Eahlswith blinked. Was she dreaming? Had the man just said that? Had her sister then thanked him and drawn him into a heated, highly inappropriate kiss? At any other time, she might have laughed but this was serious. Her life was in the hands of a madwoman and a man who had the intelligence of a cabbage.
Once she had extricated herself from her lover’s embrace, Ealawynne turned to face her again, her expression serious.
“You have to understand that Wiglaf will never let me go. If he suspects I want to leave him for another man, he will kill me. If I try to escape on my own, he will come after me. Even if I flee to the other end of the country, I will never know peace, I will always be looking over my shoulder. He has connections. Since you left he’s become quite a powerful man in the community.” A pause. “But if he thinks I’m dead, he will not think of looking after me, will he? It is the perfect solution. The only solution.”
And now Eahlswith understood exactly why she was being attacked.
For her plan to work, her sister needed to fake her death. For that, she needed a corpse to pass off as hers. A corpse that looked exactly like her would make any doubt impossible.
Apart from their mother, no one had ever been able to tell the two sisters apart. Even their father had had difficulty. Once her face was scratched and bruised and her body dislocated from her fall from the cliff—without being told, she sensed this was thedeath her sister had planned for her—no one would suspect that the dead woman was not who she was supposed to be. Eahlswith had left the village more than five years ago, never to be seen again. Who would assume that she was the one being buried, if Ealawynne was no longer anywhere to be seen?
Yes, it was quite brilliant, in a twisted, ruthless kind of way.
Fear descended down Eahlswith’s spine. This was a hundred times worse than she had first thought. Everything had been meticulously planned, there would be no talking them out of it. She was, contrary to what she had first hoped, alone. Because Sven might be in the house but he was unable to come to her aid.
Should she try to call out to him, make her two captors understand that she was not as defenceless as they thought, make them realize that someone had heard their plan and would come after them as soon as he was able? Thinking themselves alone, they had not tried to lower their voices or hide their intentions.
No. Even if they removed her gag, she would not call out to him. If she alerted the two ruffians to Sven’s presence they would hurt him. He was bound and unable to defend himself. One stab from Godstan’s blade and his life would be over. They were plotting her murder so it was reasonable to think they wouldn’t let a powerless man stand in their way. She would have to rely on herself.
If she couldn’t save herself, at least, she could save him.
By some miracle, Ealawynne and Godstan had arrived in the house moments before she’d walked into the main room and they had not heard her talk to Sven in the storeroom. Because she had been intent on seducing him, she had kept her voice low, whispering in his ear rather than talking out loud. In doing so, and taking him away from the main room in the first place, she might have saved his life.
Her mind somewhat reassured where Sven was concerned, Eahlswith started to think.
From what Ealawynne had said, it was quite obvious they planned to take her back to the village. No sense in killing her here, only to present a half-decomposed corpse to Wiglaf and his friends. That meant she had a few days ahead of her to come up with a plan. And she would come up with a plan. Nothing would be beneath her, if she thought it had a chance to work. She would beg, she would reason, she might even try to seduce the oaf Godstan and have him take her side.
The only two things she wouldn’t do were to give up and place Sven in danger.
“Now, we are going to wrap you in this piece of cloth and take you to the cart waiting outside the door,” Ealawynne said, sounding mightily pleased with the success of the first part of the operation. “At this hour, the street might well be deserted but I advise you to keep still and silent. If you wiggle to try to attract attention or moan, Godstan will be forced to silence you and he doesn’t always know his own strength. With your face hidden, he might not know what he’s hitting. You don’t want to die just yet, do you?”
No. Or ever.
Eahlswith shook her head, wishing she could speak, so that she could say something to tell Sven where they were headed. He would have understood they were going to her native village but he had no idea where that might be. Stupid her, she had not wanted to share any more information about herself than necessary, thinking it would help her fight the attraction she felt for him. Even Cwenthryth didn’t know where she had spent her childhood and wouldn’t be able to help if he went to her. When Sven finally managed to free himself, how would he know where to look? Would he even bother to come for her after all she’d put him through?
Of course, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. Even if he didn’t feel anything for her, he wouldn’t let a woman be carried to her death without lifting a finger. The problem was, it might well take him weeks to find out where she’d been taken.
By then it would be too late.
“Good. As long as we understand one another.” Ealawynne nodded and helped herself to a cup of ale, which she emptied in four long gulps. “Godstan, if you please.”
Finally!
When the last shred of rope fell away from his wrists Sven barely repressed a shout of triumph. He doubted anyone would hear him now, but he could not be too prudent. This was a life and death situation.
He stilled and listened. Nothing. The house had been silent for a while. What if he was too late? He’d heard everything while he’d been slicing away at the rope preventing him from storming into the other room and cutting through the two bastards holding Eahlswith captive. He knew they would have taken her away in a cart, bundled up at the back like a bolt of fabric. Fortunately, he had his horse, Gulltoppr, which would be faster and allow him to catch up with them. The snow would further aid him. All he would have to do to find them was follow the cart’s tracks, black against the white landscape.
But there was still one problem.
To catch up with them, he would have to know which direction they had taken. Out in the fields, the tracks would be easy to see but here in the mud-splattered street they might be impossible to spot. Had they turned left or right? Had they gonenorth or south? Neither of Eahlswith’s captors had mentioned where they might take her or which direction they wanted to go.
Well, there was only one way to know.
Though there was no time to lose, Sven forced himself to get dressed again before heading out into the cold night. Riding out bare chested in the middle of winter was pure madness. He would need all his strength to rescue Eahlswith.
Gulltoppr was saddled in record time. Now for the most nerve-racking part: choosing a destination. If he got it wrong, precious time would be wasted. And if he delayed for too long he would lose the advantage the snow was giving him, other travelers would muddy the tracks and make it impossible for him to follow the cart.
He’d made up his mind to try and go West first when he heard a commotion at the end of the street, which surprised him. Like Eahlswith’s sister, he wouldn’t have thought anyone would be out and about at this hour and in this weather. Vaulting onto Gulltoppr’s back, he headed toward the people. With luck, they would have seen the cart depart.
