Summer Of The Viking. Michelle Styles

spied what appeared to be a white sandy beach and started towards it. With each kick of his legs, more about the technique of swimming came back to him.

      Some day there would be a reckoning. And Girmir would pay dearly, he silently promised. It was as good a reason to live as any.

      * * *

      Alwynn shielded her eyes against the bright sun which now sparkled on the calm blue sea and surveyed the coastline. Last night’s storm had brought in more than its fair share of seaweed, wood and sea coal. But there was little sign of bodies or wrecked ships as there had been at this time last year after St Cuthbert’s storm had saved them all from invasion.

      This time, there was plenty to be had for the scavenging instead of bodies being strewn everywhere.

      She gave a small shake of her head. She hated to think what her mother would have said about her daughter, a woman with royal Idling blood in her veins, actually scavenging bits of flotsam and jetsam up from a beach. In her mother’s world, high-born women stitched fine tapestries for the home or church and ran well-ordered estates. They most definitely did not dirty their hands with sea coal.

      Her mother had never had to survive after her husband died suddenly, leaving a mass of unpaid debts. But Alwynn had—selling off all that she could while still managing to retain the hall and some of the estate.

      ‘I do what I have to do! How can I ask others if I refuse to do it myself?’ Alwynn bent down, defiantly picked up a lump of sea coal and held it aloft before placing it in a basket.

      If the harvest proved profitable and everyone paid their rents on time, her trouble would be behind her and she could leave the sea coal to others. In due course Merri might even be able to have a decent dowry and the chance of finding a worthy husband. For herself, she simply wanted to be left in peace to cultivate her garden. She wanted the freedom to choose whom she would marry or even whether she would marry. Or if she should enter a convent or not. But for now, she needed every lump.

      ‘You see, I was right!’ Merewynn ran up and plopped a double handful of sea coal into the basket. Her blonde curls escaped from the couvre-chef that Alwynn had insisted her stepdaughter wear. Merewynn would be ten in the autumn. It was time she started to act like a young woman, instead of a wild thing who roamed the moors. ‘Lots of pickings after a summer storm. We might even find treasure and then you wouldn’t have to worry so much about the render you owe the king. It is a wonder we never came down here before. Such fun!’

      ‘Mind you keep close, Merri. And no animals rescued. Our new hall is overcrowded as it is.’

      Merewynn pulled a face. ‘If we look, I’m sure we can find a little space. A mouse wouldn’t take up much room. Or maybe a raven. I’ve always wanted a pet raven. And there is no Father Freodwald to complain about the mess now.’

      Alwynn schooled her features. Their current priest had complained a great deal and it had been a relief when he departed for another longhouse. Someone else would have to provide the large amounts of ale, sweetmeats and blazing fires to warm his bones that the priest demanded as his due. It had been a shock because the old priest had been entirely different. ‘The bishop holds him in high esteem.’

      ‘But he dislikes ravens. St Oswald’s bird. Can you believe it? He said they nip fingers and make a mess everywhere.’

      ‘Just so we are clear.’ Alwynn put her hand on her hip and gave Merri a hard stare. ‘We are here to find things to put to practical use, not more animals for your menagerie. I’ll not have more land taken from us. You need to have a decent dowry when the time comes. On my wedding day, I promised to look after you as if you were my own.’

      Merri gave a deep sigh. ‘I liked it better when you didn’t have to be practical, Stepmother. Sometimes it takes a little while before you realise you need something and then...’ She snapped her fingers. ‘A raven could be trained to send messages. If the Northmen attempt to attack, we could release it and it’d fly straight away to King Athelfred and he could pray to St Cuthbert to send another storm and...’

      ‘You are asking a lot of this unknown raven.’

      ‘Ravens are like that and I want to be prepared in case the Northmen come to murder us in our beds.’ Merri gave a mock shiver.

      ‘After last year’s storm, it will be a while before they try to attack again. They lost a number of ships and their leader. Remember what the king said.’

      ‘Or maybe we could find a falcon with a hurt wing,’ Merri continued on. ‘It could belong to an atheling who would fall instantly in love with you and we will all live happily ever after. You could even become queen.’

      ‘You listen to far too many tales, Merri. The king is my distant cousin. I wish him a long life.’

      ‘The atheling could come from another kingdom. One without a good king.’

      ‘Merri!’

      ‘Well...’ The girl gave an impudent smile. ‘It could happen.’

      Alwynn glanced down at her woollen dress. With three patches and a stained lower skirt, it had definitely seen better days. And she wasn’t going to think about Edwin’s disreputable offer to become his mistress after the king confirmed him as the new overlord in this area. He was from the same sort of mould as her late husband—more interested in his advancement than the welfare of others. She shuddered to think that as a girl she’d begged her father to allow her to marry Theodbald. He’d seemed so kind and handsome with his little daughter cradled in his arms.

      ‘What do I have to offer anyone, let alone a king-in-waiting?’

      ‘You have dark hair and eyes like spring grass. And you are intelligent. You know lots about herbs and healing and your voice sounds like an angel when you sing. Why don’t you sing now, Stepmother?’

      ‘A prince needs more than a pretty face for a wife. Athelings need wives who can play politics and bring them the throne. I’d rather be in my garden than at court.’ Alwynn pointedly ignored the question about singing. Ever since she had discovered her late husband Theodbald’s treachery, she’d taken no pleasure in music. Her voice tightened every time she tried. Of all the things she’d lost, that one hurt the most.

      Merri balled her fists. ‘Sometimes you have to believe in better days. You told me that. After my father died and all went wrong. And I do believe. One day, everything will come right for the both of us.’

      Alwynn forced her lips to turn up. Perhaps Merri was right. Perhaps she had been far too serious for the past few months, but it was hard to be joyful when you had lost nearly everything. It had begun with Theodbald’s death from a hunting accident. He’d been drunk and had ended up being gored by a wild boar. There had been nothing she or any monk could do to save him. It was then that the true extent of the debts were revealed and she’d had to take charge. ‘Your father’s death...altered things.’

      The girl gave a solemn nod, her golden curls bobbing in the sunshine. ‘I know. But there are times that I wish we still lived in the great hall with a stable full of horses.’

      ‘There is nothing wrong with our new hall. It is where my grandmother grew up and it does have things to recommend it. A large herb garden.’

      Merri wrinkled her nose. ‘If you like plants...’

      ‘We have no need of princes. I will be able to hold this hall.’

      ‘I know my real mother watches over us from heaven, but my father?’ Merri asked in a low voice. ‘Where does he watch us from?’

      Alwynn stared out at where the early-morning sun played on the sea-weathered rocks. Tiny waves licked at the shore, nothing like the gigantic ones which must have hit the beach last night. ‘He watches from somewhere else. We need to pick an entire basket of the sea coal before the sun rises much further. There is a list as long as my arm of things which need to be done today. Gode has gone to see her niece and the farmhands are out helping to shear the sheep. Plus, there is the new wheel at the gristmill that needs to be seen to.’