The Viking's Defiant Bride. Joanna Fulford
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over him the while,’ she said.
‘Will he survive, do you think?’
‘He has lost much blood, ’tis true. But he is a strong man and, God willing, he will come through this. What he needs is rest and quiet.’
‘I pray God that he may have it.’
‘Amen to that, child.’
Elgiva left her and went outside, making her way to the steps leading to the rampart that ran along the inside of the palisade. From there she had an excellent view of the preparations taking place as everywhere men hastened to ready themselves for the defence of Ravenswood. Beyond the hall with its attendant stables and storehouses and the high wooden pale, the countryside lay still. An area of open ground surrounded the pale, and beyond it was pasture and woodland. Usually Elgiva thought of it as a place of peace and solitude, but now those quiet glades held menace. Her eyes scanned the trees, seeking for any sign of movement that might reveal a hidden enemy, but there was nothing to be seen save a few serfs driving their swine to feed. In the little hamlet people went about their business, though looking fearfully about all the while. The knowledge that Lord Aylwin had posted sentinels through the estate offered partial reassurance; at least there would be no surprise attack. Perhaps it was as Osgifu had said: now they had exacted their vengeance on King Ella they would adventure no further. It was a slender hope for the greed of the pirates was legendary. Their periodic raids were a fact of life for the unfortunate coastal dwellers, and the Norsemen had regularly carried off women and livestock along with any other loot that seized their fancy. Then they had sailed for their northern lands taking their booty with them.
Elgiva shivered to think of the poor souls taken off to a life of slavery in a strange country, of the women who must become unwilling wives or concubines to their new masters. It would be better to fight to the death than submit to such a fate as that. As she glanced away from the distant trees, her gaze fell on the roof of the bower. Within her chamber was the chest where she kept her gowns. Underneath them was the sword her father had given her some years before. He had taught her to use it too, holding that a woman should be schooled in self-defence as well as a man. Elgiva was resolved. If need be, she too, would fight and kill to defend her home.
Chapter Two
The Viking attack came within days; the sentinels on Ravenswood’s boundaries returned in haste to report the sighting of a marching host hundreds strong. Elgiva had been sewing in the women’s bower with Osgifu when the peace was shattered by the wild ringing of the church bell. Her hands paused at their task and for a moment or two she listened before the implications sank in.
‘The alarm.’
‘Dear Lord, it cannot be.’ Osgifu threw down her sewing and hastened to the door, but her companion was before her. Both of them halted in dismay on the threshold; outside was a scene of urgent haste with men running to their posts, buckling on swords as they went. They stopped a man-at-arms who was hurrying to the palisade with a large sheaf of arrows.
‘What is it? What’s happening?’
‘The sentries have reported sighting a large enemy force, my lady,’ he replied. ‘It is advancing on Ravenswood.’
Osgifu paled, looking in alarm at the armed men running towards the ramparts. ‘An enemy force?’
‘Aye, the Vikings approach.’ He inclined his head to Elgiva. ‘Your pardon, lady, but I dare not stay longer. I must to my post.’ With that he was gone.
The two women ran to the hall where Aylwin was barking orders to his men. As they hastened to obey, he turned to Elgiva.
‘Go bar yourself in the upper chamber, my lady. It will be far safer. Take Osgifu and the children too.’
Before she had a chance to reply one of Aylwin’s men spoke out, throwing a dark glance at Osgifu.
‘I’ve been told that this woman is of Danish blood, my lord. How do we know she can be trusted?’
Elgiva surveyed him with anger. ‘Osgifu has served my family faithfully and well for many years. Her loyalty is not in question nor ever has been.’
The man reddened. ‘I beg pardon, my lady.’
Aylwin glared at him, then nodded towards the door. The other took the hint and beat a hasty retreat.
‘I’m sorry, Elgiva.’ Aylwin laid a soothing hand on her arm. ‘Such times make men cautious.’
‘So it seems.’
With an effort Elgiva forced down her indignation. It would not aid their cause to quarrel among themselves. She turned to Osgifu.
‘Fetch Hilda and the children and the women servants. Then go with them to the upper floor.’
If Osgifu had been in any way discomforted by the conversation, it was not evident. Returning Elgiva’s gaze, she asked, ‘What about you, child?’
‘I will come presently, but there is something I must fetch first.’
‘Make haste then, my lady,’ said Aylwin. With one last warm smile he hurried off to join his men outside.
Elgiva raced back to the bower and, throwing open the chest in the corner, retrieved the sword from the bottom. The familiar weight of the weapon was comforting. At least they should not be completely defenceless if the worst came to the worst. Closing her hand round the scabbard, she slammed the chest shut and went to join the others, barring the stout door behind her as Aylwin had instructed. Then she took up a station by the far window. The shutters were pulled to, but through a broken slat she could see much of the hustle and activity below as men ran to their posts. Aylwin had his plan ready days earlier and each one of his retainers knew where he was supposed to be. Within a short time they were ready, armed to the teeth, and grimly determined to defend their homes and their lives.
The clanging bell had brought the peasants from the fields and the wood to seek the relative safety of the pale. No sooner were they gathered within than the men on the wall called out a warning as the forward ranks of the Viking host appeared. Like an army of sinister wraiths, silent and intent, they emerged from among the trees into the pasture beyond. One of their archers loosed an arrow, killing a Saxon guard where he stood. Then, as though at a signal, a great shout went up from the invaders, splitting the stillness, and they surged forwards as one.
‘Merciful heavens,’ murmured Aylwin. ‘Surely this can be no ordinary raiding party. There are hundreds of them.’ By his private reckoning his men would be outnumbered five to one.
Beside him, his armed companion had made a similar calculation. ‘This is revenge indeed for their dead chieftain.’
What Aylwin might have said next was lost in a hissing rain of arrows. It covered the advance of the Viking vanguard that carried ladders to raise against the walls. Swiftly the defenders loosed their own arrows in reply, but each time one of the attackers fell he was immediately replaced and the assault renewed. The Saxons maintained a deadly fire from above, but to right and left the invaders swarmed up the ladders and over the walls. The first were cut down without mercy, but their comrades followed hard on their heels and soon fierce battle was enjoined, filling the air with shouts and the clash of arms.
Peering through the gap in the shutters, Elgiva stared in horror at the scene of carnage below and murmured a prayer. Everywhere she looked the Viking marauders were pouring in over the walls.
‘God in heaven, can there be so many?’
Giants they seemed, these fierce warriors, cruel with battle thirst, each face alight with lust for blood and conquest. With sword and axe they cut down all who stood in their way, crying out the name of their war god.
‘Odin!’
The cry was repeated from four hundred throats as the Norsemen drove forwards, fearless into the ranks of their foes. The defenders fought bravely but the sheer weight of numbers pushed them back, step by step, the enemy advancing over the bodies of the slain, remorseless, hacking their way on.