Margaret Moore - [Viking 02]

by The Saxon

  Helmi frowned deeply. “Where else? There are Saxons everywhere, like fleas on a dog!”

  “There are other Danes in the hall. Sleep there tonight.”

  Helmi looked about to protest, but wisely, she did not. When she had gone out carrying her bed, Endredi sighed softly and sank down onto a stool, putting her hands over her face.

  “Adelar, Adelar!” she moaned softly, finally allowing herself to express the hurt that had been fighting with her anger ever since she had seen him. She knew she should distrust him. All through the meal she had sought to convince herself that she could not have faith in him. He was not the boy she had known. He had changed.

  Why was he here, and now of all times? Why could she not find strength in the fact that he had had years to come back to her, and had not? Why could she not keep anger in her heart when she thought of his lies? Why did something different, something stronger, intrude until her bitterness and anger were gone like a speck of dust upon a summer’s breeze?

  Why did she remember not the moment she knew he had abandoned her to her fate, but instead the one and only kiss they had shared? It had been early night, just like this, in the dimness of her father’s house. They had been alone, two children on the edge of adulthood, sitting beside the fire, silent as usual. He had turned to her and spoken of—what? She had never been able to recall because of what had come after. He had talked and she had listened.

  Then, slowly, wondrously, the expression in his dark, intense eyes had changed. Without even being aware of it, their bodies had moved closer. And closer. Until their lips had touched.

  Even now, her heart raced at the thought of that gentle, tender kiss. She had changed into a woman then, with a woman’s heart and a woman’s dreams and a woman’s passion.

  And to think it had meant nothing at all to him.

  She lowered her hands. She must put away these memories, once and for always. She must be strong and remember that her loyalty, and her body, belonged to another man. Adelar had done nothing to stop that, either. Yes, he had changed, and she must guard against her own weakness.

  Resolving to be as good a wife to Bayard as she could, Endredi disrobed and climbed into the bed. She drew the curtains around it and waited, not afraid, but not with joyous anticipation.

  Finally the door opened and someone entered. Her hands started to shake and her chest seemed tight, which was foolish. She was no tender virgin.

  “Bayard?” she called out tentatively.

  “Yes,” came a low response.

  Endredi closed her eyes. Oh, Freya, goddess of love and beauty, abandoned by Od and always mourning, help me! Even Bayard’s voice is like Adelar’s. Help me to forget! Please, Mary, mother of Jesus, give me strength to do what I must.

  Then came the sounds of a man disrobing. Something metallic striking the stool. The dull thud of cloth on a chest.

  The curtains parted, and Endredi opened her eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Bayard stood beside the bed. He was naked, his bearded face in shadow. He looked down at Endredi, and she tried to force a tentative smile to her lips, but oh, how his eyes were like Adelar’s in this dim light!

  Bayard got into the bed with her, yet he did not touch her. “You are sure Adelar’s behavior did not offend you?” he asked softly. “Or Ranulf’s? If so, tell me, and I will speak to them.”

  “No. I am unknown here, and drink can make men say things they themselves regret later.”

  “You are wise, Endredi. I am pleased you forgive him,” he whispered. “Adelar is not only my cousin. He is my most trusted friend.”

  Was he deserving of such trust? she wondered. Did Bayard know what kind of man had sired his “trusted friend”? “These tales of Adelar’s family that Ranulf spoke of,” she began. “What did he mean?”

  Bayard lay on his side and regarded her thoughtfully. “It was said that his father had somehow arranged the Viking attack on his village. That is what the leader of the Vikings claimed when he came seeking his wife and daughter, whom Kendric had stolen away in revenge when he came to take Adelar home.”

  “Perhaps it was true.”

  “Kendric claimed otherwise. His own people believed him, and there was no proof of wrongdoing except for the word of a Viking.”

  “What do you believe?”

  “Adelar is here, is he not? I have no doubt about his loyalty to me. Besides, I judge a man on his own merit, not his father’s.”

  Endredi said nothing. She could not argue with Bayard’s wish to judge a man for his own actions. Indeed, she knew how it was to be looked down upon for the unsavory actions of a parent. How many in her village had hinted that Endredi might be like her mother, who had slept with any man who asked her?

  Bayard touched her cheek. “Are you afraid of me, Endredi?”

  “No.”

  “You tremble.” He moved closer to her.

  “It is a chill night, my lord.”

  She could feel the heat from his body and was acutely aware of their nakedness as his arms encircled her. “I would warm you, then,” he said. “And please, do not call me `my lord’ when we are here.”

  His hand touched her amulet. “What is this?” he asked, a hard note creeping into his voice. “Dagfinn assured me you were Christian.”

  “Truly I am, Bayard. It is a charm, nothing more.”

  “And what does this charm do?” he inquired, letting it fall. His fingers toyed with the chain, cool against her flesh.

  “It is a sign of Freya.”

  “A goddess?”

  “Yes.”

  “Goddess of what?”

  “She watches over women getting married, or having babies. We used to pray to her to give us healthy children. Are you angry?”

  “No.” He chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that made her glad she had not told him more about Freya, who had taken lovers after being deserted by her husband. For her punishment, she had been made a goddess of death, too. “I would wear twenty such charms if I believed in their power. I am pleased, Endredi, that you hope for children.”

  “I do, very much.”

  “I will do my best,” he whispered with a trace of wistfulness.

  Before she had time to wonder at his tone, his body covered hers.

  In a few short moments, the marriage was consummated. Without speaking, Bayard rolled away from her. Then she heard his slow, even breathing and realized he had fallen asleep.

  Clasping her amulet, Endredi stared at the thatched roof. Not once had Bayard kissed her.

  And despite all her prayers and resolutions, she was glad of it.

  * * *

  Adelar climbed out of the pile of fetid straw in which he had slept. His head throbbed, his mouth was as dry as old leather, and his tongue felt as if it was twice the normal size.

  Sluggishly he brushed at the stray wisps that covered his clothes as he went outside, barely aware of the daily activity going on around him. The stable lads traded amused grins as the mighty warrior staggered out of the building, and the older women at the nearby well smiled condescendingly. Some of the younger girls giggled, but those of marriageable age sighed wistfully. They knew that a warrior like Adelar would probably never marry anyone but a thane’s daughter. Still, they could look and admire and dream and sigh again.

  Adelar saw none of this. All he knew was that he felt wretched, the air was chill, and there was a slight touch of frost on the ground he was staring at. He made his way to the nearest water trough and sluiced cold water over his head, which brought some relief.

  He glanced at the hall, then up at the sky. It was a fine cloudless day and the sun was halfway to the zenith. The others had probably already broken the fast. Maybe not Endredi and Bayard...

  Adelar threw more cold water on his head, then slowly walked toward the hall.

  All through the wedding feast, he struggled not to stare at Endredi as she sat in the wide settle beside Bayard.

  Of course he had recognized her at once. Her calm, q
uiet beauty, her bountiful red-gold hair and her unforgettable green eyes. She had seen him, too, and for a moment he had thought...hoped...been tempted to tell Bayard that the wedding must not be.

  But who was he to go against his cousin’s plans, especially when he could not be sure of Endredi’s feelings? Once they had felt something for each other. They both had known it, and he, at least, had cherished it. Yet she had married another man.

  It was as if she had confirmed his worst fear—that he was not worthy of her love. He was, after all, his father’s son, and though he struggled constantly to prove that he was not the same as his traitorous sire, perhaps it only mattered that he was of Kendric’s blood after what his father had tried to do to her.

  The women at the well began to point, laugh and make jokes of the most bawdy kind. Adelar turned to see what they were talking of and saw Godwin at the door of the weaving shed bestowing a most impressive kiss and bold caress on Gleda. His breeches were half-fastened, and Gleda’s garments could only be described as disheveled. Clearly Godwin had not spent the night in the hall, or the stable, or alone for that matter.

  When the passionate couple realized they had an audience, Gleda pulled away, gave the women a saucy smile and sauntered off to the hall. With a dismissive flick of her hair, she passed Adelar. Her presence made absolutely no impression on him whatsoever. There was only one woman who occupied his thoughts today.

  Godwin made the women an impressive bow. “Greetings, my dears,” he said with great politeness. “I was not aware my every performance was to be observed. Ah, Adelar! Have we missed the meal?”

  The women continued to chuckle among themselves while Godwin joined him.

  “Greetings, Godwin. I believe you have already feasted,” Adelar remarked sardonically as he continued toward the hall.

  “And well, too,” Godwin replied with a sly grin. “But then, you would know how well Gleda satisfies a man.”

  “Apparently any man will do, too.”

  “Is the mighty Adelar jealous of a humble gleeman?”

  “Not at all. Take her, if she is willing. There are plenty of other women.”

  “Speaking of women, Bayard’s new wife is not as lovely as they said, is she?”

  “It is not for us to discuss Bayard’s wife,” Adelar replied coldly.

  “You’re in a terrible humor today, Adelar. What’s the matter—not enough sleep last night, eh? Who were you with, if not Gleda? Let me think... I know! That little slave Ylla has had her eye on you. Or perhaps that servant of Bayard’s wife. She is old, but you always say older women have a hoard of experience that they are only too willing to share—”

  “My only companion last night was a cask of ale, and I am ruing that decision now.”

  “What? I don’t believe it! And yet he admits it, too. Well, miracles do happen, after all. Adelar awakens alone for the first time in how many years? I must tell Father Derrick at once.”

  “Can you stop that wagging tongue of yours?” Adelar demanded. “You make my head ache.”

  “Speaking of tongues, is it not amazing what Gleda can do with hers?”

  Adelar did not wish to have a complete recital of Gleda’s abilities, so he began to walk faster. “I’m starving.”

  “Me, too. Shall we see what remains haven’t already been thrown to the dogs?”

  The door to Bayard’s bower moved and Bayard strode briskly out. “Good day!” he called, his breath like puffs of smoke in the chill air as he approached. “I am going hunting this fine morning.”

  Adelar looked away from the bower where Endredi had spent her wedding night. “It is a fine day indeed, Bayard. I will fetch my horse.”

  “I had intended to ask you to remain behind. Endredi needs someone to show her about the burh.”

  “I am not fit for a lady’s company this morning,” Adelar answered. “What of Dagfinn and his men?”

  “They are sleeping like rocks in my hall. I have left some men to guard them. I do not want to spend more time in their presence than I have to.”

  “I would be most happy to escort your bride about,” Godwin interjected.

  Bayard eyed Godwin. “Perhaps, but I would like you to escort Endredi, Adelar. You can speak to her in her own language, and I want to make her feel that this is her home.”

  His gaze was hard and firm, and Adelar knew he was as good as ordered to show Endredi the burh, although he would rather face ten armed Danes. “I will do as you ask, Cousin.”

  “Good. Since you seem particularly grim today, I think it would be wise to have Godwin go, too.”

  “I am only too happy, my lord,” Godwin replied.

  “Rouse the dog keeper. I believe three pair of hounds should be sufficient today. I leave Endredi in your hands, Adelar.”

  Adelar nodded as Bayard strode off toward the stable. The women at the well and the stable lads called out their good wishes, which the burhware acknowledged with a jovial response.

  Godwin eyed his companion cautiously. “Bayard was not pleased by your reluctance.”

  Adelar did not bother to wait for Godwin, who trotted along behind him. “I have no wish to play nursemaid to his bride.”

  “Fine—but you should have been more tactful about it. You’ve annoyed him, and he looked happier this morning than he has for many a day.”

  “I know,” Adelar replied softly. Indeed, he had thought the same thing. But he did not want to spend time with Endredi. He had no wish to see her look at him as she had yesterday—either the first time, when he had seen the unspoken feelings in her eyes, or later, when she had become as cold and distant as her homeland. Yet he dare not disobey his cousin, and Godwin was right about Bayard’s good humor. It had been all too rare of late.

  They paused at the entrance to the hall, and Godwin let out a low whistle. “Bayard spoke the truth. Look at these louts!”

  The Danes were sleeping wherever they had fallen into a drunken stupor. Some slumbered with their heads on their arms slung over the table, some lay on the benches and some were even under the tables. More than one snored loudly. One or two of Bayard’s dogs sniffed among the rushes, searching for food.

  Adelar and Godwin stepped around them and went to Bayard’s end of the lord’s table.

  “Not a morsel worth eating!” Godwin muttered in disgust, looking at the remnants of the feast.

  Adelar picked up a crust of flat bread, then let it fall into the straw on the floor. One of the smaller hounds lunged for it and wolfed it down.

  A deep voice from the nearest corner mumbled, “Who’s botherin’ the dogs?” Two human feet were barely visible beneath a pile of straw and dogs.

  “Is that you, Baldric?” Godwin asked.

  An affirmative growl answered them. “Can’t you let a fellow sleep in peace?”

  “Bayard wants to go hunting. He says bring three pair of dogs.”

  “This is no time for one of your jests, Godwin,” the dog keeper mumbled.

  Adelar kicked the fellow’s feet. “Bayard wants to go hunting.”

  Baldric sat up when he heard Adelar’s low, stern voice, his blond hair sticking out like so many pieces of straw. He shoved the dogs away from him and stood, scratching his flea bites. In the dim light, the short, burly fellow looked not unlike his charges. “It’s you, eh? Then I believe it.” With his rough voice, he sounded like a dog who had been taught speech, too. “Any food about?”

  Godwin shrugged. “Duff’s probably gone back to bed after serving Bayard.”

  “What time of day is it?” Baldric demanded. “I would have heard the ruckus if there’d been a proper meal. And so would they.” He nodded at the slumbering Danes.

  “They would probably sleep through a thunderstorm—and you, too. We could have cut off your legs and you wouldn’t have noticed,” Godwin said. “The food’s been served and we’ve missed it.”

  “I will be happy to find you some,” a young woman’s voice said shyly. Adelar turned around to see the slave Ylla standing inside
the door. “There is bread and meat in the salter’s stores. If you like, I will bring it to you.”

  “Delightful creature, I am beholden to you,” Godwin said with a courtly bow. “Bring enough for three starving men.”

  She gave a slight smile and hurried away. Baldric whistled, making the dogs come instantly alert. “Save some for me,” he muttered as he led the dogs outside.

  “She’s not bringing it for us, you know,” Godwin said quietly but pointedly to Adelar. “It’s you she wants to make happy.”

  Adelar’s only response was a Baldric-like grunt.

  Godwin joined Adelar on a bench. “She’s a pretty little thing, eh? And she’s a virgin, or so the merchant who sold her to Bayard claimed.”

  “She is Bayard’s property.” Adelar eyed Godwin with some curiosity. “If you are so smitten with her, why are you pointing out her virtues to me?”

  Godwin’s surprise was comical to behold. “St. Swithins in a swamp, why am I? Too much ale has addled my wits. Forget everything I said!”

  “Very well, but I would suggest you keep your eye on Ranulf. He is the one not to be trusted around virgins,” Adelar warned.

  Godwin’s eyes widened. “It’s true then, about Ranulf and that thane’s daughter at Cynath’s burh? How much did he have to pay?”

  “You are much too interested in gossip, Godwin.”

  “It was you who first told me the tale,” Godwin noted. “How much?”

  “I do not know the exact amount, but let us hope Ordella never finds out. And,” Adelar said sternly, “I believe she would never forgive the messenger, either.”

  “I think you are correct about that,” Godwin agreed. “Still, Ranulf had best take better care, eh?”

  Ylla returned. She eyed the still-sleeping Danes warily and gave them a wide berth as she quickly cleared a space at the table. When she set the bread and ale down in front of Adelar, she smiled shyly. “Anything else, my lord?”

  “No. You may go.”

  One of the Danes stirred and snorted noisily, and Ylla scurried out of the hall as if she expected him to rise and give chase.