Yet, suddenly the question occurred. What would have happened if he had already challenged the duel? It would have been cowardice to attack him right before a duel, and he couldn't have run away from a man who he'd beaten while obviously injured. How would the Gods have looked at that?
He would have done it. Would have gone. But Deirdre was not alone in stopping him. Gods above, what if Leif had been involved as well?
As he moved through the hills, double time, more and more questions arose. How deep did this go? Who could he trust if he couldn't trust either of them?
He pushed on. There would be time to figure out what would come next. Right now he had to close the distance between them, and to do that he had to keep moving. Trying to figure out what to do next, that would only slow him down.
Right now he needed to push his body. He closed off the thoughts of who to blame. The only person he needed to blame right now was Valdemar. That was enough to stoke the fire in his belly, and anything more risked breaking his concentration.
Valdemar had been trying to show him up since the outset of the expedition. He'd been the one pushing, constantly, to take control. When a chance had arisen, he had taken it. Then when Gunnar had been so close to reclaiming what was his, Valdemar had taken it away again.
Gunnar wasn't about to allow that to continue, no. He would repay his debts with advantages.
Valdemar wouldn't make it out of England alive.
Sixteen
She wasn't
sure why she was so surprised that Valdemar immediately packed camp back up, even before they finished hog-tying Gunnar's unconscious body in the dirt. They were moving again before the sun had even finished dipping below the horizon, and they kept moving through the night.
It was dangerous, continuing the way they were, and it was a stupid risk, but staying would have been a bigger one, so she should have seen it coming. Still, it was easier for her, there in the cart, to lie back and doze as they moved. She could only imagine how the men were grumbling.
She was greeted by three familiar faces looking into the back of her little protected area, though she couldn't assign names to them. They had spoken more than once to Gunnar in front of her, and he'd seemed to regard them closely.
"Get up, girl," said one. The bald one.
She did as she was told and waited to hear more, but for a long time they just looked her over. It was a very different look than she was used to. Either she expected people to be afraid of her, or to notice the rapidly deteriorating neckline of her dress, but they seemed to be measuring her.
Finally he spoke again. "What have you done?"
She didn't answer him at first, but it wasn't hard to believe that they knew what she'd done. Who else could have warned Valdemar? The dark-haired man had passed by the tent; it wasn't hard to believe that he could have sent the message, but he stood right before her.
"I didn't do anything," she said.
"With Gunnar gone, Valdemar's going to be in command for a good while, now." Deirdre didn't answer again, waiting for more before she tried to figure out what she was supposed to say.
The dark-haired one spoke, finally. "He'll think we're planning something, so we can't keep an eye on him. You'll have to do it."
"Are you?"
"Up to something?" His face didn't betray any particular emotion, nor any response. It certainly wasn't a refusal.
"Why are you talking to me?"
"We think he trusts you. You've given him what he wanted, after all."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You gave Gunnar his damnable 'cure,' and that let him have control. With this, you've cemented it." The raven-hair again. "Well, you have a choice to make. Report to us, and we'll protect you. Or don't, and we'll see if Valdemar will offer the same."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," he said. The same hard, non-expressive face.
"What am I supposed to call you, even?"
The bald one spoke first, touching a fist to his chest. "Eirik."