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“Brecc is correct, Sire. The local people in Wiltshire are anxiously awaiting your call to arms,” Aisley said.

“I am gratified to hear it, but the fyrds are the ealdormen’s responsibility. I cannot see how we could rally enough men without using the established system.”

“Aisley,” Brecc said, “can you think of anyone in Trowbridge whose influence is great enough that information given to him regarding the gathering of King Alfred’s fyrds would then reach those willing to join the fight? Someone whose loyalty to the crown is so sure that there is no threat of any hint of it reaching your brother.”

Aisley pondered the question. She had witnessed many ceorls come and go at the longhouse, but she could not be sure of their faithfulness to the king. Her thoughts moved to Taber. His heart was true, but he had little to no influence beyond the stables. He received all his news from the fishmonger in town. She gasped. He had no title or position of power, but the fishmonger was the obvious choice.

“Nyle,” she said. “He is the fishmonger in town. His cousin lives in a neighboring town, and between the two of them, they fuel all the news and excitement about the raids on the Vikings and the movements of the king’s men. As he was willing to sacrifice his entire catch to spare me from the unwanted attention of Rangvald and his men, I believe it is safe to say he harbors no love for the invaders.”

“I witnessed this event and concur with Aisley’s opinion,” Brecc said. “Nyle, although in many respects an unlikely choice, may well be the best man, for that very reason. Wulfhere would never suspect the peasants at the market of disseminating any information of worth.”

“And you believe that if the men of Wiltshire were given a date and a location, they would come, armed and ready to fight without the leadership of their ealdorman?” the king asked.

Aisley looked to Brecc, and he gave a slow nod.

“I believe it is entirely possible,” he said.

“As do I,” Aisley agreed. “It has been under three months, but the people of Wiltshire have experienced enough of life under the cloud of Viking rule to know that it is far worse than anything they have experienced before. They will fight to restore you to the throne and to reclaim Wessex for the Saxons.”

“Entrusting the gathering of Wiltshire’s fyrd to a fishmonger is a grave risk,” the king said. “But if we are to muster sufficient warriors to take on the Viking horde, I see no other avenue available to us.” He turned on his heel and started toward the small chamber. “Rally the men, Brecc. I shall rest for an hour, and then we shall meet to make assignments. We have bided our time long enough; the moment has come to call out the fyrds and take care of our enemies—foreign and domestic.”

The flash of astonishment in Brecc’s eyes was nothing to the shock that rippled through Aisley.

She took a few hurried steps so as to catch the king as he reached the door to the chamber. “Begging your pardon, Sire, but what is now to become of me and my family?”

“Your family members are no longer your concern. They shall be dealt with appropriately.” He paused long enough to acknowledge Aisley’s stricken expression. “For the good of the kingdom, traitors must be dealt with. I do understand, however, that although they are not blameless, in this instance, your mother and sister carry less culpability than does your brother. You may be reassured that I shall take that into account.”

Aisley could hope for nothing more. Tears threatened once again, but he had yet to answer the question that affected her most. “What of me, Sire?”

“Do you have a preference?”

“I should like to stay here,” she said. “I know the island was intended to house only your male warriors, but I am willing to help around the cottage, and I am skilled in the art of healing, should a need arise.”

She looked down. She was all but begging, and it did not come easily. But she was desperate. If the king denied her request, she did not know what would become of her.

“You assisted Brecc with his wound.”

“I did.”

“How does it feel, Brecc?”

Brecc was so close that she could feel his warmth on her back. “Much improved, Sire.”

“I am glad to hear it, but if that is so, you should clean yourself up.”

A rustle of fabric sounded, and the queen stepped out of the small chamber and into the doorway. “I know nothing of the urgent business you have been discussing in the main room, but when you move your dialogue here, I feel that I may join it. My conversation with Aisley this morning, although brief, cheered me no end. I had not realized how much I have missed associating with other women.” She looked to her husband. “If she is willing, I should like her to stay.”

The king offered his wife a polite bow and then turned back to Aisley. “It seems that the queen demands your presence here at Athelney.”

On trembling legs, Aisley managed a faltering curtsy. “I thank you, Your Majesties.”

“I shall look for you when the men gather for their next meeting, Aisley,” the queen said. And with a pleased smile, she walked back into the small chamber.

“One hour, Brecc,” the king admonished, and then he followed after her and closed the door.

Aisley pivoted and fell into Brecc’s arms. Brecc stumbled backward, his crutch clattering to the floor as he struggled to maintain his balance.

“Oh no, forgive me. I did not think.” Swiping at her tears, Aisley backed away and reached for the long piece of wood.