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“Well, it’s not like anyone’s goin’ to send word of ’is whereabouts to the likes of us.” This voice came from the neighboring enclosure, along with the clang of a pail that echoed the pounding of Aisley’s heart.

These stableboys were not talking to her but to each other.

“I know that. But the king runnin’ off when the Vikin’s attacked is all people ’re talkin’ about in town,” Garren said. “It’s likely the same all over Wessex.”

Understanding dawned. The boys were discussing King Alfred.

“I daresay.” Aisley recognized the voice now. It was Taber. He was older than Garren, but since he was half a head shorter, he remained invisible in the stall. “But if the king wants t’ stay ’idden, ’e will. An’ them Vikin’s ’ll ’ave a job findin’ ’im.”

“Unless someone ’appens t’ see ’im and gives ’im away.”

“Why would a Saxon do that?”

“I dunno.” Garren’s voice had become disconsolate. “The Vikin’s ’ave gold. Most Saxons ’ave nothin’. People’ll do all sorts of things t’ put food on th’ table.”

“True enough,” Taber said. “But not everyone’s so bad off as us. Me older brother says things were better in all of Wiltshire when Ealdorman Kendryek wus alive.”

Aisley’s throat went dry. What had Wulfhere been doing—or not doing—to cause his people to suffer so greatly?

“It’s ’ard to imagine it gettin’ much worse, but I’ve ’eard terrible things ’bout the Vikin’s.”

“Aye.” Taber was firm. “Don’t wish them on us, whatever ya do. No food on th’ table would be the least of our worries.”

Garren was silent for a moment. “I ’ope King Alfred fights back soon.”

“’E will.”

“’Ow can you be so sure? They’re sayin’ ’e didn’t even lift a sword afore ’e ran.”

“First off,” Taber said. “Don’ be believin’ everythin’ you ’ear. Second off, Wessex is worth fightin’ for.”

Aisley’s heavy heart lifted a fraction. If Taber’s attitude was any indication of the mind-set of others, notwithstanding the Vikings’ capture of the king’s estate in Chippenham and their ever-increasing presence throughout Wessex, mayhap there was hope for the country and crown after all.

A latch lifted. One of the boys was exiting a stall. If he turned toward the stable doors, he would see her and would know that she’d been eavesdropping. Taking a tentative step backward, she reached for the door handle. Escape without detection would be impossible. While she’d been standing there, the sun had risen. The moment she opened the door, daylight would spill inside. Making a snap decision, she took hold of the door handle, pushed the door open a crack, and slipped outside. Without hesitation, she then pivoted, pulled the door open wider, and walked back inside.

“Good day,” she called. “Is anyone about?”

A pail clanked to the floor, and a stall door opened. Aisley held her breath. Would the boys assume she was only now arriving?

“Good day, Mistress Aisley.” It was Taber. “’Ow can I ’elp ya?”

With a blend of relief and appreciation for the loyal young man, Aisley smiled. “I awoke early and thought I might visit the horses. Is there one that needs a little extra attention?”

Taber smiled. “There’s always plenty o’ those, mistress. I reckon ya can take yer pick.”

“Mayhap I should work my way down the stalls, then.”

“Ya do that, mistress. These ’orses will be all the ’appier fer it.”

Aisley approached the closest stall. The mount she’d ridden from Chippenham appeared at the gate. The mare sniffed the air, and then it lowered its nose to rub Aisley’s arm.

“Good morning, young lady,” Aisley said, running her hand down the mare’s long neck. The horse nickered approvingly, and Aisley’s shoulders relaxed. She had learned more than she’d anticipated by coming to the stable—some of it difficult to hear—but her decision to come had been a good one. If nothing more, she had new information to think on.

Brecc guided his mount along the narrow path that led to the swineherd’s cottage. When he’d left this morning, the swineherd and his wife had been rising. Now the man was attending to a fence in the field adjacent to the lowly dwelling. His wife was also outside. It seemed she’d been washing clothing because she was lifting fabric from a tub at her feet and draping it over the bushes growing at the front of the cottage. It was surely a more hopeful than sensible endeavor, for even though the threat of rain had passed with the disappearance of the clouds, the likelihood of anything drying in today’s cold temperatures was slim.

“Good day, Mistress Hocca,” Brecc called.

The woman looked up from her work. “You’re returned sooner than I thought,” she said, setting her reddened hands upon her hips. “Did ya find Edris?”