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“You have a place of refuge in mind, then?”

“I do.”

The king offered nothing more, and Brecc questioned him no further. It was enough that they could claim a direction.

Barely resisting the urge to pinch her nose, Aisley took a breath through her mouth. The smell of damp wool and sheep droppings was so strong, it was hard to think of anything else. But she must. Discovering the shepherd’s hut so soon after beginning her search for shelter had been a miracle, and although the flock of sheep filling the other side of the one-room structure were pungent companions, they also exuded warmth. A warmth they all—particularly Diera—desperately needed.

By a single candle’s light, Wulfhere stepped over something on the ground and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “By all that is holy, Aisley, I do not think you could have chosen a situation any less inviting than this one.”

Biting back her retort, Aisley turned away from him and tucked her own blanket over the two already wrapped around her sister’s shivering body. On Diera’s other side, their mother was rubbing Diera’s hands between her own.

“Take this fer the young lady in distress, mistress.” The old shepherd pulled a sheepskin off the pallet where he’d obviously been sleeping and offered it to Aisley. “There ain’t nothin’ warmer.”

“You are very kind,” she said, “but it seems wrong that after disturbing your sleep, we should now also take your bedding.”

He clucked his tongue against his almost toothless gums. “’Tis nothin’ mistress. It’s not often that I ’ave company, so I ’ave little more than a refuge from the cold to offer ya, but such as it is, yer welcome to share.”

“My mother, sister, and I are most grateful,” Aisley said. “My brother may yet choose to remain outside with the horses, but I would not have you concern yourself if he makes that decision.”

“Surely you will not do that, Wulfhere.” Their mother turned her concerned expression from Diera to Wulfhere. “It is perishing cold outside.”

Wulfhere scowled at Aisley before responding. “You have nothing to fear, Mother. As unfortunate as our current circumstances may be, I am fully aware that duty demands that I remain indoors with you.”

Their mother offered a sigh of relief. “I will feel much better if you are here.”

Aisley attempted to swallow her aversion. If her brother cared one jot about duty, he would not be with them at all. He would be at the royal estate, fighting beside the other thegns in defense of their king. Her thoughts returned to Brecc, and for the first time since fleeing Chippenham, she did not push them away. She pictured him as she’d last seen him, standing before her, his dark eyes claiming hers as he begged her to leave. A lump formed in her throat. She had fled, but what of him? Had he escaped the Viking attack, or was he lying wounded—or worse—on the floor of the great hall? She bit her lower lip, willing her tears to stay away. How long would she have to wait to learn Brecc’s fate?

He had promised he would come to Trowbridge. God willing, if Diera was sufficiently recovered, they could be on their way again by morning and would be home by day’s end. Once there, they would be obliged to wait for news. If the king had been captured or killed, word would reach them soon enough. They might not immediately learn the fate of all the thegns who had stayed to fight with the king, but until she knew differently, she would pray with all her heart that he was safe and well.

A single tear escaped. She swiped it away, grateful that the light was too poor for others to notice.

“Aisley?” Diera’s voice was so weak, it was little more than a whisper.

“Diera, can you hear me?” Their mother paused her chafing of Diera’s hands long enough to smooth her fingers over Diera’s hair instead.

“Aisley?” Diera said again.

Wulfhere had stopped his pacing and stood watching.

Aisley reached for Diera’s hand beneath the sheepskin cover. “I am here.”

“I . . .” Her brow creased as though forming the words was difficult. “I am not so terribly cold as I was.”

This time Aisley allowed the tears that had filled her eyes to fall. “That is good, Diera. That is very good.”

Diera moved her head in a slight nod. “Yes,” she murmured. “So much better.”

Aisley squeezed her hand gently and then raised her eyes to meet the shepherd’s. “We are indebted to you, shepherd. Your generosity has likely saved my sister’s life.”

The older man shifted his feet awkwardly. “The name’s Borden, mistress. An’ I’m right glad t’ be of service.” He hesitated. “I’ve a crock of milk in the corner. Won’t take me long t’ start a fire and get it heatin’ up. Warm milk works wonders, it does, when my lambs get caught out in the cold. Mayhap, the young lady would benefit from some too.”

Aisley looked to her mother, who nodded her approval. “I thank you, Borden,” she said. “Some warm milk would be most appreciated.”

Brecc pounded on the door a second time. The noise filled the silence of the dark town square, yet it appeared that it was insufficient to rouse the innkeeper.

“I fear good fortune may have truly abandoned us, Sire,” Brecc said.

“Crosdon,” the king said. “That is the appellation you must use for me until we are safely away from here. There is to be no more use of my titles or proper name.”