Dark Under the Cover of Night

by Jayne Castel

  “Roll over my lovely,” he climbed back onto the bed and tweaked her nipples so they stood up hard against her pale skin. When Raedwyn did not respond he pushed her over onto her face and pulled her up onto her hands and knees.

  “What a lovely arse!” he exclaimed, slapping her hard across the rear. “It makes a man hard just to look at it!”

  Then, as if to prove his point, Cynric gave his new wife a repeat performance of the night before. Raedwyn screeched and tried to claw her way off the bed as he forced himself into her. Cynric ignored her protests, grabbed her hips and lifted them to meet each thrust.

  “That’s right my lovely, squeal!” he grunted. “I like a bit of noise!”

  At his words, Raedwyn promptly bit down on her tongue and endured the ordeal in stubborn silence. Cynric took his pleasure once more, and by the time he collapsed on top of Raedwyn she had curled up in agony.

  Raedwyn clamped her eyes shut and felt tears sting behind them – to think she would be forced to endure this repeatedly for her entire married life. How had her mother suffered it?

  Cynric eventually rolled off Raedwyn, slapped her naked bottom and, whistling cheerfully, pulled on his clothes. Raedwyn waited until he had left the chamber before she gingerly rolled off the bed. In the privy she examined herself – she was swollen and bruised, and her thighs were smeared with blood. Anger flooded through her as she carefully washed herself.

  The pain made it difficult to walk but Raedwyn managed to shuffle across the chamber to where her mother had laid out her clothes for traveling. She dressed in a long, fitted, tight-sleeved tunic with a thick blue woven wool over-dress. Around her waist, she buckled an embroidered leather belt. She pulled her hair back into a bun at the nape of her neck and concealed her hair with a cloth veil.

  It was then Raedwyn noticed the brooches. They sat on a stool next to her nightstand. The brooches were beautiful – polished nuggets of amber in a nest of gold. She knew they were from Cynric and her first instinct was to hurl them out the window. However, these were Cynric’s morgen-gifu or ‘morning gift’. As it was customary for a man to give his new wife a present on the morning after they had spent their first night together, she felt obliged to keep them.

  Raedwyn’s hands trembled as she picked up the brooches. She was using them to fasten her cloak to her shoulders when the tapestry covering the chamber’s doorway parted and Seaxwyn hesitantly poked her head into the chamber.

  “Raedwyn?”

  Upon seeing her mother’s face, Raedwyn’s self-control dissolved. She burst into noisy tears.

  “Raedwyn!” Seaxwyn hurried across the chamber and enfolded her sobbing daughter in a hug. They stood together, unspeaking, until Raedwyn’s tears eventually subsided. Seaxwyn stroked her daughter’s wet, blotchy cheek and smiled tenderly.

  “Was it that bad?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Raedwyn accused.

  “I had hoped you would be one of the lucky ones,” Seaxwyn replied. “For that reason, I did not worry you.”

  “But I thought you and father were happy?”

  “We are,” Seaxwyn replied firmly, “but that is a rarity amongst the high-born.”

  Seeing the look of anguish on her daughter’s face, Seaxwyn led Raedwyn over to the bed and they sat down on the edge of it.

  “I was lucky in Raedwald, for he is a noble and gentle-hearted man,” Seaxwyn explained, “but you know he was not my first husband.”

  Raedwyn nodded. She knew her mother had been married before, to Tondbert, an East Saxon prince. The union lasted only a couple of years, before Tondbert divorced Seaxwyn. Soon afterwards, she had married Raedwald. She had a son from that former union, Sigeberht, who Raedwald had never trusted. As soon as Sigeberht came of age, Raedwald had banished his stepson from his kingdom and now Sigeberht lived in exile in Gaul. Raedwyn knew little of her mother’s previous life, or of how having her son in exile affected her. She listened intently as Seaxwyn recounted her tale.

  “I was barely sixteen when my father married me to Tondbert. Unlike Cynric who is a decent man, Tondbert was cruel and plagued by dark moods. It took little to irritate him, and when he discovered he had not married a mouse of a woman, he decided to beat any fire out of me.”

  Seaxwyn looked out of the window at the lightening sky, her finely sculptured face hard with the memory. “He beat me regularly, so badly once that I lost my first baby. When I was with child the second time he left me alone, until Sigeberht was born. Then the beatings became more frequent, until one day he had me cornered and I thought he was going to kill me. I had taken to carrying a knife hidden under my skirts but had lacked the courage to wield it. It was then, cornered and worried for my life, that fear left me and I felt as a man must feel when the lust of battle takes hold. I stabbed him in the leg thrice and left him howling on the floor. I fled immediately with my son for my father’s hall, and days later Tondbert divorced me.”

  Raedwyn was agape at her mother’s tale. She had always known her mother was strong but she had never imagined her capable of such anger, or courage.

  “After Tondbert, I believed no man would want me – but then, my father discovered the young King of the East Angles sought a wife. I was miserable, imagining that my next husband would be as cruel as my last, but I knew the moment I set eyes on Raedwald that I would love him fiercely. I had hoped it would be the same for you and Cynric.”

  Raedwyn shook her head and scowled at the thought of her new husband.

  “He is a brute,” Raedwyn spat. “To think that I will have to endure his touch again and again makes me want to die.”

  Seaxwyn took Raedwyn’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s a woman’s lot,” she said, her tone brooking no argument, “and you could have fared much worse than Cynric. Listen to me Raedwyn!”

  Raedwyn felt her mother’s grip on her hand tighten with urgency and she looked into her mother’s eyes. They were smoky gray and sharp like pieces of flint. “Ours is a world controlled by the warrior and the sword. We women are like seeds scattered by the wind. The wind drops us where it will and there we have the choice to either fight our fate or grow roots and bloom.”

  “You fought Tondbert,” Raedwyn replied, lifting her chin defiantly, “and it brought you to my father!”

  “I defended my life from a man who would have murdered me if I had not fought back,” Seaxwyn replied, “and I know you would do the same, but you must remember that Cynric, though apparently lacking in the qualities which make him an ideal husband, is not a bad man. You must bloom where you are planted my dear daughter or life will wear you down.”

  Raedwyn shook her head stubbornly. “The man is a brute!”

  “Raedwyn.” Seaxwyn gently took hold of her daughter’s chin and forced her to meet her gaze. “There is more to a marriage than what happens between man and woman in the marriage bed. You and Cynric are still strangers. Give him some time and you may be pleasantly surprised.”

  Raedwyn stared back at her mother, disappointed. She could hardly believe that her mother was telling her to accept the touch of a man who had treated her so roughly. She had always thought her mother would protect her from life’s sharp edges, but now saw that she had finally entered adulthood and could no longer hide behind her mother’s skirts.

  Raedwyn’s world was not as simple as she had always believed, and nor was her place in it.

 

  ***

  Raedwyn left Rendlaesham under leaden skies. A dull gray blanket blocked out the sun and the air was heavy, full of the promise of rain.

  Raedwald’s eyes glittered with tears when he hugged his daughter tight against him and sent her on her way.

  “I will miss you dear girl,” he said gruffly. “My hall will appear cheerless without your laughter.”

  Raedwyn choked back her own tears before hugging her mother and brother. Meanwhile, Cynric mounted his horse, impatient to leave. Raedwald helped his daughter up onto the back of her shaggy bay mare
before rejoining Queen Seaxwyn and Eorpwald.

  Raedwyn looked back at her family. Her father was stone-faced, struggling to control his emotions, while her mother gave Raedwyn a brave smile, her eyes glittering. Eorpwald watched her solemnly, his quiet countenance giving nothing away.

  Raedwyn bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from weeping, before she chastised herself for being so ungrateful. Her father had done his best for her and she could not bear to disappoint him. However, despite her mother’s advice, Raedwyn could not imagine welcoming Cynric’s touch. Just the sight of his self-satisfied face this morning made her want to slap him.

  Mounted alongside Raedwyn, Cynric gave his king a hearty salute before urging his horse on, down the incline, and away from Raedwald’s Great Hall.

  “Raedwyn!” Eanfled appeared at Raedwyn’s side, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

  “Dearest Eanfled!” Raedwyn reached down and clasped her maid’s hand in hers. “Of course not, I knew you’d be here to see me off!”

  The truth of it was that Raedwyn had avoided seeing Eanfled today. She knew her friend would have asked her about her wedding night, and Raedwyn would have had to tell her the truth. Eanfled had been so excited for her that Raedwyn could not bear to see the pity and worry in her eyes.

  “Don’t forget me Raedwyn!” Eanfled called after her. “Please visit!”

  “Of course I will!” Raedwyn called black, her vision blurring with tears as she waved to her friend and dug her heels into her horse’s sides. “I will never forget you Eanfled!”

  Moments later, they were riding out of Rendlaesham. Townsfolk lined the streets to farewell the newly-weds. Fifteen warriors rode out behind Cynric and Raedwyn; their escort back to the long ship moored on the banks of the Deben. A few children straggled behind them for a while before the company of seventeen found themselves alone, riding through open country dotted with clumps of woodland.

  The farther they rode from Rendlaesham, the better Raedwyn started to feel. Bidding her family farewell had been too raw. Now that she had left them behind, the pain dulled and Raedwyn felt her mood lift.

  Cynric did not converse with his new wife during the journey. Instead, he rode ahead with one of his warriors. Raedwyn watched him laugh at something the warrior said and wondered if he would ever be that at ease with her. He was a man who clearly preferred male company; perhaps that was why he had married so late in life.

  They retraced their steps from two days earlier, weaving in and out of sheltering woodland. As the day wore on, the sky darkened and the first fat drops of rain fell. Raedwyn watched the drops splash onto her hands and peered up at the ominous sky. Moments later, the heavens opened and rain pelted down on the travelers.

  Soon they were all soaked through. Rivulets of cold water ran down Raedwyn’s face and down the back of her neck. Miserable, she hunched low in the saddle under her fur cloak.

  Gradually the rain lessened to a drizzle and a wet mist settled over the land. The thickets of trees were gradually becoming sparser and would soon give way entirely to wide heathland. The closer they got to the sea, the stronger the wind became, and its icy bite made Raedwyn’s fingers and feet numb with cold.

  Raedwyn was blowing on her chilled fingers in a futile attempt to warm them when the unmistakable twang of a bowstring cut through the air.

  Directly ahead of her, Raedwyn watched a feathered arrow embed itself in Cynric’s side with a meaty thud. Cynric grunted and collapsed against his horse’s neck as another arrow struck his side.

  Cynric the Bold slid off his horse and collapsed on the sodden ground.

  Suddenly the air was thick with flying arrows and axes. An axe caught the warrior, who had ridden next to Cynric, in the neck and he toppled off his horse. The warriors behind Raedwyn charged forward to protect her, drawing their swords as they did so.

  Terrified, the cold and rain forgotten, Raedwyn crouched down in the saddle. Then, acting on instinct, she turned her mare sharply back in the direction she had come. The mare pivoted on her haunches and bolted. Clinging on as the horse flattened out into a wild gallop, Raedwyn could hear shouts and the sounds of a battle behind her. The clash of swords rang out through the mist and the thunder of horses’ hooves gradually grew louder.

  They were chasing her.

  Panic seized Raedwyn. If she followed the riverbank they would be sure to catch her. She turned her horse into the trees and dug her heels into the mare’s slick sides. Wispy shrouds of mist made visibility poor in the thickly wooded copse. Raedwyn grabbed hold of the mare’s bristly mane and flattened herself against her neck. The frightened horse stumbled over tree roots, dodged tree trunks and ripped through undergrowth. Raedwyn rode, clinging to her mount and praying the mare would not break a leg on the uneven footing.

  Then, Raedwyn chanced a glance over her shoulder – and that was her mistake. For in turning in the saddle to see that she had outrun her pursuers, she failed to spy the low-hanging branch looming before her.

  A large, solid object hit the side of her head and ripped her from the saddle.

  ***

  The hand that slapped her across the face was hard and calloused, bringing Raedwyn violently back to her senses. Her cheek stung from the slap and her head throbbed from the collision with the tree branch. Raedwyn looked up into the leering face of a bearded man with wild dark hair who loomed over her.

  Once again acting on instinct, Raedwyn brought her knee sharply up. Her aim was dead-on and her knee connected with his groin. The man gave a strangled yell and fell to one side. Raedwyn scrambled away, her long skirts and cloak catching on brambles. She had barely managed a few yards when a hand fastened around her ankle and pulled her back.

  “Little bitch!” the man was no longer leering. “I’ll teach you some manners wench!” He hit her hard across the face and threw her on to her back.

  It seemed Raedwyn had not kneed the man hard enough to damage him, for he was pulling up his tunic and attempting to free his manhood from his breeches with one hand while pulling up Raedwyn’s skirts with the other. She still had a dull ache between her legs after Cynric’s attentions. The thought of another man using her, filled Raedwyn with cold fear.

  Panicked, Raedwyn kicked and struggled, bit and punched, oblivious to his blows. Eventually her skirts were up around her hips while her attacker was trying, in vain, to rip open the front of her tunic. Her linen tunic fitted her snugly and a thick wool sleeveless overdress covered it. Her mother had designed this outfit for traveling; it was near impossible to rip with bare hands. Finally, realizing he was getting nowhere, the man pulled out a knife and raised it to Raedwyn’s face.

  “You’re almost too much trouble,” he hissed, “but I’m going to have you now or I’ll cut you up!”

  Raedwyn stared up at his maddened face in horror. She was sure he would cut her throat. She had to decide whether letting him use her was better or worse than death.

  Fate spared her the decision.

  “Hengist!” An angry male voice cut through the close air. Raedwyn’s attacker froze in the midst of parting Raedwyn’s thighs. His face blanched.

  A figure loomed out of the mist and hauled Hengist off her. The knife tumbled into the undergrowth and fists flew. Moments later, Raedwyn’s would-be rapist was cringing on the ground, winded. A tall man, wrapped in a dark cloak, stood over him. A large cowl shrouded his face but Raedwyn could feel his gaze burning into her. For a moment, she stared back at him, before remembering she lay in the undergrowth naked from the waist down with her legs spread.

  Mortification flooded through her. She yanked her skirts down and dived for the knife that lay an arm’s length away. The stranger was too fast for her. He kicked the knife out of reach and pulled her to her feet, pinning her arms to her sides.

  “Quiet now milady,” he admonished as Raedwyn attempted to twist free. “I mean you no harm but you will injure yourself
if you continue to fight me.”

  “You mean me no harm?” Raedwyn’s voice was shrill with hysteria. “You ambush us and kill my husband, before one of you tries to rape me! You mean me no harm? Someone should cut off your lying tongue!”

  The cloaked man did not respond to her scorn. Instead, he turned to the groaning man who was picking himself up off the ground.

  “Touch her again Hengist and I’ll cut your hands off. My father wants her unharmed and unspoiled.”

  “Your father is welcome to her,” Hengist spat. “Vicious bitch!”

  “Come, Lady Raedwyn.” The cloaked man pushed her ahead of him, back in the direction of the river. “You have an audience with Ceolwulf the Exiled.”

  Chapter Three

  Raedwyn emerged from the copse, accompanied by her captors, into a torrential downpour. Within seconds, she was soaked. Water streamed down her face and bounced off the muddy track. Clutching her cloak tightly around her, Raedwyn struggled through the mud, to where two bedraggled horses stood tied to a tree, patiently awaiting their masters’ return. Hengist mounted his beast while his companion hoisted Raedwyn up into his horse’s saddle. Now that her anger had worn off, a numb chill settled over Raedwyn. She meekly sat atop the horse, shivering as the rain pelted against her.

  Hengist rode ahead while the cloaked man walked next to Raedwyn. They retraced their steps to the site of the ambush. Upon seeing the dead bodies of her husband and escorts, riddled with arrows and sprawled across the path, Raedwyn’s stomach roiled. She struggled off the horse and tried to squeeze past her cloaked captor.

  “Wait milady.” His hand fastened around her forearm like an iron band and halted her.

  “I must go to my husband!” Raedwyn ripped her arm free. “Let me be!”

  Raedwyn pushed against him and this time he stood back to let her pass. A crowd of bloodied and mud-splattered men stood around and watched Raedwyn pick her way across the mud, to where Cynric the Bold lay face down. Reaching him, she knelt next to his inert body and rolled him over. He was indeed dead. His body had a heaviness that live flesh did not possess. It was an effort to get him onto his back. Two arrows pierced his chest. Cynric’s face wore an awful expression. His blue eyes stared sightlessly skyward. Raedwyn had known, as she had watched the arrows hit him, that the shots were mortal. She sat back on her haunches and looked at the men lying scattered around her – not one of them moved. They had killed them all.