She had sent two men ahead to a village they had passed near dawn, to arrange for food in plenty and to inquire of a healer. The rest of them should reach there by nightfall, and would make camp nearby.
It was as far ahead as Kristen could plan. As it was, she was afraid she was not thinking clearly, she was so groggy herself. Already she was beginning to dread her husband’s reaction, not just of her coming for Selig, but in taking the Dane prisoner.
Royce hated all Danes, but he did not make war on women. Neither did Selig, for that matter. So what in God’s mercy had the woman done to him to make him want revenge on her?
She was too tired to reason it out, and Selig would tell her soon enough. And the sway of the wagon was working on her, too. She could barely keep her eyes open any longer. But she was still clearheaded enough to realize she needed to secure her prisoner better before she succumbed to exhaustion.
Unlike the other two occupants of the wagon, Erika was wide awake with her anxieties and self-recriminations. So she could not miss the sudden removal of the dagger at her shoulder, nor did she mistake the sound of cloth being ripped behind her. And the curt demand for her to sit up and pass her hands back for binding was also expected.
She still had to protest. “This is not necessary, Lady Kristen. You have an army surrounding me.”
“Be quiet,” she was told in a low hiss. “Until I can turn you over to Selig to deal with as he will, you are my responsibility. So you can forget about escaping, Erika. You will find no opportunity for it.”
To have her title of respect and station dispensed with was telling. But then, Erika had already supposed that she wouldn’t be given the courtesies due her. She had not been found merely by accident and taken for ransom. She had been taken to exact revenge, and now she knew for a certainty who would do the exacting.
“Swing about to give me your feet, and be careful not to disturb my brother.”
Erika did so, but what she was careful of was not to even look at the brother. She didn’t sense his eyes on her any longer, but she didn’t want to chance seeing him gloat, now that their positions were reversed.
Her shoes were yanked off and cast aside, her ankles fastened tight together. Kristen had cut off the hem of her own gown to use for the binding. At least it was not coarse rope or chain—yet.
Erika remained sitting, since she had not been told she could not, and scooted back until she could lean against the side of the wagon. She continued to watch the Norsewoman, who ignored her now as she settled back into the corner, returning her brother’s head to her lap.
She was beautiful, Erika realized, very beautiful. But that was to be expected, she supposed, with a brother beyond handsome. Kristen’s hands just now were wrapped tenderly around his face. Obviously, she loved her brother dearly. Erika loved hers as well, and had to wonder how she would have reacted in the same circumstances. She hoped never to find out.
Despite her resolve not to, her eyes eventually focused on Selig’s face. When she had been snared by his eyes earlier, she had seen nothing but those eyes and the hate blazing in them. Now she noted the ravages to his face that hadn’t been there when she had seen him last. Had the fever Turgeis mentioned done that?
Her eyes drifted lower, caught first by his lack of tunic, unexpected, then by the sunken cavity between his ribs and hipbones, both protruding. If there had been a fever, a consuming one as Turgeis claimed, Elfwina would have purged it—he would not have eaten in the three days he had been imprisoned, and in fact, he did look as if he had been starved. Erika did not agree with that remedy. Logic told her a body needed nourishment despite what evil humors had taken root inside it—but she hadn’t been there to use logic.
His arm moved suddenly, lifting away from his side to drop over his sister’s legs. She looked quickly back to his face, but he had not awakened. Neither had his sister, who was now also sleeping. But his brow was creasedbriefly with pain from his unconscious movement. How much pain was he in from that head injury? It could not be a recent wound, if he had received it in Wessex as he said. At least she couldn’t be blamed for that, too.
But as she continued her visual examination, she found the thin cuts at the base of his hands, scabbed over now, and the chafed skin just under the cuts. She winced, knowing the iron shackles that had held him to the wall in the pit had made those marks, with the pressure of his full weight pulling on them. And she had let him hang there, thinking him only exhausted, while he had been in pain…
She saw it then, what his arm had covered before. Lines of dark blue streaked up his sides—bruises, she realized, and knew exactly the cause of them. Heat stole over her. Her hands even began to sweat. She had so been hoping that Turgeis had been in time to stop Wulnoth, that her only mistake had been holding the man prisoner and not seeing he got better care for his head injury. But no,shewas the cause of those bruises. She had called for a lashing in anger, and it had been given—to an injured man, a man already in pain, a man beset with fever and Odin knew what else.
He had said to her, “You and I are not enemies, could never be enemies.”
But Erika knew that would not be true now. He had come to Gronwood for help and had been chained in the pit instead. He had spoken only the truth, but had not been believed. And she had treated his injury with a beating.
Her guilt was so great it nigh choked her. If she were not so afraid, she could almost welcome his revenge in atonement. But she was afraid, and so could only make amends in some other way if she was given a chance to. Yet she could think of no way to atone for her cruel actions.
The rest of the day passed without Erika’s awareness, so deep did she sink into her misery and guilt. But the abrupt halt of the wagon brought her out of it, and also woke Kristen as well.
“God’s mercy.” The sound Kristen made was a definite moan as she looked down at her brother. “I had hoped ’twas only a dream.”
Erika could have wished the same, but didn’t say so, said instead, “He needs food. If he did have a fever whilst at Gronwood, it would have been purged by our healer, so ’tis likely he has not eaten for several days.”
Kristen looked toward her, her tawny brows sharply narrowed. “Do not tell me what my brother needs. And if you knew him, you could see plainly ’tis more like he has gone with little or no food for the last fortnight. He is nigh wasted away to naught.”
Worse and worse. He had already been starved when he came to Gronwood, and Erika hadn’t been there to see that Elfwina not purge him.
“I doubt me you will believe this, but I am sorry,” was all Erika could think to say at the moment.
“I am sure you are—now. But where was your sympathy when he needed it?”
Drowned by her temper. Buried by her confusion over her reaction to him. Yet shehadfelt it, briefly, when he had first mentioned his injury, that and more concern than was warranted for a man she did not know. An angel-faced man. Then Wulnoth had made his disclaimer, making her believe Selig had lied—again.
But she said none of that, and lost her chance to speak as the hide cover was suddenly thrown back and several men appeared at the end of the wagon. One she recognized from earlier, the sandy-haired, blue-eyed man who had wanted her walking all the way to Wessex.
