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Miraculously, the stallion responded. He stepped out of the stall and was soon trotting toward the open door with Brecc running beside him.
Brecc’s lungs were burning, and the air outside was only marginally better than the air within the stables. Straining to see through the swirling smoke, he searched for the white palfrey the king had been leading. King Alfred had left the stables only moments before Brecc; he would not have gone far unless he’d been forced to. Setting his hand on the hilt of the dagger Rinc had given him, Brecc scoured the area. Had the Vikings set the stables alight and then left to do the same to the other buildings in the royal estate, or were they waiting nearby, watching for the king to appear?
“Brecc.”
The low voice had come from his right. Guiding Forca in a slow circle, Brecc studied the area more carefully. Movement near a large tree caught his eye, and then he saw a patch of white appear from behind the trunk. Forca snorted. There was a responding nicker.
Unwilling to give away the king’s location to anyone else who might be watching, Brecc slowly walked the stallion toward the tree. The white palfrey materialized from the shadows, and on her back sat King Alfred.
“Your Majesty.” Keeping his voice low, Brecc inclined his head. “You are mounted.”
“Aye. The tree helped. The mare is still unnerved by the fire, so the sooner we are gone from here, the more likely it is that I shall remain seated.”
“I am twice amazed, Sire. Riding bareback is no mean feat and is most certainly not how you were taught.”
“And yet, have we not all tried it at one time or another?” The king paused. “You have ridden without a saddle, I assume.”
“I have.” Brecc eyed the stallion uneasily. He’d made his previous bareback escapades early in his youth, and he would prefer a gentler mount for this attempt, but given their current situation, he was fortunate to have a horse at all. He led Forca to the tree and tied the remaining portion of the lead rope to the lowest branch. “Any sign of Viking warriors nearby?”
“None that I have seen,” the king said. “I saw the lad who assisted us stagger out of the stables. I pray he will survive. I pray all these people will survive.” His voice cracked. “Am I in the wrong to abandon them in the midst of this awful destruction?”
Desperately wishing that Ormod were here to advise the king, Brecc placed a foot on a large knot in the tree’s trunk and pulled himself up. “If you do not flee, there is no hope left for your people. The loss they experience today will be but a small taste of what is to come if the Vikings are allowed to rule Wessex.”
“I go so that I may return,” the king said.
“Your people will cling to that truth, Sire.”
King Alfred released a troubled sigh. “Then, we shall have to ensure that it occurs.”
Brecc slid his leg over Forca’s back. The charger startled, dancing away from the tree. Wrapping his fingers through the horse’s mane, Brecc dropped into a riding position. Forca’s muscles rippled beneath him. Should he wish to, the stallion could unseat him in an instant. Brecc could only pray that the horse would choose a different response.
“Steady, boy.” Reaching for the lead rope, Brecc pulled it free. Forca skittered away. Brecc dug his knees into the horse’s sides. “Steady.”
The palfrey nickered, and Forca’s ears twitched. King Alfred wheeled his horse around so that it faced the estate gates standing open against a burning orange sky.
Brecc lowered himself over Forca’s neck. “Whenever you are ready, Sire.”
“We ride for Wessex,” he called, and then his horse was galloping toward the exit.
Clutching a portion of the lead rope with one hand and Forca’s mane with the other, Brecc tapped his heels to the horse’s side. Moments later, he was flying across the ground in King Alfred’s wake.
Warning shouts filled the air. People scattered. A single spear sailed past, narrowly missing the white palfrey’s rump, but both horses continued undeterred. Up ahead, two Vikings stepped into their path, racing to pull the gates closed before the horses and their riders reached them. Hunched over the stallion’s neck, Brecc gave him his head, reaching the gates half a horse length ahead of the king and three horse lengths ahead of the Vikings. Their mounts thundered through the exit. With shouts of frustration, the Vikings let another two spears fly, but both weapons fell short.
Taking the path that followed the river, they continued around the first bend. The cries of consternation behind them faded. Brecc raised his chin a fraction and inhaled an icy breath. They had no secure destination and no knowledge of where Rheged and the queen had gone. Many of the thegns were likely killed, and Aisley’s fate was unbearably unsure. But the king of Wessex was alive and free. Notwithstanding the losses in Chippenham or what lay ahead, that was what Brecc must focus on now.
CHAPTER 16
AISLEY DID NOT KNOW HOW long they had been traveling; she simply knew she could no longer feel her feet, her fingers, or her face. Wulfhere and her mother rode side by side several paces ahead of her and Diera. No one spoke. Every ounce of their energy was being exerted on staying upright in their saddles.
Hunched over against the cold wind, Diera tipped to her right and then caught herself. She moaned.
“Wulfhere,” Aisley rasped. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time a little louder. “We must find somewhere to rest.”
Wulfhere turned his head and scowled. “As I have told you twice before, there are no inns to be had anywhere near here. We have no choice but to continue.”
“There are farmhouses.” The squat buildings were difficult to make out in the darkness, but Aisley had noted at least three they had already passed, located not far from the road. She glanced at Diera again. Her sister had yet to lift her head, and Aisley’s concern for her welfare was rising. “I do not think Diera can last much longer.”
“Diera?” With a mumble of frustration, their mother wheeled her horse around and rode up next to Diera. “It would behoove you to show a little more fortitude, young lady. None of us is enjoying this experience.”
