Page 21 of Summer of the Viking

‘He heard this from Lady Merewynn?’

‘Yes. She wanted to show off Purebright.’ Oswy twisted his cap. ‘Please, my lady. If you know a warrior who might protect us, have pity and marry him. I can’t afford to lose any more grain. The bandits have attacked me three times this spring. They even threw the grinding stone into the mill race the last time.’

Alwynn firmed her mouth. She knew all about the millstone and had taken steps to deal with it. In her opinion, it had been mischief by Oswald and his friends rather than outlaws, but she had lacked proof.

‘Lady Merewynn should not be telling tales,’ she said crisply. ‘And you should not be believing them. You know what she is like.’

‘Rumour is that you refused Lord Edwin’s offer because there was someone else and that is why he married that Frankish woman. Is this the man Lady Merewynn was speaking of?’

‘The two are entirely unconnected.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose. There was little point in explaining about Edwin and his disreputable offer. He hadn’t wanted her as a wife, but as a mistress. The marriage to the Frankish noblewoman had been arranged long before he had weaselled his way into the king’s affections.

She clamped her lips together. Long experience had taught her that the gossips around here believed what they wanted, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

‘I’ve no plans to wed again. Ever.’

Oswy’s face went red. ‘You mean to go into a convent and leave us, then? Have I wasted a betrothal gift?’

‘No, not that!’ The words rang out over the garden as Alwynn spied Gode returning via the lower path. In another few heartbeats she’d be at the cottage and scream. The last thing Gode expected to see was a man in her house. She checked her impulse to run over and greet Gode. Oswy would think it strange if she abandoned him.

She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. Unless she was very careful, the whole sorry tale would come out and she would risk being branded a traitor for defying Edwin’s order. Even though she had accepted Valdar’s word that he’d had nothing to do with the Lindisfarne raid, would Edwin? Or would he covet the sword and declare that Valdar should be killed?

‘What is a stranger doing here?’ Oswy pointed behind her. ‘Who is that man? I thought you were alone here, my lady.’

Alwynn knew without turning that her luck had truly run out. She had no explanation for why Valdar might be here. She could only hope he was dressed decently. Her mind searched for an answer, but nothing came. Silently she prayed for a miracle.

‘I am the new steward.’ Valdar’s voice carried across the garden. ‘The Lady Merewynn has it wrong. There is no marriage intended between Lady Alwynn and me, simply a business arrangement...for the summer.’

Alwynn stared open-mouthed. All speech seemed to have deserted her. ‘That’s right,’ she gasped out.

Oswy gulped twice. ‘The new steward? What is he doing here, then? Why is he in the old crone’s cottage?’

Gode stopped, her face appearing as dumbstruck as Oswy’s. She tilted her head to one side, looking very like a bird waiting for a worm.

‘I was investigating the roof,’ Valdar called back. ‘There are several holes which need to be patched.’

‘The estate requires one. I have been on the lookout ever since my husband died.’ Alwynn wrapped her arms about her waist. That at least was not a lie. And would it be wrong to ask Valdar to honour his life debt in this fashion? That he become her steward in truth while he took time to recover?

She turned and saw him standing in the sunlight. He’d retrieved his washed tunic, but he hadn’t bothered with the cloak nor had he bothered with his sword, which she’d left on top of the clean clothes.

‘I’m honoured to serve such a lady.’ Valdar made a low bow. ‘I look forward to ensuring that my lady receives her full measure at the appropriate time.’

Oswy’s gaze narrowed. ‘You’re not from around here. Why did my lady hire you?’

Alwynn concentrated hard on the ground and taking slow breaths. Everything was about to come tumbling down around her ears unless she got it right.

‘Where I come from, men who withhold the full measure from widows are considered the lowest of the low. Whether it is in the matter of flour or wool.’ There was no mistaking the icy calm determination in Valdar’s voice.

She risked a glance upwards. Valdar was staring at Oswy with deadly determination while Gode watched the scene with unabashed interest.

Oswy twisted his cap as his face became flushed beetroot-red. ‘There were reasons. I...I lost it, but it has been found again. My lady understands, don’t you, my lady? The new flour was to be a betrothal gift, but you must keep it as a token of my...my goodwill.’

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