The Briton and the Dane: Timeline

by Mary Ann Bernal

  Picking up a goblet filled with mead, Gwyneth mistakenly emptied its contents too fast, and she became lightheaded instantly, having forgotten how intoxicating the beverage was. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and reached for a loaf of bread, hoping to offset any debilitating effects.

  “Is something wrong?” Erik asked when he noticed her reddened face.

  “Forgive me. I am not used to such a potent drink. I shall be fine once I eat more. I will not embarrass you, I promise.”

  “You could never embarrass me,” Erik whispered as he kissed Gwyneth’s fingers before turning his attention back to his illustrious guest.

  Gwyneth sat in silence, eating her full, and was delighted when Father Gerard joined her.

  “You are most kind to invite me to your table, my lady,” the priest said as he accepted a bowl of beef stew. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  “There is something, but you must be discreet ... we are pressed for time.”

  “If it is in my power.”

  “Rheda met with a man earlier today,” Gwyneth interrupted. “I would know his identity.”

  “I shall make inquiries once I leave. Meet me at the chapel after the morning meal.”

  ***

  Rheda was incensed with Erik’s highborn wife. She believed she had as much right to sit at the commander’s table as Father Gerard. A priest had no right mingling with his betters, he was a humble servant, was he not?

  As she passed the chapel library, she stopped abruptly, believing she was being followed. Rheda turned, expecting to see no one, and was surprised by Wynstan’s unexpected appearance.

  “May I escort you to your quarters?” Wynstan asked politely.

  “That is not necessary,” Rheda replied softly, taking care not to betray her emotions. “I wish to spend some time with the Lord before retiring. Do not worry, I shall be fine.”

  Wynstan nodded and continued on his way while Rheda entered the chapel since she had little choice. She would stay for a few minutes until she could safely leave and praised her good fortune that she was alone. She did not need, nor want, company because she was in a foul mood.

  “How dare Seymour speak in such a condescending manner,” she thought. “Have I not done everything required of me? Am I not loyal to my master?”

  Rheda sat on the wooden bench closest to the door, staring at the floor. She was livid as thoughts of silencing Seymour flooded her mind.

  Chapter Five

  Bryson waited for Erik in the commander’s meeting room. He paced back and forth, mumbling beneath his breath because he did not like secrets. Even though Erik was his commanding officer, he was also his friend. They had trained together before being commissioned into the king’s army and had survived the battlefield. There was nothing that had not been shared, until the day Gwyneth arrived. Yes, Erik had been at court, but only briefly, and he had not mentioned taking a wife upon his return.

  There were many questions that needed answers, yet Bryson refused to speculate. The explanation was plausible and accepted by everyone living within the citadel. Why would they question their commander? Erik’s personal life was none of their concern as it should be.

  What was especially disconcerting, however, was Erik’s silence the evening of his wife’s arrival. He had said nothing, not one word, that Gwyneth was expected momentarily.

  Bryson had managed to conceal his true feelings when he and Gwyneth were introduced. He was dismayed, not because his best friend had taken a wife without having him attend the ceremony, but because Erik had not taken him into his confidence. What had happened that caused Erik to distrust him? Had he not always been loyal and trustworthy, not to mention loving him as one loves a brother? Their camaraderie was not feigned. He did not believe he had been misguided.

  “Never!” He whispered just as Erik walked into the room.

  “What is bothering you?” Erik asked, somewhat concerned.

  “Have I given offense? Am I no longer trusted?”

  “Of course, you are trusted, and you have not given offense. Why would you believe such nonsense?”

  “Gwyneth.”

  Erik did not reply immediately, shutting and latching the door as he beckoned Bryson to sit. His first officer sat down reluctantly, noticing Erik’s grave appearance. The last time Bryson had witnessed such a look was when Erik had informed him that his father had been killed on the battlefield. Whatever was bothering Erik, could be easily remedied. Had they not beaten insurmountable odds over the years? Bryson did not have any doubts that everything would be resolved.

  “There was not time, my friend, because everything happened so quickly. And even now, my head spins from the gravity of it all. I am still trying to make some sense of how everything transpired.”

  “How can you make sense out of something when you are not making any sense?” Bryson interrupted, somewhat concerned.

  “Forgive me. I seem to be giving voice to my muddled thoughts. It is unbelievable, what I am about to tell you. You are the only person I trust to know the truth, which shall be forthcoming. But I must ask you to swear upon your mortal soul that you shall not betray me.”

  “My lord! Do not question my loyalty,” Bryson said. “I swear, upon my honor that I would gladly give my life for you.”

  “I pray it will not come to that.”

  “If I must die, then, I do so willingly.”

  “Bryson, you are as a brother to me, and I do trust you with my life. What I am about to tell you will seem strange, yet it is the truth. I would ask that you hear me out before asking your questions because there will be questions, of that, I am sure.”

  Bryson grabbed Erik’s arm reassuringly, smiling as he did so. Erik nodded, gratified by his first officer’s friendship as he mustered the courage to reveal the inexplicable facts.

  “I know you will find this hard to believe, but I had no knowledge of Gwyneth’s arrival until the night we met in the chapel, which was the evening before she was officially introduced as my wife. When we first met, it was as if we had been reunited after a brief separation. Somehow, we both knew we were to suffer the same fate, and that was why she was returned to me in this time.”

  “In this time?”

  “Gwyneth is from a future century.”

  Bryson swallowed hard, his face depicting his disbelief as he listened to the bizarre account of Gwyneth’s arrival, yet he was fully aware that Erik was telling the truth.

  “What is strange, is that somehow, I knew she was not from here, yet I did not question anything. It was as if some Divine force was in control, guiding us if you will, to do what must be done to preserve the dynasty. Plans have been made that we must follow, yet they are not of our making.”

  “Then, who?” Bryson asked.

  “We just know what must be done, and that our time is limited. Remember, Gwyneth is familiar with our history. She knows the dates battles will be fought, and who will be victorious, and which dynasties will fall.”

  “I will do whatever is required of me, you have my word.”

  “There is more, Bryson. There are a few who share this knowledge, but it was not I who empowered them with this information. They became aware the moment Gwyneth stepped foot inside the citadel. They did recognize each other, which cannot be explained. Wynstan, Father Gerard, Brother Gottfried and Brother Damian know the truth. I do not know why you were not chosen, but we share confidences, and I trust you implicitly. Yet there is one more entrusted with this information. Brother Ulrich, but he is at the abbey at St. Gall and that is where Gwyneth and I must go.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “Once Earl Edwin returns to Mercia, we shall travel to the abbey at Canterbury. It will be made known we are to visit the Papal City, seeking an audience with His Holiness. No one must know our true destination. Wynstan is taking care of everything, and we shall meet later to map our route. He will escort us to the ship with six of his men, but they shall return once we set sail. You, my friend, shall accompa
ny us, if you are willing.”

  “My sword is yours.”

  “Do not make light of our position, Bryson. There are forces we do not understand that would thwart this venture. You must be made aware of the risk.”

  “I do understand, and accept this undertaking freely.”

  “Gwyneth will be told we have spoken, but care must be taken until we know whom we can trust.”

  ***

  The abbey bells chimed in the distance, reminding the Lord’s faithful to pray. Gwyneth hurried towards the chapel as she skirted the training field, smiling at the hopeful recruits that were being instructed by one of the many seasoned warriors living within the citadel. She glanced at the cloudy sky, wrapping her cloak tighter as wind gusts chilled the earth. This time was different since it was not long-forgotten rubble, but actual buildings, wooden structures that had disintegrated over the ensuing years that stood before her. If the Normans had not reinforced the fortress, replacing wood with stone, there would never have been an archeological site to discover.

  Gwyneth paid particular attention to every edifice within the confines of the protecting walls. For some reason, the vegetable and herbal gardens piqued her interest. She had assumed they did exist, but where exactly, could not be determined on the site. She memorized every detail even though she did record everything in a ledger. Would she be able to return to her time with the ledger? An important question held in abeyance for now. There were more pressing matters to consider, one of which was determining what Rheda was plotting.

  Father Gerard was standing in the doorway as Gwyneth turned the corner. She looked behind before entering the chapel, making sure she had not been followed. She crossed herself, bowed before the altar, and sat on a bench opposite the open window. Father Gerard shut but did not lock the door. The Lord’s home was open to all, and locking the door would not be wise, in light of all that had transpired.

  “What have you uncovered?” Gwyneth whispered.

  “Most of the women live in the village,” Father Gerard began, “but there is one woman who has lived within these walls since she became the nursemaid of your husband. She was given chambers in Lord Erik’s private quarters where she lives to this day. Aedre never married, which is why your husband provides for her. She has been privy to many secrets and knows much. She prays at the chapel each morning, and we spoke at length after praying. Aedre is pleased you are Erik’s wife and was praying that you would be fruitful, to preserve the line.”

  “Why have I not seen her?” Gwyneth asked.

  “She remains in the shadows as she has done since Erik came of age.”

  “I would speak with her if that is possible,” Gwyneth interrupted. “There is so much she could tell me, information that needs to be shared.”

  “After we are finished,” Father Gerard said kindly. “You will not be pleased with what I am about to tell you. Rheda has only lived within these walls three months. She replaced one of the maids from the village who had married a man from Chichester.”

  “Are you saying that Rheda is not from here?”

  “That is correct, my lady. Rheda was living in Mercia, but her father was a Welshman.”

  “You are right, Father, this news is troubling. She is a spy, but whom does she serve?”

  “I cannot say,” Father Gerard replied. “And you did see Rheda speaking with a man. His name is Seymour, and he is a courier whose allegiance I suspect.”

  “How did you come by his identity?”

  “The old Roman tunnels have been forgotten by most, but not Aedre. She had suspected Rheda’s intent from the moment the woman requested chambers near her quarters. Aedre kept a close eye on her, especially after she had found the entrance to the hidden passages. One evening, Aedre saw a man leaving the doorway, and she followed him to the barracks where he was given a bed for the night. Seymour is a courier for our king, which means he travels throughout the homeland unchallenged. He could ride to Wales and Mercia, and even Northumbria, without being questioned. The king’s business is widespread, and the couriers serving him are given quarters for the night even if the dispatches are not meant for his host.”

  “Seymour is only a messenger, he serves someone, the same person that Rheda serves. That is the man we must find,” Gwyneth said.

  “I doubt Rheda would be helpful,” Father Gerard reminded her, “and we do not have proof. The woman would probably admit to a lover’s tryst and beg forgiveness.”

  “Believe me, they are not lovers, and since Rheda was sent here before I arrived, it is Erik’s movements that are of interest.”

  “Erik is loyal to our king and would never commit treason.”

  “I do not believe they want Erik to change his allegiance. I think they want him out of the way.”

  “My lady, are you suggesting they would murder your husband?”

  “Yes. Erik’s life is in peril.”

  “But why?”

  “Think of what is happening around us,” Gwyneth told the startled priest. “The Welsh king is trying to extend his borders. There are problems in Northumbria, and if Earl Edwin does not rule Mercia well, there could be a rebellion. And since the king does not have a son.”

  “The Norman Duke,” Father Gerard whispered.

  “And do not forget the Norwegian king.”

  “What are we to do?”

  “Erik and I will be traveling to Canterbury once Earl Edwin leaves for Mercia. Rheda must be watched, and Seymour must be followed. Yet whom can we trust?”

  “Brother Damian served in the king’s army before he took the cowl. I shall talk to him.”

  “Wynstan returns once we board our ship, and he will speak in my stead,” Gwyneth said. “Let us meet tonight in the chapel crypt.”

  Gwyneth left Father Gerard alone with his thoughts as she headed towards her quarters. She had to find Aedre, to speak with the woman while she had a chance. Gwyneth could only imagine the stories as she sought Erik’s old nursemaid.

  Chapter Six

  Aedre was sitting in the enclosed gardens, reading a Psalter when Gwyneth arrived. She looked lovingly at the woman who had nurtured her husband as she sat beside her.

  “I am...”

  “I know who you are,” Aedre said, “and I know why you are here.”

  Gwyneth nodded as she sat down. She was unsure exactly what Aedre meant. She had had no previous knowledge of Aedre’s existence, so how could the nursemaid know she did not belong in this century? No, the woman must be referring to Erik’s circumstances. She watched the butterflies fluttering around a flower bed, the beautiful symbols of immortality giving her hope. She also remembered the ancient Greek myth of the butterfly-winged Psyche who was goddess of the soul.

  “And Aphrodite was jealous of Psyche’s beauty,” Gwyneth whispered.

  “My lady, I do not understand,” Aedre said.

  “Forgive me, I was thinking of an ancient legend. But tell me, why do you think I am here?”

  “You want to know about your husband from the moment he was born, and the reason why he is the last of his line, is that not so, my lady?”

  Gwyneth nodded, taking care not to voice her concern over the woman’s choice of words. The reason she was here was because she had married the man, not because she traveled back in time. She chided herself for being so paranoid. Sometimes, things are just as they seem, and if she did not stop analyzing every word, she would draw attention to herself.

  The older woman set her Psalter on the stone bench and removed a Celtic cross, which she wore beneath her tunic.

  “This belonged to Erik’s mother, and it is only fitting for you to wear it,” Aedre said, ignoring Gwyneth’s protests as she placed the necklace around her neck.

  “I am at a loss for words,” Gwyneth whispered while gazing upon the intricately carved ornament through tear-swelled eyes.

  Aedre embraced Gwyneth, kissing the startled woman upon her forehead as the butterflies soared above Erik’s wife.

  “It is a g
ood omen, the butterflies, a Divine sign,” Aedre said while the colorful creatures touched Gwyneth’s face before flying away.

  Gwyneth was tense, trembling as she thought of paranormal implications, especially since there were no scientific explanations for what just happened. She welcomed the warming rays of the sun because she had forgotten her cloak. She kept looking at the exquisite cross, believing its presence would assuage her fear.

  “There are answers you seek, which are not readily obtainable,” Aedre said knowingly. “The Lord will provide, He always does, so do not be troubled. Everything in its proper time, that is what I believe.”

  “I would know more of Erik’s mother and father.”

  “Unfortunately, Erik has no knowledge of his mother,” Aedre began. “He was but a year old when she died. Her name was Juliana and her marriage to Stedman, Erik’s father, was a love match, a feat not readily attainable when betrothals are prearranged as you know. Juliana never complained whenever her husband had to serve in the king’s army. Stedman was a brilliant strategist, and the king relied heavily on his counsel. She was heavy with child when his king called him to command his army. I can still see her standing on the wall-walk as her husband rode off to battle. She was beautiful, not only in looks but in her heart. She had seen me crying as I watched my father and brother riding away. I was alone, defenseless, and I was afraid to return to the village. She insisted I move into her quarters. She wanted a companion to help pass the days since her time was almost upon her. I attended the birthing, which upset me because of what happened. The child was turned, and we feared for her life. You can imagine our surprise when the healer told us there were two babies. We were given such a fright. Linette came first, bless her soul, but almost a day passed before Jason finally entered the world. He was light, like his father, a true Dane while Linette resembled her Saxon forbearers.