Reckless (Age of Conquest #5) - Tamara Leigh Page 0,42

had in the alley. Learning nearer, she rasped, “Not much longer, Defender of England. Soon the Danes go elsewhere.”

He lifted his lids halfway, looked from her to Vitalis, then jerked his chin in assent.

Though Vitalis eased his grip on Zedekiah’s mouth, he left his hand there.

The voices grew louder before they began to fade. Either the Danes believed there was no more to the finger they had explored, else they feared there was too much which could see them lost. Regardless, it could be hours before it was halfway safe for Vitalis to return the boat to the main waterway, and then it would be nearly nightfall.

Though he had negotiated the river last eve beneath moonlight, it would be more dangerous as they drew nearer Peterborough, especially if the Danes did not turn back to Ely. Hence, they must sleep here and depart at first light.

Vitalis resented the delay, but hopefully it would provide Zedekiah more time to heal before he must get astride—were that even possible.

As the Danes’ voices grew more distant, Zedekiah remained conscious and mostly quiet, occasionally emptying a groan in Vitalis’s hand as Nicola continued to whisper assurances.

When Vitalis removed his hand and eased onto his haunches, deeply Zedekiah drew air and grimaced. “How, is it I…live?”

“That is a question you must put to God, my friend. When all believed you dead, He kept you alive so I could get you to the boat. When I needed to put out upon the water, He provided Lady Nicola the courage to tend your injuries. Now the Danes give chase, He turns them aside though they had only to venture a short distance farther to discover us.”

Zedekiah looked to Nicola. “You found the boat.”

Though she had wiped the blood from beneath her nose, some remained visible. “Your directions were faultless.”

His tongue clicked off his palate. “My sword arm? My legs?”

“Providing infection does not set in, methinks you will walk and swing a blade again.”

He looked sidelong at Vitalis. “The lady lies, eh?”

That or she underestimated the extent of Zedekiah’s injuries, Vitalis thought, but he shook his head. “She is no physician, but I believe she is right.”

“Now you lie.” Zedekiah lowered his lids. “Do I not wake again, finish this, my lord. Return her to Lady Hawisa.” He reached from beneath the blanket and turned a hand around Vitalis’s arm.

It was no warrior’s grip. So weak was it, the anger Vitalis contained rammed his ribs.

“She is not…” Zedekiah’s hand fell back to his side. “…to blame.”

Vitalis eased out breath. Though peripherally he saw Nicola settle against the opposite bench, he could not look at her—dare not until he gained control of emotions seeking to crack his breastbone.

Prayer, he silently commanded. Even if you are not heard, go there and remain until you can look at her and grant Zedekiah what must not be his final request.

It was not his final request, though it was hours before he made another when dusk moved toward night.

As they had remained on this finger, it was easy to accommodate him, Nicola wetting his mouth with drink and salving his wounds.

Hope in that, especially since Zedekiah breathes easier, Vitalis told himself. Still, he refused to make much of that hope, the years since the conquering having taught him how sharp the ache of embracing the possibility of good.

When Zedekiah slept again, Vitalis wanted to thank Nicola, but the best he could do was give her his gaze when he felt hers upon him.

“Methinks he improves,” she whispered.

“You believe he will live?” he asked, accusation punctuating each word.

Her eyes wavered. “If He lives, it will not be by my hand but that of the Lord who has determined Zedekiah has more to do ere he departs England.”

Glad she did not plant her foot in the trap anger set for her, Vitalis jutted his chin at the pack near her feet. “Let us satisfy hunger and thirst, then we sleep in preparation for continuing upstream ere dawn.”

Chapter Ten

Come, Vitalis,” growled Daryl, once of the Saxons, now of the Normans. “Come, Zedekiah.” He shifted his gaze from the water across which sunlight carved a path to the thatch hut and its stable near the river. “Do I not soon feed this vengeance, it will eat me.”

That it had nearly done last eve when several of the men he commanded abandoned him for the pleasures of drink and women in the nearby village. But that was only the latest indignity suffered these weeks since the Danes sought