Summer Of The Viking. Michelle Styles

      ‘He requires more liquid. Small beer might be best,’ she said instead. ‘He has had too much salt water. You saw how the fisherman’s youngest recovered once he had small beer last March. It will be easier to fetch some when we are at Gode’s.’

      ‘Where do you think he is from? I’d never heard of the place he said. Raume, was that what he said? Is it north or south of here?’

      ‘Does it truly matter? Right now he is alive.’

      ‘What if he were an exiled prince?’ The girl gave a little shiver. ‘Or a Northman? Do Northmen come from every country to the north or from just one country? What if they were not all like the monsters who attacked Lindisfarne?’

      There were times when Merri’s questions made Alwynn’s head spin. What did she know about the politics? Or where countries were? Or how people behaved? All she knew was that Northmen were monsters who had no respect for anything or anyone.

      ‘He is a stranger, that’s all I know. His accent is unlike any I’ve heard before but he can speak our language. Goodness knows where Raumerike is. Somewhere.’ Alwynn adjusted her hold on the man’s waist. ‘Once we know who he is in truth, then we can decide what to do. But first we save his life.’

      She gazed back at the beach where she’d found him. The morning sun sparkled on the waves. Nothing to show the power of last night’s storm beyond the debris which littered the high-tide mark.

      She couldn’t abandon the man, but she wished she knew where Raumerike was. She’d have to wait until the priest in the next parish returned. He knew things like that. And the question would have to be asked carefully. The last thing she wanted was for Lord Edwin to start wondering why she wanted to know.

      His accent was very strange and she had never seen the markings on his clothes before. True, the garments were fine, far finer than any around here, but the gold embroidery was different.

      There were many countries besides Northumbria. She used to ask about going on pilgrimage and seeing other places, but Theodbald had always refused. He had visited the Franks before his first marriage and after that had seen no reason to go anywhere. So she’d remained by his side, managing the garden and being blissfully ignorant about his mismanagement of the estate.

      There was something about the storm-tossed man’s gaze which reassured her that he had no intention of harming them. But whatever the risk, she had to take it. Leaving someone to die on this beach made every fibre in her body revolt, no matter what Lord Edwin had ordered.

      Time to stop obeying people blindly and take charge of her life.

      She’d made that vow on the day she discovered her late husband’s debts and she intended to keep it. This was the first test of her resolve. She no longer blindly followed the rules.

      ‘Here you were saying how strong you were,’ she said briskly. ‘You wanted to take over the feeding of Purebright. Are you saying you aren’t strong enough to manage the pony now?’

      ‘If I don’t complain, does that mean...?’ Merri’s eyes gleamed.

      Alwynn shook her head slightly. Only Merri could think looking after that cantankerous pony was a privilege, rather than a chore. Merri was ready for added responsibility. She’d shown that over the past few turbulent months. ‘I was going to tell you when we arrived home after collecting the sea coal. But, yes, provided you help me now, you may look after Purebright.’

      The man mumbled something incoherent, plucking at her sleeve. Alwynn cocked her head to one side, listening.

      The sound of rough voices travelled on the wind.

      ‘Shall we move forward? One step at a time? We are nearly in the tussocks of grass. We can stop there and rest out of sight. Wait until everyone has gone.’

      Merri squared her too-thin shoulders. ‘I believe I can make that. Purebright would want me to.’

      They reached the cover of the grass-topped dunes just as several people arrived at the beach. They were armed with a variety of cudgels, sticks and a pitchfork as well as baskets for gathering sea coal.

      Alwynn’s heart knocked against her chest. It pained her that this place had come to this. Before the Northmen attacked Lindisfarne, they had welcomed seafarers and looked after anyone who might be stranded. Not now. They had lost too much.

      The men started laughing and joking about the dead and what treasure they might find on the beach. Silently Alwynn wished them to hell along with the Northmen who had caused this change. Her Northumbria was hospitable rather than murderous.

      ‘Alwynn?’ Merri whispered. ‘This feels wrong. We are going to get in trouble. Big trouble. Can we go?’

      ‘Keep down, Merri. Keep quiet.’ Alwynn forced Merri’s head down lower and put her hand over the girl’s mouth.

      ‘Should we get help?’ Merri whispered against the barrier. ‘Maybe I could get Oswy. He has a strong back from lifting grain sacks.’

      Alwynn put her fingers to her lips and shook her head. Merri’s off-and-on friendship with the miller’s son was going to have to end soon. ‘We shall manage, you and I. In a little while. Right now, he must rest. Understand?’

      Merri gave a slight nod and Alwynn removed her hand.

      ‘And once we start again?’ Merri asked in an urgent whisper. ‘Carrying him all the way to the hall will be impossible.’

      ‘As I said, we’re going to Gode’s. That isn’t far. Think about Purebright and how much he loves your grooming. That fat pony has a lot to answer for. I should have kept a carthorse.’

      ‘But...’ Merri’s forehead wrinkled. ‘Father always said...’

      ‘The area around here was very different when your father was in charge.’

      ‘I suppose so.’

      ‘We’re doing nothing wrong.’ Alwynn made a fist. ‘Finders of flotsam on the beach have the first say as to the disposal. Custom from a time beyond our minds. And he did wash up on the beach, our beach. You remember what your father used to say. The beach has always belonged to your family.’

      Merri nodded, accepting her word.

      ‘And the mint tea?’ Merri’s brow knitted. ‘Does he need more? Can we get it without...?’

      ‘When we can...’ Alwynn gauged the distance from where they lay to the small stream. The lack of cover was too great to risk any movement. ‘It will not take them long to strip the beach of anything valuable. Once they have what they want, they will go. Your warrior will survive until then.’

      Merri’s eyes widened. ‘My warrior?’

      ‘You were the one who saw him first.’

      Alwynn refused to think about the warrior’s eyes and how they had held her. That connection to him she’d felt deep within her gut was nothing. She could not afford to be attracted to any man. And yet... She shook her head. Truly she was becoming worse than Merri for wool-gathering.

      ‘But...but...but...’

      ‘He can hardly be mine. Your father has not been dead that long. We shouldn’t have come in any case. Collecting sea coal was a poor idea.’

      Merri curled her fingers about Alwynn’s. ‘I don’t blame you. I thought it exciting.’

      She snuggled up next to Alwynn and lay very still.

      Alwynn lay listening to the man’s steady breathing and the banter between the reeve’s men who seemed to stay at the other end of the beach. Apparently they’d found nothing of interest.

      ‘Almost gone,’ she muttered.

      ‘Oh, no,’ Merri cried and darted forward.

      ‘Merri, where are you going?’

      Merri grabbed the