by A. E. Rayne
Eirik glanced towards Tiras, who was lurking at a table in the farthest corner of the hall. He had ordered the little turd to sit as far away from him as possible. As usual, though, Tiras’ beady eyes were staring Eirik’s way. He was beginning to despise the constant presence of Lothar’s pet. He lowered his voice. ‘Why? Because this will be a dual attack, of course, on two fronts. Haaron won’t be expecting that. He won’t have prepared for both of us.’
‘You don’t think he has spies everywhere? You don’t think word has gotten back to him of your new friendship with Lothar? Of this marriage?’ She gestured to Eadmund, who was actually listening, which surprised her. ‘He hasn’t ruled for so many years because he’s a fool. I don’t imagine he thinks you and Lothar have been making friends just to share a few cups and tell a few tales. He’ll know what’s coming and he will be preparing for it. And even if he’s entered his dotage now, those four sons of his will be prowling about, waiting to pounce on any pretenders to the throne they have waited so long for themselves.’
Her words were iron-heavy, and Eirik baulked under the weight of them. It was true, of course, he knew it, of course he did, but he didn’t wish to be told it by her. ‘And you’re an expert on the Dragos family and Hest, are you?’
Jael could see that he was annoyed, but it didn’t deter her; she tended to get spurred on by confrontation, or, as her mother liked to insinuate, ‘was always looking for a fight’, especially when she was feeling miserable. Thoughts of Aleksander had been dragging her down into a dark, lonely place all afternoon, and she was in an ornery mood. ‘I’m no expert on anything, but I’ve fought against Haaron and his sons many times. He was always one step ahead of us. He always knew what was coming,’ she sighed, remembering the frustration of constantly having to rebuff his attacks. ‘When my father ruled, we worked hard to put defences in place to protect ourselves against their incursions. But Haaron always seemed to know our weakest points. He knew where to strike, and when. If our army had been weaker, if my father had been weaker, we would have been overrun by them every time. But my father was always ready. He knew they would keep coming. He worked us hard, constantly, to prepare for that. And with Lothar, when he attacked Hest, they defended to meet his plans of attack, exactly. He was never going to win. There was certainly a spy. There were eyes on Brekka, from Saala to Andala. Haaron was watching, somehow. Or more likely, he just has his own dreamer.’ She looked at Eydis then, who had sat quietly at her father’s side throughout the evening, sharing barely a word, or a smile with anyone; she didn’t appear to be listening.
Eirik’s earlier annoyance softened slightly. It surprised him to realise that Jael’s experience against Hest was greater than his. He had never launched a campaign against Haaron and his wild men behind their southern mountains. He had tried, once, to take Skorro, Hest’s perfectly positioned little island that sat beyond the Widow’s Peak. Haaron had a garrison placed there to protect his trade routes with the Fire Lands across the Adrano Sea. Eirik had wanted to free up those routes, to bring more traders to Oss, and vice versa, but it had proved a disastrous mission that had failed in a great, bloody, ship-sinking mess. As Jael had said, Haaron appeared to know his every move before he made it. He had lost many ships and too many men and not tried again, until now, to even think about claiming any part of Hest. He would not risk his men for something he did not believe could work this time, and with Lothar, he had thought it possible. Their combined armies, their two-pronged attack, it made sense, and he truly thought they had a chance for success. He didn’t need or want to be thinking differently, but Eirik knew he couldn’t dismiss her words lightly.
He turned to look at Eydis, realising that he had been so focused on her advice for Eadmund, that he hadn’t asked her about the invasion. He would have to find time to sit down with her soon.
The mood at the table had been flattened by Jael’s words; even Thorgils looked downcast and grim. The men and women of the hall in front of them were loud, though, happy to focus their minds on battles, and fighting, and glory. There were a handful of eager boasters, sizing each other up, confident of their chances in the contest. Jael watched them dispassionately, annoyed by their good moods. Her eyes drifted towards Tarak. His little army of followers was looking up at him, gilding his ego with excessive praise and encouragement. He puffed out his thick, square chest, rolled back his meaty shoulders, and stared straight at her, smiling through the flames of the fire that separated their tables.
Jael returned his smile, her lips barely moving. She clenched her fist on the table, suddenly cheered by the thought of this contest. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so meaningless after all?
Jael was tired, or perhaps it wasn’t tiredness, but more the overwhelming desire to be alone that motivated her to stand up. She yawned, thinking of her bed. The hall was still full, but she had grown bored of the drinking, and loud, endless talk of battles and contests.
Some of the day had been good, and her spirits had lifted for a while, but now her body was heavy with sadness. She missed Aleksander intensely; nothing felt right without him. And the thought of how long it would be until she could see, or speak to him again made her want to scream. Or at least escape to the house and try to dream of him again.
‘You are ready for your bed, it seems,’ Eirik smiled, looking tired himself as he pushed the bench back to stand up. He was stiff, she noticed, but he didn’t complain.
‘Past ready,’ she said quickly, hoping to escape before there was any mention of Eadmund coming with her.
‘So, it’s a good bed, is it?’ Eirik wondered coyly.
‘I suppose so, yes, it’s a fine bed,’ Jael said, confused by the question.
Eirik frowned; that hadn’t been the response he had tried so hard for. ‘A fine bed?’
Jael glanced at him, puzzled. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Oh no, no reason,’ Eirik mumbled, shaking his head. ‘Now, don’t forget to collect Eadmund on the way out!’ He winked at her, nodding towards the doors, where Eadmund and Thorgils were in the midst of a rowdy conversation with their friends.
‘I think he’s having too much fun, so he can just come along later,’ Jael said firmly as she made to leave. ‘I’m sure he knows the way. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight,’ Eirik smiled, a bit deflated. Fine? How could she not be salivating over that bed? He had tried it out himself and had been certain it was going to astound her. He sat back down again with a frown.
Jael hurried through the hall. Men and women were packed in around the walls, in small groups, sharing their stories and insults, clanking their cups, clapping each other’s backs. She was almost at the door when she heard Thorgils call her name.
‘Jael!’
She froze, wondering what to do.
He did it again. So, sighing in annoyance, she slapped a smile on her face and turned around, walking over to the swaying huddle of bleary-eyed men.
‘I think you’re forgetting someone, aren’t you?’ Thorgils slurred, his words rushing out through his damp, red beard as he peered down at Jael with a foolish grin.
‘Am I?’ Jael wondered impatiently as Thorgils struggled to get his thoughts in order.
‘Eadmund! Eadmund! You can’t leave without your husband!’ He grabbed Eadmund by the shoulder and pushed him forwards. Eadmund stumbled, almost falling onto Jael.
‘I think my husband is having far too much fun with you, Thorgils,’ she said patiently, trying to avoid looking at Eadmund’s bloated face. ‘I wouldn’t want to take him away from you all too soon.’ She was just about to slip away, when she saw Tiras seated nearby, watching her intently. Biting her tongue in frustration, Jael sighed, turning back to Eadmund. ‘Although, perhaps Thorgils is right and you should come with me now.’ She tried to subtly motion with her eyes towards the watching spy, but neither man took her hint; both were far too dumbstruck by her change of heart.
‘I, I...’ was all Eadmund could get out.
Thorgils grabbed Eadmund’s
cup and pushed him towards his impatient wife. ‘I would leave right now, before she changes her mind,’ he smiled, draining Eadmund’s ale before tossing the empty cup onto a nearby table. ‘I imagine it’s not an offer that will be repeated!’
Eadmund looked caught between going along with everyone else and wanting to run back to retrieve his empty cup and refill it. Jael didn’t have enough patience to wait for him to move his legs on his own, though, so she slipped her arm through his and started leading him towards the doors.
‘Have fun!’ Thorgils yelled loudly behind them. He made such a noise that a few cheers and whistles followed them to the door, but neither Jael nor Eadmund turned to acknowledge them.
Outside the hall, a searing, cold wind attacked them, and Jael realised she would have to get a new cloak made of thick fur if she were to survive this frigid place. Pulling on Eadmund’s arm, she almost dragged him along. He didn’t say a word as he stumbled behind her; he was too busy trying to keep to his feet in the icy conditions.
They tiptoed quickly across the square, Jael constantly looking over her shoulder, but there was no sign of anyone following them. She turned into a narrow alleyway, barely lit under a sliver of moon, then dropped his arm abruptly, leaning into his chest. Eadmund stumbled backwards, hitting the wall of a shadowed building.
‘Could you not see that Lothar’s man was watching us?’ she hissed angrily at him, glancing around, listening for footsteps. ‘He won’t hesitate to talk to your father if he sees anything amiss between us.’
Eadmund shook himself awake. He was groggy, nauseated, and cursed his weakness again. He was cold too. In the rush to leave, he’d left his cloak behind; that was a mistake. ‘I didn’t know Lothar had a man here,’ he shivered, puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘To watch us, to make sure that he knows everything that is happening here. To sniff out any threat to his alliance with your father.’ Jael’s green eyes glowed through her thick, white breath. ‘Tiras will report everything back to Lothar and believe me, he will work very hard to find something.’
Eadmund stared into her eyes, blinking hard. She was so intense, with her words, with that sharp stare; he felt trapped. And cold. He wanted her to stop talking so that they could get to the house, get to a fire.
‘I assume you have somewhere you go every night?’ she asked quickly. ‘Somewhere you can stay hidden away till morning? Not going back to the hall so Tiras can spot you again?’
‘Oh.’ He was surprised. ‘Ummm, yes, I can go to my cottage.’
‘Good. Without being seen?’
‘Yes, it’s just down this street and beyond, no need to go anywhere near the hall.’ Eadmund was waking up now, his thoughts forming more clearly, his words coming out of his mouth quickly; the cold had a way of doing that to a person.
‘Good, then go,’ Jael ordered and turned to leave. ‘I will show you what he looks like tomorrow. That way we can both stay ahead of him. Although, perhaps it would help if you drank a bit less. It’s not easy to make good decisions if your head is always drowning in ale.’ Noticeably shuddering, she hurried away, her black cloak and dark hair quickly merging into the night.
Eadmund stood for a moment before he started shaking uncontrollably. He turned in the opposite direction, heading quickly for home. His home. He stumbled, slipping on an icy patch of snow, despondent, disappointed, but at the same time thoroughly annoyed to have been taken away from his drinking so soon. But as much as he wished to sneak back to the hall, the memory of Jael’s eyes warned him otherwise.
15
They sat huddled around the fire, thoughtful in the silence. Edela noticed how gaunt Aleksander looked behind the flames; she must make sure he started eating properly. He had always been lean – lean but strong, he would insist with a smile – but now he just looked broken. And starved.
They were waiting on the night, neither imagining that what they were hoping for would actually work. But hoping, nonetheless.
To dream walk Edela needed Jael to be asleep, but who knew when that would be. So they would wait, a good, long while, to ensure that Edela would find her dreaming.
‘What will you say?’ Aleksander broke the silence. ‘If you contact her?’
Edela started. ‘I, I will just warn her. Tell her what I saw. I have seen nothing more since that day on the beach. I know as little as I did then, unfortunately. I can only warn her and hope that it will be enough to keep her safe until I know more.’ She thought for a moment, her forehead creasing. ‘There are ways to help protect her, Tuuran symbols to ward off evil. I should have thought about that before she left. Hopefully, there is someone on Oss who can tattoo her in the Tuuran way.’
Aleksander looked sceptical. ‘But that depends on who she can trust, doesn’t it? We can’t assume that this girl is the only one like that on the island, whatever she is.’
‘Perhaps I will send Jael to speak to Eadmund’s sister? She is one to trust, I’m sure.’
Aleksander stared at her doubtfully.
Edela thought she heard his stomach rumbling. ‘I have some bread left from my meal. Would you like some?’
‘No,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘No, I’m not hungry.’
‘Aleksander, you cannot stop living. If you die of starvation, how will you help Jael?’ Edela implored.
He glared at her then, irritation crawling under his skin. ‘You wanted her to be with him, didn’t you? You thought he would make her happier than I ever could, that she would love him more.’
‘I cannot help what I see, what I saw,’ Edela said softly, her face pale and sad. ‘Yes, I did see that she was meant to be with Eadmund and not you. Not to hurt you, never that. Even though, of course, it does.’
‘Hurt me?’ He stood quickly, built-up sadness, frustration, and fury finally overflowing. ‘It isn’t hurting me, Edela, it’s killing me! To love someone so much, to have them taken away like that... not dead but given to another man, who she doesn’t love, not now at least, hopefully not ever, despite what you see! And all I can do is stay here, alone, and know that everyone thinks that that is how it must be. That I should just leave it all alone, let it happen, stay away, not get involved, ignore my feelings. Let the woman I love, who loves me, be with another man, be his wife, have his child?’ He stared at Edela in painful despair. ‘It’s not hurting me! I feel as though I’m slowly dying without her! And whether you think that sounds foolish or not, I don’t care. I can’t be without her. I just can’t!’
Aleksander sat down again, deflated, crying, broken. Edela got up to comfort him. She knelt beside his heaving body, holding his hand in hers, stroking his hair, heavy with the guilt of her part in his pain.
The puppies were pleased to see Jael. They wiggled themselves into a wailing frenzy of excitement, happy that she was finally home. Jael was being far too soft with them, she knew, but their affection was welcome at the moment, so she barely told them off as they lunged and jumped, begging for attention as she sat down by the fire. She couldn’t feel her hands as she thawed them near the flames.
‘So, you’ve managed to shake him off again?’ Biddy wondered with a wry smile as she handed Jael a cup of milk.
Jael wrapped her fingers eagerly around the warm cup. ‘I have, thankfully.’ She took a quick sip, but the milk was too hot and burned her tongue. ‘He spent most of the evening just staring at his ale. I thought he might have turned some corner, but it didn’t last long, and he ended up a blathering mess again.’
‘Poor man,’ Biddy said thoughtfully. ‘Must be that he can’t control himself at all when it comes to drink. My father was a bit like that. Well, a lot like that.’
‘Was he?’ Jael wondered, surprised. Biddy no longer had any family living, and her childhood was something she had always kept to herself. Or, was it that Jael had never asked?
‘I remember my mother saying that he couldn’t help himself. That he was always trying his hardest not to drink, but that he had been born without any self-control, so it wasn’t
really his fault.’
‘And what happened to him?’
Biddy tucked a loose curl behind her ear and stared down at her hands. ‘Well, he ruined us all, in truth. He drank and gambled all our coins away, so my mother ended up miserable, alone, and in debt. She tried to help him, to change him, and sometimes he wanted her help, I remember that. But there was nothing to be done for him. No matter how hard she tried, he never changed. He just got worse, and eventually, he was killed in a fight over a handful of coins.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Jael said quietly.
‘It was too long ago to hurt now,’ Biddy murmured as she bent down to stroke Ido. ‘But it does make me feel sorry for Eadmund. You might laugh and not want him here, and I cannot blame you for that, but perhaps he needs your understanding more than your scorn.’
‘Perhaps,’ Jael considered. ‘But I’m not looking for a friend, I’m not even looking for a husband. He has family and friends, many friends. Let them take care of him. They seem to have been managing that without me. I just need to survive him, survive this place, so that I can get back to Aleksander. I can’t waste my time trying to help someone who can’t even help himself, who has no future as a king or a man.’
Biddy frowned at Jael, disappointed but not surprised, by her harsh words.
Jael didn’t want to see herself reflected in Biddy’s stern expression, so she got up. ‘I’m going to bed.’
The puppies raced to follow her as she quickly finished the milk and took her cup to the kitchen. ‘I know I could be kinder, Biddy, but if I stop to think about Eadmund, I won’t be able to focus on what I must do to get us home.’ She walked towards the bedchamber. ‘I don’t want a part of his future. If he’s going to drink himself dead, it’s not something I choose to worry about.’ She sighed heavily. ‘Goodnight.’