by Jayne Castel
“Till the morrow.” The innocuous words sounded like a threat.
With as much good grace as she could manage, Raedwyn extracted her hand from his and fled to her bower. Once inside, she sat down on a stool next to her furs and was surprised to note she was trembling.
Raedwyn poured herself a mug of water from a pitcher beside her furs and drained it. Outside it was a still night. She imagined Eafa sleeping just a few feet away from her, near the fire pit, and suppressed a shudder.
Putting down her empty mug, Raedwyn began to undress, readying herself for bed.
Perhaps I am overreacting, she told herself, as she combed out her hair, still the man makes my skin crawl. Even in my father’s hall I do not feel safe from him.
Tomorrow she would take a knife, one of the wicked-looking implements the servants used to gut animals, and find a way to hide it on her person. What would she do when she was Eafa’s wife though?
Raedwyn slipped into the nest of furs. She enjoyed this time of day – but the solace of being alone in the darkness, able to think her own thoughts, was bittersweet. Now, was the only time she allowed herself to think of Caelin. She had not seen him since their tryst in the brambles.
She had actively gone out of her way to avoid him.
Raedwyn could not bring herself to regret what had happened, but it was painful to see her father’s slave, knowing she could never again touch him. She imagined he felt the same, for there had been no sign of him around the Great Hall for days. Their union had been the most beautiful moment of her life – and she longed to repeat it. Tears stung Raedwyn’s eyes as they did every night when she thought upon Caelin. Memories of him rushed back – the warmth of his skin, the timbre of his voice, and the wildness of his passion. It was him she should have been marrying – not this cold, cruel Mercian.
Chapter Sixteen
Caelin dunked his head into a bucket of icy water and came up gasping. The water was colder than he had expected. It had been a chill night and although it would warm during the day, a thin crust of frost lay upon the ground. Caelin sat back on his haunches and splashed water over his naked neck, shoulders and chest. He shivered as he pulled a sleeveless tunic over his head before belting it around his waist. The freezing water dissolved the fog of fatigue that hung over him most mornings. They worked him from sunrise until after dark, and the precious hours that he spent sleeping never seemed long enough.
Each morning he had the task of emptying the privies in the barracks. It had to be done first thing and Raedwald had already had him whipped for failing to work fast enough. Caelin pulled on his boots over his leggings and walked across the deserted yard, towards the barracks. He did not wish to draw attention to himself today; he wanted to be as a wraith, beneath the notice of all. It would make it easier to slip away tomorrow while the handfast ceremony was taking place.
Today would be his last in Rendlaesham.
The sun was rising; golden light spilling over the treetops to the east as Caelin climbed the steps to the barracks. Tomorrow he would see the sunset as a free man – but the prospect, which had kept him going over the long, hard winter, no longer thrilled him. The reality was that Eafa and Raedwyn would marry on the morrow, and no amount of freedom could remove the bitterness that had taken residence in Caelin’s gut. He could not bear the thought of proud, brave and beautiful Raedwyn being wed to Eafa the Merciful – but short of killing the man, and being slain for the act himself, Caelin had no choice but to follow through with his plans. He had considered taking her with him, but they would never be safe from Raedwald and his desire for vengeance.
Caelin reached the barracks and found them empty. The warriors had risen early to go hunting. Beginning his task of emptying the stinking privies, Caelin reminded himself that escape was the only option he had left – he had been a privy-emptying lackey for too long, and he missed the feel of a sword in his hand. Raedwald had confiscated his sword, Shadow Catcher, upon his capture. He had seen it since then, hanging from the wall inside the Great Hall – a trophy for the king to gloat over. When he was free, he would have another sword made. The only way Raedwald would take it from him would be from his cold, dead hands.
When he had emptied the last privy, Caelin returned to the stable complex, stopping at the trough outside to scrub his hands. Inside the stables, Alchfrid tossed him a hunk of stale bread to break his fast. Sebbi and Immin had already eaten and were outside harnessing the horses that would plough the fields outside Rendlaesham once the frost thawed. Today, the four of them had the back-breaking chore of walking behind the plough and clearing the stones from the turned earth.
“It will be warm today,” Alchfrid said after swallowing his final mouthful of bread. “The sweet smell of spring is in the air.”
Caelin raised a dark eyebrow in response.
“What have you got to be pleased about? None of us will be able to walk upright by sunset.”
Alchfrid shrugged and took a gulp of water to wash down the dry bread.
“There’s to be a wedding tomorrow,” the Northumbrian replied, “which means it will be a day of rest for us for once.”
“It’s not a day to celebrate,” Caelin answered, unable to mask the bitterness in his voice, “Eafa will send his new wife to an early grave, like the last one.”
Alchfrid frowned, his blue eyes gleaming in the half-light inside the stables.
“Aye, that’s true enough,” he admitted, watching his friend shrewdly, “but there’s nothing you or I can do about it Caelin. Don’t take it so hard.”
Caelin opened his mouth to reply but the arrival of one of Raedwald’s thegns interrupted him. The man loomed in the doorway, took one look at Alchfrid and Caelin, and shook his fist.
“You two – stop yapping like crones and get your arses outside!” he roared. “Anymore slacking and I’ll have you both whipped!”
Bowing their heads as the cowed slaves they had learnt to be, Caelin and Alchfrid followed the thegn outside and helped harness the rest of the horses to the ploughs. Then, as the sun rose into the heavens, Caelin, Alchfrid, Sebbi and Immin followed the other theow through the town and out into the fields to begin a long day of work.
***
Raedwyn awoke early and sat at the window of her bower, watching the sky lighten. She had slept fitfully during the night; a regular occurrence these days, and when she had slept she had dreamt that Eafa was chasing her through a dark forest, his cold voice calling her as she ran. The nightmare still lingered as Raedwyn dressed slowly and strapped a knife to her right thigh. She hoped she would not have to use it, but the feel of the cool metal against her skin made her feel a little safer.
Finally, Raedwyn smelled the aroma of freshly cooked griddle bread and knew she could linger no longer in her bower. She joined her mother at the table and was thankful to see the men were all absent.
“Raedwald has taken Eafa hunting,” Seaxwyn informed her with a tired smile. Masking the relief that flooded through her at the welcome news, Raedwyn nodded and took a seat at the long table. She broke off a piece of griddle bread and dipped it in the gruel.
“There is much preparation that still needs to be done for tomorrow,” Seaxwyn said, pouring herself a cup of water. “I will need you here with me today to help with the decorations and your dress needs some finishing touches.”
On the eve of the handfast ceremony, Raedwald’s hall pulsed with industry. The decorations were to be even more lavish than for Raedwyn’s wedding to Cynric, with feasting and reveling long into the night. Ever since Eafa’s arrival, Raedwald had been in high spirits. He had even become affectionate towards Seaxwyn again, although he still treated his daughter coolly.
After servants cleared the remnants of food away, Seaxwyn got to work. She ordered the servants to open the two doorways at either end of the hall to let in the fresh morning air and had them scour the interior of the building clean. They removed the old rush matting; filt
hy after the long winter, and replaced them with clean mats.
Raedwyn sat outside the main entrance, on the narrow terrace above the steps leading down to the stable complex, and painstakingly embroidered the finishing touches on the gown she and her mother had made for her wedding. The dress was the most beautiful Raedwyn had ever seen – what a pity she was not looking forward to wearing it. It was pale blue, like the morning sky in summer, with a delicately embroidered hemline and sleeves.
The breeze was cool but the sun warmed Raedwyn’s face as she worked. Now and then she would glance down over Rendlaesham. Despite her decision to put him out of her thoughts in daylight, Raedwyn found herself scanning the town, hoping to catch a glimpse of Caelin. However, he was nowhere to be seen.
***
The men returned in the early afternoon with their horses laden with spoils from their hunt; deer and boar carcasses slung across their saddles. Raedwald and Eafa traveled together at the head of the column and rode into Rendlaesham like brothers. Eafa was in a good mood as he entered the Great Hall. Raedwyn had been helping the servants prepare seed-cakes. She had her back to him, bent over slightly as she rolled the dough into rounds and flattened them with the palm of her hand.
Eafa’s gaze devoured her, taking in her long hair that flowed down her back, the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips and rounded buttocks. The woolen dress she wore hugged her form deliciously and made his mouth water; he could barely wait for his wedding night.
Every day here was slow torture. Raedwald and Eni’s loudness got on his nerves, while Eorpwald’s quiet appraisal irked him. The king’s whelp had nothing to be supercilious about. Raedwald’s firstborn, Raegenhere, had been a much finer specimen of a man, muscular and virile like his father. Eafa did not like the shrewdness in Eorpwald’s gray eyes, nor the way he was quietly amused by everything. Like Eorpwald, Eafa was a man who gave little away and as such knew what a dangerous trait that was.
“Milady.” Eafa stepped beside Raedwyn and placed a hand on her arm. She jumped like a startled rabbit before looking up at him. She met Eafa’s gaze boldly and that pleased him. No one had broken her spirit yet. He had observed her often during the last four days and her lack of fire had irritated him. He had begun to think she was not the girl he remembered. Now he saw some of her spark return. She did not like him touching her. Her arm under his hand tensed as if it took all her will not to wrench it away. A lazy, calculating smile crept across Eafa’s face and he reached out and stroked her cheek.
“Soon Raedwyn you will be mine,” he whispered, “and then you will have to suffer my touch.”
Raedwyn’s jaw set and anger kindled in her eyes. She stepped back abruptly and Eafa dropped his hand. If they had been alone he would have struck her across the face for her defiance. Anticipation burned within him and he cursed the night that still lay between him and his prize.
***
Her encounter with Eafa left Raedwyn unsettled for the remainder of the afternoon. She busied herself in the hall but kept a watchful eye on her betrothed, careful not to let him catch her unawares again. The afternoon passed quickly, while outside the sky clouded and a cool wind sprang up. Finally, the sun sank towards the western horizon.
Raedwyn removed the last batch of seed cakes from the griddle and brushed crumbs off her hands.
“Mother, I’ll be back soon. I need some fresh air.” Raedwyn fastened her cloak about her shoulders and gave Seaxwyn a tired smile.
The queen nodded, weariness etching her own face. “You’ve worked hard today Raedwyn. Take a stroll, not too long mind for rain clouds approach.”
“I have my cloak, I will not stray far,” Raedwyn promised before she left the hall and took a deep breath of the cooling air as she stepped outside. Slowly, she descended the steps outside the hall, relishing the peace of solitude. Raedwyn had almost reached the bottom of the steps when a voice behind her chilled her blood.
“Milady, may I join you on your stroll?”
Although he had phrased it as a request, Eafa the Merciful’s tone of voice brooked no argument. He appeared at Raedwyn’s side and solicitously took her arm.
“I saw you leave the hall and thought it would be a good moment for us to spend some time together.”
Raedwyn schooled her features into a passive mask and nodded, not trusting herself to speak lest Eafa hear the dread in her voice. Unspeaking, they resumed their walk. Eafa hooked his arm protectively around Raedwyn’s and once they had passed through the gates in the wall encircling the Golden Hall, Eafa steered her through the township, towards the back gates.
“Tell me Milord,” Raedwyn made an attempt at conversation. “I have never been to Mercia. Is it as beautiful as these lands?”
“More beautiful,” Eafa replied, his voice dispassionate, “Green and wooded. Your father’s hall appears a thatched barn in comparison to the stone walls of Tamworth.”
Raedwyn sucked in her breath. “It must be distasteful to you to sojourn in such foul accommodation.” She could not keep the ice from her voice. Even if she was no longer welcome here, Rendlaesham had forever been her home. The beauty of Raedwald’s ‘Golden Hall’ had become common knowledge throughout Britannia.
Eafa laughed and the sound chilled Raedwyn.
“I am willing to put up with such discomfort in order to marry you dear Raedwyn.” He slid his hand up the inside of her arm. “I grow weary of waiting. I must have you.” He stroked the soft skin under her arm sensuously. “Your virtue matters not anymore, does it?”
Raedwyn’s heart started to race. Was he intending to take her to a secluded place so he could rape her?
She considered screaming and drawing attention to them, but Eafa’s grasp on her arm was an iron band. No one would prevent the Mercian lord from escorting his betrothed for an evening walk. Raedwald would be furious if she offended her betrothed.
“Tomorrow you shall be mine,” Eafa continued, “but I think I deserve a taste of the honey that I will soon own.”
Fear closed Raedwyn’s throat – then she felt drops splatter against her face and looked up. Dark clouds had rolled in overhead from the east, blotting out the remnants of the dusk and throwing the landscape into shadow. Overhead, the sky rumbled. Thunor was on the move. Raedwyn imagined Thunor, the god of thunder, careening across the sky in a chariot drawn by his two male goats, ‘Tooth-gnasher’ and ‘Gap-tooth’, bringing with him the rain. Her fear blossomed into panic; Eafa would use the approaching storm to his advantage. Everyone would be sheltering from the rain and there would be no one about to see him drag her away.
“Lord Eafa!” A man’s voice hailed them from behind.
Eafa cursed under his breath and turned, still holding Raedwyn fast at his side. Raedwyn’s cousin, Annan, approached. As usual, Annan was in good spirits. He walked with a jaunty stride, seemingly oblivious to Raedwyn’s terror or Eafa’s irritation at his interruption.
“What is it?” Eafa growled. “Why do you disturb us?”
“A messenger has arrived from Tamworth with urgent news for you, Milord.”
Eafa dropped Raedwyn’s arm. “Where is the messenger?”
“He awaits you in the hall with the king,” Annan replied.
Raedwyn forgotten, Eafa pushed past Annan and stalked back up the street between rows of thatched huts. Annan watched him go before turning to Raedwyn.
“Is all well with you Raedwyn?” Annan’s face clouded. “You are deathly pale.”
Raedwyn forced a smile. “I’m just a bit tired after being inside all day. I think I’ll take a stroll around the walls.”
“I’ll see you back at the hall then,” Annan replied. “You’d better hurry that walk or you’ll get drenched. A rain squall’s on its way.”
Raedwyn watched Annan turn and follow Eafa back up the street, before she took a slow, shuddering breath.
Her marriage to Eafa would only end in death – but would it be his or hers? Her hand trembled as she felt beneath her tunic, her fin
gers clasping around the blade she had secreted.
Would she have the stomach to use it? Raedwyn’s grip tightened on the knife. Courage Raedwyn, she told herself, you are of Wuffinga blood. None of your male kin would allow themselves to be brutalized, and neither will you. You will fight him, even if he kills you for it.
***
Night fell over Rendlaesham in a thick rain-swept shroud. The storm had cut short the slaves’ work in the fields, and so Caelin, Alchfrid, Immin and Sebbi had returned before dusk. Muddy and shivering, they had seen to the horses and cleaned the plough, before retreating inside the stable to dry off.
They had depleted their stock of half-rotten and rancid food – left-overs from Raedwald’s hall – and their bellies were hollow and aching. Hunched over a pitiful fire, Sebbi’s thin face was a picture of misery.
“How do they expect us to work,” he growled, “if they don’t feed us!”
“It’s the boon of having slaves,” Alchfrid replied through chattering teeth. “If one drops dead while polishing his lord’s arse, there are plenty more to put to work.”
“Sebbi’s right,” Caelin spoke up. “We must eat. Yesterday I saw Eafa’s men cooking a stew in the western wing of the stables. I’d wager they have supplies there still. Even if its stale bread and moldy onions, we need something to fill our stomachs. Shall I go and see?”
Alchfrid gave a low whistle at that, while the other two merely gazed at Caelin, their eyes huge on their drawn faces.
“You’ve got bollocks, I’ll give you that.” Alchfrid shook his head. “But if Eafa or his men find you there, you’ll be given much worse than a whipping.”
Caelin grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dimly lit stable. “It just makes the challenge all the sweeter!” He replied recklessly.
Alchfrid, Sebbi and Immin watched Caelin slip away into the shadows before they exchanged glances.
“I can’t decide whether he’s brave or mad.” Immin shook his head. “You wouldn’t catch me going anywhere near the west wing tonight.”