Page 57

The fyrds. Aisley gasped as the ramifications of what her brother had done to the balance of power in Wiltshire settled upon her. The ealdormen of each county were charged with gathering men to ride with them in answer to the king’s call to arms. She’d seen her father fulfill this duty several times. The gathering of Wiltshire’s fyrd had been the setting of their last farewell. But if the king sent word to Wulfhere now, not only would the desired fyrd not materialize, but her brother would also likely warn Rangvald that the Saxons were mobilizing. The consequences of such information reaching the enemy would be devastating to the king’s forces.

She scrambled to her feet. The king had to be warned. And if, as Taber had suggested, royal messengers were expected to contact the ealdormen soon, she had no time to waste. She had already determined that leaving Trowbridge within the next twenty-four hours was a necessity. Now she knew where she must go. She would travel to Athelney, and God willing, she would arrive there in time to prevent the king from stumbling into a trap her brother’s appalling perfidy had created.

But how? She paced in a tight circle, her thoughts whirling. These last three weeks, she had considered going into town to be unsafe. Taking a horse and riding all the way to Athelney unaccompanied was far more dangerous. There was no accounting for who she might meet along her way. And if she were to have the misfortune of encountering Vikings, her fate—and the fate of the Saxons’ uprising—would likely be sealed.

She pivoted, frowning in frustration. If she were a gentleman, a full day’s ride would be nothing, and the threat to her person would be minimal. Her thoughts stuttered. She was too small in stature to pass as a man, but could she pass as a youth? Surely, a young man riding alone would not be the target of many ne’er-do-wells. An image of Taber leading her brother’s mount from town filled her mind, and a sliver of hope pierced her heavy heart. She and Taber were of a similar height and build. If she covered her head and was wearing his clothing, it was possible that travelers on the road would all but ignore her.

At last, she knew hope. Pausing at the edge of the grove of trees long enough to ensure that no one else was in sight, she flew across the meadow and down the lane. A few paces from the entrance to the courtyard, she stopped. She needed calm. If she encountered a family member, she must act subdued. Unwilling to enter into conversation, even. They would expect those things and would likely overlook what would normally be considered rude behavior. So much the better. Her priority was to give Wulfhere no cause to suspect that she was hatching a plan of escape.

She brushed off the dead grass from her gown and entered the courtyard. It was empty. Offering a silent prayer of thanks, she made directly for the stables. The door was ajar. She pulled it open and walked in. The light was dim. She blinked, giving her eyes time to adjust. The stables seemed unusually quiet. No whistling, soft voices, or even the rattle of pails or shovels.

“Taber,” she called softly.

Taber appeared from one of the nearby stalls, a pitchfork in hand. He inclined his head. “Afternoon, Mistress Aisley.”

“Where is everyone?” she asked, looking around.

“Garren ’as gone with Tilian t’ fetch more feed,” he said. “Can I ’elp ya with somethin’?”

Relief, swift and warm, filled her. She might not have long with Taber before someone interrupted them, but she would seize what time she had. “Do you own another tunic and hose?” she asked.

“Why, yes.” He glanced down as if to reassure himself that the one he was wearing was not too terribly soiled. “One of each.”

“What of shoes?”

Taber’s expression became even more perplexed. “I’ve one other pair of shoes, but they’re a mite small, an’ I’d rather not wear ’em unless I ’ave to.”

The smaller the shoes, the better. “May I purchase them?”

Taber blinked. “Ya wish t’ buy me old clothes?”

“I know it’s an odd request, and I would explain my need for them further, but it is best that you not know.”

“In case someone comes askin’ ’bout it,” Taber guessed.

Aisley did not respond. Taber was a quick thinker. He would likely piece things together without her assistance, but she refused to willfully place him in a position where he would be forced to dissemble on her behalf.

He set the pitchfork against the stall gate. “I’ll fetch ’em.” Not waiting for a response, he hastened across the stable to the ladder that led to the attic, where the stablehands slept. Almost before Aisley knew what he was about, he had reached the top and disappeared. She heard the rustle of straw and a few soft thuds above her head. A horse nickered, and Aisley glanced at the stable doors. Still no sound from without, but she did not know how much longer her good fortune would last.

“Make haste, Taber,” she whispered.

As if he’d heard her, his feet appeared on the top rung of the ladder, and moments later, he was on the ground.

“This is them,” he said, offering Aisley a small bundle. He shifted uncomfortably. “There’s a tear on one leg of the ’ose. I was goin’ to ask the seamstress in town t’ stitch it fer me, but I was waitin’ t’ see if I could save enough t’ buy a bigger pair instead.”

“I am most grateful.” Aisley clutched the items to her chest. “Truly. I will come by just before dawn on the morrow.” She hated to ask more of him, but she would likely need his assistance with a horse. “Will you be here?”

“If ya need me ’ere afore dawn, I’ll be ’ere.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. “You are the very best kind of friend, Taber.”

His smile was crooked, but pleasure shone in his eyes. “I don’ know ’bout that, but I thank you, regardless.”

“When I come in the morning, I shall bring you some coins. I wish I had more to offer you, but I pray it will be sufficient for replacement clothing.”

“Not t’ worry, mistress. If needs be, I daresay Garren ’as somethin’ I can use what ’e’s outgrown.” He looked over the stalls. “Which mount will ya be wantin’ saddled first thing?”

“I believe the brown mare I rode from Chippenham would serve me well.” Taking the first available mounts from the stables at the king’s estate had not sat well with Aisley. Even now, months later, it felt wrong to claim them. But if she was going to take any horse from the stable, it seemed best to take one that Wulfhere was not overly attached to.