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“I am grateful for your desire to protect me,” she said. “And you are correct, I have no place on the battlefield. But that was never my intention. I simply wish to travel with the company so that I may be close enough to care for the wounded.” She pressed her hand to her satchel. “I have been collecting supplies. I could remain at the closest village or in a nearby woodland. All it would take would be a few strong men willing to carry the injured to me.” She clasped her hands. “Please, Brecc. I wish to have King Alfred restored to his throne as badly as every thegn on this island. And I know it can be done only through a great battle, but I weep at the thought of how many will be left widowed and fatherless when it is all behind us. If I can help but one man return to his home who would not have done so otherwise, it is worth my joining you.”

“She does have a point,” Rheged said.

Aisley started. She had all but forgotten Rheged’s presence, but now she looked to him for support. “It could be done, could it not?”

He glanced at Brecc’s stony face, and his assurance dimmed. “It is possible. In a loosely possible way.”

“Of course it could!” Aisley cried. In desperation, she took Brecc’s hand and gripped it tightly. “I could not live with myself if you or Rheged or . . . or the king himself were to die from a wound that I could have treated.”

“In truth,” Rheged said. “I’d rather not have that happen also.”

“Would you refrain from opening your mouth again,” Brecc growled.

“I could. And I will. As soon as you are willing to look past your overarching fear for Aisley’s safety and recognize the immense gift she is offering to every Saxon willing to fight for the king.”

Brecc offered him an incredulous look, but Rheged responded with a stubborn glare, and he did not look away until Brecc released a heartfelt groan and pulled Aisley back into his arms. “You must give me your word that you will stay away from the battlefield. Nothing—not even word that I am injured—is to take you there.”

“Brecc, I cannot—”

He placed his finger over her lips. “Not even that, Aisley. As much as you cannot countenance the unnecessary death of wounded men on your conscience, I cannot countenance your sweet goodness forever tainted by witnessing man’s inhumanity to man on mine.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. “I give you my word. But this may be the hardest thing I have ever done—or not done.”

He offered her a grim smile. “Accepting the terrifying risk of taking you with us may also be mine.”

She raised her hand to touch his cheek, running her finger gently across the scar that spoke of a previous hard-fought battle. There was no question, he knew of what he spoke. “Forgive me for adding to your burdens.”

He turned his head slightly to kiss the palm of her hand. “You will never be a burden. Rheged is correct; you are a gift.”

“Did you hear that?” Rheged’s face shone with mock astonishment. “He admitted that I am correct.” Brecc raised his eyes heavenward, but Rheged was undeterred. “I must take full advantage of this moment—for I know a fleeting moment is all he will offer me. So, whilst I am on this lofty pedestal, I should like to advise you both that although those in our company will know Aisley, those we shall meet along the way will not. That means there is to be none of that kissing when she is your young page, Avi.”

Brecc muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, I should dunk his head in the swamp, and Aisley bit back a smile. At some point during their long ride to Egbert’s Stone, she would thank Rheged for his assistance this morning, but for now, she would simply follow him to the returning boats.

CHAPTER 31

KING ALFRED AND HIS THEGNS sat around the campfire. All around them, the hillside was dotted with other fires, each surrounded by men who had come to join the Saxon army. Every one of the counties was represented, most by many hundreds of men. Brecc felt a surge of gratitude for their loyalty.

The journey from Athelney had been long, but the closer they’d come to Egbert’s Stone, the busier the roads had become. Men of every walk of life had answered the monarch’s call, and when they’d recognized him, they’d cheered as though they’d come to attend a carnival rather than fight to the death. But there was no question that they knew it now. As darkness had descended and the campfires had been lit, a somber camaraderie had fallen upon the gathering of almost five thousand. Voices carried on the light breeze. They were unusually subdued.

At this campfire, King Alfred was listening to reports from the thegns who had wandered the hillside, discovering the origin of each fyrd, assessing the weaponry they’d brought with them, determining the caliber of the local leadership.

“Nyle, the fishmonger, is here,” Rheged said. He was seated to the right of Brecc, with Aisley in between them. “The fyrd from Wiltshire is large and strong.”

Under the cover of darkness, Brecc reached for Aisley’s hand. It was cold, but the moment he touched it, her fingers curled around his. She had to be exhausted, but she’d not offered a single complaint since she’d stepped onto the punt early this morning. She’d ridden beside him the entire journey, keeping her hood up and her head lowered whenever they’d encountered others on the road. Her hood had remained up since they’d arrived at camp. There were too many men wandering the area, and as Rheged had just reported, many of them were from Wiltshire.

Brecc squeezed her hand gently, knowing how pleased she would be by Rheged’s report.

“How many of them are seasoned warriors?” the king asked.

“Not so many as we would like, to be sure,” Rheged replied, “but what they lack in experience, they make up for in passion. The young men of Wiltshire are here to win back their king’s crown.”

The king’s smile was fleeting. “We shall need that kind of determination if we are to win. I shall make a point to visit the men of the Wiltshire fyrd before we go to battle.” He turned to Bertwin. “What of the Dorset fyrd?”

Bertwin began to reply, and Brecc felt Aisley shift a little nearer.

“Do we know where the battle will take place yet?” she whispered.

“Not to my knowledge.” Brecc kept his voice low so as not to interrupt the conversation going on on the other side of the campfire. “By now, our element of surprise is over. It is impossible for this number of men to gather from every corner of Wessex without drawing the attention of Guthrum’s spies. On the morrow, we will likely hear that the Vikings are on the move. The king plans to continue north toward Guthrum’s stronghold in Chippenham, but if Guthrum comes to meet him, the battle could occur anywhere along our route.”