Kim Iverson Headlee

by Snow in July

  The resounding chant of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” faded into oblivion as Alain lost himself in the unfathomable depths of Kendra’s love.

  Epilogue

  KENDRA ORDERED ROWENA to hurry with weaving the last ribbons into her braids. The messenger had reported that Sir Robert—even three years later, hearing Alain’s formal name and rank made her smile—and his company were due to arrive soon. The manor’s lady wished for everything to be in perfect readiness for the lord’s return.

  She donned her veil and pinned the de Bellencombre rose brooch in its rightful place next to her half ring. Her fingers lingered upon the white and green enamel’s graceful contours to revive the cherished memories it evoked.

  It had been a dreary six months without Alain.

  But how much worse must it have been for him, being called away from hearth and home by the king to help quell yet another Saxon uprising, this time in the northeast, near York.

  She sighed, easing her gravid bulk from the chair to stand, and tottered with Rowena’s assistance to gaze out the tall, stone-framed window. From the castle’s vantage on the ridge crest, halfway between Edgarburh and Glastonbury, she felt as if the entire world lapped at her feet.

  Although her love for Alain, coupled with his just governing of the shire, had inspired the folk of Edgarburh and Glastonbury to abandon their resentments, she wished the rest of her people would choose to live in peace under their Norman masters. Then mayhap King William wouldn’t feel compelled to be so brutal to them—and mayhap she could have her husband for more than a few months at a stretch.

  “Is that such a selfish wish?” she murmured.

  “My lady?” Rowena asked.

  Kendra smiled ruefully. Her unborn baby nudged her, and she patted her swelling belly. “’Tis nothing, Rowena.” Nothing but the fondest wish expressed by every warrior’s mother.

  As if on cue, she heard her firstborn warrior, two-year-old Étienne, shrieking and clattering about the adjacent room, old Ethel raising her voice over his din, admonishing him to slow down.

  The woman might as well try taming a whirlwind.

  A cloud of dust approaching from the north held Kendra spellbound as she watched it grow larger, her heart dancing in anticipation.

  Alain would receive several surprises this day.

  She hadn’t quite grown accustomed to the time it took to traverse this immense, manmade cavern called a castle, and advanced pregnancy slowed her steps that much further. By the time she stopped at the wine cellar to fetch a goblet full of their finest vintage for the ceremonial welcome and hurried into the main yard with Étienne and their servants in tow, Alain and his men had already cantered under the portcullis and dismounted.

  The man she had once known as “Snake” noticed her and raised his right hand in salute before ordering the other men to feed and stable their mounts. Liam Fletcher had proven to be an invaluable liaison to Alain’s Saxon troops, and in public settings Kendra had rarely seen her husband apart from his second-in-command, who fletched fine arrows as necessity demanded.

  Liam took Chou’s reins as well as his own mount’s and, with a respectful nod at Kendra, led the soldiers and their horses toward the stables.

  The love of her days and lover of her nights circled about the courtyard, his helmet tucked under one arm, taking in his newly completed home for the first time. Pleased wonderment worked its way into the road grime streaking his face—along with a darker, crustier streak that had to be dried blood.

  The castle’s defensive walls had been completed, but the towers and great hall were naught but foundations when Alain left. The household was living in timber buildings that had since been converted to storehouses.

  Noir, whom Alain had taken to war, padded around the yard, barking after the occasional chicken, cat, or pigeon and poking his snout into every crevice and cranny.

  “I have much to show you, dear husband.”

  He whirled at the sound of her voice, a grin leavening his weariness. After entrusting his helmet to the waiting squire and striding toward her, he halted as her condition appeared to register. “Kendra! All those letters, and you never told me.”

  “You never asked.” She smiled sweetly, pressing her fingers over the cut on his cheek. As the wound faded, so did her smile. “What injuries are there among the men?”

  “Of the survivors, nothing too bad this time, praise God.” He opened his arms. “The men can wait a while yet.”

  Sidling as close to him as her belly allowed, she reveled in the simple pleasure of his embrace. She slid her hands over his chest to trace the dual lumps under his surcoat: the small arc representing his half ring and the larger rectangle defining the case containing her hair.

  With his palm he caressed her rounded flesh, his eyebrows quirking upward when he felt the baby kick. “Little Delwin?”

  “Or Edwina.”

  During her first pregnancy, they had agreed to name their children in honor of their departed loved ones. Margaret and Hugh, Alain’s parents, also would be future candidates for names if the de Bellencombre brood ever grew that large.

  Lord willing, it would be years yet before they would be forced to consider naming a son “Waldron” or “Ruaud.” Both men enjoyed robust health, although Ruaud had not visited since returning across the Channel to his Norman wife, sons, and estate soon after Étienne’s birth.

  Alain peered around Kendra to find his son clinging to the back of her overdress. Although he squatted to the boy’s level, Étienne whimpered and shrank back, rounding his eyes and sticking a thumb in his mouth.

  “My armor must frighten him,” Alain said with a sigh.

  Her heart broke for her husband. “Étienne, cher, tu sais ton papa,” she scolded lightly. And again, in English, “You know your father.” She grasped the boy’s chubby fingers and gently but firmly pulled him forward. “Come and bid Papa well come to our new home.”

  “Your French has improved markedly, Kendra.” Pride reverberated in Alain’s tone as he scooped up his wriggling son and held him close. After a few moments, he set Étienne down, though Kendra was relieved to see their son clutching his father’s mailed leg, poking his fingers into the chinks.

  “I’ve lots of time to talk to the stones now that I don’t have to oversee their placement,” she said, only half in jest. “They don’t help me if I get it wrong, but they don’t laugh either.”

  Alain’s face turned comical with disbelief. “When have I ever laughed at any of your efforts, ma chere?”

  “Not recently, that much is certain.” As he spluttered a protest, she motioned to the servant carrying the goblet and ordered the man to present it to his lord. “This should help you find your tongue.”

  He downed the wine in three gulps, thrust the goblet back at the servant, wrapped his arms around Kendra, and kissed her soundly, revealing exactly where his tongue could be found. She melted into his embrace, feeling very much the giddy bride again and adoring every moment.

  “Now that,” he declared as he released his breathless wife, “is a proper welcome for the castle’s lord.”

  “If you liked that”—her grin radiated pure mischief—“then you shall love trying our new bedchamber.”

  He reflected her grin with his own. “Even a cave would feel like a home with you to share it with me.”

  She laughed. “You haven’t seen the bedchamber yet.”

  After charging Rowena with Étienne’s care, Kendra dismissed the servants to their regular duties, rested her right arm atop Alain’s left, and with Noir bounding beside them, began showing her beloved Norman husband the fruits of their fondest dreams.

  Le Fin

  Jubilate Deo

  12 June MMXIV

  Author’s Notes

  SNOW IN JULY began in 1999 as a collaboration with my longtime writer-friend Patricia Duffy Novak, who had intended to write Alain’s viewpoint while I wrote Kendra’s. But life events prevented her from continuing the project, and she gave me her blessin
g to finish it.

  I shall always be grateful to Patricia for her suggestions regarding the story line, and for her contributions in its research. Being a professor at Auburn University gives her access to that library’s resources, which in our case yielded such gems as a map of medieval Winchester, England. The paragraph describing Alain’s route from St. Mary’s Church to the tavern was adapted straight off that map.

  The basic story line of the romance was Patricia’s idea: a Norman knight being ordered by King William to marry a Saxon noblewoman. Historically, William did employ this policy to stabilize England…with varying degrees of success. And he did, as described in the text, invent the office of sheriff. Bishop Odo de Bayeux really was William’s half brother, regent, and confidante—and there exists evidence to suggest that he commissioned the Bayeux Tapestry, but probably several years after the events described in Snow in July, which is why I never mention this famous scrap of cloth in my text.

  The Glastonbury thorn tree is a Middle Eastern strain of hawthorn, which lends credence to the legend that it sprouted from the staff of Joseph of Arimathea, a merchant who imported tin from Britain in Jesus’ day. Whether the young Jesus accompanied him on any of these buying trips is a matter of British national pride which I chose not to speculate upon in this story. Hawthorn is known to have medicinal value for treating ailments of the heart and circulatory system, and the Glastonbury strain is famed for producing blooms at Christmas, so I was pleased to imbue the plant with a miraculous dimension to its healing properties.

  Longtime fans of my work know that I love playing with legends, and in that regard Snow in July is no different. In addition to mentioning the local tradition that associates King Arthur with Glastonbury—though his alleged grave would not be discovered at the abbey for another century beyond the lifetimes of Kendra and Alain—I adapt the legend that the wounded King Harold Godwinson survived the Battle of Hastings and lived out his remaining days as a monk.

  The primary liberties I took were in regard to Glastonbury Tor and its surrounds. The Tor’s association with being an island dates to the millennia-old memory of the River Severn creating annual floodplains that inundated areas bordering the Bristol Channel as far inland as Glastonbury. This geologic event had ceased, for the most part, by the dawn of the Middle Ages, though the Glastonbury district still existed as swampland in the 11th century. The present-day tower is all that remains of the 14th-century Church of St. Michael, built upon the site half a century after its wooden predecessor was destroyed by an earthquake. I presume that the older church was built upon the foundation of a much earlier structure, since the site has yielded evidence of habitation dating back to Neolithic times. The maze ruins constitute just one of the hypotheses about the Tor’s terraced slopes.

  All other details are fictional, including the treasure cavern, although I made every effort to integrate them with historic facts as seamlessly as possible. As for some of the more exotic language choices, such as Cristes mæsse and ma demoiselle, I have either adapted or invented them to lend an ancient flavor to my story without going through the exercise of inventing a new language, as I have done with The Dragon’s Dove Chronicles (Dawnflight, et al)!

  Thank you for your interest in my work, and I hope you enjoyed my first foray into the realm of paranormal historical romance.

  People

  ENTRY FORMAT:

  Full Name (Pronunciation). Brief description, which may include rank, occupation, country, shield description in non-heraldic terms, nickname(s), name’s origin, and meaning. Place-names and other affiliations are given in the person’s native language.

  Viewpoint characters are listed first, followed by everyone else mentioned in the text, fictional or otherwise. Approximate pronunciation guidelines are supplied for the less obvious names, especially for those of French origin. For Saxon names containing w (e.g., Waldron, Delwin), I use the phonetic designation v, though in practice it is sounded somewhere between a hard f and a soft v. Norman names containing w (e.g., William) are pronounced as they are today. When in doubt, pronounce the name however it makes sense to you. Or stay tuned for the audiobook edition!

  Alain (ah-LEN). Name preferred by Sir Robert Alain de Bellencombre for informal address by family and friends. He chooses the name Alain Bellefleur for his squire persona. Sarcastically called Sir Robert the Pious and Squire Bellefleur by Ruaud, and Saint Pretty Boy by their captors. Scene glyph: rose with three leaves.

  Delwin (DEL-vin) Waldronson. Son of Waldron Edgarson, older brother of Kendra. Saxon knight of England in the service of Harold Godwinson. His name means “friend of he who lives in the valley.” Shield: bent dark blue arm with fist on gray. Nickname: Del. Scene glyph: bent arm & fist.

  Eosa (AYO-sah) Thorgudson. Son of Thorgud. Saxon knight of England in the service of Harold Godwinson; Ulfric’s second-in-command. His name means “war horse.” Nickname: Dragon. Scene glyph: dragon head.

  Kendra Waldronsdotter. Daughter of Waldron, younger sister of Delwin. Saxon heiress of the estate of Edgarburh. Her name is the female form of Kendrick, meaning “keen power.” Chapter glyph: long-stem rose. Scene glyph: rose blossom.

  Odo de Bayeux. Younger half brother (via his mother Herleva) of William the Conqueror. Served as a soldier, Bishop of Bayeux, and regent of southern England in King William’s absence; depicted on the Bayeux Tapestry (created in England circa the 1070s) as riding a black horse. His name means “wealthy,” and he certainly was. Chapter and scene glyphs: French cross.

  Robert (hro-BEAR, with a silent t unless followed by a word beginning with a vowel) Alain de Bellencombre. Second son of Hugh FitzWalter and Margaret, younger half brother of Philippe FitzHugh, older brother of Étienne de Bellencombre. Knight of Normandy in the service of William the Conqueror. Shield: white rose nestled in tangle of greenery, on saffron yellow. Nickname: Alain. Chapter glyph: rose surrounded by leaves & thorny cane.

  Ruaud (hroo-OWD) d’Auvay (dow-VAY). Knight of Normandy in William’s service, and Alain’s best friend. Married, with sons, and estates deeded him by William in England as well as Normandy. Name meaning unknown; selected from list of knights accompanying Duke William during the Norman invasion of England. Chapter glyph: rearing bear. Scene glyph: bear head.

  Ulfric. Thane of Thornhill. Kendra’s second cousin and onetime suitor. Saxon knight of England in the service of King Harold. His name means “wolf-king.” Shield: rearing gray wolf on crimson. Chapter glyph: rearing wolf. Scene glyph: wolf head.

  Waldron (VAHL-drun) Edgarson. Saxon nobleman; thane of Edgarburh. Oldest son of Edgar, for whom the estate of Edgarburh is named; father of Delwin and Kendra. His name means “powerful one.” Shield: upward-bent dark blue chevron on gray. Chapter and scene glyphs: gray shield with dark, upward-bent chevron.

  Non-viewpoint characters and others mentioned in the text:

  Æthelward. Saxon priest at Edgarburh; his name means “noble guardian.”

  Alexander. Pope Alexander II (born Anselmo de Baggio), who in 1066 granted papal favor to Duke William’s envoy for proceeding with preparations for the Norman conquest of England. This written edict, accompanied by a papal ring and the Standard of St. Peter, became instrumental in the submission of the English clergy to William’s rule.

  Arthur of the Britons, King Arthur. Enemy of the Saxon people whose reputation had already gained five centuries of embellishment by the time of the Norman conquest of England; therefore, his legend was terrifying to Kendra. Rumored to have been buried near Glastonbury or under Glastonbury Tor, though the abbey’s monks would not milk this claim via the discovery of “Arthur’s grave” for another 125 years.

  Bassa. Saxon physician at Edgarburh; his name is the Old English form of the Old French basse (“short”).

  Bertred. Saxon warrior in Ulfric’s army; Eosa’s scribe. His name means “bright counsel.” Nickname: Nib.

  Cæwlin (KAY-vlin). Saxon soldier serving in Edgarburh’s fyrd; Waldron’s longtime friend. His name means “cav
e lake.”

  Cynewulf (KINE-vulf). Saxon thane; his name translates to “king wolf.”

  Dirk. Camp name of Ursa Oescson, a Saxon knight in Ulfric’s army; Eosa’s second-in-command. His birth name of Ursa is derived from the Latin ursum (“the bear”).

  Dunstan, Saint. Tenth-century abbot of Glastonbury; later appointed Bishop of Winchester and Archbishop of Canterbury; and adviser to Saxon kings Edmund, Eadred, Edgar, Edward (II) the Martyr, and to a limited extent Æthelred the Unready. The legend of how Dunstan defeated the Devil by shoeing his hoof is the origin of the practice of nailing a horseshoe ends pointed upward above a door for good luck. Canonized in 1029; feast day May 19. Considered one of the patron saints of England, alongside Edward the Confessor, until the 14th century, when St. George was given the job by King Edward III.

  Ecgfrith. Saxon man hired by Alain and Ruaud in Sarum to guide them to Edgarburh; his name means “the edge of peace.”

  Edgert. Saxon thane, but not one of the thanes in Ulfric’s alliance. His name is a variant of Eadgard, meaning “keeper of his oath.”

  Edith of Wessex. Widow of Edward the Confessor, sister of Harold Godwinson, and the fourth wealthiest individual in England at the time. She did reside in Winchester until her death on December 18th, 1075.

  Edward the Confessor. Brother-in-law of Harold Godwinson; King of England from 8 June 1042 until his death on 5 January 1066. Called “the Confessor” for having lived a reportedly saintly life but having died of natural causes, he was canonized a century after his death. His sarcophagus may be viewed in Westminster Abbey.

  Edwina (ed-VEE-nah). Late Saxon noblewoman; wife of Waldron; mother of Delwin and Kendra; cousin of Ulfric. Her name is the female form of Edwin, meaning “rich friend.”

  Eric. A Saxon monk serving as bodyguard to the convalescing King Harold; his name means “always mighty.”