Page 86

She shivered, and Brecc caught himself just before he raised his arm to draw her closer. For the duration, she was his page. And now that so many others had joined them, for her safety’s sake, he’d best remember it.

“After all this time, the battle for Wessex’s future is truly upon us,” she said.

“Aye.” He listened. Beyond the crackle of fires and murmur of low voices, the night was still. “As hard as it is to picture when all is so calm, if the Vikings have mobilized, the confrontation is merely a day away.”

“I am glad I am here with you for these last few peaceful hours.”

He tightened his grip on her hand again. She did not belong here. Nor was she safe. And yet, he could not deny that he felt the same.

The king’s scouts galloped toward them. At the head of the company, King Alfred raised his arm. Those on horseback at the front stopped, and the steady forward progression of thousands of marching warriors came to an unexpected halt. Aisley glanced at Brecc. He was watching the scouts with fierce intensity. One of them was gesturing to the ruined fortress sitting atop the hill ahead. The king responded by signaling for Brecc, Rheged, and Odda to join him.

“Wait here,” Brecc said, touching his heels to his mount. “This should not take long.”

Aisley waited. Those around her waited. And the tension mounted. The king, his men, and the scouts spoke together for a short time, and then the scouts wheeled their horses around and started back the way they had come. Brecc resumed his place beside her, and the king raised his arm again. They were on the move once more.

“What was it?” Aisley asked.

“Guthrum,” Brecc answered. “When he heard the king was marching at the head of an army, he rallied his men and set off from Chippenham. They’ve made their base at Bratton Camp.”

“Is that the name of the ancient fortress on the hill?”

“Aye.” Brecc studied the distant structure. “It’s a strategic position. You see how it sits on the northern edge of a long, flat ridgeline. On three sides, the slopes are too steep for us to mount an attack. That leaves us with only the southern side. Guthrum can consolidate his men in one area, knowing that we can breach their defenses only from that direction.”

Aisley’s stomach twisted. “What is to be done?”

“We meet them there,” Brecc said. “Guthrum’s scouts will have told him of our approach, so he is likely already setting up his shield wall.”

Panic clawed at Aisley’s throat. How could Brecc be so calm? The Vikings were here. They were waiting to attack. “I . . . I do not understand. If they are already in position, how do we—”

“The men will know what to do. Each warrior, regardless of his prior battle experience, has been told what is expected of him.” He looked at her, a flicker of unease in his eyes. “As have you.”

Aisley had not encountered Vikings since some of them stopped the merchants she was traveling with on route to Athelney. That interaction had been distressing, but the thought of witnessing thousands of bloodthirsty warriors filled her with abject terror. She had no desire to be anywhere near them. “Where would you have me wait?”

He pointed to a wooded area on the west side of the hill. “The king wishes us to leave our mounts there. We will approach the camp in formation from the south side.”

At which point, the Vikings in all their ferocity would pour down upon them. On the reins, Aisley’s fingers trembled. She could not think on it. It was too awful.

Under two furlongs later, they reached the woodland. The trees stretched out as far as the eye could see. Patches of grass showed between some of the branches, and the ground was littered with twigs, pine needles, and new growth. Overhead, birds sang, blissfully unaware of what was soon to come. At a signal from the king, the thegns dismounted.

“Secure your horses,” he called. “As soon as the fyrds are assembled, we lead them into battle.”

Brecc led his mount between two large ash trees. Without a word, Aisley followed, her horse in tow. All around them, others were making for the small grassy patches inside the woodland. A boulder lay ahead, partially covered by the long, tangled branches of a bramble bush beside it. Brecc veered right and entered the clearing surrounded by trees beyond. He tied his horse’s straps around a low-lying tree limb and then reached for Aisley’s horse’s reins.

“If you remain in this vicinity, the boulder will lead me back to you. It will also serve as a marker for the wounded seeking your aid.” He gathered the spears he’d strapped to his horse.

“Very well.” Silently praying for whatever measure of courage she lacked, Aisley slid her satchel off her shoulder and set it beside the boulder. She dreaded staying behind in the woodland alone, but she knew it was what she must do if she truly wished to assist King Alfred and his men. “I shall be ready when the injured come.” She swallowed. “And I shall remain here until you return.”

He turned then and met her eyes. The air between them stilled, and the background noise of men and horses and weaponry faded to nothingness. Slowly, Brecc set his spears against a tree trunk. Then in four long steps, he crossed the distance that separated them and pulled her into his arms. “I will come for you.” Emotion shone in his dark eyes. “I give you my word.”

She leaned into him, her eyes not leaving his. “I love you,” she said.

His groan was so soft she barely heard it before he was kissing her—desperately, fervently, deeply—unleashing a maelstrom of shared hopes, fears, and love that sent her mind spinning. She clung to him, drawing from him a strength she had not known she needed, and giving whatever comfort she could offer in return.

A horn sounded, and he drew back. “I must go.”

With trembling limbs, Aisley stepped out of his arms. “My prayers go with you.”

He reached for his spears. “As mine are with you.” And then he was gone, racing between the trees toward the waiting men.