‘Funnily enough, I do too.’ He nodded to the remaining men and gestured to the rising plume of smoke. ‘Shall we move before the situation gets any worse?’
She rolled her eyes ‘What? If I had taken you straight to Lord Sigmund, then these warriors would not have attacked? I deal with realities, not fantasy.’
‘You are the one who said that. I merely suggest that Sigmund might have taken more care. Perhaps posted a few more guards. Who knows? I dwell in the realm of facts, not speculation.’
She wrapped her arms about her middle and willed her voice to sound normal and not become high-pitched. ‘As long as we save my foster-mother, then I will be content.’
Chapter Three
When they reached the harbour, Rand surveyed the swiftly burning buildings that were the former hall of Sigmundson and the church and swore under his breath. Flames appeared to be coming out of the church’s roof, but the hall was where most of the raiders were concentrated, beating their swords against their shields and taunting the people trapped inside both the church and the hall.
The sole purpose of their mission appeared to be to burn people alive. Rand tightened his jaw. He refused to understand how anyone could wish to do such a thing. It pained him that most were from the North, although he was aware that Gaels could also behave without pity.
The number of the raiders failed to alter his hastily formed plan. In fact, they were fewer than he’d initially feared. Further indication, if he required it, that this was a raid meant to discredit Sigmundson and to serve as a warning, rather than an open declaration of war.
He narrowed his gaze, surveying the scene, particularly the well-blocked doors of the hall and sheer number of warriors poised to capture whoever emerged. Who was the real target? Sigmund or someone else, including Agthir’s dowager Queen? Whoever was behind this had calculated Sigmund was unlikely to be in the church.
In his years as the high king’s chief enforcer, he’d learned to keep an open mind on how assassins behaved. Caution, rather than jumping to premature conclusions.
He needed to focus on the task at hand, namely vanquishing the raiders or giving them a reason not to remain for any length of time and taking as few prisoners as possible in their departure. He’d done this sort of thing countless times for the high king—ensuring any raiding Northmen died or departed was part of the price the high king had demanded for giving permission for him to marry the king’s daughter.
He pulled his heavy leather gloves on, settled his helm more squarely, and unsheathed his sword. He surveyed the battlefield for a final time. The attack obviously had been meticulously planned, but the planning had not accounted for him and his men.
‘What happens next?’ Svanna asked, putting a hand on his arm.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I presume you’re not just going to stand watching those Northmen with your sword raised. I presume you will act to distract them and allow the people to be rescued. Strategy is all.’
Despite the sing-song quality, her words were sensible. Most women, including his late wife, would be openly weeping. He winced slightly at the disloyal thought and then pushed it away.
‘Watch.’
He signalled his men to give their battle cry, which they roared out and allowed to echo. As he’d hoped, his other men heard it where they were trying to free the people trapped in the church and answered in kind. His men joined in, and the air reverberated to the sound.
At the combined roars of the full-throated battle cry, the raiders glanced at each other and started to run, presumably back towards where their boats were waiting. He motioned for half of his remaining men to follow.
‘Impressed, my lady?’
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. ‘They’re running? Forgive me if I doubt your assessment, but nothing is that easy.’
‘It was planned,’ Rand said, knowing that she needed to understand before they went any further. ‘In and out. They’re not going to stick around and fight, having delivered their message and wrecked Sigmund’s coronation. They came to sow doubt. They want the surviving petty kings to slip away in the night, disillusioned.’
‘I hope you’re right about the not-sticking-around part.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘But all they have done is to make me more determined to resist them. Lord Sigmund will feel the same. We will not cower in fear.’
He could tell from the way her nostrils quivered that she was very frightened, but she kept that fear under control. Most women would be gibbering wrecks when confronted with such chaos, but Svanna seemed to be forged from hard tempered steel. A useful ally at a time like this.
‘What would be the point? They must have assumed that some warriors will escape from the burning church. They want to send a message. To do that, they need those kings alive. No, the real test will come in a few weeks, after they have destroyed any show of unity.’
‘What sort of message? To whom?’
‘That’s what we need to find out.’ He gestured to the warriors who were now rapidly leaving the scene of their crime. ‘Did you recognise any? Any at all?’
She shaded her eyes with a hand, then stiffened and shrank back. Her face drained to whiter than fresh milk. ‘Turgeis, Drengr’s youngest son leads. I recognise his shield. He is waving at them to hurry. Wait. He’s stopped. He’s saluted me. Why me? It is almost like he knew Queen Astrid and I were on Islay. How did he know we were on Islay?’
‘You’re both from Agthir.’ He nodded with grim satisfaction. ‘He wants his message taken back to the new King and Queen. He wants them to know the sons of Drengr have returned to power and will seek vengeance.’
She put a hand on her throat. ‘Returned to power? What is next for Agthir? For this battle?’
