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A Kingdom to Claim

Page 26

by Sian Ann Bessey

“Their misfortune can be placed firmly at the feet of King Alfred,” he said. “He was the one who ordered the men to enter a battle when he was incapable of leading them to victory. He was the one who drained Wessex of all its wealth to pay for that mistake. Wiltshire lacks men to work the fields and money in the coffers because of the miscalculations of our king.”

No hint of sorrow for their suffering. No concession that he might have done more to ease it. Six years before, King Alfred had been young and inexperienced, certainly, but if Brecc’s account of the Battle of Wilton was to be believed, it was the men who had broken ranks and begun a premature celebration, not the monarch.

Revulsion clawed at her throat. “You accept no blame and would malign the king while staying as a guest in his residence?”

“I speak the truth as I see it.” He lowered his voice. “And believe me, I am not the only nobleman in Wessex to feel this way.”

“And what will you and these others of whom you speak do when the ring-giver offers you each his gifts at the banquet this evening?”

“We shall accept them willingly.” Wulfhere began walking again, crossing the short remaining distance to the women’s longhouse in long strides and forcing Aisley to run to keep up with him. “Only a fool would turn down such a gift.”

“It is given in exchange for loyalty to the king,” she reminded him.

“Aye. And he has it.” He waited for Aisley to take hold of the doorlatch. “For now, at least.”

“Wulfhere!”

“Good day, Aisley,” he said.

She watched him walk away. Her heart that had ached so acutely such a short time ago now felt numb.

CHAPTER 11

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO Aisley?”

“I beg your pardon.” Brecc looked up from his unenthusiastic contemplation of the roast goose on the trencher before him.

“You heard me.” Seated beside him at the high table, Rheged studied Brecc with narrowed eyes. “Or mayhap it was not something you did but something you said.”

“I cannot imagine what you are referring to.”

“Is that so?” Rheged put a piece of meat in his mouth and chewed it slowly, his gaze gliding past Brecc to settle on Aisley. “Just because you had me on my back with the tip of your sword at my chest before I could so much as catch my breath this morning, it does not mean I did not discover who you danced with last evening.”

Brecc should have guessed as much. “It was no secret.”

“No. But you treated it as such. Which made it particularly satisfying to uncover.” Rheged’s calculating gaze returned to him. “You fought me this morning like a man possessed. And this evening, Aisley has not once turned to look at you. Not because she is fully diverted by the people at her table, for she has scarcely exchanged a word with anyone there, but rather because she seemingly does not wish to look this direction.”

Brecc’s stomach clenched. It had been easier to brush off Aisley’s seemingly ill-disposed behavior before Rheged had confirmed its reality. “I truly do not know why she would avoid looking at anyone seated at the head table,” he said.

“Not everyone,” Rheged corrected him. “She has watched her brother’s interactions with those at the end of the table on more than one occasion.”

“You would make an excellent spy,” Brecc said dryly.

“I daresay, but in this instance, I need more information to unravel the clues.”

“To the best of my knowledge, Aisley enjoyed dancing the carole last evening,” Brecc said. “I have nothing more to share with you.” His conversation with Aisley at the river was private. As far as he was concerned, it was well within his rights to be troubled over how badly it might have affected her—especially given how wan she appeared this evening—but that interaction had nothing whatsoever to do with Rheged.

“Then I shall simply ask her,” Rheged said. “She assisted me when I was ailing; it is only right that I should offer to do the same.”

It was a noble suggestion, and Brecc’s instant indignation mixed with irritation was wholly irrational. It was also undeniably existent.

“The king is ready to begin the ring-giving ceremony,” Brecc said. “You’d best wait until that has concluded before you leave the table.”

Rheged gave an accepting nod, and Brecc breathed a silent sigh of relief. Regardless of what gifts the king bestowed this evening, when the goblet was returned to the monarch, Brecc would be the first to leave the table—and the first to reach Aisley.

Aisley dipped a piece of bread into the meat juice at the bottom of the trencher she shared with Diera, keeping her eyes averted from the activity at the head table. Ealdorman Ormod had voiced his acceptance of King Alfred’s gift and had passed the jewel-encrusted goblet to Brecc. She did not need to watch to know that Brecc would kiss the rim. His allegiance to the king was certain. As was his remarkable awareness of the activities of those around him. He had been the first of all the thegns to leap to his feet when the messengers had arrived at her home in Wiltshire to warn of the Viking attack all those years ago. He was likely the only one who had been diligently watching the river since the king’s party had arrived in Chippenham. And he had arrived at her table the night before, moments after Diera had left to join the dancers.

Aisley knew what it was to unobtrusively study others and recognized that capacity in Brecc. It was undoubtedly one of the reasons he had ascertained her feelings so well when they had spoken at the river. It was also the reason she could not face him this evening. She had battled a maelstrom of emotions all day. Her mother and Diera had not noticed. Neither had Wulfhere. But Brecc would.