His Captive Lady Read Free Page A

drew in a deep breath. Loyal her father's housecarls might be, but that would not put an end to their dissent. She was, after all, a woman, and some of them had difficulty taking orders, even from her. And in the matter of the bloodfeud they were stubborn as mules.
    'I am sorry, Ailric.' Erica made her voice hard, trying for that tone that her father had used when he would brook no contradiction. 'But I disagree most strongly. What can we few do from here?' A wave of her hand encompassed not only her personal guard, but also the cruck-framed cottage, pitifully small and stark compared to the luxuries of Whitecliffe Hall. 'On our own we are as nothing, we are but a candle in the wind, we need allies.'
    Scowling, Ailric hooked his thumbs round his swordbelt and tossed his blond head; Hereward shifted on his bench and opened his mouth. Erica silenced them with a look.
    'We are nothing,' she repeated, frowning through the smoke. 'Think, all of you. Here we have, what, a couple of warriors young enough to be worthy of the name? Hereward, Ailric, yes, you I count as warriors.' She softened her voice before directing her gaze at two of the older faces round the fire. Men with greying hair and scarred, weather-beaten faces, men in their late forties, men who were weak with old age and infirmity. 'But it is time to face reality. Morcar, Siward, you are fine warriors, both of you, but age is no longer on your side. Luck was with you at Hastings, and you know it.'
    Siward's grizzled head shook as Erica had known it would. But Morcar simply stroked his beard and lowered his eyes to the leaping flames, misery in his every line. Erica had also noticed the difficulty Morcar had had hoisting himself in and out of the boat as he patrolled the waterways.
    'These marshes are not good for a man with stiffness in his joints,' she murmured.
    Morcar coloured and muttered into his beard, and that told Erica all she needed to know. Morcar had had enough. Time was when Morcar would have leaped to his feet to deny the slightest weakness, but now, in this bitter fenland winter, he sat by the fire like an old man, muttering about the damp getting into his bones, trying not to cough. At night, they listened to him wheezing in his sleep. Morcar was an old man, she realised with a jolt. And if she did not try to protect him, Erica did not know who would.
    'If we are to mount a decent campaign against those who took King Harold's throne, we must link up with our warriors and join forces with other Saxons. If we do not...' Erica lifted her shoulders. She did not have to finish the sentence, every man around this fire understood what she was saying. They needed allies, if they were to stand a chance of success. But Erica realised it was worse than that, they needed allies, if they were to survive .
    Ailric nodded tersely at Hereward, who jumped to his feet. 'Lady Erica,' Hereward said, dignifying her with the title that was her due as the only child of a thane. 'Lady Erica, none of us would argue with your plan to join forces with others against the Norman bastard. But Guthlac ...' Hereward's face distorted and he spat, most eloquently, into the fire before thumping back onto the bench. Some of the fierceness left his expression as he sent her a sad smile. 'This outlaw's life is not for women, my lady. It has addled your brain.' He shook his head and his temple-braids swung with the movement as Erica struggled to muster the tart response that was necessary. Hereward's lip curled. 'Treat with Guthlac ? If your father had caught wind of such a suggestion, he would have had you in the stocks.'
    'On the contrary, my father would have agreed with me. Thane Eric was a warrior, but he was also a practical man. Divided, we Saxons stand little chance of overcoming the Normans. And with our warband depleted and our best warriors deep in hiding...' She shook her head. 'Hereward, we need Thane Guthlac. He is the only Saxon with a half-decent force in this area, and if he