kept me going for a while.’
His face took on a thoughtful expression. ‘People do remember travellers and when Hagal’s men come, they will answer their questions.’ He gave a half shrug, but his eyes were sharp as if seeking something from her. ‘A lone woman travelling with a group of Norsemen... I doubt many fine ladies travel through this part of the country. If Hagal’s men fail to find your body in the woods, they will check with the surrounding farms. It is what I would do.’
Cwenneth regarded the ground, rather than meeting Thrand’s direct stare. To think she had earlier dismissed him as being all brawn and no brain. He had considered several steps ahead rather than thinking about immediate needs. She needed to start thinking smarter and stop giving in to prejudice. Thrand Ammundson was highly intelligent as well as a formidable warrior.
Some place deep within her chimed in that he was also good-looking when he wasn’t scowling. She ignored it. She had not been interested in men since Aefirth died. Her very being had been encased in ice.
She narrowly avoided another muddy puddle and tried to think about what her next move should be in this real-life game of cat and mouse she was playing, rather than what Thrand looked like when he wasn’t scowling. The only advantage she held was that Hagal thought her dead.
‘You’ve fallen silent, my lady. Do we stop at the next farm? I can see smoke rising in the distance. There will be a welcome of sorts.’
Cwenneth hiked her gown up to keep it out of the mud and silently bid goodbye to all thoughts of a feather bed. The only thing keeping her out of Hagal’s clutches was his belief that she was dead. ‘You’re right, we need to continue on and stopping at a farm is far from a good idea. The stress of today is addling my nerves.’
‘Here you had dreams of a bed,’ he said with heavy irony. ‘Have you given up on your dreams so quickly? Are all Northumbrian ladies this weak willed?’
‘Do you know many Northumbrian ladies?’
‘I’ve met enough.’
‘They weren’t me.’ Cwenneth made a show of placing her feet down, even as the pain from the blister seared up her right leg. ‘I can keep going as long as you require it. There is no need to stop at a farmhouse or any settlement. The open air suits me fine.’
A hearty laugh rang out from his throat. ‘You learn quickly.’
‘Did you plan on stopping at a farm? Before...before you encountered me?’
He pulled his horse to a halt. All good humour vanished from his face. ‘I’ve my reasons for not wishing to be remembered.’
‘And they are?’
‘My own.’
* * *
Just when Cwenneth was convinced they would be trudging through the dank mud all night, Thrand imperiously lifted his hand and pulled his horse to a halt. The entire company stopped. ‘We will make camp here tonight. We should be safe. The ground is good in case of attack...from anyone or anything.’
Cwenneth sucked in her breath, giving silent thanks her walking for the day was done. But she was also pretty sure that she had beaten all wagers against her. It was strange—whenever she had considered quitting, she remembered the wagering and became more determined to prove them, particularly Thrand, wrong. ‘Expecting trouble?’
‘It is better to expect trouble than to encounter it, unprepared,’ Thrand said before issuing orders to his men. ‘Perhaps if your men had...’
‘They were outnumbered. The outcome would have been the same,’ she answered, placing her hands in the middle of her back, rather than giving in to the desire to collapse in a heap. Once down, she had her doubts about getting up again. ‘I keep wondering if there was something more I could have done, but my brother was determined on the match. He threatened me with a convent of his choosing and no dowry. I considered being the wife to a Norse jaarl was the better bet. Without a dowry, I’d have been little better than a scullery maid. It shows how wrong a person can be.’
‘And defeating me means more to your brother than his sister’s life?’
She pressed her hands to her eyes. ‘Edward had no part in this. He wanted to believe Hagal’s assurances and saw the marriage as a way to gain a powerful ally. But he’d never have sent me if he suspected the truth. A dead sister is no use to him in his quest for power within the Bernician court.’
His level gaze met hers. ‘There was nothing you could have done once the events were set in motion. The only mistake Hagal has made in this enterprise is to allow you to fall into my hands alive.’
‘But...’
‘He will pay for it. Now sit and rest. Women like you have no experience at setting up a camp and cause delays.’
‘You have a very low opinion of Northumbrian ladies.’
‘My dealings with them have been deliberately kept to a minimum.’ The glacial blue of his eyes thawed slightly. ‘However, you did better today than any of my men thought you would. You have earned your rest.’ He shook his head. ‘You are far stronger than even I thought you would be. You have made me revise my opinion of ladies. Not all are pale, puny creatures with less stamina than a mouse.’
‘Good.’ Cwenneth sank to the ground, rather than argue. Her feet throbbed and burnt. Sitting, being ignored, was bliss. But her journey home and back to her family had just begun. Somewhere along the way, she’d teach that arrogant Norse warrior that ladies from Lingwold were to be reckoned with. She clenched her fist and vowed it on her son’s grave.
‘Far from smart to provoke him, you know. His temper is legendary.’
She glanced up and saw a slender Norseman standing before her. She shaded her eyes. He’d been the one who had objected to Thrand bringing her along. Her own temper flared. ‘His nickname gives it away—the Destroyer. I doubt he acquired it through being kind and gentle to his enemies.’
‘Thrand is a great fighter. When a battle comes, he always wins. Halfdan’s most potent weapon. They say rather than take the risk, people shower him with gold when he appears on their doorstep.’
‘Have you travelled with him often?’
‘First time.’ The man leant forward and lowered his voice. ‘I promised my cousin on his deathbed I’d come. Someone has to see right for his child as it is kin. And Thrand, he is the sort of man to lead an expedition into enemy territory and return, more than likely with bags full of treasure and gold. Sven had a good war because of his friendship with Thrand. There are iron-bound chests full of gold back in Jorvik.’
‘That I can well believe.’ Cwenneth said a fervent prayer that Thrand and his men would not be returning to Jorvik with more treasure looted from Bernicia.
‘I want gold,’ Knui stated flatly. ‘Lots of it. But then you don’t have any as Thrand will have already taken it. So I’m not sure why I’m bothering with you.’
Her hand hit her belt. Her rings. Aefirth would have understood. Cwennie, survive, he would have said. Rely on no one but yourself. Maybe this warrior would go to Lingwold and let her brother know she survived.
Edward would raise an army to free her if he thought Thrand the Destroyer had her. He’d march to Jorvik and make his demands heard. She had to have patience and think long term. Her hand started to fumble for the rings and her blood became alive with excitement.
A warning sounded in her gut. Why was a Norseman trying to make friends with her? Did he guess that she possessed even a little bit of gold? Why mention it otherwise?
Her hand stilled and dropped to her side. She had to proceed with caution and trust no one.
‘Knui Crowslayer! Where have you hidden yourself this time?’ someone called. ‘I need some help with the firewood!’
‘It was good to speak with you,’ Cwenneth called after him.