Dark Under the Cover of Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 1)

by Jayne Castel

  Raedwyn walked down into Rendlaesham and made her way to Eanfled’s new home. Eanfled would be a married woman now, as her wedding had been organized for two days after Raedwyn’s. Despite everything, Raedwyn was eager to see her friend in her new life as Alric the iron smith’s wife.

  The smithy sat in a narrow street just behind Rendlaesham’s main thoroughfare. It was a long, low-slung dwelling with the forge at one end and the living quarters at the other. Alric was at his forge. He waved to Raedwyn, put down his hammer and stepped out onto the street to greet her.

  “M’lady!” Alric was a stocky young man with dark brown hair, a short beard and kind blue eyes. As always, he was a little shy in her presence. “I’m glad to see you safe.”

  “Thank you Alric,” Raedwyn replied gently. “I never thought to return to Rendlaesham so soon, and certainly not in these circumstances.”

  Alric nodded, his brow crinkling in concern. “It’s terrible news about your husband m’lady, and the whole town awaits word about the Battle of Uffid Heath,” he continued, “although I can see that mention of this pains you. Come, Eanfled is baking. She will be pleased to see you.”

  Pleased was an understatement. Eanfled dropped the rolling pin she had been using to flatten a sheet of pastry and flew across the kitchen to give Raedwyn a floury embrace. Alric left them with a smile, knowing his presence would not be missed.

  “I heard you returned yesterday, but I wanted to let you rest.” Eanfled dragged Raedwyn into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair. “I shall make us some hot spiced cider.”

  Raedwyn was glad of Eanfled’s industrious, boisterous energy. She had been afraid that she would burst into tears at the sight of her friend, but Eanfled’s fussing galvanized her.

  “I could not believe it.” Eanfled poured some cider into a cast iron pot and hung it above the kitchen’s fire pit. “I feared I would never see you again – and your poor husband! I heard that Cynric did not even have the chance to defend himself. The outlaw who brought Ceolwulf’s terms bragged about it after his audience with the king. Was it indeed an ambush?”

  “It was,” Raedwyn replied. “They lay in wait for, and killed them all.”

  Eanfled glanced across at Raedwyn, her pretty brow furrowing, before she added some spices and honey to the cider and stirred it with a wooden spoon.

  “You are not yourself Raedwyn,” she observed. “I’m sorry for my prattle. It’s the last thing you want.”

  “It’s not that,” Raedwyn replied with a tired smile, “I feel as if years have passed and it has only been a few days.”

  “It’s cruel to take your husband from you.” Eanfled used a ladle to pour two generous cups of spiced cider, before passing one to Raedwyn. “You were so beautiful and happy at your handfast ceremony Raedwyn – you look so sad now.”

  Raedwyn sighed and took a sip of her cider. It was delicious and soothing. She would have to tell Eanfled the truth or their friendship would never be the same. Raedwyn wanted to confide in someone, and she trusted no one else as she did Eanfled.

  “Things are never what they appear,” Raedwyn replied, “and although I was happy at my wedding, it did not last long. Sit down Eanfled for I have many things to tell you.”

  Eanfled did as she was bid. She sat opposite Raedwyn at the scrubbed wood table and listened without interrupting as her friend told her everything that had happened to her since the handfast ceremony. Raedwyn left nothing out – Cynric’s rough taking of her maidenhead, Ceolwulf’s vengeance, her hopeless attraction for Caelin, and Caelin setting her free – she told Eanfled everything.

  By the time Raedwyn had finished her tale, Eanfled’s eyes were like two huge moons.

  “Woden!” Eanfled breathed, her fingers curled around the cup of cider that she had barely touched, and had now gone cold. “For once, I am at a loss for words!”

  Despite everything, Raedwyn laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day when you would be struck dumb by something I said!” she teased her friend.

  Eanfled shook her head, her gaze still fixed upon Raedwyn’s face.

  “I cannot believe that you survived,” she replied, “and if it had not been for this man, Caelin, it sounds as if Ceolwulf would have killed you.”

  “He surely would have,” Raedwyn agreed, remembering the maddened look on the Exiled’s face as he stood over her and drew his foot back to kick her in the stomach.

  Raedwyn could see that this tale had upset her friend, and the worry on Eanfled’s face was more than Raedwyn could bear.

  “Come now Eanfled.” Raedwyn reached across the table and took hold of her friend’s hands. “I did survive and my father will make sure Ceolwulf pays for his treachery. But what of you? What is it like being married to Alric and living here under his roof?”

  Eanfled’s face broke into a wide smile and despite herself Raedwyn felt a small needle of envy pierce her. It was the smile of a woman in love.

  “He is a wonderful man,” Eanfled breathed. “I can’t believe we are finally together. We were betrothed for so long that I had started to worry that he would change his mind. However, Alric insisted that he had wanted to establish his trade in Rendlaesham first before marrying and starting a family.”

  “He just wanted to make sure he could take care of you,” Raedwyn agreed, pushing aside her envy. What right had she to be jealous of Eanfled’s happiness, especially when it was so hard earned? “I’ve never seen a man look so pleased with himself!”

  Eanfled threw back her head and laughed. A moment later, Alric appeared at the kitchen door. His bemused gaze rested on his young wife.

  “Have I been missing out on a great tale?” he asked. “There has been a lot of laughter coming from this kitchen.”

  Eanfled smothered her laugher and gave Raedwyn a conspiratorial wink.

  “No, my love, we were just prattling, as usual!”

  Seaxwyn was at her loom, weaving a tapestry, when Raedwyn entered the Great Hall. Her afternoon with Eanfled had relaxed her immensely, and it had taken her mind off this morning’s battle and her worry about the outcome.

  The tapestry Seaxwyn wove was a detailed one, and when finished it would be one of the queen’s best. It depicted a rearing white horse with a warrior astride it, a royal blue cape rippling from his shoulders. It was Raedwald – victorious on the field of battle.

  Like her mother, Raedwyn was a talented weaver. She had passed many a dark winter’s day at the loom learning her mother’s craft. Raedwyn sat down next to her mother now while Seaxwyn worked and chatted to her about Eanfled’s new life with Alric.

  Seaxwyn listened to her daughter but said little. Raedwyn had inherited her father’s uncomplicated and open nature rather than her mother’s quieter more introspective ways. Both strong women, they dealt with the tense wait in their own manner.

  ***

  The shadows were lengthening and the birds were starting to roost, when the horses appeared at last. Moving as one entity of bristling shields and spears, they crested the last hill to the south and headed towards Rendlaesham.

  “Mother!” Raedwyn was standing outside the hall with her eyes fixed on the southern horizon and was the first to see the riders. Moments later, Seaxwyn appeared beside her daughter and together they watched the fyrd enter Rendlaesham. Dust boiled up from under pounding hooves and spears bristled above bobbing heads. The horses streamed into the town.

  Raedwyn’s heart lurched when she saw the standard held by the first riders bearing her father’s crest. She glanced at her mother, who had also seen the standard. Relief bloomed in Seaxwyn’s face and the tension melted from her features, giving her the countenance of a woman half her age. Despite her obvious relief, tears streamed down the queen’s face.

  Seaxwyn picked up her skirts and rushed down to the stables. The path, leading down from the Great Hall, widened out into a spacious yard. Raedwyn followed her mother, running to keep up with her.

  Raedwald’s fyrd thundered into the yard, filling it.
Many warriors were forced to draw their horses up outside as there was not enough space for all of their number within. The king himself was out front with Eorpwald by his side. Raedwald no longer rode his white stallion but an ill-tempered bay that snorted and rolled its eyes as Raedwald drew up.

  He rode with his helmet tucked under one arm and his hair tumbling over his shoulders like a lion’s mane. Despite that he was no longer a young man, Raedwald was virile and regal in his victory. The king swung down from the saddle and Raedwyn saw, for the first time, that he was injured. His right arm, his sword arm, carried a deep sword wound. Someone had bound the injury but Raedwyn could see the blood seeping through the bandages. Eorpwald dismounted next to his father. Lithe and physically smaller than his father, Eorpwald landed lightly on his feet, despite the heavy armor he wore. Sweat tangled his shoulder length brown hair and he had suffered a graze to his left brow. Apart from that, he appeared uninjured, although exhaustion made his face pinched and sharp.

  Raedwyn watched as townsfolk helped the injured and dying from their horses and carried them away to healers.

  Seaxwyn rushed into her husband’s arms. They clung together for a moment before Raedwyn saw her father mumble into his wife’s hair.

  “It’s over at last. He is dead.”

  Raedwyn glanced over at her brother. Feeling his sister’s eyes on him, Eorpwald’s gaze met Raedwyn’s before he winked at her.

  “Thought you had got rid of me, eh?”

  Raedwyn punched Eorpwald on the arm in response before hugging him tightly.

  “I’ve already lost one brother to battle,” she told him, “and I am relieved you came home safe, as you well know!”

  Once Seaxwyn had released Raedwald and moved to greet her son, Raedwyn went to her father. Raedwald hugged his daughter stiffly. Raedwyn felt the discomfort in his embrace and drew back, confused.

  “Father?”

  Raedwald turned aside to shout an order to his men.

  “Bring up the prisoners!”

  Raedwald smiled then, a cold vindictive smile of someone who had savored revenge and enjoyed the taste – then his gaze met Raedwyn’s.

  “I fought Ceolwulf the Exiled, and slew him before taking this ill-tempered steed of his,” he explained. “We thought all were dead but upon combing the battlefield we discovered two survivors.”

  The crowd parted and a horse appeared with two men slung across its back – one was unconscious while the other stared defiantly at the watching crowd.

  Raedwyn went cold.

  The survivors were Caelin and Hengist.

  Caelin lay immobile, his arms trailing earthwards, his dark hair falling about his shoulders while Hengist had twisted to scrutinize his captors.

  “One of them was playing dead,” Raedwald said, motioning to Hengist, “while the other one was near death and has not awoken since we captured him.”

  Raedwald turned to his daughter then, and held her gaze fast in his.

  “Do you know either of these men, Raedwyn?”

  Raedwyn nodded. She sensed a trap and knew it would be better for her if she spoke the truth.

  “What are their names?” Raedwald pressed.

  Raedwyn licked her suddenly parched lips and looked at the two prisoners. Hengist stared defiantly at her, his gaze as cold as her father’s, and suddenly Raedwyn felt as she had in Ceolwulf’s encampment – a deer cornered by hunters with nowhere to turn.

  “The one who is awake is Hengist.” She returned Hengist’s stare unflinchingly. “While the other is Caelin.”

  “This Caelin is more finely armored than the others, save Ceolwulf, and rode at the Exiled’s side. Who is he?”

  Raedwyn met her father’s gaze again and had the sensation that Raedwald already knew the answer to his question. She was right, he was testing her.

  “Ceolwulf’s son.” she replied without hesitation, “but I think you already know that father.”

  Raedwald turned to the warrior leading the horse. “Untie them.”

  Raedwyn watched as her father’s men unbound Hengist and Caelin and pulled them from the horse’s back. They lowered Caelin to the ground, where he lay, unmoving. His chest moved shallowly; he was still breathing, but two arrows protruded from his side and he was deathly pale. Hengist could not walk. An axe had shattered his left leg, and the limb dragged behind him uselessly. Two warriors held Hengist up so that he could face Raedwald.

  “Hengist and I had an interesting talk this morning,” Raedwald explained. His voice was gentle and quiet; the tone he used when he was the most furious. Raedwyn sensed danger, but her father’s hostility towards her was confusing. The fact she had done nothing to warrant it did not quiet her instincts.

  “Hengist is as disloyal as he is a coward.” Raedwald stared at his captive, who had the good sense to look away from the king’s hard gaze. “He told me of Caelin’s identity. He also told me that upon your capture you begged Ceolwulf and his men to free you and offered your body to them.”

  “No!” choked Raedwyn, “Never!”

  “He also said,” Raedwald continued, cutting his daughter off, “you were only too eager to share your body with him and that Ceolwulf and his whelp took turns with you. His men were most appreciative of your willingness to accommodate them. I met with the Exiled, moments before battle and he said the same. Do you deny their words, daughter?”

  Raedwyn’s world shrank as she listened to her father’s accusation. She stopped breathing for a moment, her surroundings blurred and she came the closest she had ever felt to fainting. She knew, as she opened her mouth to defend herself, that her father had believed the words of his enemies rather than those of his own kin – and without solid proof she could not convince him otherwise.

  “I deny their words!” Raedwyn choked out eventually. Hard, accusing stares surrounded her, cutting into her flesh like knives. It was like wading through thick mud that pulled her under with each step forward she managed. Raedwyn took a deep breath and the world expanded once again as the panic subsided somewhat.

  “Ceolwulf lied to you father,” Raedwyn’s voice was low and vehement. “Surely you know I would never do as Hengist and Ceolwulf have said. Ceolwulf never laid a finger on me. He said it only to bait you, and as for Hengist.” Raedwyn watched Hengist now, amazed at how brazenly he stared at her. “When I was captured he tried to rape me but was prevented by the man who lies dying next to him.”

  A chilling silence fell on the knot of warriors surrounding the two injured men.

  Hengist spat on the ground and lurched towards Raedwyn, held back by his broken leg and the two men who held him fast.

  “Lying, filthy little slut!” he bawled. “You behaved like a bitch in heat, as you well know!”

  These were the last words Hengist ever uttered for Raedwald unsheathed his sword and, unhindered even by his injured arm, ran Hengist through with the blade. Hengist fell gurgling and twitching to the ground and died as blood pooled on the dusty earth beneath him.

  “He was beginning to vex me.” Raedwald calmly cleaned his blade on the dead man’s clothes before re-sheathing his sword. “The cur had a loose tongue.”

  Unconcerned by the sudden, violent death in their midst, two warriors picked up Hengist’s carcass and dragged it from the scene.

  Shaken and feeling as if she would be violently ill, Raedwyn stood before her father. She stared at the bloodstain on the ground, not daring to meet her mother or brother’s gaze for she could not stand to see the blame in their eyes. It broke her heart to see her own father disbelieving her – and she could not bear the rest of them to think her a liar as well.

  “Hengist lied,” Raedwyn said finally. The king ignored her and Raedwyn watched him walk over to where Caelin lay. Ceolwulf’s son lay on his back, his face chalk-white but still breathing, despite his grave injuries.

  Raedwald looked down at the unconscious man and frowned.

  “The last time I saw Caelin he was a child,” he mused. “There is little of h
is father in his looks; more of that ill-fated wench who bore him. It’s ill for him that he survived the battle. He has lost all honor.”

  “We should let him die.” Eni, his entire left side bandaged, limped up beside his brother. “There is nothing to be gained in keeping your enemy’s spawn alive.”

  Raedwyn’s chest ached as she looked upon Caelin’s unconscious face, but she was inclined to agree with her uncle. Caelin had lost everything.

  “If he has no honor then it is all the more reason for keeping him alive,” Raedwald replied with a vindictiveness that made Eni draw back in surprise. “We will tend his injuries and if he lives he will reside here as my slave, more lowly even than a theow. Ceolwulf’s debasement will live on, even after his death.”

  Raedwyn looked at the others: Eni, his sons, Seaxwyn and Eorpwald, and saw her own shock reflected in various degrees on their faces. Her father’s hatred for Ceolwulf had driven him to the edge of madness, so much so that he would even inflict his revenge further upon Ceolwulf’s son.

  Tears coursed down the queen’s face as she gazed upon her husband. Raedwald’s face was hard and devoid of mercy. No one dared question him.

  Raedwyn stood, unable to move lest her legs gave way from shock, while Raedwald brushed past her and took his wife’s arm. Watching her father walk away, Raedwyn felt a crushing sense of betrayal. Her own father had humiliated her in front of his fyrd and her own kin. He had accused her of behaving like a whore and, even though he had slain Hengist for insulting her, he had not cleared her name before the crowd.

  No one spoke to her.

  The battle-weary warriors turned from her and moved off to tend to their horses and see to their own wounds. They were treating her as if she was a nithing – forfeiting all honor and respect; an individual dead to their eyes.

  Raedwyn stood looking down at her bloodless hands. She clasped them in front of her and wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. When she looked up, she found that Eni, Annan, Aethelhere, Aethelwold and Eorpwald were still standing watching her.