Margaret Moore - [Viking 02]

by The Saxon

  The gleeman shrugged, but when Ordella turned back to look at Endredi, he puckered his lips and frowned in a very accurate impersonation of Ranulf’s wife. Endredi had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

  “Would you care to accompany me to the weaving shed?” Ordella asked. “Some of our women are very skilled.”

  “I would like that,” Endredi answered. She should go there to see how the Saxon women managed this important task. An accomplished weaver herself, Helmi had managed the courage—or her curiosity had overwhelmed her fears enough—to have already ventured that far from Bayard’s bower. She was quite contemptuous of the Saxon methods and design, but Endredi suspected that was only because of Helmi’s belief that anyone else’s work must be inferior.

  Endredi would rather go by herself than with Ordella, but there was no way to refuse without making it look like an insult. Accordingly, she rose and waited for Ordella to follow suit.

  The two women left the hall. Outside, the day was warm and the air humid. A low line of dark clouds on the horizon promised rain later in the day, and Endredi hoped sooner rather than later.

  The weaving shed was part of a group of buildings just outside the walls of the burh. It was a long, low structure, part of which was used to store the washed fleece. Inside, especially on such a muggy day, there was a distinct odor of sheep.

  Endredi spotted Helmi, who had set up her own loom a little distance from where the Saxon women worked. She was making a great show of ignoring them, but as they drew near, Endredi saw her glance toward the chattering Saxons more than once. Obviously Helmi wanted them to notice her work, and either they truly did not, or were similarly ignoring her.

  It was probably just as well that Helmi could not speak to them, for otherwise she would never have accepted such a response in silence. She would have been telling them all how to do their work, too.

  Helmi and the others caught sight of Endredi and Ordella. Helmi nodded a greeting, but the other women’s expressions were considerably less favorable. They probably did not welcome a Viking, but the knowledge did little to dull the sadness Endredi felt when she saw the contempt in their eyes before they returned to their task.

  As they continued to watch the women, Ordella shifted uncomfortably closer. “As much as I dislike being the bearer of bad tidings, I feel it is my duty to tell you what I have heard about a certain lady with whom Bayard has been, shall we say, very friendly—both before and after your arrival.”

  “Like Father Derrick, I have no liking for gossip, Ordella,” Endredi replied. “Besides, I thought you said Bayard was an honorable man.”

  “Well, yes, I did. And I truly believed that. Unfortunately, Ranulf has since told me...”

  “What?” Not bothering to keep her voice low, Endredi raised one eyebrow skeptically. If Bayard did have a mistress, that was not so surprising. He was a handsome, wealthy thane. Nor was it a surprise that he might continue to see her. Theirs had been an arranged marriage, for the sake of peace. Indeed, if there was any surprise at all, it was that she felt so little. She cared in a vague way, but she was certainly not upset. She was almost pleased to think that Bayard would not abandon the woman entirely.

  “Does this lady have a name?”

  Ordella flushed. “Ranulf would not tell me.”

  “I see,” Endredi said, now suspicious that the woman was a spiteful fabrication. “Thank you for the information. I shall ask Bayard about this nameless woman.”

  Ordella looked horrified. “Oh, I would not do that, my lady! These are only rumors, you know. Perhaps merely malicious gossip, after all. I would not question Bayard.”

  “No?” Endredi said with a smile, convinced she had guessed correctly. There was no mistress. “Then I would suggest you keep such malicious gossip to yourself, lest you find yourself accused of slander.”

  Ordella blinked rapidly. Obviously Endredi had not reacted the way she had expected at all. “Yes, of course, my lady, of course.”

  The Saxon weavers, whose hands had grown much slower about their tasks, began to work quickly again.

  After a long silence, Ordella cleared her throat awkwardly. “I think the men are in the field practicing their swordplay. If you have been here long enough, perhaps we could watch them?”

  “I would rather not disturb them. And it might not be wise for me to take an interest in their preparations for war, since to many here I am still, and only, a Viking.”

  The women glanced at her, some with surprise, others contemptuous.

  “Very well, then. We shall not go.”

  “I understand why the people here are suspicious of me, of course. I myself have to struggle to subdue my suspicions of Saxons.”

  Ordella and the others made no secret of their surprise at her blunt words.

  “When I was a girl, my village was destroyed by Saxons,” Endredi went on. “A band of Saxons took me and the women and children they had not killed back to their village. Fortunately, we managed to escape.”

  “Saxons do not venture onto Viking lands!” Ordella protested. “They only defend themselves.”

  “This Saxon band did.”

  “But how could women and children escape from a Saxon village?” Ordella’s disbelieving tone matched the expression on the other women’s faces, and Endredi knew they were all wondering the same thing.

  “It was not so difficult,” Endredi said, letting some measure of scorn creep into her voice. “They did not think us capable of tricking them. They were wrong.”

  “Were you...were you—”

  “Raped?” Ordella had the grace to blush at Endredi’s frank response. “No. But not because a Saxon brute did not think of it. I hit him and got away. By that time, the others had freed themselves. We stole a ship and sailed home.”

  “All by yourselves?” Ordella asked incredulously.

  “We were Viking women,” she answered simply.

  “Oh, of course. But you had no help in the village?”

  Endredi hesitated, then answered, “No. However, that is in the past. I am determined to make a home here,” she said sincerely, “to show that Vikings and Saxons can live together in peace. I have had enough of fighting and bloodshed.”

  Some of the women nodded approvingly. But not all. Endredi suppressed a sigh. It was not going to be easy, living here.

  “By the blessed Virgin, it seems incredible. I’m glad you were not hurt. Naturally Ranulf and I have felt all along that since Bayard has married you, you must be rather special. We have decided we must put aside our old feelings about the Danes and help you.”

  “How kind.”

  “It is a pity that some people are not so easily swayed. Adelar, for example. I was shocked that Bayard had him show you about. I hope he said nothing to upset you?”

  “No.”

  “Perhaps when he hears what happened to you, he will think of you in kinder ways—as we all do.” Her gesture encompassed the weaving shed.

  “I do not care what Adelar thinks of me,” Endredi said firmly.

  “That is just as well, my lady. Indeed, I would not trouble yourself about him. He is not important enough to concern Bayard’s wife.”

  Endredi gave her a slightly bored, quizzical look. “Oh?”

  “Considering that he will never amount to much.”

  Never amount to much? Ordella must be blind and stupid. Adelar could be anything, even a king.

  “It is no secret his father is a feeble old man. Yet Adelar will not take over his land, as he should.”

  “Why not?” Endredi told herself this was of import to Bayard.

  “I have no idea, unless it has something to do with his mother. She was the sister of Bayard’s mother and an adulteress. His father could have been a great man, but for her. After her death, he never remarried. Who could blame him for wanting to avoid such a thing again? But Adelar will not hear a word said against his mother. There are rumors Kendric plans to will everything to an illegitimate son. Why not, I say, if his own
son is going to ignore him and defend a woman like that? And then, of course, there’s the question of Adelar’s time among the Vikings.”

  “What of that?”

  “Not that I’m saying anything against you, my lady, but I think we can guess how he might have been treated. He left home after staying with his poor father only five years after his return. He went first to one burh, then another, and finally here, to his cousin’s.”

  “I am certain Bayard is pleased by his company.”

  “Of course. It is still a great pity that he hates Vikings. I doubt there is anything you could do or say to change his mind.”

  “I realize several people are not happy with my presence and I shall do my best to prove to them that as Bayard’s wife, my first loyalty is to him and to his people. As for Adelar’s opinion of me, he is but one man.”

  “He is Bayard’s cousin.”

  “And I am Bayard’s wife.”

  Chapter Five

  In spite of himself, Adelar once again found his gaze drawn to Endredi, seated beside his cousin in the hall. He watched her delicate, graceful movements as she lifted her food to her lovely lips, admired the soft pink paleness of her smooth cheeks and sought to catch a glimpse of her beautiful eyes beneath her demurely lowered lids.

  And all the while he cursed himself for a weak-willed fool.

  For days he had avoided being anywhere near her, and his desire for her was not the only reason. He had no wish to reveal the shameful act of violence he had very nearly committed, even though it would have been for her defense. Why should he admit to it, if she held him in such contempt? Besides, she was married to his cousin. Let her believe the worst of him, as long as she made Bayard happy.

  Which she apparently did.

  He noticed that a strand of her hair had escaped the scarf over her head. She had lovely hair, darker than when he first knew her. How much he longed to touch it again! To kiss her again—but not as before. That had been the questioning, tentative kiss of a boy. He wanted to kiss her with a man’s lips, and a man’s passion.

  But what would she do if he did? Slap his face? Denounce him to Bayard?

  It did not matter, because it would never happen.

  He rose to leave the hall, determined to get away from the sight of her. Then Bayard called out his name.

  “Yes, my lord?” he replied, purposefully avoiding Endredi’s eyes.

  Bayard gestured for him to come forward. “I must see to the sentries. Endredi has no wish to retire, so I would ask that you play a game with her.”

  He saw the surprise on Endredi’s face. “Perhaps someone else, my lord. I have no skill at games.”

  Bayard frowned slightly, and Adelar realized he should not have been so swift to demur. “If you command it, my lord, naturally I will be happy to play.”

  “Please, Bayard,” Endredi said quietly, letting her hand rest gently on her husband’s arm, “if he has no wish to linger, he need not.”

  Bayard patted her hand. “Oh, pay no heed to Adelar’s charmless ways,” he said. He darted a swift, sharp look at his cousin that was as good as an order. “He will enjoy it. It will do him good to think of something besides his belly and fighting and wenching. I shall return shortly.” He stood up. “I warn you, though, Adelar. She is no novice. I have yet to win a game.”

  Once Bayard departed the hall, others followed suit. Ranulf and Ordella remained, ostensibly still eating. Endredi thought it was more likely that they were curious to see how Adelar acted with Bayard’s wife.

  Ylla and Gleda moved quickly to fold the cloth that covered the half of the table where the nobles sat. Some of the men helped take down the long trestle table and lay it against the wall. Ylla brought forward a smaller round table for the game. Endredi picked up a stool and set it down, then sat wordlessly, her gaze fastened on the board.

  Godwin, who had watched all that had passed while he played his fithele, struck up a cheerful tune. Those who remained began to clap and sing the familiar words to the song.

  Adelar strode over to a chest in the corner and took out the game pieces. He put them on the table before her and drew up a bench on the opposite side.

  The music danced about them and it annoyed her, like the chattering of a bird when you wish to sleep.

  “You do not have to stay,” Endredi said when he took his seat, her voice as cold as the harsh winter’s wind across an open field.

  “Bayard wished it.”

  “What shall we play, then, my lord?” she inquired with great politeness.

  “Do you know capture and escape, my lady?”

  She glanced at him, wondering if there was a hidden reference to the way they had first met, but his face revealed nothing. “Very well,” she said. “I shall be red.”

  “Then I will be black.” He reached for his pieces, his hand momentarily brushing hers. She held her breath, felt the color rising to her cheeks, told herself it was nothing, nothing! It was the first time he had touched her in years. That was all. That was why that brief contact of flesh to flesh seemed to sear her skin like a red-hot coal.

  With quick, sure, yet self-conscious movements, she set out her red pieces. The first person to get their chieftain across the squares of the board without getting captured would win. Ready to begin and determined to beat him, she glanced up at him.

  To encounter that intense, dark gaze she knew so well. “You first, my lady.”

  She had no voice to refuse his offer. She slowly pushed her corner piece, a churl, forward.

  With a swiftness that startled her, he shoved out his center piece. The chieftain. She chewed her lip. A direct attack was an unconventional move, but probably not for Adelar.

  Her chieftain ventured forth. He countered with one of the thanes of the right side. She moved another churl. His chieftain, one space toward her. Direct for her chieftain. A foolish, bold move—or a trap.

  Trapped—that was how she felt, with Ranulf and Ordella watching her. That was how she had felt ever since she had arrived. It was clear Adelar did not share her dread of these two, but he should. It was never wise to underestimate an enemy.

  It would not be wise to underestimate Adelar if she was to win.

  Adelar moved his pieces swiftly, as if he was already anticipating what she would do. She tried to concentrate on the game, wanting—needing—to win. But she couldn’t. Her traitorous gaze strayed to his long slender fingers. Different now. Callused from weapons. Hard and older. A man’s hands. His muscular forearms. He had always been good with a bow. Was he still, or had he abandoned it as a weapon for churls and foot soldiers, not nobles?

  The music kept on, and the low murmur of other voices constantly reminded her that they were not alone. They would never be alone together again.

  She moved her left-most thane to protect her chieftain. His was still alone, vulnerable in the center of the board. Adelar was no fool. Surely he would move other pieces to protect it. She must be wary of being drawn into an entrapped position.

  A stray wisp of dark hair caressed his forehead, which furrowed with thought.

  Who soothed his worried brow when his troubles were more than a game? Once, she had been the one he turned to for solace. Had another woman taken that place?

  Godwin paused in his playing and saluted them with his drinking horn. “Although I have the greatest respect for Bayard’s wisdom, I do not believe she will vanquish you, eh, Adelar?”

  He darted a glance at her. “Only if I allow it.”

  She forced herself to smile at Godwin. “He has a fine opinion of himself, this bold fellow.”

  “With some good reason, my lady,” Godwin replied cheerfully before striking up another tune. “Yet he was ever a hasty fellow, and sometimes haste is a mistake.”

  Endredi turned back to the game board. It was Adelar’s move, but his hand hesitated. She glanced up at his face, and the intense expression in his eyes shocked her.

  “I did not abandon you, Endredi,” he whispered fervently in th
e Viking tongue. He was simply no longer able to keep silent in the face of her cold and distant green eyes. Before, he had thought he could ignore her harsh words. Here, now, he could not.

  “I was there,” he went on, his voice full of insistent passion. “Hiding in my father’s hall. I would have killed him before I let him hurt you. I was ready to do it. My arrow was on the bowstring! But there was no need. You hit him and ran away.”

  Her eyes widened, yet she did not speak.

  “He told you that he thought you were thin, and that he liked thin women,” he went on quickly. “He told you that all Viking women were little better than harlots and that living in your village had even corrupted Meradyce. You begged him to let you return to the barn with the other women. You kept backing away from him toward the hearth. He said he would let you go—” he paused and took a deep breath, the words agonizing to say “—when he was finished with you. Then he grabbed you by the shoulders. I raised my bow, preparing to shoot him, my own father! Ready to murder him to save you.” Still she said nothing, the expression in her green eyes uncertain. “Did you never wonder how I came to be on the shore at the same time you were making your escape?”

  Suddenly they both realized the hall had grown silent and that most of the people were looking at them.

  Endredi made a brief smile in Godwin’s direction and spoke in Saxon. “I should have been forewarned of his skill.”

  Adelar cleared his throat and shrugged, then addressed the others. “She is very clever. I see why Bayard has yet to beat her at this game.”

  He looked at her, and her gaze faltered, then fell. “Then why did you never come back to me?” she whispered. The anguish in her voice pained him, and yet it thrilled him, too. She had not forgotten him, or their feelings for each other.

  “I wanted to come back for you, Endredi, very much. But—”

  “But?”

  “I was afraid.”

  “Of what? The few villagers your father did not slaughter? Or your father’s rage if he found out?”

  “Oh, no,” he answered, his gaze flicking to her face. “It was never my father I feared.” He took a deep breath. “I was afraid of you.”