Page 3 of Dalla's Royal Guards
“Yes,Mor?”
“Tell the others to set up a guard. Those who did this may attack again,” her mother quietly instructed.
Dalla gave a brief, sharp nod. She grabbed two wooden buckets, one in each hand, and hurried out of the door. Several residents of their Thorpe gathered around the well as word of the men’s injuries spread.
Most members of their small but prosperous extended family were former thralls, captured during raids her father took part in. Her mother did not believe in slavery, and as fast as her father would return with new ones, she would free them. Svenhad eventually given up on returning with people and instead focused on horses, sheep, and other items that would benefit the growing population.
Dalla’s sudden appearance at the well drew attention, and she took advantage of it. “Caleb, gather arms and set up additional sentries with at least two members always together. Amal, I want the same for the cliff. We do not want a surprise by sea. Bjorn, ride to Jarl Asvaldsson. Tell him what has happened and ask for support,” she ordered.
“Ja, Dalla,” Bjorn replied before darting away.
“Who did this?” Amal inquired, his voice heavily laced with a Middle-Eastern accent.
“Officially, we do not know. Most likely, however, it was Jarl Leifsson.”
She knew her response gave little comfort to the small group, but she had no reassurance to give. Gripping the rope, she pulled up the bucket attached to the end and filled the first of the two buckets she had brought with her. Mona, a freed thrall from the English coast, picked it up and carried it back to the longhouse while Dalla filled the other.
Sven and ten riders, almost half of their men, had gone to return the body of Frodi Leifsson to Jarl Leifsson. Frodi and the men with him had been stealing horses and sheep, and they had burned several huts in Sven’s domain, killing two freed thralls. It had been several nights of these attacks, until finally Frodi and his men were killed as they attempted to steal Sven’s prized stallion, Hófvarpnir.
The timing of these raids was too coincidental for Jarl Leifsson to know nothing of them. It had been less than a month sinceSven rejected the Jarl’s proposal to join their families with a handfasting. Without proof, however, Sven could not gather their allies for war. The horse had been bait; the trap had worked, and they now had the proof they needed.
Jarl Bjarni Asvaldsson would send men. After all, an attack on Sven was a direct attack on his own family. Asta was Bjarni’s sister, and he loved her deeply. Sven had also saved Bjarni’s life more than once. The Jarl owed Sven a life-debt.
Leifsson resented that Jarl Asvaldsson had turned down his request for Asta’s hand many years ago. He believed that Sven’s influence with nearby Jarls, and the lands gifted to him, would have belonged to Leifsson if only his desires for Dalla’s mother hadn’t been thwarted. With an eye for gathering more power, Leifsson had turned his attention to binding Runa to his oldest son, Gamli, since both Dalla and Aesa were already promised to another. This plan was always going to fail, however.
Sven could see the greed and cruelty in Leifsson just as easily as Bjarni had seen it, and Gamli was worse than his father. The boy enjoyed inflicting pain—whether on his animals, his thralls, or anyone else who made the error of getting in his way. Sven would never have agreed to the match.
“The water is heating,” Dalla called to her mother.
Asta nodded. “And the sentries?”
“In place. I’ve sent Bjorn to Jarl Bjarni.”
“Good, good. See to the security of the village. Those who are not patrolling should be in the longhouse tonight. We can better protect them here.”
Dalla nodded, her gaze moving to her father’s still face. It was deathly pale. He must have lost consciousness when her mother removed the arrows. She picked up a shaft and turned it, displaying a mark that she recognized. Gamli liked to mark his kills.
The night passed slowly. One man passed away, and a fever overtook her father. Asta, Aesa, and several of the other women took shifts bathing the men with cool water. Dalla and Runa took turns taking food and drink to the sentries and patrolling the area.
It was sunrise on the second day before Dalla spoke with Aesa. Her sister was extremely pale and distracted, either staring off into space or looking at each of them with tears in her eyes.
“Aesa.”
Aesa turned. Dalla caught her sister’s hand when she lifted it to brush a tear away. Fear made her stomach roll when she noticed the extreme grief in Aesa’s eyes. She pulled her sister into her arms.
“What have you seen?”
Aesa released a shuddering breath. A low sob, smothered by her face against Dalla’s shoulder, made Dalla briefly close her eyes. She held her sister until Aesa made the first move to pull away.
“I… saw our deaths,” Aesa confessed.
“Our deaths? All of us?” Dalla asked in disbelief.
“Ja.”
“When?”
Aesa shook her head. “My visions are not that clear, you know that.”
