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Wearily, Brecc accepted the food. “You have my thanks.”

“The bread is stale.” Rheged dropped to the ground beside him. “But it is better than nothing.” He inclined his head to the left, where Bertwin and Lufian were already stretched out under a nearby pine tree. “Bertwin took care of watering the horses before bedding down for the night. If we get an early start on the morrow, we should reach Athelney by evening.”

Brecc nodded, his gaze falling to his injured leg. Another day in the saddle would undoubtedly aggravate the wound further, but he had no choice. Remaining in the woods with no provisions would be even more detrimental.

“Have you looked at it?” Rheged asked, following his gaze.

“Not yet.” Their narrow escape from the Viking encampment had precluded him from giving his injury any attention immediately after it occurred. And although they’d stopped at the mill long enough to drop off the reclaimed flour and vegetables, Brecc had chosen to remain in his saddle. It had been too dark to see the large reddish-brown stain that had manifested itself once the sun had risen, but the wetness of his hose had been clue enough. He’d lost a significant amount of blood, and the less he moved his leg, the better.

“It will not serve you well to ignore it,” Rheged warned.

“True, but I would rather not risk reopening the wound by tugging at the fabric of my hose when I have nothing with which I can stem the blood or treat the incision.”

Two deep lines appeared on Rheged’s forehead. “I fear such supplies are limited at Athelney also.”

“There will be more than there is in this woodland.” Brecc lifted his leg and set it down again with a wince. “It is possible that Mistress Hocca will be willing to assist me.”

“You will be hard-pressed to recompense her in the manner with which she has become accustomed. Unless you have a secret talent for sweeping a floor upon one leg, of course.”

Brecc chuckled. The story of King Alfred’s debacle with the burned cakes and lack of experience with a broom had been retold on Athelney more times than he could count. It was a credit to the monarch’s humility that he had used the tale to illustrate the importance of making improvements. “I do not think Hocca has the patience for new sweeping techniques, and I do not think the king intended for us to focus our learning on housework.”

“Fair enough,” Rheged said. “But what do you think he does wish us to learn? What are all our raids and ambushes and spying ultimately for?”

Brecc rubbed his thigh absently, his thoughts on all the king and his men had undertaken during the last few weeks. “I think he wishes us to help unite Wessex.”

“Has that not always been the case?”

“It has, but this time feels different. People of every walk of life are hearing how the king and his men are working together for the good of all Saxons. News of our successful attacks on the Vikings is lifting morale. The return of precious commodities to those who have so little reminds them that they have not been forgotten. The king’s determination to oust the invaders offers hope. Our victories—no matter how small—prompt courage. King Alfred has seen the devastation a lack of preparation causes, and he will not make that mistake again. He wishes his people to be physically ready to fight, but even more than that, he wishes their hearts to be ready.”

“That is why he has waited to call up the fyrds,” Rheged guessed.

“Aye. They will join together from different parts of the country and with a variety of experience, but they must be one in conviction and purpose before we go against Guthrum again.”

“How long do you think it will be before the king believes the people are ready?”

“That, I cannot say.” Brecc eyed his leg grimly. “But I pray we are all prepared when the day comes.”

CHAPTER 23

AISLEY DID NOT KNOW THE exact hour, but the deepest darkness of the night was beginning to fade when she arose from her pallet. With fumbling fingers, she donned her gown. She’d left her shoes beside her pallet for easy access. Sliding her hand beneath her pillow, she withdrew her small purse and dropped it into one of her shoes. The coins she’d taken to town the day Rangvald had hounded her were still there. It was what she would use to compensate Taber for the loss of his clothing.

She’d retired early the night before but had lain awake for a long time. Sleep was difficult to summon when one was overwhelmed with memories and sorrow. As promised, her mother had entered the chamber to check on her. Aisley had kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady. Her feigned slumber must have satisfied her mother, for she’d left the room soon afterward and had not returned. When Diera had come to bed, she’d gently touched Aisley’s back, but Aisley had not responded, and with a small sigh, Diera had settled down on her own pallet. Aisley could only hope that she was now deeply asleep.

Aisley rolled up her blanket and tucked it under her arm, then carrying her shoes, she tiptoed across the room to retrieve her cloak from the chair beside the door.

“Aisley.” Diera’s whispered voice cut through the darkness. Clutching the edges of her cloak as if it were her courage, Aisley stood completely still. “Aisley,” Diera repeated. There was a rustle, and the shadowy form on the nearby pallet shifted. “You have nothing to fear. I shall not ask where you are going. I only wish to offer you Godspeed.” Her voice broke. “I am glad you are leaving. You deserve happiness, and I pray you find it.”

Tears welled. Setting her blanket and shoes on the chair, Aisley crossed the short distance to her sister’s pallet and knelt. She reached out her hand and found Diera’s shoulder. Diera raised her hand and took Aisley’s in hers. Aisley did not speak. She was not sure that she could.

Diera pressed their clasped hands to her damp cheek before releasing Aisley’s hand. “Go,” she urged. “Whilst you still can.”

Aisley rose and walked back to the chair. Picking up the blanket and shoes, she ran her fingers across the door until she located the handle. She lifted it and carefully pulled the door open. All was quiet without.

She took a step into the narrow passage and then turned back to Diera. “I wish you happiness also,” she whispered, and then she slipped through the door and closed it behind her.

Thankfully, she knew the house and its furnishings well enough to move through it with very little light. She reached the front door without encountering anything unexpected, but when she set her hand upon the handle of the bolt and pushed gently, nothing happened. She tried again, this time with more force. The sound of grating metal filled the great hall. Aisley did not wait to listen for the sound of movement from one of the bedchambers. If the noise had woken Wulfhere, her best course was to reach the stables as quickly as possible. Letting herself out, she closed the door tightly behind her and then raced barefoot across the courtyard.

Moonlight lit her path to the cold storage room. She hastened inside, scrabbling for the candle and flint she’d left on the counter. With the door closed, she lit the candle and pulled out the barrel where she’d hidden Taber’s clothes. A new sense of urgency added speed to her actions. Stripping herself of her cloak and gown, she pulled on the hose and tunic. The hose was too long and the tunic worn, but they would suffice. Putting on Taber’s shoes, she unhooked the satchel she usually used for gathering plants from its place on the back of the door. She wadded up her gown and placed it and her shoes at the bottom of the satchel. Her rolled-up blanket went next, followed by the small linen bags full of dried plants. She added three of the apples she’d taken from the barrel and her coin purse. There was no room for anything more. With trembling fingers, she pulled back her long hair, split it into three portions, and plaited it into a thick rope. Tossing it behind her shoulder, she donned her cloak once more. Then she slid the satchel strap across her shoulder, blew out the candle, and left the room.