The Captive - By Joanne Rock Page 0,53
refer to her? Could she carry Wulf’s child?
For a moment, she wondered if Wulf had taken her to secure her wealth and lands after all. What if he’d known that her dowry was attached to her having a son?
“These are good omens.” The wise woman straightened and gave them a toothless grin. “You will prosper well, Wulf Geirsson, but do not delay your preparations. My knees warn me our fair weather will not last beyond the sennight.”
Wulf nodded, the only hint of deference Gwendolyn had ever spied in him.
“I will tell the men of the fortuitous tidings. Thank you.” He took Gwendolyn’s arm as if to usher her from the hazy, sweet-smelling tent.
She gathered her breath and dug in her heels. “You cannot mean to implement—”
“Not here,” he warned, his low voice rumbling like thunder in the distance. “Come.”
She wanted to call the old woman a trickster and a teller of falsehoods, but the crone had returned her attention to chanting a foreign song and collecting the bones. And hadn’t Gwendolyn told herself she would wait to speak to Wulf privately? She just hadn’t expected a visit to the tribal sage could possibly turn into a war council with her homeland as the target. Had she understood the wisewoman’s words correctly when she told Wulf to take her wealth and lands?
Clenching her teeth together with an effort, Gwendolyn maintained her silence as she followed Wulf out of the tent. He did not lead her back to his quarters, but toward the edge of the woods nearby.
“Gather the men,” he called over his shoulder to Erik while leading Gwen away from the encampment. “I will address them shortly.”
Stunned into silence, Gwen could hardly find her voice. And when she did, she scarcely knew where to begin addressing the problem.
“You cannot seriously determine battle strategy within a soothsayer’s hut.” Fear for her birthplace and the people who lived there made her heart race at a frantic pace. “Do you truly mean to wrest my lands and wealth from Alchere? From the king himself? Believe me, Alchere does not oversee all that belongs to my firstborn—”
She tripped on a tree root and he righted her. Unconcerned for her throbbing toe, she clutched his tunic to draw his attention, desperate for some reassurance that he did not mean to wage open war on her homeland. For all that she despised Alchere and always had, she did not want to bring that kind of destruction to the people she’d lived with for many moons.
Wulf’s stony expression looked like a man ready for battle, but perhaps seeing her distress, he softened his tone. “Gwendolyn, your overlord sold you off to a man who hurt you and he would do it again without blinking. Do you believe your father’s lands are in good hands with him?”
Her overlord had kept her all but imprisoned, guarding her like a fire-breathing dragon guarded gold.
“But what of your rule?” She could not believe she even considered it as a possibility. “You would unleash the furor of the Danes on innocents who never asked to serve Alchere? And why would you follow the advice of a wise woman who has never lifted a sword?”
Nearby in the village, Gwen could see people filling the main street through the huts as they made their way toward the shore where most of the warriors already gathered. A hum of excitement filled the air for these vagabond Danes, while Gwendolyn felt naught but despair.
Wulf frowned. “The wise woman speaks for our ancestors in Valhalla. She does not tell me what to do, but relays the guidance of my fathers. It is always up to the leader to decide how to use their wisdom.”
“But you have already decided.” Gwendolyn’s heart cracked at the thought of him taking over her keep and bringing many wives to fill the halls with blue-eyed children.
“I need a base to battle Harold and this will be it.” He kissed the top of her head, but it felt like an afterthought while his thoughts raced ahead to raiding and conquering.
But hadn’t she known all along that was the way of the Danes? Tears burned the corners of her eyes, but she would not be foolish enough to let him see. She hadn’t followed her head in caring about Wulf, but had trusted the misleading pleasure he had shown her.
Indignation and hurt washed through her, drawing her down into misery like a rogue wave.
“That is all that concerns you, isn’t it? Battle strategy and