The Viking's Touch. Joanna FulfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
sorry.’ He paused. ‘Recently?’
‘Ten months ago.’
‘It cannot be easy for a woman alone.’
‘I manage well enough.’
‘So I infer if yesterday is aught to judge by.’
Something in his tone brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks. Quickly she changed the subject.
‘You are not from these parts, Lord Wulfgar.’
‘No, I grew up in Northumbria.’
‘You have kin there still?’
‘Some.’
He didn’t qualify that and Anwyn didn’t pursue it. After all, it was none of her business.
‘And now you live the life of an adventurer.’
‘That’s right.’
‘It must be exciting.’
‘It has its moments.’
Before she could reply they reached the forge. The smith looked up from his work and, seeing who it was, made his duty to her.
‘My lady?’ He glanced from her to her companions, surveying them with open curiosity.
Anwyn smiled. ‘Ethelwald, we need your help …’
Having performed the introductions, she briefly outlined the situation. The smith listened attentively. ‘It is not a hard task, but I have work on hand that must be completed first. I cannot begin anything new until the morrow.’
‘And the job will take how long?’ asked Wulfgar.
‘A few days, no more,’ the smith replied.
‘We have other places to be. Can it not be done sooner?’
‘No. I must honour the agreements made before you came.’
His men exchanged quizzical glances but, though Wulfgar noted it, he continued to eye the smith steadily.
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘A man should keep his word. We’ll wait.’
Ethelwald nodded. ‘In that case I’ll do what I can.’
They left him then and made their way across to the carpenter. Ceadda, too, had a task in hand but, on hearing that the newcomers required only tools and would do the work themselves, he readily agreed to let them use his premises.
‘Good. I’ll leave you men to talk, then.’ Anwyn took hold of Eyvind’s hand and then turned to go. Instead she encountered gentle resistance.
‘Mother, can I stay and watch? I won’t get in the way, I promise.’
Anwyn hesitated. Seeing it, Ina interjected. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him, my lady.’ He glanced at their visitors. ‘Make sure he comes to no harm.’
‘All right.’
Eyvind’s face lit with a smile. ‘I promise I’ll be good.’
She returned the smile and squeezed his shoulder gently. ‘See that you are.’
For a brief moment she looked over his head and her gaze met Lord Wulfgar’s. The blue eyes held a gleam of amusement.
‘We’ll all be good,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
Anwyn fought the urge to laugh. There was something about that deadpan expression which was both provoking and enigmatic. Unable to think of a suitable reply and all too conscious of that penetrating gaze, she decided that the wisest course lay in dignified retreat.
The men worked steadily, but it was a hot and arduous task. They were not at all sorry when, an hour or so later, a servant appeared with a jug of ale. Wulfgar acknowledged a moment of disappointment that Lady Anwyn had not brought it herself, but then mentally upbraided himself. Why should she? There must be a dozen tasks awaiting her attention within doors. She had kept her word and let them use the workshops; they had no further claim on her time.
The delay with the iron work was a nuisance, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. Rollo would just have to wait. If he didn’t like it, that was too bad. No doubt they’d make up for lost time with a series of successful raids later. Not that they lacked for wealth. Previous expeditions had proved lucrative enough. We could retire soon … Hermund had been right about that. Retirement from adventuring meant putting down roots again, staying in one place. Wulfgar smiled in self-mockery. It wasn’t going to happen. He was already seven and twenty, long past the time when he might have remarried. Not that he had ever felt the least inclination to do so. In any case, a mercenary’s life was not suited to such responsibilities. His choices now did not hurt innocents. The decisions he made invariably carried a degree of danger but, in the long run, they were likely to benefit his crew. They knew the risks and accepted them. Grown men were not vulnerable in the same ways as women and children, a lesson he had learned too late.
He was drawn from his thoughts by the sensation of being watched. Looking up, he met the child’s eyes. Immediately the boy looked away. Wulfgar smiled, but said nothing. Although the lad was curious, he was also shy. Nothing would be gained by trying to force his confidence. How old was he? Four? Five, perhaps? Too young to have started military training yet, at all events. If he lived so long. Life was precarious, especially for the young. Had that not been clearly demonstrated to him?
‘You’ve got a ship, haven’t you?’
As the boy’s voice recalled him, Wulfgar took a deep breath. ‘That’s right. She’s called the Sea Wolf.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘She was damaged in a storm. Her sail and rudder need mending.’
Eyvind listened attentively. ‘Is she fast?’
‘Very. A warship needs to be.’
‘Have you been in lots of battles?’
‘Quite a few.’
‘Were you scared?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Did you kill people?’
‘Aye, when they tried to kill me.’
Eyvind nodded slowly. Then he looked past Wulfgar and smiled. His companion turned and, with pleasurable surprise, saw Lady Anwyn standing there.
‘I’ve brought you more ale,’ she said, ‘and a platter of bread and meat. You must be hungry by now.’
As soon as he saw the food Wulfgar realised he was. His men must be feeling the same. ‘Thank you. It is most welcome.’
She set the platter and jug down on a bench and then held out a hand to Eyvind. ‘Come.’
He tucked his hand in hers and then looked back at his erstwhile companion. ‘Can I come and see your ship?’
‘If you wish,’ he replied. ‘But first you had better ask your mother.’
Eyvind looked up her. ‘May I? Please?’
Anwyn hesitated. These men were strangers and, though they had shown no ill intent, she did not know how far they were to be trusted.
Her anxiety did not pass unnoticed. Wulfgar met and held her gaze. ‘Perhaps you would like to come too, my lady?’ The blue gaze held a distinct gleam. ‘With as many of your escort as you wish to bring.’
Rosy warmth bloomed in her cheeks. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What don’t you know?’ he asked.
‘We’ve barely met and, well, I …’
‘You suspect I might hold the boy to ransom, or carry you off, perhaps?’ He surveyed her keenly and the gleam intensified. ‘Now that I come to think of it, the notion is most pleasing.’