Page 22

A dog barked in the distance, and from the other side of the royal estate wall, a cockerel crowed. It would not be long before the sounds of servants starting their work in the king’s stables and kitchen broke up the steady rush of running water coming from the river. Releasing a frustrated sigh, Brecc started along the riverbank. If he were fortunate, the morning mist would rise by the time he reached the riverbend, and the waterway would open to his view.

He spotted the small hooded figure as soon as he rounded the bend. The person was bent over at the water’s edge and appeared to be gathering something on the ground. Disinclined to enter into a conversation with a stranger, Brecc veered right, moving off the path so as to pass by without interrupting the other person’s activity. He’d taken only four steps through the damp grass when his foot landed upon a stick. The wood cracked, and with a cry of alarm, the figure at the riverbank leaped upright, causing the hood of their cloak to drop. A curtain of copper-colored hair tumbled out.

“Aisley!” Brecc froze. “Whatever are you doing here?”

She placed a hand to her chest. “Currently, attempting to calm my racing heart. As of a few moments ago, gathering cowslip.”

“Gathering cowslip?” Brecc stepped closer, and for the first time, he noticed a small basket lying at Aisley’s feet that appeared to be filled with greenery.

“I could hardly believe it when I saw it.” Enthusiasm rang in her voice. “Cowslip usually blooms in April and May, but just look at this.” She picked up a stem from the basket and held it out to him. He caught the flowers’ faint perfume. Or mayhap it was Aisley’s perfume. He could not rightly tell. “Every part of the plant can be used for one ailment or another.”

Brecc shook his head slightly, as though the action would somehow clear his mind.

“You are out here in the early hours of the morning to gather plants all alone?”

“I do not make a habit of requesting a servant to assist me at this hour, especially as I rarely see another soul.” She cocked her head to one side and looked at him curiously. “Why are you here?”

Over the last few weeks, an inner voice had sounded a warning, and experience had told him that it should not be ignored. Even to his own ears, the reason sounded ludicrous. But it was better than the alternative. He was not prepared to tell Aisley that he was here because thoughts of her had prevented his sleeping.

“I enjoy coming to the river when it is quiet,” he said. “It is a good time to watch the watercraft arriving.”

She was still studying him. “Is there a particular boat you are waiting for?”

Brecc hesitated. How much more should he share? And how had she gained such remarkable perception? “Might I suggest that of the two of us, you are the one better versed in mind reading?”

Her smile was so slight, he barely caught it. “When one prefers to sit and watch over participating, it becomes easier to catch things that are not spoken.”

It was a phenomenon he was all too familiar with. And if he were being fully honest with himself, that same type of instinct told him that he could trust Aisley. He did not wish to alarm her, but she was a native of Wessex. She knew the threat the Vikings posed to their people, of the continued skirmishes occurring along their borders. His concerns should come as no real surprise.

“Reports recently reached King Alfred that the Viking chief, Guthrum, is amassing a large number of men along Wessex’s border,” he said. “The king has scouts monitoring the Vikings’ movements and is confident that they would get word to him should the Vikings’ movements develop into anything truly threatening.”

“But you are less sure,” she guessed.

“I have seen how quickly the Vikings can rally. If Guthrum breaks the oath he made after the Battle of Wilton and chooses to launch an attack from the water, his men could travel the Avon far more quickly than a Saxon could ride to Chippenham, no matter how speedy his mount.”

She turned to look downriver.

The water was clear of all boats. Brecc prayed it would stay that way.

“This Guthrum,” she said. “He is the one who led the Vikings at Wilton, is he not?”

“He is.”

She remained silent. Brecc waited, sensing her warring emotions.

“Do you know how my father died?” she asked softly.

He had promised to answer her questions, but it would not be easy. For either of them. “Allow me to carry your basket,” he said, “and we shall walk a short distance together.”

She handed him the basket filled with cowslip, and he offered her his other arm. When she’d slid her hand around it, he led her back to the path.

“I spoke to your father twice before he died,” he began. “The first time was when I sought him out after our first day’s ride so that I might give him the herbs you sent.”

“How was he then?”

“The journey had been difficult for him, but your gift lifted his spirits immensely. He spoke very fondly of you.”

“I am not sure that I have yet thanked you for making that delivery,” she said. “It was very impertinent of me to ask it of you.”