A Dane at the nearest cook fire threw back his head and laughed at something his friend, a Saxon warrior, had said. Father would have her believe the Dane and Saxon warriors were constantly at each other’s throats, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Not here.
‘You like him, don’t you?’
Elswyth’s ears burned. ‘Shh.’ She glanced around to make certain that no one had overheard her sister’s dubious claim. ‘I don’t like him, not the way your tone implies.’ Liar, a tiny voice in her head accused. ‘I merely think he is kind and not nearly as ruthless as I had thought.’
Ellan didn’t believe her. She wore a smug smile that made her eyes gleam victoriously. ‘Time will tell.’
Elswyth opened her mouth to argue. She didn’t quite understand her need to argue, she only knew that she needed to emphatically deny any interest in the warrior so that her sister would understand that in no way did she favour the man. She was not like their mother and she would not abandon her family for one of them.
‘Elswyth!’ The voice came from nowhere, but it drew every eye in the area. The men at the nearby fire briefly stopped talking to look around, but went back to their meal when no culprit could be found.
Her heart clamoured, taking a moment to gather itself before trying to beat free of her chest when her gaze landed on a flurry of movement in the shadow of the granary. Someone stood there motioning to her, the hand white in the inky black that surrounded it.
‘Who is that?’ Ellan asked, following her gaze.
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was Galan,’ she whispered. But that couldn’t be. Their older brother was at home on the farm, not here sneaking around among their enemy, especially not alone.
The longer she stared into the shadows, and the more urgently he waved her over, the more convinced she became of his identity. If it was he, it could only mean that there had been trouble at home. Father! Dear God, what if something had happened to him? ‘Stay here. I’ll go see what he wants.’
She made her way around the perimeter of the open area, not going directly towards the granary. No one seemed to notice her as she turned in that direction. Galan—or who she assumed to be her brother—whirled when she approached and retreated farther through the fortress, moving with ease through the night. His cloak was up around his head to shield his identity. He could have been any number of the Saxon men who wandered through the village at this time of night. But he wasn’t and her heart pounded from that knowledge as she followed him. He finally stopped in the shadow of the wall—the gates were swung wide open which is probably how he’d got inside.
A small village made of tents had been set up outside because Alvey wasn’t big enough to hold all the warriors within her walls. A sea of fabric fluttered in the cold winter gusts as far as the trees. This was the first time she’d seen them and the sight nearly stole her breath. More of the warriors had returned from the south than she had anticipated. Despite what she’d said to Ellan and how she felt about Rolfe, the spectacle of them made her shiver with the reminder of how precarious this all was. War could come any day. If her family chose the wrong side... She couldn’t even allow herself to finish the thought.
Stepping carefully into the shadows, she approached her brother. The white of his smile was barely visible in the twilight and she was seized by the need to hug him and shake him all at the same time. She decided on hugging, closing her eyes in thanks for his safety when his arms went around her. It only lasted a brief moment, but it was enough to reassure her that, aside from being thinner than she remembered, he was whole. She released him when he pulled back, but only to grip him by the shoulders and look up into his dirt-streaked face. ‘What are you doing here? Have you come alone?’
‘Aye. I’m by myself.’
Between the Scots, the Danes, unknown Saxons and travellers, it was foolish to travel alone. ‘But why? It’s too dangerous. Any number of catastrophes could have befallen you on the way.’
His smile fell to become a scowl. ‘I can take care of myself, Elswyth. Besides, I didn’t come all this way to have you scold me.’
‘Why are you here? Has something happened to Father?’ In her excitement it was hard to keep her voice low so that any of the Danes coming in and out of the gates wouldn’t hear.
‘Nay, Father is well, or at least I assume he is. I haven’t been home yet, I’ve come straight here.’ He hesitated and her chest tightened. ‘It’s Baldric. He’s been taken by the Scots.’
‘What?’ That was the last thing she had expected him to say. Their younger brother was only fourteen winters and he had no interaction with the Scots, or he hadn’t when she’d been home. Galan had been their father’s accomplice in advocating for joining their ranks. He’d ridden with Father last spring to their secret meetings with the warriors. She had hoped that the winter would bring an end to that, but it seemed her hope had been in vain. ‘How is that possible?’
Galan had the grace to look guilty. The cloak had fallen back a bit and he ran the heel of his hand over his brow and couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. ‘He went with me to our meeting with them.’ Ignoring her gasp of outrage, he continued, ‘While we were there a group of Scots met up with some Danes who were on their way to Alvey, we believe. They destroyed them, Elswyth. Every last one of the Scots were killed.’
She tried not to imagine the carnage that sort of battle involved, but the images flashed behind her eyes anyway. Rolfe had taken a Scot’s spear a few days ago. Could it have been him and his group of warriors? She shuddered at the violence she had known him capable of. ‘You were not involved in the battle?’
He shook his head. ‘Nay, we were at their camp. The group of Scots were on their way to us, but obviously they never made it. A scout found the carnage left behind and came to let us know. The Scots suspect that Father was somehow involved in revealing their location to the Danes.’
‘That’s preposterous! Father would never betray their location.’ Whether or not she agreed with his madness in attempting to drive the Danes from their land, she knew that he was an honourable man. He would never betray anyone he considered a friend or ally.
‘We both know that. They, however, want proof of our loyalty.’
‘How does kidnapping a child prove anything of loyalty?’
‘Baldric is hardly a child. He will be fifteen winters very soon.’
She sniffed in disagreement. The weight of Baldric’s hand in hers was still vivid from all the nights she had lain in bed with him after Mother had gone, telling him stories when he couldn’t sleep or was ill. He wasn’t old enough to be brought into this madness. ‘He is a child and he should never have been there. How could you have taken him with you?’
‘He demanded to come and he’s old enough to make his own decisions now.’
She strongly disagreed with that, but arguing that now wouldn’t get them anywhere. ‘What does Baldric have to do with proving Father’s loyalty?’
‘Because the Dane bastards...’ He paused to spit as if the word was foul on his tongue.
‘Shh.’ A quick look around assured her that no one had overheard him.
‘They stole a small fortune from the Scots they attacked. It was a stash of coin and jewels meant for the mercenaries at our meeting.’
‘Mercenaries!’ This time it was Galan’s turn to shush her. ‘Have things progressed so far already? They’re hiring mercenaries to attack the Danes?’
Galan took her arm and led her farther away from the gates. In a whisper he explained, ‘There are Danes on their western coast. They are preparing to fight