Page 52

“Athelney,” she repeated, as though attempting to straighten her thoughts.

“Aye. It is a day’s ride south of Trowbridge.” He hesitated. “It’s an island of sorts, although it is best that no one else knows that.”

She nodded, and he knew she understood.

“Are you recovered enough that you can find your way home from here?” He caught the quiver of her lips that spoke of lingering fears and desperately wished he did not have to ask this of her. “It is best that you not be seen with me—for your sake more than mine—but be assured that I will be within earshot every step of the way.”

She mustered a small smile. “Then I shall manage.”

His heart swelled at her obvious bravery. “I shall wait only until you have reached the corner of the lane,” he said, “and then I shall follow.”

She squeezed past him to stand in the center of the arched entrance. After looking left and right and determining that the lane was empty, she turned back to him. “Godspeed, Brecc. My prayers go with you.” And before he had a chance to respond, she was walking briskly away from the town square.

Aisley tucked her trembling hands beneath her cloak and slowly approached the entrance to the alley. If she took this path, she could circumvent the marketplace and reach the road that led to her family’s longhouse without returning to the center of town. The alley was her most direct route, but it was also long, narrow, and poorly lit.

She reached the turnoff and stopped. Up ahead, a woman stepped out of a house with a basket in hand. Aisley watched as she started down the lane toward the market. Aisley wanted to call her back, to tell her that it wasn’t safe. But in all likelihood, it was. Brecc had told her the Vikings were gone. At least, for now.

Brecc. Her heart ached from the sweetness of his kiss and the agony of walking away from him. In his arms, the terror of Rangvald’s chase had temporarily subsided, and she’d known true joy. That moment together, though painfully brief, had been real. And now, as she faced the shadowy alley and her fear came creeping back, she clung to the memory.

Turning to look over her shoulder, she scanned the lane. The arched entrance was no longer in view. Two children were chasing a dog the way she had come, and from somewhere nearby, a man whistled a tuneful song. A door closed, and a bird sitting on a rooftop took to the sky. Otherwise, the road was empty. There was no sign of Brecc. And yet, somehow, she knew he was there. Like the whisper of a summer breeze, she could feel his presence—comforting, steadying, and encouraging.

Summoning what little courage remained to her, she turned the corner and instantly felt the increased chill. The overhanging roofs on either side of the alley almost touched, blocking most of the sunlight and warmth of the day. Pulling her cloak around her, she picked up her pace. Refuse filled the center of the alley, its malodor trapped by the tightly packed buildings. Keeping to the left, Aisley lifted a corner of her cloak so as to breathe through the wool garment. It helped, but only moderately.

She pressed on. Up ahead, a door opened, and suddenly, a man appeared, standing directly in her path. He was tall and broad shouldered, but in the weak light, she could not make out his features. A small cry escaped her, and she stumbled to a halt.

“Brecc,” she whispered, her eyes not leaving the shadowy form before her.

He was close. She knew he would not break his promise.

“Begin’ yer pardon, mistress.” The man lifted his hat in greeting. “Didn’t mean t’ startle ya. Didn’t see ya there.”

Aisley’s pounding heart slowed a fraction. He was a local. Mayhap someone she would have recognized in better lighting. “Forgive me,” she said. “I was in too great a hurry.”

“Don’ blame ya,” he said. “Best t’ spend as little time as possible in this stinkin’ alley, I say.” He tugged on his hat once more. “Good day t’ ya.”

“G-Good day.”

He stepped around her and hastened away. Aisley set her cloak across her mouth and nose more firmly and continued on her path. After three more turns onto different, equally unpleasant alleys, a gradual increase of light and the distant sounds of voices and hooves announced an end to the labyrinth. Slowing her feet, Aisley approached the alley’s exit cautiously. She lowered the cloak from over her face and studied her surroundings. Her circuitous path through town had led her to a spot farther along the main thoroughfare than she usually traveled, but it was reassuringly familiar. Grassy verges lined the rutted dirt road, and townspeople—some on foot and others on horseback—were traveling the lane, stopping to chat, and greeting each other as if it were any other ordinary day.

“All will be well.” Aisley did not know if Brecc would hear her whispered words, but they brought her comfort. “The worst is behind me.”

“Mistress Aisley!”

Startled by the shout, Aisley glanced around. Not more than ten paces away, a boy of her same height was guiding a brown horse by a long leather strap. He raised his arm to greet her.

“Taber!” Relief lent speed to her weary legs as she hastened to join him. “What are you doing here?”

“The master’s ’orse threw a shoe when ’e was out earlier today,” he said. “I’ve just come from the smithy.”

“Then you are headed back to our stables.”

“Yes, mistress.” He looked at her, concern in his expression. “The smithy told me what ’appened today at th’ market.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “If . . . if ya’d like to walk back with me rather than by yerself, I’d be ’onored.”

Tears pricked her eyes at his thoughtfulness. “That would be most welcome.”

He gave a pleased nod, and they started forward together. After walking a short distance, Taber broke the silence between them. “I’m right glad Nyle did what ’e did, mistress. An’ so’s all th’ other people in town.”

“Is Nyle the fishmonger’s name?” she asked.