A dazzling shaft of morning sunlight pierced through the leafy canopy and fell on her face. She blinked up into the stern features of Eadwold. She made no effort to embrace him as she had her younger, best-loved brother.

“You’re unharmed, sister?” Eadwold demanded, hands on hips. “They didn’t…hurt you, did they?”

“Nay. They didn’t even see me. I was in the Chase. Have you seen Mother? Is she safe?”

“Safe enough. We took her to the Abbey.”

“Thank God,” Judith breathed, and the black misery that had her in its grip eased a little.

Eadwold’s face darkened.

Judith’s spirits plummeted again. Her giant of a brother was gazing past her, eyes narrowed in the way she recognised meant growing anger. She turned to see the cause of his wrath.

Saewulf emerged from the shelter, Rannulf’s cloak in hand. It was on this garment that Eadwold’s eyes were fixed.

Judith could see Eadwold assessing the worth of the cloak, hazarding a guess as to the identity of its owner. It did not look like the cloak of a Saxon…

Eadwold rounded on his sister. He was scratching his beard, face like thunder. Judith’s stomach began to churn—Eadwold was best avoided when he was in one of his rages.

“So…you were not harmed, sweet sister?” Eadwold ground out. His grey eyes chilled her to the marrow. “Found yourself a protector, did you?”

“Eadwold, I—”

“What fee did he claim, this protector of yours? What was the price of your safety?”

“Eadwold, Judith is but a child,” Saewulf protested, his face echoing the dawning horror on Judith’s.

“She’s old enough to shame our family,” Eadwold spat. “I am the head of our family now. I would rather see her dead with our father, than whore to save her skin!”

Judith felt as though a cloud had floated between her and the sun. “No! Eadwold, you do not understand.”

But Eadwold had seen her shiver. He stepped towards her and gripped her shoulder.

Something hard dug into Judith’s thigh. She glanced down. “You’re…you’re wearing father’s sword!” she stammered. “And Saewulf…he is armed too! Dear God, Eadwold, if the Baron’s men see you carrying weapons, there will be more trouble You know it’s against the law!”

“There’ll be trouble all right,” Eadwold growled. “Our days of meek submission are over. Yesterday saw to that. I have pledged myself to purge our land of these Norman parasites. My father will not die unavenged. I made an oath over his dead body. Those who block my path will die. I will destroy de Mandeville and all that’s his, or die trying.”

Eadwold’s towering form blotted out the trees. He was a man transformed. Judith scarcely recognised him. This was no ordinary rage. Eadwold had become a stranger, carried along by a surging tide of hatred, and she did not have the strength to swim against it.

Eadwold’s cold gaze dropped to Rannulf’s cloak.

Judith thought about Rannulf. She could see his extraordinary eyes crinkling at the corners, because he was smiling. She looked at her elder brother. The set of Eadwold’s jaw warned her not to confess that she had had a protector. He would never believe Rannulf had behaved honourably. Eadwold was out for revenge, and was like to wreak it on the first person who crossed his path. It was not going to be Rannulf.

Mentally, Judith compared Eadwold with Rannulf. Eadwold was big, over six feet tall—heavily built like a Viking warrior. He had long flaxen hair and a flowing beard in the old Saxon style. Rannulf was not so tall. Rannulf was no weakling, he had carried her easily enough, but he was not built in the same solid mould as Eadwold. She did not like to think of them fighting. She must get her brothers away. Before Rannulf came back with the food he had promised.

Judith cast her eyes around the fringes of the clearing. By the look of the light it was well past Matins. Rannulf could be back at any moment…

Eadwold saw her sidelong glance. His sword scraped clear of its scabbard. “Looking for your protector, sister mine?” Eadwold pressed the point against her breast. Their dead father’s ring gleamed on his finger.

“Eadwold, for the love of God!” Saewulf protested sharply.

The blade moved. Judith caught her breath and glanced down. A faint red mark began to blossom on the fabric of her gown. She forced her eyes to lift to meet her elder brother’s. His pupils were tiny black dots.

“I have no protector—” Judith declared in a voice that was as clear as a bell “—save perhaps my younger brother. Would you kill him, Eadwold, if he were to defend me?”

Eadwold glared into her eyes, and nodded as though satisfied with what he saw there. The sword withdrew.

Judith breathed again.

“No protector, eh?” Still Eadwold probed. “Then how came you to be safe here?”

Half the truth was better than none. “It was getting dark,” Judith told him. “I walked for some while before coming on this shelter.”