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

by Jayne Castel

  Raedwyn blinked as her vision blurred with tears. Her father, the man she had loved best in the world, but who had betrayed her, was dead. Buried under the earth, surrounded by his treasures, he would now set sail for the afterlife. Never again would she hear the timbre of his voice, or the rumble of his laughter. Worst of all, she would never be able to tell him that despite everything she still loved him, and always would.

  Seaxwyn’s voice faded and she let her daughter embrace her as the tears returned. Holding her mother’s shaking body, Raedwyn was reminded, not for the first time, that her mother had truly loved her husband. It was a love that had endured, even through betrayal.

  A wave of sorrow descended upon Raedwyn, and she bowed her head as the tears streamed down her face. Then, the feel of a woman’s hand, slender and cool, taking hold of her own hand roused Raedwyn from her grief. She raised her head to see Eanfled standing beside her. Her friend, who had attended the funeral despite her advanced stage of pregnancy, gave Raedwyn a brave smile and squeezed her hand. Alric stood beside Eanfled and he nodded to Raedwyn. Sadness lined his face. Raedwyn gave them both a tremulous smile and squared her shoulders. She had cried enough – tears would not bring her father back.

  It was then that Raedwyn saw Caelin. He was standing on the far side of the group of men who had toiled all day to build Raedwald’s barrow. His gaze was riveted on her face and, longing to go to him, Raedwyn stared back.

  Eorpwald stepped forward and faced the group of mourners. A livid bruise now covered the left side of his face and his left eye had now completely swollen shut.

  Despite his injuries, Eorpwald’s face was resolute. His good eye glittered with emotion.

  “Today we mourn the greatest of kings,” he began, his gaze sweeping the assembly that had gathered around the base of the barrow. “Let not the manner of his death diminish all that Raedwald of the East Angles achieved, or the prosperity that this kingdom has known during his rule. I can only hope to be half the leader he was.”

  Eorpwald’s gaze rested on Caelin then. The crowd grew still and all eyes fixed upon Raedwald’s former slave – the man who had risked his life for the man who had killed his father.

  “Caelin, son of Ceolwulf the Exiled – I recognize your valor,” Eorpwald said. “Despite all that has befallen you since your father’s death, you warned me of Eafa’s treachery and attempted to save my father’s life. There are few men who would have done such a thing. Please come forward.”

  Caelin did as Eorpwald bid, kneeling before the man who would soon be crowned King of the East Angles.

  “I give you back Shadow Catcher,” Eorpwald took a cloth-wrapped object from one of his thegns and unwrapped it. The sword’s blade glinted, despite the dull day.

  Caelin smiled as he took back his sword. “Thank you, milord.”

  “I have given you your freedom and returned your sword,” Eorpwald continued, “but name a gift and, if it is in within my power, I will give it.”

  Caelin’s face froze for a moment; such was his shock at Eorpwald’s declaration. Until then, Caelin had carefully kept his emotions locked inside, but when he looked back at Eorpwald, all could see the naked gratitude on his face.

  “My Lord Eorpwald,” Caelin began, “there is nothing I would ask, except the hand of your sister, Raedwyn – and that is only hers to give.”

  There was a collective gasp from the crowd. Some faces blackened in anger that a former slave would dare ask for such a thing. Seaxwyn’s face pinched and her gray eyes turned hard as she glared at Caelin. She shrugged off her daughter’s arm and stepped away from Raedwyn, as if she had instigated this act.

  Only Eorpwald appeared unmoved by this announcement. He even smiled, although the expression was more of a grimace on his swollen face, as if he had been expecting it.

  “Then, I give you permission to wed my sister, Raedwyn, daughter of Raedwald, should she be in agreement.” Eorpwald turned to Raedwyn and his face was serious. “Gone are the days my brave sister when your future is decided by others. Now, I give you the choice to make.”

  Raedwyn ignored her mother’s hard stare and exchanged a look with her brother that needed no explanation.

  “Thank you Eorpwald.” She smiled, stepping forward. “And I accept.”

  “What!” Seaxwyn could not hold in her vitriol any longer. She grabbed Raedwyn’s arm and yanked her to a halt. “Your father is barely buried and you plan to take up with a nithing! Raedwald would turn in his grave to know his daughter betrayed him so!”

  Raedwyn turned to her mother, her expression sad.

  “Mother,” she said softly, “the hate has to end now. I never betrayed my father in the past, and I’m not doing so now. Father had his revenge against Ceolwulf, and if he had left it there then he would still be alive.”

  “To marry Ceolwulf’s son is to betray Raedwald!” Seaxwyn shouted, her voice hoarse.

  “Why?” Raedwyn replied. “Both men are dead – the feud has ended. Neither Caelin, nor I were responsible for the hate between them. We are finished paying for it.”

  Raedwyn left the words both women knew to be the truth, unsaid. Instead, their gazes locked and Raedwyn let her response sink in. She understood her mother’s grief, her loss, but she was finished with taking the blame for something that had nothing to do with her.

  “Mother,” Eorpwald said gently, “Caelin risked his own life in trying to save father. Raedwyn has since told me that he also saved her life. It is time to let the past go. I know better than most, the effect that Ceolwulf’s treachery had on our family. Hating his son will not bring your husband back.”

  “Time to let the past lie, Seaxwyn.” Eni stepped up beside the queen and put an arm around her trembling shoulders. “Raedwald had his reckoning with Ceolwulf and he should have left it there. Don’t make the same error.”

  Seaxwyn’s face crumpled and she sagged against Eni.

  “I miss him,” she wailed. “I want him back. Give me my husband back!”

  Sadness etched Eni’s face as he held Seaxwyn close and let her cry against his chest. He looked across at Caelin then and nodded. It was a wordless gesture but all there knew what it meant.

  Eni was giving Caelin and Raedwyn his blessing.

  “There has been too much bloodshed, too much death of late,” he said gruffly. “What Rendlaesham needs is a real wedding, not that mockery of one.” Eni paused there, his gaze meeting Caelin’s. “Now, why don’t you kiss the girl and brighten up this dreary day!”

  Eorpwald laughed, Caelin looked stunned and Raedwyn blushed.

  “Go on then,” Eorpwald encouraged, his good eye twinkling. “My uncle has spoken, and you had better do as you’re told!”

  Caelin smiled then, and the expression lit up his face. Needing no further encouragement, Caelin walked across to where Raedwyn stood, her face flaming.

  “Raedwyn the Fair.” He stopped before her and inclined his head. “May I?”

  Raedwyn did not answer. Instead, she threw herself into his arms. Caelin’s mouth came down upon hers, and he kissed her there for all to see.

  The crowd of mourners cheered. Raedwyn’s cousins Annan, Aethelhere, and Aethelwold made the loudest noise, and the pall of grief and sadness that had weighed upon the crowd lifted. Even Seaxwyn lifted her tear-stained face from Eni’s chest to watch the lovers embrace.

  Raedwyn pulled back from Caelin, gasping for air, and her gaze locked with his. She could not believe this moment was real. She had thought she would never be able to see, let alone touch, Caelin again. Now, wyrd had finally turned in her favor.

  Her brother had given her the freedom to love as she chose and she grabbed this chance with both hands. She thought then of the lament her mother had sung as Raedwald’s burial was completed. Their lives, friendship, kin, love and happiness were all indeed fleeting – and for that reason she would not waste a moment more.

  “Ic þe lufu,” she whispered into Caelin’s ear as the crowd cheered. I love you.

&
nbsp; Epilogue

  The sun set slowly behind the ancient Barrows of Kings. The mist had cleared and pink ribbons laced the dusk sky, promising good weather for the coming day. All of King Raedwald’s mourners had now returned to Rendlaesham – save two.

  Raedwyn knelt before her father’s barrow and placed a wreath of spring flowers she had just made on the fresh earth. Behind her, standing at a respectful distance while his beloved paid her last respects to her father, Caelin waited.

  Dry-eyed, Raedwyn sat back and let her gaze shift, from her wreath, up over the dark mound of earth that shadowed her. It was spring and within days, grass and weeds would appear in the soft earth. By mid-summer Raedwald’s barrow would be part of the landscape, like the others beside it. After an emotional day, Raedwyn now felt a great peace settle upon her. Seaxwyn had returned to Rendlaesham and taken with her any lingering disapproval.

  Finally, Raedwyn and Caelin were alone together. They had tethered their horses nearby – Blackberry, and Mist, a stocky gray gelding that Eorpwald had gifted Caelin. In a short while, she and Caelin would ride off to their new life together. They would be married on the morrow and the thought of the adventure that lay before them – as man and wife – made Raedwyn’s belly flutter with excitement.

  “Goodbye father,” Raedwyn whispered. “I wish you a safe journey.”

  Raedwyn got to her feet and brushed earth off her cloak. Then, she turned and walked back to where Caelin waited for her.

  “Are you ready?” he asked softly, his dark gaze riveted on her face.

  Raedwyn nodded. “Thank you for waiting. I wanted to have some time alone with him, after the others had gone.”

  “I understand,” Caelin’s expression was wistful. “I would have liked to have given my father a proper burial.”

  Raedwyn stepped close to Caelin and kissed him softly on the lips. “I know,” she replied.

  In response, Caelin pulled her close and kissed her back. His kiss was initially gentle, but quickly grew urgent. Raedwyn felt one of his hands rest on the small of her back, pressing her against him, while the other hand cupped the base of her neck. It was a possessive gesture and Raedwyn melted into his arms. Her mouth opened under his and the world disappeared.

  When the kiss finally ended, Caelin’s eyes were glazed with longing.

  “We should go,” he urged her. “I’ve no wish to desecrate a burial ground but if I keep this up for much longer I cannot be answerable for my actions.”

  Raedwyn laughed and the warm sound shattered the day’s somber tone.

  “Very well my love.” She linked her arm in his and steered Caelin towards their horses. “Take me to a place where you can kiss me to your heart’s content.”

  “I plan to do much more than that,” Caelin replied with a wolfish grin. “Lead the way sweet Raedwyn.”

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  Loved DARK UNDER THE COVER OF NIGHT and want more?

  Buy Book #2 in the Kingdom of the East Angles series: NIGHTFALL TILL DAYBREAK

  --

  Read the Prologue of NIGHTFALL TILL DAYBREAK.

  Prologue

  Spring, 629 A.D.

  North coast of Gaul – Kingdom of the Franks

  The waves crashed against the rocks, sending foam into the salty air. Gulls shrieked overhead and a cold wind whipped off the churning sea. The wind stung Aidan’s face as he walked towards the four longships.

  His men had dragged them up to the waterline and were readying the large boats for their journey to Britannia. Sigeberht was already there waiting, his tall spare frame wrapped in thick furs. He spied Aidan’s approach and walked forward to meet him. Sigeberht’s grey eyes were steely; his long, wind-burnt face set in determination when he stopped before his thegn.

  “Are we ready?”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “Will four ships be enough?”

  The wind whipped Aidan’s dark hair in his eyes. He pushed it aside before answering.

  “You have one hundred and twenty-two spears. I could find you more but there is no time.”

  Sigeberht’s mouth thinned at Aidan’s response. He looked out across the churning grey sea. It was not ideal weather to journey in but they could not delay.

  “Britannia.” Sigeberht savored the word as his gaze focused on the northern horizon. “I’ve spent so many years in exile that I can barely remember my homeland.”

  Aidan did not reply, knowing that his lord’s decision to leave Gaul and return to the Kingdom of the East Angles had not been easy. News of the murder of Eorpwald – Sigeberht’s half-brother – at the hands of Ricbehrt the Usurper had forced him to leave his life dedicated to the study of Christianity and learning, and go to war.

  “I must have reckoning for Eorpwald’s death,” Sigeberht repeated the vow that had spurred him on this journey. “The Usurper cannot wear the East Anglian crown. I may not be of true Wuffinga blood but I am the rightful heir to the throne. I must take it back for my family.”

  Aidan nodded. “You will have your reckoning milord.”

  Sigeberht smiled and clasped his arm around Aidan’s shoulders. Together the two men walked to the nearest longship, where warriors were starting to push it into the water; it took nearly forty men to heave the heavy craft into the waves.

  “I thank thee Aidan. I could not do this without you.”

  “You gave a lost Irish boy his freedom.” Aidan grinned back at Sigeberht. His lord’s thanks brightened the chill spring day. “I told you I would never forget that. I would lead this army against the northmen if you asked it!”

  “Let us pray to our Lord that it never comes to that!” Sigeberht gave a rare laugh. “I will have enough heathens to deal with back in Rendlaesham!”

  With that, Sigeberht climbed onto the longship and took his place at the stern. He pulled his fur cloak close around him and nodded to Aidan.

  “Gāð!” Aidan shouted, “go!”

  Aidan ran to the next ship and helped haul the massive craft into the rolling surf. He waded into the water, feeling its chill bite through his breeches and fur-lined boots. Then, he swung up onto the boat and settled himself at the stern.

  Before him, forty warriors jostled into place, each taking hold of a heavy oak oar. Moving as one, they propelled the longship through the choppy waves and out into the open sea. Aidan glanced behind him and saw the final two boats were also afloat and cutting their way through the surf. Ahead, Sigeberht’s longship moved swiftly northeast. Aidan could see them unfurling the sail from the ship’s central mast, and he called to his men to do the same.

  The longship, loaded with warriors, weapons and supplies, sat low in the water. Yet, its shallow-draft hull allowed it to move swiftly through the waves like a fleet sea creature. The biting wind whipped away the shouts of his men as they heaved their oars through the heavy swells.

  At the front of the boat, his strong face creased in concentration, sat Lothar. Like most of the men in Sigeberht’s army, Lothar was a Frank. The same age, Aidan and Lothar had grown from boys to men under Sigeberht’s roof. Blond and built like an ox, Lothar was just the sort of man Aidan wanted at his side when they attacked Rendlaesham. Besides Sigeberht, there was no one he trusted more.

  “Enjoying the ride?” Lothar shouted at his friend over the wind, and pulled back on the oars once again. “I wouldn’t want you to feel useless, perched there like a maid at her distaff!”

  Aidan snorted. “I’ll take my turn soon enough Lothar. Just keep rowing!”

  Lothar grinned, his teeth flashing white against his tawny beard.

  An arc of sea-spray cascaded over the boat, drenching them all and cutting Lothar and Aidan’s conversation short.

  Blinking the water out of his eyes, Aidan looked about – a grey, cold world surrounded him. The sea was the color of beaten iron and the sky that of smoke. It was not long before the coastline of northern Gaul, Aidan’s home for the past seventeen years, receded to a green and brown strip on the southern horizon.

  Aidan lo
oked towards their destination and, although they were still some way off, he caught a glimpse of white cliffs on the horizon.

  Britannia.

  A thrill of excitement went through Aidan at the thought of what lay ahead. At twenty-seven winters, he longed for a challenge. Aidan had been only ten when he was taken from his village in Connacht, West Ireland. Saxon raiders had attacked, pillaged and set fire to his village and Aidan had been among the handful of slaves those blond savages had taken away. Once they reached Gaul, the raiders sold Aidan to a long-faced young man with fierce grey eyes: Sigeberht, the exiled stepson of King Raedwald of the East Angles.

  Woden, father of the gods, had favored Aidan, for his new master treated him kindly and upon Aidan’s sixteenth summer, he gave his slave freedom. Aidan could have left Sigeberht’s hall then, but he had chosen to stay on as a retainer. His loyalty had paid off, for now he commanded this small but fiercely loyal army.

  If Sigeberht's attack succeeded, his lord would soon be King of East Angles – a massive step up in the world from the exiled man who lived like one of the monks he admired so much. In truth, there were times when Aidan found Sigeberht a bit dry and humorless; his devotion to Christianity influenced all who lived under his roof. Aidan, like all the others, had converted to his lord's religion. Yet, in secret, Aidan still prayed to the old gods – Woden and Thor meant more to him than this new god who appeared to praise abstinence and piousness above all else.

  Aidan kept his gaze on those white cliffs. He urged Lothar and his men on; his throat straining with the effort it took to be heard over the roar of the wind. Soon he would be standing on Britannia's fair soil and breathing in her fine air. A new life awaited him, and Aidan was impatient to embark upon it.

  Buy Book #2 in the Kingdom of the East Angles series: NIGHTFALL TILL DAYBREAK

  About the Author

  Love is at the core of all Jayne Castel's stories. She writes historical romance set in 7th Century Anglo-Saxon England and contemporary romance set in Italy.