He yanked her hair and pulled her to his horse.
“I know who you are.” His voice was gravelly and rough against her ears—like nettles to her nerve endings. “You are the one that cursed Dane chief Wolf Kristiansen loves. Deny it again and see what I do to you.”
She deserved this for leaving the keep. She was a fool enough for ten people. She kept her mouth shut while he forced her into his saddle at knifepoint.
“You saw him kill my brother,” he said ominously and then leaped into the saddle behind her. “Would you like to know how I will exact my revenge?”
“No. I don’t think I would.” Camelee stiffened and her skin crawled at his closeness. She wished she were a man. A man as big as Wolf. A man who knew how to fight and kill.
Leofric blew out a piercing whistle and another group of riders appeared.
Camelee felt a scream bubbling up in her as she laid eyes on tiny Hild and her mother tethered to a rider. Alric was tied to another.
“Let them go!” Camelee demanded on a shaky voice. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“You will do that anyway,” Leofric promised as more than fifty of Leofric’s men rode toward them. “Now, be silent or lose an eye.” He rested the tip of small blade below her eye socket.
“Cook,” he shouted to Alric next. “You not only betrayed me, but all your people by friending these savages. I saw you in the courtyard with them today. You were not the Northmen’s captive.”
“I will befriend who I must in order to stay alive, Leofric,” Alric told him.
“Your own life comes before the lives of your countrymen. For that—”
Camelee’s cries distracted him, and he applied more pressure to the blade until he drew a drop of blood.
“Leofric,” Alric called out. “They say the chief is aberserker. He has King Cnut’s army to back him. There will be nothing left of us. Let the women go and let us flee with our lives.”
He sounded so convincing that Leofric hesitated for a moment before nodding to the rider at the other end of Alric’s rope. “Take him somewhere and kill him. He was once my friend and I do not want to see his end. When you are done, send his head to Kristiansen.”
No! No! Camelee didn’t care about her eye! She was about to scream when she noticed the rope tied around Alric’s wrists was no longer tied. He saw her looking and let the rope dangle to show her he was free.
The wily teen was free. He would get away. He would get Wolf.
Leofric flicked his reins, and everyone followed him. The rider yanked on the rope. Alric held it securely and let it pull him behind the horse. They separated from the rest and blended into the skeletal, snow-covered trees.
Camelee prayed for the boy. She had to keep her cool and protect Hild and Frida. She looked at them, Frida walking and carrying Hild in her arms.
“They are Saxon.” She pointed to them and fought not to tremble while she waited to find out if he would stab her in the eye. “The mother hates the Danes.”
“So?” he growled.
“So, I’m surprised you treat them the same way the Danes did.”
An eternal moment or two passed and she still had both eyes.
“Give them a horse,” Leofric ordered.
“Where are we to get a horse?” someone called out.
His answer arrived out of the trees. Its saddle was empty, the rope, trailing in the ground behind it.
Everyone looked at it as if they had never seen anything like it. And then Leofric shouted. “Find that boy and kill him! Bedric, take fifteen men! Do not return without his dead body. I will cut off his head myself!”
Camelee closed her eyes.Run, Alric. Run and hide.
“I am going to kill the child next, but she will not die as a slave.”
“Please, don’t,” Camelee begged him.
