by Mary Yarde
“You married her?” Alden frowned as he took the seat opposite him. “You have never felt compelled to marry your mistresses before.”
There was sensor in Alden’s words and Merton knew he was thinking of Josephine. “Adèl was different. She…”
“You loved her?”
“No,” Merton shook his head. “No, I didn’t love her. She fell pregnant and because of who I am she was…she…she had nowhere to go. Marrying her was the least I could do.”
“Did she die in childbirth?”
“Not long after. I would rather not talk about her, if that’s all right with you.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”
“It was a while ago. And anyway, I am more interested in your news. How’s Annis? And Cerniw? You haven’t had any more trouble?”
“No more trouble,” Alden shook his head as he spoke. “Annis is well. Pregnant, again,” he rolled his eyes, but there was pleasure in them. “Baby number three is due any day.”
“Congratulations,” Merton raised his goblet in toast. “And here’s to many more sons and daughters.”
“Sons and daughters,” Alden raised his own goblet in a toast. “I can understand now why the peasants have so many children — they bring such joy. And I am lucky in my wife. Annis…she’s-”
“Bloody mad staying with you,” Merton said with a grin. “I have no idea what she sees in you, but if you ever tire of her, then you can send her my way.”
“If you were not my brother, I would call you out for that,” Alden said, although there was no censor in his voice because he was confident in Merton’s loyalty and he could feel his wife’s love, even if he was miles away from her.
“Nah you wouldn’t. If she chose me, you would let her go.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Alden answered, his eyes narrowing.
“Do not fret, she wouldn’t come with me anyway. I asked her once and she turned me down. I was heartbroken. I never recovered.”
“Watch your mouth, brother, or I may well have to break your nose again.”
Merton huffed as he remembered and, without conscious thought, he touched his nose. “A broken nose was a small price to pay for ensuring your safety.”
When Alden and Annis had escaped the dungeons of the King of Wessex, they had fled across the country and sought refuge in Kent. But Kent turned out to be no safer than Wessex. If it had not been for Merton’s quick thinking, Alden doubted any of them would be alive.
“And we are eternally grateful for that,” Alden said and then he cleared his throat. It did no good to dwell on that particular time in history.
Merton sipped at his ale and did not comment. For a while, they sat in companionable silence. Alden got up and refilled Merton’s goblet and then his own.
“Clovis?” Alden said the King of the Franks name with raised eyebrows as he sat back down. “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Alden looked at the armour by the chair as he spoke and then his eyes came back to Merton’s.
“It’s a bit complicated. I don’t think you will understand,” Merton teased. “Now if Annis were here, that would be a different story. How do you cope, knowing your wife is more intelligent than you are?”
“I am secure in the knowledge that I can cook and she cannot. It evens things out a little between us,” Alden grinned as he spoke. “I may surprise you yet, Merton. I am sure I will be able to keep up with whatever version of the truth you choose to share with me,” Alden promised.
“Version of the truth? Are you calling me a liar now? What an insult,” Merton grinned as he spoke.
“You have been known to stretch the truth now and then.”
“There is no hiding from you, is there, your Majesty?” Merton tilted his head in acknowledgement. “The truth is, there isn’t a great deal to tell. Wihtgar and I had a disagreement,” Merton shrugged and sipped the ale, “I deemed it prudent for my men and me to leave.”
“When you say a disagreement…”
“I mean we fought and I knocked the bastard out.”
Alden sat up straighter in his chair. Merton was running away, he had never thought he would live to see the day. “And now he will seek revenge?”
“I should imagine so, yes.”
Merton had said the words with an air of arrogance as if such an occurrence did not warrant worry, but Alden was not fooled by Merton’s attempt at valour. If the thought of Wihtgar bearing down upon his head did not concern him, then he would not have run in the first place.
“And Clovis? Where does he fit in?”
“Wihtgar didn’t take too kindly to us deserting, and Clovis didn’t take too kindly to Gondebaud trying to kill his wife. We found ourselves stuck in the middle of the two armies. Clovis’s army was the bigger of the two, but I preferred our chances with him.”
“You were in Burgundar?” Alden said the words in disbelief. “Were you involved in all of that? I thought you were in Saxony.” Alden stood, unable to remain seated. “You may not care whether you live or die, but I do,” anger penetrated his words. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Alden, I wouldn’t be much of a mercenary if I didn’t go where the money was. I’m still alive. Sit down. You make me nervous when you start to pace. How is James?” Merton spoke of the general of Alden’s army. “Is he still alive or has someone finally put him out of his misery?”
Alden chose to remain standing. “If you and your men come back to Cerniw, will a war follow you home? Will Wihtgar follow you home?” he asked, his voice hard.
“I can’t answer that,” Merton didn’t look at Alden as he spoke but stared instead into the flames of the fire. The silence that followed Merton’s words seemed to stretch on. “He might do,” Merton said, at last, raising his head and looking at his brother. “Which is why I wasn’t planning on staying. I just wanted to get my son safely to you. I cannot be a father to him. I cannot be the father he deserves. With you, he will have a chance of a normal life, with me…he probably will not make it to his second birthday…”
“Merton, he is your son. You are responsible for him. He isn’t an unwanted present you can pass off to someone else.”
“Tanick means the world to me. Do you think I haven’t thought long and hard about this? I love him. He is my flesh. But, if you do not take him, then…” Merton had not prepared for such an eventuality. “You cannot not take him,” there was an edge of panic in his voice and Alden could see it clearly on his face.
“I will take him, if that is what you want,” Alden reassured and Merton very visibly relaxed.
“Thank you,” Merton sighed deeply in relief. “It will make facing death…”
“So much easier to endure?” Alden supplied bitterly. He would not have said yes if he knew this was where it was going to lead. “Is this why you are really here, so you can put your affairs in order before you die? Shall I kill you now and be done with it?”
“You,” Merton pointed at Alden, “kill me?” he pointed to himself. “With your sword skills? Good luck with that,” Merton replied with a forced humour that didn’t fool either of them. “Alden, death comes to us all and with the way I live it tends to find you sooner rather than later. Now for goodness sake, sit back down.”
Alden reluctantly did as Merton asked him to. “What will you do? I take it you have a plan. You usually do.”
“I will draw his wrath away from Cerniw and then disappear.” Merton said simply. He had been thinking a great deal about this and he was pretty sure that Wihtgar would not risk an all out war in Cerniw and if he made it easy for Wihtgar to find him then so much the better.
“You have no intention of disappearing. You forget, Merton, I know you. I know how your mind works. I forbid you to make a sacrifice of yourself. You will come home and we will face the consequences together.”
“I will not bring a war to your shores,” Merton replied, shaking his head, it would be the last thing he would want to happen.
“You are also a king, so you must weigh up your options. And you must make an informed choice. I want you to cut me loose. Distance yourself from me. Disown me. Condemn me. Do whatever it takes to secure the kingdom. You are a king-”
“I am your king,” Alden reminded him. “You are allowed to advise me, but at the end of the day, it is I who decides what is worth going to war for. It is not your decision to make.”
Alden looked so serious that Merton could not help himself, he laughed.
“I am serious,” Alden said, his temper rising.
“I know. I’m sorry. But you are trying to shut the stable door and that horse has long since bolted. When have I ever done what you have said?”
“You think me incapable of reining you in?”
Merton’s smile fell from his face. “I think you would be very foolish to try.”
“That’s fighting talk.”
“I am just telling it as it is.”
“That is not how it is. Your enemies are my enemies, they always have been and-”
“How old is Jowen now, four, five? I lose track of time.” Merton raised his head, daring Alden to carry on with this conversation. He certainly did not want to go there.
“My son is old enough to know the difference between a wise man and a foolish one. He is old enough to understand stupidity.”
“I am stupid now, am I?” Merton felt his own anger rising. “You did not think me stupid when I sent you gold. You did not think me stupid when I fought by your side against Wessex. You did not think me stupid when I helped to save your wife’s life.”
“You are twisting my words.” Alden rose from the chair and walked to the other side of the room in disgust.
Merton leant his head back against the chair for a moment. The last thing he had wanted was to argue with Alden. He breathed deeply, regaining control of his temper. Alden was right. He was stupid. Stupid to have come here in the first place. It was best if he left before either of them said anything else that they would end up regretting. “My men are waiting for me…I should probably go.” Merton rose to his feet and gathered up his chainmail and his belt.
“I thought you many things Merton, but I never thought you were a coward.” Alden turned back around and looked at him.
“You call me a coward because I want to ensure your safety and the safety of my son?”
“No. I call you a coward because you will not listen to reason. You have decided that you should sacrifice yourself. Have you stopped to consider that maybe your son needs you alive, that I need you alive?”
“You will miss the gold, no doubt,” Merton instantly regretted his words for he saw a flicker of pain in Alden’s eyes.
“What?” Alden couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I ordered you to stay at home, all those years ago, and you ignored me. You crept away like a thief. You didn’t even say goodbye.”
“We needed the money,” Merton reminded him.
“There were other ways to make money that did not involve you turning into a…” Alden bit off the last remark.
“Into a what?” Merton queried, his rage returning with the force of a hurricane. “What?” he threw his armour back down onto the floor in anger. “What am I? A demon? A devil?”
“You are my brother.” Alden yelled, his voice trembling with emotion. “And I bloody love you and I don’t want you to die. You left me and went to war. How the hell do you think that makes me feel, knowing that you are out there risking your life daily, for me. And then when I offer you a similar sacrifice you instantly dismiss it.”
Merton hadn’t expected these words and he reached for the back of the chair, needing at that moment, something to hold on to.
“You are without a doubt the most selfish person I have ever met,” Alden continued.
“Selfish?” Merton scoffed. “I’m selfish? I gave up…everything…my life, my soul…for you.”
“Did you? Or was it your own guilt that made you do that?”
“Guilt?” Merton repeated the word very quietly and then bent and picked up his armour again. He didn’t want, or need, to hear this.
“Merton, I’m sorry. Please…I didn’t mean to say that. It wasn’t your fault.”
“You carry the scars of my failure on your back,” Merton said quietly.
Alden flinched at Merton’s words. “That was Wessex’s doing, not yours.”
“But it will always be there between us, won’t it. I should have got to you. I should have prevented it, but I didn’t.”
“You were seventeen and you did everything you could. I do not blame you for what happened to me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Merton asked and they both recalled a shared memory when Alden was on the verge of suicide. Strong words had been spoken between the two of them and Alden had made it very clear that he did blame him. He blamed Merton for everything.
“I wasn’t in my right mind when I said that to you.”
“I know,” Merton sighed and he felt his anger slipping away. “I know,” he said again. “Alden, it is very late, or very early depending on how you look at it, and I haven’t slept properly in days. I don’t have the energy to talk about this now. Maybe later, after the funeral?”
Alden nodded his consent and watched as Merton headed for the door. Merton’s hand hesitated on the door handle and he turned back around to look at him.
“It is good to see you, Alden. I missed you.”
There was no point lingering in a cold, unwelcoming castle, but when Merton reached the door of his old chamber, he paused. The door was ajar and he cautiously pushed it open, although he suddenly felt like an intruder. He shouldn’t be here.
There was no one in the room, but the maid had obviously been very busy. Even from the doorway he could hear the gentle crackling of a fire and he could see the steam rising from the wooden tub that had been brought into this room for him to bathe in.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The room smelt musty and unused, which surprised him. He would have thought Budic would have cleared his belongings out long before now and given the room to someone more deserving. He wandered over to the bath, touching the water with his fingertips. Merton could not recall the last time he had bathed in heated water; it was a luxury that he deserved not. But he would make use of it while he was here.
He dropped his armour and weapons onto the floor and walked to the chest that was pushed up against the end of the freshly made bed. He opened it, pulling out clothes from another life. The garments were creased, but surprisingly free from moth holes. He hoped they still fit, for he had nothing else to wear but what he had on.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his wet and muddy boots, throwing them to the floor. Yawning, he straightened and looked around the room. The room was the same as how he left it all those years ago. Nothing had been touched and yet, he no longer felt comfortable here. Benwick Castle was no longer his home.
He stripped off his clothes; the cold making goosebumps rise on his skin and he quickly stepped into the tub. His sore muscles welcomed the heated water and he sighed in contented bliss.
He tried not to think of his welcome at Benwick, but Budic’s treatment of him, completely justified of course, had hurt. It should not have done; he didn’t even like Budic that much, but the pain had felt very real. He had just wanted to pay his respects as any decent man would have done, and yet his words had been unwanted and unwelcome.
And then to top that, he had argued with the one person who he had dedicated his life to protecting. Alden was wrong, though, it wasn’t guilt that made him live the life he did, it was something far more powerful and Merton acknowledged it to himself for the first time…it was fear. And when he failed to pay Wessex his monthly dues, his deepest fear would become a truth. Wessex would march on Cerniw. Alden may well be able to withstand the assault, but if Wihtgar marched on him as w
ell, then all hope would be lost. He couldn’t do anything about Wessex, it was too late now, there was no way he could make that kind of money, but he could stop Wihtgar. His life to save his brother and a kingdom seemed but a little price to pay.
11
The funeral Mass had started just after sunrise, and it was now nearing midday. Josephine’s knees ached from kneeling on the hard floor of the church for so long, and her body was weary from staying up all night with Budic, while they both kept vigil on the Queen and her child.
The service had been lovely. The Abbot, despite his faults, had put a lot of effort into his sermon and Josephine had cried when he had predicted that Anna and the baby were now safe in the hands of Jesus, and nothing would ever hurt them again. How she wished that was true, but her faith had never been that strong, she had never been so assured of God as the Abbot was.
Perhaps Philippe was right when he said…she sighed tiredly. The truth was she didn’t know anything anymore, just that sometimes life was unfair. She had not deserved to have Budic for a guardian. She remembered sitting in the dark when she was a child with her hands raised to the heavens pleading with God to make things better, but he had ignored her and so as the years passed she had learnt to ignore him. She found herself wanting to berate God for taking Anna away in the first place, not praise him.
She lowered her head as the Abbot led the congregation in prayer. Not everyone had their heads bowed respectfully, although all were silent. The lady knelt next to her was busy picking dirt out from under her fingernails, and Josephine had to quell the strong urge to hit her for her insolence. This was the Queen’s funeral. There should be respect. She shut her eyes, determined to listen to the Abbot and to try and find peace in her own soul.
It was raining again by the time the service had finished, but at least the wind had died down. Philippe helped Josephine rise from the hard floor and gently supported her as they slowly followed the long line of mourners out into the rain.
She was surprised to see that Merton was still here. He had done as Budic had told him and had not entered the church. Instead, he had donned his cloak and stood outside the church throughout the entire service. She wondered why he had bothered. It wasn’t like he cared or anything.