The Captive - By Joanne Rock Page 0,67

any sign that he yet lived precious beyond bearing.

For her part, Gwendolyn had rocked her small charge to sleep soon after they’d been secured inside the keep and now she handed the snoozing child back to her mother’s arms. She did not know how she would withstand the idle hours of waiting, but she prayed this battle would win Wulf peace for many years. A strong warrior deterred enemies by reputation alone and once Wulf turned back Harold, Gwendolyn could not imagine any other would dare approach this keep while he ruled.

Now, while Osbert eyed the door with a watchful intensity that would freeze any intruders in their tracks, Margery rose from her place along the far wall to offer one of the other guards a drink from the well that ran beneath the structure. Between the fresh water supply and the permanent food stores maintained here, people could take shelter in the keep for weeks if necessary. The thought of being shut in for so long made her shudder.

It was while Margery flirted with the guard and made a show of giving him some water that the bar on the entrance shifted. Could it be news from the battle?

“Open up, Osbert.” A muffled voice sounded through the door. “’Tis Erik. Wulf wants me to assist you.”

Gwendolyn would not have heard the exchange if she had not been seated so close to the guard—just where Wulf had put her. She thought Erik’s request strange, but then the battle sounded worse—and closer—than what she’d imagined. Perhaps it did not go well for Wulf’s men.

“You guard the door from without. I will remain within,” Osbert said reasonably, his brow thick with sweat though he had done no more than safeguard the door these last hours.

In the meantime, Margery wove her way through the crowded keep to offer another drink to a second man-at-arms. Did the woman have to throw herself at every male old enough to wield a sword?

“Treachery is afoot,” Erik shouted from the other side of the door. “Wulf would have me guard his lady.”

The claim must have sounded as plausible to Osbert as it did to Gwendolyn, for he reached to open the door with one hand while waving forward his men with the other as back-up.

Two of them did not respond with any speed, their steps slow and unsteady as if they’d spent the day swilling strong mead. It was the same two men for whom Margery had just fetched water. Could the drink have been tainted?

Or could Margery have tampered with it?

Treachery is afoot.

But by the time Gwendolyn shouted a warning to Osbert, it was too late. He’d unlatched the door.

Snarling Saxon raiders poured into the stronghold with swords drawn and helms masking their features. Erik was nowhere in sight. Osbert fought valiantly, yet fell quickly, as did the only other guard still standing. The befuddled two who’d consumed something tainted did not even have their swords drawn when they were cut down.

Beside her, the baker’s wife screamed and clung to her leg. The invaders did not hurt the women, they merely stood guard over them the way the Danes had mere moments ago. All except the man that faced her.

As he tugged off the helm with an ugly boar’s head draped over top of it, Gwendolyn glimpsed a face even more awful.

Godric, her dead husband’s brother, had come to claim her.

16

CAPTIVITY WITH GODRIC bore no resemblance to Gwendolyn’s abduction by Wulf.

In her mind, Gwen relived those happier days in the woods with Wulf while Godric and his men bound her hands and hobbled her feet before leading her out of the central keep. The rough rope shredded her skin as they yanked it tight. A coarse wool cloth stank of sweat when they gagged her. Stomach roiling in protest as she stumbled down a step, she tried to hear the sounds of the nearby battle for some hint of how Wulf fared. Did he win the day? Would he notice her missing soon, or would he be too engrossed in the fighting to discover she’d been taken?

Her scalp stung where one of Godric’s men had yanked out a bit of hair while tying her gag. She guessed she had been taken from the inner keep into the small, rear courtyard, but she’d been blindfolded so she could not be sure. The usual landmarks around the keep were hidden behind catapults and extra horses. Everything felt different around her home since the Danes arrived.

Since Wulf brought her