart beat so hard she was sure it could be heard. Every Saxon knew the Vikings’ penalty for harboring a criminal, even if she was a woman. There would be no quarter given.
“We have no stolen property as you can see,” Peter’s father answered.
“Hmm. Prince Ivar is most eager to have her back to answer for the deed.” The guard continued to walk in her direction, halting only a few feet away. “Nobody in your party has seen anyone along the road?”
Peter’s gaze slipped toward her. She was only too aware that the other men were also sliding glances her way. The guard’s expression sharpened. She could practically see his ears perk. He moved closer. “Why is everyone looking at you, boy?”
Ella stilled, scarcely able to breath. Somehow, she managed to shrug.
The guard looked at Peter’s father. “What’s this one’s name?”
He frowned, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“He just joined us this morning,” one of the other boys said.
“He did?” The Viking turned his attention back to Ella and stepped closer. She tried to look down, but a hand grabbed her chin, forcing her head up. He peered at her for a moment and then he removed her cap.
Her long, red hair came tumbling down.