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Diera did not respond. Instead, she listed slightly to the left.

Their mother reached for her arm and shook it slightly. “Do you hear me, Diera?”

Aisley’s chest tightened. “It must be the cold, Mother.”

“How long has she been like this?” The irritation that had laced their mother’s voice moments before was now alarm.

“I noticed her swaying in her saddle soon after we rode through the last village.”

“That was at least six furlongs ago.” She reached for Diera’s hand on the reins. “Her fingers are like ice.”

“She has a blanket just like the rest of us,” Wulfhere said.

“For Diera, one blanket was obviously not enough,” their mother said. “We must find somewhere where she can truly warm up.”

Wulfhere gestured toward the open fields that surrounded them. “If you know of a nearby inn, I would welcome the suggestion.”

“If we cannot find shelter, we can at least light a fire,” Aisley said.

“Need I remind you that we were forced to make this excursion with nothing but the clothes we wore to the banquet on our backs.” Wulfhere’s tone was curt. “No coins, no food, and no flint.”

“Then we must find a farmhouse forthwith,” their mother said in a rare show of support for Aisley. “And until we reach one, Diera must have your blanket as well as her own.”

With a disparaging mutter, Wulfhere drew the blanket off his shoulders and tossed it toward Diera. Aisley caught one corner before it fell between their mounts. Urging her horse closer, she passed it to their mother, and between the two of them, they settled it over Diera’s head and shoulders.

“Not much longer, Diera,” Aisley said. “We shall have you indoors soon.”

“We must hasten, Wulfhere.” Their mother had yet to leave Diera’s side. “Your sister’s condition is serious.”

“As will mine be now that I have no covering,” he grumbled. “You realize that even if we find a place, the inhabitants are likely sleeping off their Twelfth Night celebrations and will not even hear us at their door.”

“They will answer,” Aisley said. “They are sure to be farm laborers, and as soon as the sun rises, they must be up tending to the animals.” She tightened her grip on the straps. “As hard as it may be for you to comprehend, they cannot afford to drink themselves into a stupor.”

Wulfhere glared at her, but Aisley ignored him. Urging her horse into a trot, she started down the road. It did not matter if Wulfhere kept pace with her or stayed back with Diera and their mother. Diera’s situation was dire, and Aisley would not stop until she’d found someone who would take them in.

The moon’s position in the sky had shifted, but daylight—with its accompanying easement in temperature—was still hours away. Brecc flexed his stiff fingers still entangled in the charger’s mane. Fleeing the royal estate on a horse without a saddle was exacting a heavy toll on his body. His back and thighs ached from holding his position during their race from danger. Even the more leisurely pace the king had set since they’d left Chippenham behind was more exacting than it would have been had he been seated on his saddle.

“What say you, Brecc?” The king kept his voice low even though they had not passed another person or dwelling in many furlongs. “Is that a settlement up ahead?”

Brecc peered into the darkness. Moonlight illuminated a short section of the road, outlining the hedgerows and trees on either side of them. Beyond that, a hazy gray filled the space where fields surely lay. “I have yet to see any buildings, Sire.”

“The sound of the running river has increased,” the king said. “We are riding closer to it now, and if memory serves, it cuts through several villages and small towns. I would wager we shall come upon one shortly.” He paused. “We must acquire saddles and bridles there.”

Brecc’s aching muscles wholeheartedly concurred, but his head was less sure. “As eager as I am to be seated on a well-fitted saddle, I wonder how we might locate such things at this time of night and in an unfamiliar community.”

“I have pondered the same,” the king said. “An inn, I believe, is most likely to serve our purposes.” He glanced at Brecc. “I assume you carry no purse.”

“No, Sire.”

King Alfred grunted. “A hard lesson for us both. We would do well to never attend a banquet without one attached to our belts again.”

“Aye.” Brecc had already spent far too long ruing the loss of his own mount, sword, purse, and cloak. The lack of each of those things had already proven to be critically detrimental. “It will be difficult to attain the supplies we need without coins.”

“Difficult, yes. But not impossible.” The king’s voice became thoughtful. “I imagine there is a merchant or innkeeper about who would be eager to procure clothing as fine as ours in exchange for simpler apparel. Mayhap that same fellow would be willing to offer a couple of saddles, bridles, and supplies for a royal ring.”

“Are you willing to offer those things to another?”

“I am,” the king said. “Such an exchange will be doubly beneficial. It will not only aid us in gaining the items we need, but it will also allow us to continue our journey with a level of anonymity. The Vikings will be looking for a king and his escort. By the time the sun comes up, there should be no sign of either one. Our best hope for reaching our final destination is to appear like any other traveler on the roads.”