Page 77

“Oh, what you see is not patience,” he said, a hint of his normal joviality returning. “Rather, it is exceptional acting skills.”

She managed a smile. “Exceptional, indeed.”

“You have my appreciation also,” Brecc said, and then he took Aisley’s hand in his. “Come. We must not keep the king waiting.”

Aisley wrapped her fingers around Brecc’s, drawing strength from his touch. It would be well. Surely Brecc would not escort her in if he knew the outcome was to be a death sentence upon all members of Ealdorman Wulfhere’s family. She glanced at him. He must have caught the movement because he looked down and smiled gently.

“Fear not, lady warrior. Once the king has heard the details of your story, he will quickly recognize your brave and loyal heart.”

“I do not feel brave.”

“Then focus on your loyalty,” he said. “Your bravery will shine through whether you intend it to or not.”

They reached the door, and Brecc released her hand. She felt the loss instantly. “Will you come in with me?”

“If you wish it.”

“I do. Very much.”

He smiled again. “Then lead the way.”

The cottage’s main room was empty, save for one man. The king was standing beside the fire, gazing at the low-burning logs. When they walked in, he turned, and Aisley dropped into a curtsy.

“Aisley, daughter of Ealdorman Kendryek,” the king said. “We meet again.”

“Indeed, Sire.” Was it wrong that she’d hoped he would not know her from her ridiculous appearance at the head table on Twelfth Night? “I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

“As do I.” He studied her. “Brecc has told me of your claim that your brother has betrayed me, but I wish to hear it from your mouth. And I would have you spare no details. The whole of it, if you please.”

Aisley’s hands were clasped so tightly her fingers were hurting. She loosened her grip. The king’s tone was measured, his gaze guarded. He would undoubtedly assess her every movement and word, but she would rather that than her being the target of his ire. Show loyalty. She repeated Brecc’s counsel in her mind. This was something she could do. This was who she was.

Choosing to begin from the moment she’d spotted Wulfhere and Rangvald conversing in the yard outside the family longhouse, Aisley rehearsed the entirety of her dismay at her brother’s plans, her struggle to have him change his mind, and her realization that his actions had the potential of impacting the very future of Wessex, followed by her determination to notify the king and her subsequent escape and journey to Athelney.

Keeping her head held high, she finished her account and waited for the barrage of questions that would surely come. To her astonishment, however, the king spoke directly to Brecc.

“Your power of discernment has not failed you. Once again, you have been proven correct. In both appearance and heart, Aisley does, indeed, take after her father.”

Unbidden, tears sprang to Aisley’s eyes. She blinked them away, but not before the perceptive monarch noticed them.

“My comparing you to your father affects you,” the king said.

“I can think of no greater compliment, Sire.”

“Nor I.” He clasped his hands behind his back, his expression pensive. “Your father was well loved by his people. Can the same be said of your brother?”

“No, Sire.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That took no thought.”

“My brother continues to raise taxes even though many struggle to survive. He has little interest in those living beneath his station and shows no concern for the welfare of those over whom he has stewardship.”

“A damning report,” the king said grimly. “Particularly as I have seen no sign of additional revenue from Wiltshire.”

“If I may, Your Majesty?” Brecc asked.

“Please.” The king signaled for him to continue. “I would welcome your input. I confess, it is at times like this that I sorely miss Ormod’s level-headed advice.”

“I do not believe I shall ever be so wise as Ormod,” Brecc said, “but it strikes me that if the people of Wiltshire begrudge their ealdorman, it is likely that their political leanings do not emulate his. You are in need of Wiltshire’s fyrd to beat the Vikings. If the people are willing to fight, it might be possible to call up the fyrd without Wulfhere’s involvement or knowledge.”