Car Cadell. Twilight. Four nights previously. Her father sat at the top table, Lady Ula beside him and her brother on his other side. Father Bricius was also present. A messenger arrived.
“My lords, there are sightings of the Norsemen. The guard towers in the north have seen them. You must send a war party to stop them,” the messenger reported in great, gulping breaths.
“You heard the man,” Cadell yelled at Rhydderch. “Send a war party. Our fastest riders. Take them by surprise. I knew they could not be trusted.”
Rhydderch stood and bowed to Cadell. Aoife saw the glance he exchanged with Lord Marcant and her fists clenched. Her father had been betrayed not just by his wife, but by his priest and his steward. What chance did he have against all of them?
Then she was aloft, a bird flying over Car Cadell. The war party was about to ride out. On the other side of the wall, a large group of soldiers lay in wait. And the gate didn’t close behind the war party.
Back inside the hall, Ula and her daughters were walking out of the room as the guests attacked their hosts. Father Bricius moved towards her father.
Her eyes flew open. There was no need to see any more. She could fill in any remaining gaps. But the vision would not let her go.
She closed her eyes again, gripping tightly to Tormod as she tried to push the vision away, to no avail. Slowly, she realised the details were different.
Once more, she flew high above Car Cadell. This time there were soldiers still outside the fort walls. Not Norse warriors. Britons, moving in from the south. Already she could see the aftermath of battle, the bloodstains in the courtyard, just as it had looked a short while ago. With a sickening realisation, she spotted the longships pulled up on the shore just to the north and there… there were Ulf and his men on the shore.
Her heart pounded. It was daylight in this vision. This was not four nights ago. This was now. Her eyes shot open. “It’s a trap! They’re here!”
Aoife wasn’t sure what she expected her husband’s reaction to be, but a small grin was not it. She looked around. There were a few men in the great hall.
“Come,” he said, taking her hand. “We have a family matter to clear up.”
They stepped out into the courtyard. From there, they faced the gateway. A small group of soldiers, Britons, approached. Aoife recognised one or two as her father’s men and clenched her fists at the thought of their treachery.
“Don’t worry. We are ready to fight,” Tormod whispered to her, then kissed her. “Come.”
They watched the soldiers enter. The men split into two groups, each moving to one side of the courtyard. Four riders came in and paused side by side, facing them.
Aoife stared at them, anger soon replacing surprise.
“Lady Ula, my condolences on your recent loss. I hope those responsible will be punished appropriately,” Tormod said. Ula glared at him and said nothing. Beside her, Father Bricius and Steward Rhydderch shifted nervously in their saddles. Tormod turned his attention to the fourth rider. “Lord Marcant, I presume. I am acquainted with some of your men, I believe. Not, however, with yourself. What a shame you did not arrive in time to prevent this slaughter.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Tormod was ready forthem. His warriors were ready for them. The Britons just didn’t realise it yet. They had obviously thought to surprise them and perhaps besiege them in the fort, but if there was one thing Tormod had learned to expect in his life, it was deceit.
“Lady Aoife!” Lord Marcant shouted. “I am delighted to see you. I had been informed there were none of Cadell’s people left alive within these walls after a terrible slaughter wrought by your Norsemen. How fortunate to discover you are still alive. Although, I am not sure you truly count as one of Cadell’s people anymore, do you? Especially if you and your husband are the ones to have betrayed him.”
“I have betrayed no one,” retorted Aoife.
Tormod took her hand. “There is no need for you to speak to him. You do not need his approval. It would be worth nothing to you.”
Aoife turned to him, her face clearly troubled. “You are right. Although perhaps they are right as well. Perhaps Iama traitor, for I no longer see myself as one of them.”
Tormod gave her a tight smile. “It is possible to stand in two worlds. You do not have to choose one over the other.”
Aoife put her head on one side, considering his words, then turned back to Lord Marcant. “But I am not as much a traitor tomy people as the ones who murdered my father. Or the ones who plotted against him. Against their lord. Against their husbands. That is a far, far worse betrayal.”
“None of that matters,” Marcant said, waving his hand as if the whole idea was inconsequential. “No one else will ever know. Within the hour you will be the only one of the Norse warband that invaded left alive. The poor, unfortunate daughter your somewhat misguided father married off to thieving Norse scum in exchange for the illusion of safety. However, I will rescue you from his evil clutches, from the clutches of the man who had your father murdered in an attempt to gain all his land, not just the small area on which your pathetic excuse for a village stands.”
Tormod noticed Rhydderch and Father Bricius exchange puzzled glances. Now, that was interesting. Perhaps the Britons were not united in their plan. Perhaps Lady Ula and her loyal followers were about to be betrayed as they had betrayed Cadell. Tormod stifled a grin at the thought.
“Marcant—” Ula began.
Marcant gestured for her to be quiet and she obeyed, confusion etched on her face.
“Now, Lady Aoife, if you come towards me now, I will take you from this place. You and I will go to the king and claim all of these lands to hold in trust for our sons,” Marcant said.
