There were noises, men shouting behind her, running towards the city gates, which were open now. Kendra heard a different sound, a footfall, nearer: she looked over, saw Thorkell. His clothes were wet.
"Where were you?" she whispered.
"He's come out," the Erling replied, not answering.
Kendra turned back to the woods. Alun still hadn't moved, except to touch the dog. Uncertainly, she walked towards the river, stood on the bank amid reeds and dragonflies. She saw him look up and see her. Too dark, too dark to know his eyes.
She took a breath. She had no business being here, no understanding of how she knew what she knew.
"Come back to us," she said, fighting fear.
The dog turned to her voice. Blue moon and stars overhead. She heard Thorkell come up behind her. Was grateful for that. She was watching the other man by the. trees.
And at length, she heard Alun ab Owyn say, in a voice you had to strain to hear, "My lady, I have a long way to go. To do that."
Kendra shivered. Was close to tears, and afraid. She made herself take another deep breath and said, with courage that perhaps only her father was aware that she had, "I am only this fan"
Thorkell, behind her, made an odd sound.
By the trees, Alun ab Owyn lifted his head a little. And then, after a moment, moved forward, walking as if through water even before he reached it. He crossed the stream with the dog. His hair was disordered. He had no belt on his tunic, carried no weapon.
"What… are you doing here?" he asked.
Her head high, feeling the breeze in her hair, she said, "I am truly not certain. I felt… afraid, from when I saw you this morning. Something…"
"You were afraid of me?" His voice was drained of emotion. Again she hesitated. "Afraid for you," she said.
A silence, then he nodded, as if unsurprised.
I am only this far, she'd said. Where had that come from? But he'd crossed. He'd come across the water from the trees to them. A little behind her, the Erling kept silent.
"Did someone die tonight?" Alun ab Owyn asked.
"We think so," she said. "My brother believes it was Earl Burgred, leading a party south of here."
"Erlings?" he asked. "Raiders?"
He was looking past her now, at Thorkell. The dog was beside him, wet from the river, standing very still.
"It appears so, my lord," said the big man behind her. And then, carefully, "I believe… we both know the one who leads them."
And that made a change. Kendra saw it happen. The Cyngael seemed to be pulled back to them, snapped like a leash or a whip, away from whatever had happened in the trees. The thing she didn't want to think about.
"Ragnarson?" he asked.
Not a name Kendra knew; it meant nothing to her.
The Erling nodded. "I believe so."
"How do you know this?" ab Owyn asked.
"My lord prince, if it is Ragnarson, he will want to take their ships west from here. King Aeldred is riding out now, after them."
He was very good, Kendra was realizing, at not replying to questions he didn't want to answer.
In the darkness, she looked at the Cyngael prince. Alun was rigid, so taut he was almost quivering. "He'll go for Brynnfell again. They won't be ready, not so soon. I need a horse!"
"I'll get you one," said Thorkell calmly.
"What? I think not," came a slurred, angry voice. Kendra wheeled, white-faced. Saw Athelbert coming across the grass. "A mount? So he can ride my sister and then ride home to boast of it?"
Kendra felt her heart pound, with fury this time, not fear. Her fists were clenched at her- sides. "Athelbert, you are drunk! And entirely—"
He went right past her. He might jest and tumble with Judit, letting her buffet him about for the amusement of others, but her older brother was a hard, trained, fighting man, king-to-be in these lands, and enraged right now, for more than one reason.
"Entirely what, dear sister?" He didn't look back at her. He had stopped in front of Alun ab Owyn. He was half a head taller than the Cyngael. "Look at his hair, his tunic. Left his belt in the grass, I see. At least you made yourself presentable before getting off your backside."
Thorkell Einarson took a step forward. "My lord prince," he began, "I can tell you—"
"You can shut your loathsome Erling mouth before I kill you here," Athelbert snapped. "Ab Owyn, draw your blade."
"Have none," said Alun, mildly. And launched himself, in a lithe, efficient movement, at Athelbert. He feinted left, and then his right fist hammered hard at her brother's heart. Kendra's hands flew to her mouth. Athelbert went backwards in a heap, sprawled on the grass. He grunted, shifted to get up, and froze.
The dog, Cafall, was directly above him, a large grey menace, growling in his throat.
"He didn't touch me, you Jad-cursed clod!" Kendra screamed at her brother. She was close to tears, in her fury. "I was over watching you and Judit make fools of yourselves!"
"You were? You, er, saw that?" Athelbert said. He had a hand to his chest, was careful to make no sudden movements.
"I saw that," she echoed. "Must you take such pains to be an idiot?"
There was a silence. They heard the noises from behind them, towards the gates.
"Less difficult than you think," her brother murmured, finally. Wry, already laughing at himself, a gift he had, in fact. "Where," he said looking up at Alun ab Owyn, "did you learn to do that?"
"My brother taught me," said the Cyngael, shortly. "Cafall, hold!" The dog had growled again as Athelbert shifted to a sitting position.
"Hold is a good idea," agreed Athelbert. "You might want to tell him again? Make sure he heard you?" He looked over at his sister. "I appear to have—"
"Erred," said Kendra, bluntly. "How unusual."
They heard horns, from the city.
"That's Father," said Athelbert. A different tone.
Alun looked over. "We'll need to hurry. Thorkell, where's that horse?"
The big man turned to him. "Downstream. I killed an Erling raider in town tonight. Tracked his horse to the wood just now. If you need a mount quickly you can—"
"I need a mount quickly, and a sword."
"Killed an Erling raider?" Athelbert snapped in the same breath. "Man I used to know. With Jormsvik now. I saw him in the—" "Later! Come on!" said Alun. "Look!" He pointed. Kendra and the two men turned. She gripped her hands together tightly.
The fyrd of King Aeldred was streaming out of the gates amid torches and banners. She heard the sound of horses' harness and drumming hooves, men shouting, horns blowing. The glorious and terrible panoply of war.
"My lady?" It was Thorkell. Asking leave of her.
"Go," she said. He wasn't her servant.
The two men began running along the riverbank. The dog growled a last time at Athelbert, then went after them.
Kendra looked down at her brother, still sitting on the grass. She watched him stand, somewhat carefully. He'd had a painful day. Tall, fair-haired as an Erling, graceful, handsome, reasonably near to sober, in fact.
He stood before her. His mouth quirked. "I'm an idiot," he said. "I know, I know. Adore you, though. Remember it."
Then he went quickly away as well, towards the gates, to join the company riding out, leaving her unexpectedly alone in darkness by the stream.
That didn't happen often, being left alone. It was not, in fact, unwelcome. She needed some moments to compose herself, or try.
What are you doing here? he'd asked. The too-obvious question. And how was she to answer? Speak of an aura almost seen, a sound beyond hearing, something never before known but vivid as faith or desire? The sense that he was marked, apart, and that she'd somehow known it, from his first appearance in the meadow that morning?