He wondered where the watchman was. There should have been one at the far side of the rocks and one on the other side of the small bay, both tasked with ensuring the village remained safe from attacks by sea.
Unless these men out on the water had already disposed of the watchmen. There were many places a small boat could land around the coast—too many to be easily defended. It would have been more of a problem if the Britons’ sea-skills were better thanthey were. The watchman to the north would not be able to see the boat yet, though Tormod had given specific orders for everyone to watch for attacks coming from the sea after the attack on Håkon’s field.
Then the words “ready” and “attack” carried across the water and there was a clink of metal. A sword, most likely.
Tormod enclosed Aoife in his arms and held her tightly so that he could whisper in her ear. “Go to the hall. Raise the alarm, but tell the men to approach quietly and not be seen. Find Ulf or Arne as Björn is otherwise engaged—ask one of them to alert him—and then go to our room. Bar the door.”
“But—”
“If you want to show your loyalty to me, then go, do this.”
She looked straight into his eyes, kissed him quickly, then turned and swiftly made her way, keeping to the shadows of the rocks, back to the edge of the village. He watched as she reached the hall door and slipped inside.
Then he turned back to the water. The boat was closer now and not of Norse design.
Only the dip and swish of the oars could be heard as Tormod waited, his hand clasped around the pommel of his sword. He regretted that he did not have the comforting weight of his axe on his back, but he had not come out here with the intention of fighting. At least not with weapons. He listened for the sound of his men approaching, but heard nothing. A feeling of dread grew in his belly.
Where were his men? They should have been here by now. Had he been right to trust Aoife? Perhaps she had not done as he asked, but intended to simply escape and ensure her own safety. Had she betrayed him, just as Ingrid had? He shook off the thought. No, that made no real sense. She had been beaten at the abbey and her family had been only too happy to be rid of her. Where would she go?
He closed his eyes, trying for a moment to clear his mind and try to work out all the layers of betrayal. Why could life not be simple? His people had a lot to offer these Britons. They could give them access to markets far in the east that they did not even know existed, bring fine goods from there in return. Not to mention more and more of this large island was under Norse control. Soon even Paris would be theirs and all the riches that great city had to offer.
He heard a tiny sound behind him. He opened his eyes and turned, sword drawn.
Aoife gasped and dropped his shield, which thudded on the pebbles. Her eyes were wide, and she stared not at him, but at his sword, which was pointed directly at her throat. She gulped. Neither dared to breathe.
The sound of the oars paused.
He lowered the sword and Aoife sank down, huddling into the rocks, then she picked up his shield and handed it to him. Tormod hefted it, ready to fight.
When he turned back to look out across the water, a small boat had rounded the rocky headland and was only a stone’s throw from the beach. He could hear low voices and catch most of what they were saying. One man wanted to go back, but the rest thought they should press on.
“The others are at the edge of the beach,” Aoife whispered. “Björn is by the rocks at the other side. Ylva has gone back to the hall.”
“Go,” he murmured. “As quickly as you can. Go back to our room and bar the door. Arm yourself with a weapon and wait for me.”
Aoife did not leave.
“Go.” He gritted his teeth. “I do not wish to lose you so soon. And I cannot fight if I am thinking only of keeping you safe.”
Another splash indicated just how close the boat was getting to their hiding place. Tormod tried to push Aoife into leaving, but she seemed frozen in place. He realised she was listening.
“So we’re clear.” The voice was low but carried across the dark water. “Destroy the livestock and anyone who tries to stand against us.”
“What of Lady Aoife?”
“Cadell’s orders were clear. No one is to be spared.”
“But…”
“The Norsemen believe we will not attack for fear of harming her, but our orders were clear. She matters less than this land. Our land.”
“But…”
It was the same voice again. Tormod smiled grimly. At least one of Cadell’s men thought their behaviour wasn’t right. He wasn’t exactly surprised, just disappointed. And then a sense of rage began to build in him. He understood these men would not hesitate to kill him or any of his kin, but the fact they would also be willing to kill Aoife, one of their own, disgusted him.
“Lady Aoife is a traitor. She has proven it before. You know her father escaped from Alt Clut only because she was in league with the Norsemen and warned them away.”
“That is ridiculous, Siward. If she were truly in league with the Norsemen, then why did she save her family? You know there have always been rumours that she was… touched.”
