“It is not too difficult for a child to set a fire.”
That was true, but what kind of enemy would send a lone child to attack an enemy as formidable as the Norsemen? “I don’t know anything about this. It has been two years since I last saw my father or visited my home, although…” She sat down on the edge of the bed and she shivered, partly with cold and partly with… Not fear, more a profound sense of disappointment. She had hoped she might be accepted here, find a family, but already the fact she was an outsider meant her loyalties were being tested. A test she wasn’t sure she could pass as she simply knew nothing. Did Tormod blame her for this? If he did, it was unfair of him, although… What if it was her fault? What if her father was, indeed, behind it?
She straightened. She would go and see the boy and hopefully be able to reassure both herself and Tormod that this was either a random attack or an attack by another Briton. After all, her father was not the only Briton who resented the presence of the Norsemen. She looked at her husband.
He was staring at her. “This morning, before you woke…” He broke off.
“What about it?”
“You were talking in your sleep.”
“Oh?” She tried to keep her voice steady. What had she said?
“You spoke of fire and fields.” Tormod’s expression was blank. Her chest tightened, and she found it difficult to breathe. “A strange coincidence.”
“It was just a dream.”
Their gazes held. Aoife felt sure that if she dropped hers, then Tormod would see through her half-truth, but she couldn’t tell him the whole of it. The risk was too great, and the truth was that she really had not known this attack would happen, so her dream wouldn’t have helped anyone.
“Come, we will see this boy and decide his fate,” Tormod stated. The earlier affection in his voice was gone.
It was a challenge to prove her loyalty. That should not be difficult to pass—she owed her father none. She glared at her husband. Perhaps she should tell him about her visions, the fact that she had seen the burning field more than once and… She stopped that train of thought. If she told him now, he would wonder why she had not warned them. There was no way to win in this situation. It was unfair of him to blame her for something not ofher doing. She wished she could make him believe her, trust her. She sagged a little at the thought that that just might never be possible. No matter how much she wanted to fit in, she might always be regarded as the outsider here. People had a tendency to stick to their beliefs, regardless of how one tried to show that they were wrong. Still, she had to try.
“You are my husband,” she said. “My loyalties are to you. Is that not the case for any wife bought and paid for by her husband?”
Tormod didn’t move, didn’t change his expression. She shouldn’t have challenged him. They waited in silence. She feared he would cast her aside, send her back to her father or the abbey with no hope of any future. She held her breath.
Finally, Tormod shrugged. “The sentiment ought to be true, yes. For some, however, betrayal is as simple as breathing. And I did not pay for you. I did not have to. Your father paid for me to take you.”
As hurtful as that was to hear, she could believe it to be true.
“I have not betrayed anyone,” she said, turning away from him. She closed her eyes. Outside she could hear the village sounds, the animals, voices, the clink of harnesses and the clatter of carts. Not her world, although not so very different either.
“Why were you beaten?” Tormod’s voice was soft. She opened her eyes to see him cross the room towards her and sit on the bed. He lifted her hands and kissed them. She stared at her hands as she tried to frame what she would say.
“Aoife?”
He placed a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. She was not ready to explain to him why she had been beaten, but neither would she lie.
“I became unwell. Like I did at the wedding. That’s all.”
Tormod searched her face, as if trying to discern whether her words were the truth or not. Then he frowned, pulled away from her. It was clear that what she had said was not enough to reassurehim, however, to say anything else was too much of a risk. To her. For her future. For her life.
Chapter Twelve
Tormod opened his mouthto speak just as someone banged on the door, shaking it in its frame. He crossed to it and flung it open once more.
“You must come now,herre,” Björn said. “The boy is here. For his own safety. Some of the villagers are growing aggressive.”
“I just need…” Tormod looked at Aoife and sighed. He wanted to know more about this sickness. There certainly didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with her. He needed to know what she had been about to say, how she had known about the fire. Had it been merely a dream? A coincidence? Or had she known that the attack was to take place and not told him? But then, why should she?
Shouting from the main hall could be heard, however, and he realised Björn was right.
“Ragna!” Tormod called.
He was relieved when his aunt appeared quickly. “Help my wife to dress. Please.”
Ragna hurried into the bedroom and Tormod stepped outside, giving Aoife some privacy.
