The men reacted slowly, but finally Eirik spoke. "Is that true?"
"He told me to warn you about the poison, and that was all."
"Hm."
"He'll expect you to try to steal it, or destroy it, and then he'll be waiting. I'd stake my life on it."
"And why not just ignore it?"
"If he thinks I haven't told you, then he'll kill me."
"I'd like to see him try that," Leif growled. "I've kept a close watch, though I don't think you'll have heard it."
"I believe you, but how closely can you watch? A moment to duck behind the wagon and a blade in the hand, and I'm a dead woman."
Eirik's jaw set. "If the Gods will it, that will have to do. If Leif says he watches, then you are safe."
She nodded. They started to leave, keeping their thoughts to themselves. A thought made her call them back.
"How soon can you be ready for a fight?"
"How soon do you need us to be?"
"I could tell him that you told me you would steal it tonight. If he believes me, then he'll be waiting. All it would take would be one of you to break in. The other two could lay in wait. A double-ambush."
"How do we know he'll believe you?"
"Leave that up to me," she said, trying to hide the fact that she wondered the same question.
She wasn't even sure how to get him to talk to her on her own schedule. She would have to hope that he had an agent watching, and that he would call her soon after they left. Otherwise, she would have to get creative and find a way to signal him.
She closed her eyes as they left, took a deep breath. This was going to be quite a plan, and she had to hope to heaven that it would go off without a hitch.
Otherwise, someone was going to get hurt.
She was surprisingly calm about the fact that she knew it would be her.
Gunnar's first instinct was to go in, but he tempered it. He'd learned a long time ago that his instincts needed to be guided by his mind. That was the only thing that made him a good leader, the only advantage he knew that he would have over Valdemar.
He shifted on his perch and looked around. How far would he have to go to escape the English ambush completely? He could still hear, at a distance, what sounded like people padding through the forest. They would find his horse a mile to the north. Perhaps they'd already found it.
Then they would decide that he would be in the area. But how far would they range, and how close would they look? He had to gamble that he was in a good position; up in the tree, he could just see the camp.
If the English approached it from any direction, he would see it easily. When he approached himself, anyone with a good view would be able to see it just as well. It was too early for sneaking.
He'd picked the spot because they had already marched where the line of torches would be. He would be approaching straight toward one. Anyone in a good position to see him would be looking from the light into the dark—barely able to see a thing in the thick inky black of night.
If he were caught, though, or the English were to find him and signal the rest, then it wouldn't mean anything. He couldn't warn anyone of anything, and he wouldn't make it in to get his answers.
He regarded his options, considering and turning the problem over in his mind. If he moved, he only opened himself up to more people seeing him. He couldn't risk it, so he would have to wait. He looked around, trying to move as little as possible, until he could see where the sun sat low on the horizon, already dipped nearly completely below.
But it was not time yet. He took a deep breath, waited, and watched. No one came or left. He was thankful for that, at least. No sign of treason, based on a few hours' watch. It wasn't conclusive, not in the slightest, but it was some comfort at least.
As the sun continued to circle around the other side of the world, and darkness fell, the sounds of English looking for him diminished until all was silent save for the faint sounds of voices coming from the Dane camp.
But still Gunnar waited and watched. Men came out to stand watch, and he examined their position and where they swept their eyes. How much they were paying attention, and to what.
Something was going to happen in camp, he was sure of that. Though three men stood at the corners of camp they looked over their shoulders too often. Things were tense, and something was going to happen soon.