MacAuliffe Vikings Trilogy 3 - Lord of the wolves Read Online Free

forward, toward the gate. She despised Geoffrey. More than anyone in the world, she hated him deeply and fiercely.
    Even as her horse moved ahead she denied with all her heart that she could go to so despised an enemy.
    His father had slain her own. To take the fortress.
    Her teeth chattered suddenly.
    No, she couldn’t go to Geoffrey. No matter what. Because the Viking was out there. And if he were ever to know that she had given herself over willingly, no matter what the circumstances might be …
    She needed to buy time!
    She reined in and stared up from Ragwald on the inner heights across the courtyard to her guards, stretched out on the outer wall parapets. Most of her guards were grimly ready with their caldrons of oil, but several of the best archers still held their weapons. She met one man"s gaze. “Can you hit the enemy who threatens one of our own?” she asked softly.
    “Lady, aye!” he swore.
    She nodded. “Do it then. When he is free, command our men to rush. See that they enter—even with what enemy they drag in with them. Then close the gates. Fast!”
    Her archer turned. Swiftly he raised his bow and took aim.
    She heard a scream. “Men, move now!” One of her captains shouted from the parapet, and there was an inward streaming at the gate, men fiercely battling men there.
    “Close it!” she ordered.
    “Melisande!” Ragwald cried down suddenly. “Hold fast! They are with us now!”
    Then she heard a cry—a deep, rich cry of rage and surprise. It came from Geoffrey himself, she thought, and for a moment she savored the pleasure.
    The Viking had reached her enemy …
    She heard the awful sound of clanging, clashing steel. She heard the worse sound of steel sinking into men.
    “Nay, Melisande!” Ragwald called out suddenly.

    From his vantage point upon the inner tower parapet, Ragwald saw what she did not.
    Yes, the Viking had come. Geoffrey himself had gone into retreat, swiftly riding from the scene of the fray, yet leaving his men—and a multitude of Danes—to battle there.
    Too many of them, for the Viking had split his forces, having brought half of them in the reckless dash forward that now saved Melisande"s forces, while the others had remained behind to battle the rear. His first wave of men were nowhere equal in number to the Danes there. He had meant to swell the ranks of the fortress guard, then find harbor to renew the battle from within the walls.
    But Melisande had ordered the gates closed …
    Right upon him, and his men.
    “Sweet Jesu!” Ragwald prayed, looking to heaven, swiftly, then back to the battle that was unfolding before him now.
    Perhaps there was a chance …
    For he could see the warrior who had come to their defense now.
    They called him the Lord of the Wolves, as Ragwald had heard they called his father before him. Now Ragwald knew why. Confronted with insurmountable odds, the man showed both incredible skill and incredible courage. Sword whipping from side to side, he rode straight into the worst of the fray, downing his enemies before most saw what hit them. There were berserker cries from the Danes, and some charged him, near frothing at the mouth, as berserkers were known to do. But one and all alike, they fell beneath the sheer force of his charge. There were more and more men upon him. He called out something that Ragwald didn"t understand, but then Ragwald saw what the order had been. While he battled, his men brought forth a ram. The Danes were kept busy while others of the Viking"s men went to work upon the gates—so recently slammed upon them—with their ram.
    Ragwald realized suddenly that he had been staring at the battle open-mouthed. “Melisande!” he cried. But she couldn"t hear him above the din of battle. She was shouting out her own orders. He pushed away from the parapet and came running through Melisande"s tower, racing down the length of the stairway, then bursting out into the great hall. Out in the yard within the palisade, men, women,