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Wulfhere cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowed. “You witnessed us routing the Vikings yourself.”
“I did.”
“And yet you harbor doubts?”
“If the Vikings have proven one thing over a year filled with deadly battles, it is that they cannot be trusted.”
Wulfhere snorted. “What is to distrust here? They will not wish to return only to be beaten again.”
Perhaps. Brecc turned to face the ridge. Half a dozen men wearing Saxon tunics and byrnies were making their way up the rise. The watchmen led by Dunlap, no doubt.
“It is good to be wary.” Kendryek attempted to stand, but he lacked the strength.
“If I may be of assistance.” Brecc offered the older gentleman his hand, and Kendryek accepted it with a reluctant sigh.
“You have my thanks, sire.”
Wulfhere frowned. “There is no reason for you to be upon your feet now, Father.”
Kendryek’s gaze followed Brecc’s, his wan complexion and pained expression hiding his thoughts. “It is good to be wary. Especially when it comes to the Vikings.”
“The battle is over,” Wulfhere said, offering his father his arm and allowing Brecc to step away. “Our men are leaving, and it is time we do the same.”
Wulfhere was undoubtedly correct. Those who had scavenged the battlefield were making their way toward the road. Those who had opted to forego the easy pickings were already gone.
“Then I shall wish you Godspeed,” Brecc said with a slight bow.
A horn sounded from the hillside. Brecc pivoted, his breath catching. Dunlap’s men were racing toward them, their shouts reverberating through the dreadful silence that had suddenly descended upon the battlefield below.
“Rebuild the shield wall! The Vikings have regrouped. They will be upon us in minutes!”
Half a furlong away, the king and Ormod stood as though frozen. Arthw, the bucket of water beside him forgotten, was attempting to rise from his place on the ground. He stumbled, and Brecc took off, racing across the grass toward him. Wulfhere’s curse was the last thing he heard before the Vikings’ chilling shrieks reached them.
CHAPTER 5
THE STABLES WERE UNNATURALLY QUIET. Aisley stood just within the doorway, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The rustle of straw, thud of hooves against the hard-packed ground, and gentle nickers she associated with the building were absent. She missed them. The emptiness did not feel right. Or good.
Drawing her shawl more closely around her shoulders, she moved inside.
“Taber?” she called softly. “Are you here?”
“Aye.” The clatter of a pail being set down on the other side of the stables was followed by hurried footsteps. Moments later, a boy of about nine years of age appeared, brushing his hands down his straw-covered tunic. “’Ow can I ’elp you, mistress?”
“I saw you out in the fields yesterday,” she said. “With Daisy.”
Taber shifted his feet anxiously. “Tryin’ t’ ’elp, I were. Mildritha in th’ kitchen were tellin’ me that Cook’s right worried ’bout the peas and beans in the fields.” He shrugged. “With all th’ men gone, the weeds are takin’ ’old, and there’s been no one scarin’ off th’ birds.”
“Are the peas close enough to harvest that the birds have started their pilfering?” Aisley asked.
“Aye. An’ Cook’s that worried ’bout it, she’s plannin’ t’ send th’ maids t’ start harvestin’ soon.”
Aisley frowned. When she’d spotted their old plow horse in the field with Taber, it had been a welcome reminder that not every single horse had left with her father and the fyrd, and the realization had drawn her to the stables. She’d known this morning’s visit would not be like the ones she usually made when she stopped to greet each of the horses in their stalls, but she’d determined that any time spent in the stables with Daisy translated to less time for needlework. Her visit had been intended as an escape rather than a reminder of their current difficulties.
“What must be done?” she asked.
Taber shrugged helplessly. “I don’ rightly know, mistress. I’ve been walkin’ Daisy twice a day, jus’ t’ keep ’er old legs movin’, so I thought I might as well take ’er up an’ down th’ rows t’ see if she couldn’t scare off some of them vexin’ birds while she were takin’ th’ air. Problem is, th’ weeds are comin’ on strong without anyone t’ tend to ’em. The paths between th’ rows are gettin’ choked up. But I don’ know ’nough ’bout such things t’ start pullin’ at plants.”
Aisley stared at him, her thoughts whirling. Their stableboy might not know much about plants, but she did. Would her mother allow her to labor in the fields if it meant saving their crops?
