Viking Love Beyond Time (Time Travel Romance) (45 page)

             
A smiled played across the Norseman’s lips and quickly he donned his helmet.  He turned and nodded to two of his men who pounced on the shivering cleric and dragging him to his feet, pulled him toward Herger.

             
For a few seconds the Viking said nothing, then at length he broke silence and said, quite kindly “Tell me, my lord bishop, in what direction did the king and his court go when they fled this hall?”

             
The man gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing about under its folds of flesh.  “I - I to the east” he stuttered, averting his eyes from those of his captor which were gleaming disconcertingly through the slits in his helmet.

             
Herger slowly drew a huge knife from his belt and seeing a piece of blue silk on the floor by the fire pit signalled to one of his men to bring it to him.  Taking it he threw it up into the air and, as it fluttered down, the Norseman raised the knife, almost lazily, the piece of silk fell across it and sliced neatly into two halves.  The bishop coughed, nervously.

             
“What do you think of my blade, my lord?”

             
Herger could see sweat beginning to form round the edges of the bishop’s tonsure.  “It - it is a worthy one - er I do not know your name”

             
“Herger!” hissed the Viking.  The bishop swallowed again.  This must be the Herger of fearsome reputation who had married Alodie against her will, the possessor of the ravaged face and the man who was feared throughout Christendom as being the most cruel and bloodthirsty pirate who had ever lived.  “Forgive me  my lord for tiring you but are you familiar with our language?” he continued.  The bishop shook his head.  “Well, well, do you not think that is remiss of you considering there are so many pagan heathens across the
North Sea
waiting to be converted to your little god?  I thought the whole idea of Christianity was to convert the whole world; they would listen more closely to a missionary who spoke their tongue”

             
The fat cleric stammered and wrung his hands, to the general amusement of the assembled throng.  Herger smiled, enigmatically, then looked down at the piece of silk.  There was something bothering him about it, a faint echo of a perfume which plucked at his memory.  He reached over to where one of the severed halves lay on the table and lifting his visor slightly drew it to his nose and breathed in.  He was immediately taken back to a hot August afternoon almost two years ago and was looking down into the impossibly blue eyes of the only woman he could ever love, burying his nose in her thick gold tresses and inhaling the same scent, honeysuckle, he draped it across his fingers and stroked it, then looked up at the bishop, “This veil Priest - to whom did it belong?”

             
The man was startled at the sudden change of question.  “I - I am not sure, one of the ladies?”

             
Herger leaned so close to the bishop that he could smell the wine on his breath.  “My lord, my men and I are quite aware that the whole of the Wessex court is peopled by
ragr
men but I don’t think that even they would dress in silken veils, obviously one of the ladies Wulfric, I ask you again, which one?”

             
The bishop spluttered, how did this heathen know his name?  “Milady Alodie, I - I believe” he eventually muttered.  There was a collective murmur as the warriors realised the line of their leader’s questioning.

             
“This veil” continued the Viking “do
Wessex
ladies always wear such rich head coverings?”

             
The bishop sighed.  “No, this was a special occasion, it was her wedding veil.  I was supposed to be marrying her to Edric of Lamporth”

             
“Did you do so?” asked Herger in a quiet, deadly voice.

             
The bishop looked up and shook his head.  “No the heath - er your forces attacked in the middle of the service.  I did not have chance to say the words”

             
“Did she flee with the king and his court?  Is she safe?”  The bishop nodded.  “I repeat, which direction did they take?  Where are they going?  And before you once again say ‘east’ which would take them only into
Mercia
and the arms of our forces.............” he brandished the knife under the churchman’s nose. “I asked if you were familiar with my language - have you heard of the phrase
‘at rista bloorn?’
”  The bishop shook his head.  “Well, how about
‘blood eagle?’
” The bishop blanched, his already grey face going a shade lighter.

             
Herger smiled and examined the tip of his knife then looked up again at the terrified cleric.  “Ah I see, now we have an understanding, you have obviously heard of it.  However, I will describe it for you in case you are unsure of the details - the specifics.  I take this knife,  my skinning knife, and thrust it through your back, then I slice from backbone to arse and rip out the lungs - Guthrum here did it to Edmund of Mercia.  He’s very good at it as, my lord, am I.  The fun is this you see, the lads make bets on how many breaths can be taken before the lungs fill with air for the last time.  How many did Edmund take, Guthrum?”

             
“Fifteen, I think Raven” replied Guthrum.

             
“Fifteen, Wulfric, my record is twenty four, now tell me my lord, which direction did they take?”

             
“South west” said the bishop without any hesitation. “They are heading towards
Devon
”

             
The Viking smiled.  “Release him” he said “I have no quarrel with scared old men”.  With a mutter of disappointment the warriors let go of Wulfric’s arms and he sank to the floor.   Herger helped him up.  “Peace Wulfric, you may go” he said.  The old man climbed unsteadily onto his feet and, without looking back, left the hall almost at a run.  Herger turned to the assembled warriors.  “Well, now we know where they are heading, they cannot have more than an hour’s start on us.  Are you ready to go after them?”  The chorus of ‘ayes’ almost shook the rafters.

             
Taking a chicken breast and a hunk of bread he walked slowly outside.  He wanted to talk further to the bishop, there was something he needed to know.

             
The night air was cold but refreshing after the heat of the hall and the Viking took several deep lungfuls.

             
He looked round, the old man could not have gone far, sure enough there he was, hurrying across the square.  Herger ran after him and catching him up put a hand on his shoulder.  The man stiffened and stopped.  “Have mercy Viking” he whispered “I have naught of interest to you”

             
“You do, old man, information about my wife”

             
The bishop sighed.  “I have told you all I know, I did not bind them with the stole, they are not married, whether or not they get a priest to do it later, who is to say?”

             
The Norseman took a deep breath.  “Was it a love match Bishop Wulfric - does she love this Edric?”

             
Wulfric shrugged.  “To tell the truth young man, I do not know, she is fond of him but she is a strange one.  As beautiful and cool as the north wind, she lets naught of her feelings show, but Edric is a good man and he worships her, I have never seen a man so in love with a maid in all my years.”

             
Herger gripped the hit of his sword, his knuckles showing white in the moonlight.  “Yes you have old man, I crossed the
North Sea
in winter for her, I would go to the ends of the Earth for her”

             
The bishop spluttered.  “You?  Why - you hardly know the girl, you captured her and married her, never having so much as spoke two words to her.  She escaped you before ever she could be anything to you” he cleared his throat and spat, wiping his hand across his mouth “Edric has known and loved her these two years or more.  Even when she was married to Luke Edmundson he still adored her, what is she to you but a captive and an unwilling one at that?”

             
Herger gritted his teeth.  “I have known and loved her long enough old man, she is my wife in the sight of......”

             
“Not God!” declared the bishop “you are not wedded to her in the sight   of God”

             
“I am in the sight of my gods” cut in the Viking.

             
“That will not be enough for her” replied the bishop, more sure of himself now.

             
“Well, in that case, and if that is what she wants, when I find her you will have to marry us - in the sight of God”

             
Herger removed his helmet, the moon shone full on his face, the bishop gasped and took a step back.  “Rorik!  By all that’s holy! Lord Rorik!”

             
The Norseman shook his head “No, I am Herger, my lord.  I masqueraded as Rorik to get close enough to Alodie to woo her, I had to make her love me.  I promised to come back for her in November the year before last but was in a death-sleep and did not wake until June”

             
“Why do you tell me all this, lad?” questioned the bishop in a kindly voice, then put his hand on Herger’s wrist.  “Look, you are a bloodthirsty pagan but you are obviously heart sick and feel the need to talk, come with me to my house, the wind and cold out here are raw to a man of my years”

             
The bishop huddled further into his cloak and started to walk up the street.  Against his better judgement Herger followed him, feeling, for some reason, the beginnings of a liking for this gruff old man.

             
The bishop’s lodgings were, not surprisingly, deserted,  the servants having fled, however someone had lit a cheerful fire and, with a hot poker, the bishop mulled some ale, handing a mug full to Herger.  He took a swallow, the bitter brew burning like fire deep into his guts.  Sighing, the bishop settled into a chair by the blaze.

             
The sea king stared moodily into his tankard for a few minutes whilst the bishop took the opportunity of studying him from under his brows.  He was an astonishingly good looking young man he decided, his long hair falling into thick dark curls on each side of his face and caught at the back with a leather strip.  He was clean shaven and his strong chin bore a slight cleft, his nose was well shaped without overpowering his face and his eyes were the deepest burning emerald green he had ever seen.  For the rest, his cheekbones were high and well defined and his forehead broad.  He had to admit that together Herger and Alodie would make just about the most handsome couple in the land and he felt in his heart that the lad did love Alodie, deeply.  “Do you want to talk?” asked the bishop, quietly.

             
The Viking nodded, “Yes, although I have no idea why, to you, a stranger”

             
The bishop smiled and put down his tankard “that is exactly why you do want to talk to me, I
am
a stranger, you could not admit to your comrades the depth of your love for the lady, they would scorn you and you would feel unmanned, yet you do love her, don’t you?”

             
Herger looked up and slammed the tankard onto the table, the bishop jumped.  “I have never been a lovelorn swain Wulfric” snapped the Viking “I have  bedded women from
Constantinople
to
Iceland
but I have never met a woman I would have married” Picking up the tankard he drained the contents, the logs on the fire hissed and popped. “I saw Alodie for the first time as she was being auctioned” he continued “she was naked, in front of hundreds of leering men and being sold to the highest bidder, yet she was not afraid, she looked on those men, any of whom could have torn her to pieces, with disdain and loathing, as if to say
‘do your worst, I will not flinch’
and I loved her from that moment.  I knew then that I could have none other for my wife and I bought her, paid a fortune for her and lost her that night.  She never saw me unhelmeted and after Guthrum, for a sick jest, told her I was a deformed monster, she ran in fear.  I knew when I saw her that we were destined for one another and no one else would ever do for either of us.  Our lives are entwined Wulfric, when I think of her I feel a burning in the pit of my belly and I cannot concentrate on anything” he clenched his great fist and hung his head “the thought of another man enjoying her - it kills me” he continued quietly.

             
Wulfric looked at this man, this leader of the enemy of his people, this murderer who, by his own admission, had carried out a terrible torture on another human being, and felt sorry for him.  He reached out tentatively, and put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.  “Peace, Herger, peace, I believe you do love her.  I do not think you would ever harm her”

             
The Viking’s head shot up.  “Harm her!  I would sooner slash my own throat!  She is my life!”