“Your treachery is punishable by death,” King Alfred told his captives in the Norse tongue. “What words do you offer in your defense before I give my ruling?”
Concordia was impressed by her king’s command of this foreign dialect. She could only surmise the meaning of his words and was curious as to how many of the king’s esteemed subjects might also speak the Norsemen’s language. She gasped when the younger captive spit at King Alfred’s feet, yet she could not help but admire the heathen’s defiance as he courageously faced death.
“We have no defense...we deserve our fate because we allowed ourselves to be captured,” Gunnar replied loudly in his native tongue.
Arn glared at Gunnar before speaking to his fellow countryman through clenched teeth.
“You shame us before this Saxon! Would you have word reach our homeland that we are cowards!”
“Your words are offensive,” Gunnar seethed. “This king knows we fought well, our courage is not questioned...we started this fight and he will end it...the fault is ours!”
“Silence!” King Alfred bellowed as he arose from his throne
Concordia waited expectantly for the king’s ruling, but she was conscious of the whispering nobles that stood beneath the gallery, and she stepped away from the railing lest she was seen. However, she became unsettled when Emidus winked in her direction, and blushed when Brantson also acknowledged her presence.
“You are sentenced to death, but I am merciful and will not prolong your suffering. You will be hanged, swiftly...take them away.”
Concordia paled as the prisoners were escorted into the public courtyard where a gallows had been erected. She watched from the open window as the jeering crowd gathered around the scaffold while the Norsemen stood at the foot of the stairs. She could no longer see their faces, and could only surmise their stoicism, yet she was saddened because her Christian beliefs taught forgiveness and love, but she knew in her heart King Alfred did not have a choice.
Gunnar climbed the stairs first, followed by Arn whose eyes depicted his anger as he glared upon the Saxon rabble who sought his blood. The heathens did not move when the rope was placed around their necks, but the crowd became unruly and screamed obscenities when Arn demanded that he die with a sword in hand.
The Captain of the Guard ordered his men to stand at the ready while he carried out the king’s orders. Concordia did not see exactly when the Captain ordered the trap door to open, but she was startled by the deafening noise, and was grateful when she felt Brantson’s protective embrace.
“I did not hear you,” Concordia whispered, “but I am truly pleased that you are here.”
“You should not witness such horrors,” Brantson told her. “Come, let us walk the gardens and enjoy the beauty of this day.”
While Concordia and Brantson left the silent governing hall, Arn and Gunnar took their last breath. They did not struggle as their necks snapped and their bodies went limp while their bodily fluids soiled the earth.
The Captain of the Guard had his men disperse the crowd before the prisoners’ bodies were cut down and taken to the abbey where they would be buried quietly according to the heathen custom. King Alfred respected death, as he respected life. The funeral pyre would be lit before first light, whilst people slept so the flames would not be seen, much to the Bishop’s disapproval. The King had reminded the learned cleric that the heathens had not been baptized, nor had they been shriven, and if their bones could not be buried in consecrated ground, then a funeral pyre was the only choice.
However, Concordia did see the flames on the horizon since she had not been able to sleep because of the stifling heat. She had not covered the windows, hoping for a breeze, but as the night wore on, she found the night air especially oppressive. She had fallen asleep as she sat at her scribe’s desk while writing to her Uncle Sidonius, but she was awakened by the morning song birds as the darkened hues reddened. She noticed the white smoke spiraling to the heavens, which piqued her curiosity.
“What burns?” Concordia asked herself as she leaned against the window.
“It is of no importance,” whispered a sudden breeze. “But seeking your father’s counsel is important.”
“Mother, are you with me?” Concordia asked tearfully as she gazed upon the heavens. “I grieve for you still...and the years have not softened the pain. Pray help me.”
“Brantson would give his life for you,” said the breeze. “Do not betray his love.”
Chapter Seven
“It would seem my age is upon me,” Queen Aethelswitha gasped goodheartedly as she reached the top of the massive Keep where she found Concordia lost in thought. “I would prefer seeking you in the cloistered gardens, but then we both would be denied this breathtaking view.”
“My lady...I was not told you wished to speak with me,” Concordia blushed, “but how did you know I would be here?”
“The tower is a favorite place of solace for your relations,” the queen laughed.
Queen Aethelswitha embraced the young woman she loved as a daughter, grasped her hand and led her to the northern wall where she admired the abbey bell tower that loomed on the horizon, but Concordia was unsettled not knowing the reason for this unexpected meeting.
Even though Concordia attempted to control her discomfiture, beads of sweat formed upon her forehead and her hands became damp as she waited for the queen to reveal her intentions. She tapped her foot while holding her tongue, but a deep sigh escaped her lips as chaotic thoughts filled her mind. Did the king not think her trustworthy and feared she might speak of his illness, or had one of her tutors expressed displeasure over her inattentiveness, or had her father taken the queen into his confidence? Concordia believed she could adequately explain her reasoning, whatever the offense, and she hoped the queen would champion her cause when she stood before the king. However, when Queen Aethelswitha admired her necklace, she felt a sense of foreboding as a cold shiver ran up her spine. She held the beads between her fingers, seeking solace from a memory, yet knowing in her heart that Thayer was not wasting away his days thinking of her, otherwise, he would have written.
“I am here on your father’s behalf...he thought I might dissuade you from making a grave mistake,” Queen Aethelswitha said kindly. “The ancient cities will still be there, whether you wed in two months or two days time. If you follow this course you are so set upon, it will not only pain Elizabeth but also your relations who would wish to share in your good fortune. And what is so pressing that you must make this journey at this time? Have you had word from any of the students who have returned to their lands?”
Concordia shook her head in denial.
“Brantson has served his king well, and my husband was most pleased to give his consent,” the queen continued, “but the king fails to understand the urgency. Perhaps if you are forthcoming, I might be able to convince my husband to grant your request, but be warned that you are perceived as a coddled child!”
Concordia was filled with hope as she compiled her thoughts. She wrapped her cloak tightly, covering the offensive necklace so that her sincerity was not doubted when she confessed the truth.
“I truly believe, my lady, that if I do not take this journey now, it will never happen...and you know my words are truthful. We both know what is expected of me...and I do not shy away from my duties, but if I am ever to visit the ancient cities, I must do so before I bear children. My father does not sanction my request, but Brantson is agreeable...”
“Brantson would never deny you because you hold his heart,” the queen interrupted, “but agreeing to wed a man you do not love is...”
“I do love Brantson!” Concordia told the queen tearfully.
“As a brother, I fear.”
“My lady,” Concordia whispered. “It seems you are privy to a secret I did not share...I do not know if you have spoken to Emidus, or if my feelings are transparent, but whatever you suspect, know that your fears are unfounded. It is true I once fancied Thayer, but I was
young and...”
“You are young still,” the queen smiled.
“Aye, my lady, but I would hope I am somewhat wiser. Whatever thoughts had passed through my head were just that...thoughts, which were quite unfounded. It was a foolish maiden’s fancy...and this necklace is a remembrance of a long-ago friendship, that is all. I would never betray Brantson, you have my word.”
“Very well then. If the king is agreeable, and if the Bishop can be persuaded to dispense the banns, you and Brantson shall wed in two days time. I will see to the preparations. As for traveling with the Athenian students, the king’s decision is not yet made, but I do know that Brantson will be relieved of his command, and that he will be entrusted with messages for the Holy Father...so, my dear, you will definitely visit Rome.”
“Your kindness overwhelms me...I have no words.”
“Concordia, you must make peace with your father and Elizabeth. When she learns that you have wed and left court without returning to Wareham, she will be distressed. Even though Elizabeth is not your birthing mother, she has loved you these many years because you are her daughter as Emidus is her son. I would ask that you write her...and that you are truthful...and ask for her blessing.”
“I shall do as you bid willingly...I am grateful that I am so loved.”
Brantson left the king’s governing hall and was heading towards the court school when he glanced at the Keep and noticed Concordia speaking with the queen. He stopped when he reached the chapel, choosing to wait in the public gardens until the queen returned to her quarters. He sat on the grass, leaning against the smooth bark of a white birch while squirrels scurried along the leafy branches. His gaze shifted from Concordia to the cloudy sky then back again to the top of the tower. He heard the abbey bells in the distance, calling the faithful to prayer, and the shouts of the guards patrolling the wall-walk as riders entered through the eastern gate. He still could not believe that, in two days time, he would take a wife. He would have preferred having his relations present at the nuptials, and secretly agreed with Lord Stephen and the king that Concordia’s sense of urgency was misplaced, but he was sympathetic to her plight and understood the reasons behind her decision, and he was pleased he was in a position to grant her this one request.
“Mind if I sit with you?” Emidus said as he plopped on the grass. “I fear this might be our only chance to speak privately.”
Brantson smiled.
“It is important you know that I value your friendship, and your wise counsel. What I admire most is your truthfulness...you were always forthcoming, even when the truth was painful to hear...you are truly my brother, which is why we must speak while I have the courage.”
“Why are you distressed? Whatever troubles you is easily remedied, of that I am sure.”
“The words are difficult because it should be my sister speaking them to you...but I doubt she will be forthcoming, and I would not have you hear the gossipmongers’ distortion of the truth.”
“I am truly intrigued,” Brantson said. “Why are you so unsettled?”
“It was an innocent friendship, long past, but I fear there are whispers still because...”
“You speak of her friendship with the Moor, do you not?”
“How did you...”
“Have you forgotten that your sister has also sought my counsel throughout the years?”
Emidus was relieved as he glanced at the formidable tower and noticed Concordia speaking with the queen who, in all probability, was discussing his sister’s decision to wed quickly and depart for foreign shores.
“Fear not, Emidus, my judgment is not clouded because of my feelings for your sister. I know she was smitten and that her affections were not returned, and I know she still wears Thayer’s gift. I will not ask her to stop wearing the necklace; she must make that decision herself.”
“You are wise my friend...I doubt I would be so noble.”
“You forget our friendship binds us, yet I am not simple, I know she has yet to love me as a husband, but in time, God willing, her feelings will change, one day I will be both friend and husband.”
“Ah, and this journey can only help your cause,” Emidus laughed, “but in all honesty, my brother, I pray my sister comes to her senses quickly.”
“But why does the queen speak with Concordia? You know well that once your sister sets her mind to something, nothing will dissuade her!”
“Father would have the wedding delayed so Elizabeth may attend...and I would think our relations would also want to witness your union, but my sister is insistent...and father cannot deny her...she reminds him of our mother...God rest her soul.”
“We will celebrate upon our return, and I would have us repeat our vows before everyone...it is only fitting. Worry not, all will be forgiven.”
“I pray that is so,” Emidus whispered, “but I fear Elizabeth’s wound will not heal quickly because of this betrayal.”
Brantson and Emidus headed towards the Keep once they noticed the women had left the tower and waited with the queen’s personal guards at the bottom of the stairwell.
“My lady, may I escort you back to your quarters?” Emidus asked as he extended his arm to the queen.
“I would be most pleased,” Queen Aethelswitha replied as she grasped his arm and headed towards her private quarters with her personal guards following at a discreet distance.
“Is everything well?” Brantson asked as Concordia placed her hood over her head.
“We discussed the upcoming nuptials...in two days time, if you are still agreeable.”
“I have given my word, have I not? Do you doubt me?”
“I meant no offense...you must be sure,” Concordia stammered.
“I am sure, and one day I would hope you will be sure.”
“I do not understand your words. Of what do you speak?”
Brantson stopped suddenly and pulled Concordia into the empty chapel. He pulled back her hood, brushed aside the loose strands of hair that covered her face, and kissed her gently upon her forehead.
“I know you love me as a brother, but one day I hope you would love me as a husband, and I am willing to wait for that day.”
Tears swelled as Concordia gazed upon the man she had loved since she was but a child. However, the love she bore him was not the love shared between a husband and wife, and her heart ached because she could not bear to witness the pain his eyes depicted.
“Are you saying you would wed me but wait to share my bed?”
“It will be our secret until you are ready.”
“There are no words,” Concordia whispered as she buried her head into his chest.
Concordia could not control her tears and was grateful when Brantson held her in his arms while speaking comforting words. This man truly loved her above himself and was willing to sacrifice his martial rights until she returned his love. However, the pain of the beaded necklace pressing against their bodies was a harsh reminder of the man who stood between them. Concordia knew she was being foolish, yet she was not yet ready to relinquish her lost love.
“One day all will be well,” Brantson murmured. “Come, we must join your father for the night meal.”
Concordia smiled as Brantson wiped away her tears with a cloth before replacing her hood. She took his arm and rested her head against his shoulder as they returned to her private quarters.
“You must write to Elizabeth before we leave,” Brantson told her. “I would have your father deliver the message personally...and I would have you write my mother before we set sail.”
“I will write this evening, and beg their forgiveness, and that I am honored to be your wife.”
Chapter Eight
Preparations were well underway for Concordia’s upcoming nuptials that would be held in the queen’s private chapel. The room was decorated simply. Flowing ribbons were tied to torch sconces that adorned the walls and flower petals were scattered across the floor. A dozen red roses were artistically arranged in an amber-color
ed vase that was placed before the Crucifix affixed to the wall behind the altar. An ornately-carved circular candle sconce sat upon the stone altar that was covered with a lace cloth patterned with a Celtic Cross. The plain silver Ciborium set had been replaced by a gilded chalice, embellished with exquisite gemstones, and a gold-plated paten encircled with faceted glass beads in an array of brilliant colors. Additional benches had been placed in the small chamber to accommodate the guests who would witness the union.
Queen Aethelswitha was jubilant as she inspected the bedecked worship space while awaiting her Confessor. She crossed herself as she approached the Crucifix, kissing the Lord’s wounded feet as she knelt before her Savior and prayed quietly for His guidance. The burning wall torches flickered in the gentle breeze when Father Damian opened the door. The holy man remained in the doorway, coughing to make his presence known as he awaited his queen’s command. Queen Aethelswitha crossed herself once again while rising, and smiled warmly as she greeted her spiritual advisor.
“Father Damian, I am most pleased you are agreeable to celebrate the nuptial Mass with such little forewarning.”
“My lady, I have received word from the Bishop...he has dispensed the banns and finds no impediment to the union. At what hour would you have the ceremony?”
“In one hour’s time, if that is suitable?”
“One hour’s time then...one thing my lady...I have learned that Brother Frederic has returned from Exeter...I would have him assist me with the Mass, if you are in agreement.”
“How could we deny Concordia’s favorite teacher this honor?” The queen smiled. “Be sure to invite him to join in the festivities afterwards...there will be ample food and drink...but then you know well my husband’s generosity.”
The Briton and the Dane: Concordia Page 5