by Ceri Bladen
“What do they require?” Ubba tried to ask the question evenly, but he knew they would want something off Rosfrith.
“Bryan is asking for me to go back to Dunwich to care for Papa.”
“Nay.”
Rosfrith tensed. “Nay, what?”
“Nay, I don’t want you to go.” He didn’t miss the flare in her violet eyes.
“I’m not your thrall, anymore,” she replied, hands on hips.
“I never said you were, but as your husband, I am saying you can’t go.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
Ubba sighed, before attempting to calm the situation. He didn’t want her anger, only her understanding for his reasons. “It’s dangerous, Rosfrith. The sea journey for starters.”
“We were fine coming over,” she said sullenly.
“Ay, but many are not. They are lost at sea and drowned. You are safe here, as I am here with you. I can’t go to your homeland and leave my kin again.”
“But, I want to go.”
“And I say, nay.” Ubba sighed when he saw her tears welling. He didn’t want to be hard on her, but the thought of not seeing her for months terrified him. He was her family and her duty was by his side.
Rosfrith growled at Ubba before flopping down on the bed. She turned on her side, and lay as still as she could. She was overreacting, but couldn’t help it. It could be the last time she saw her father alive, and she didn’t want any regrets. She wanted to know once and for all, whether her father had truly abandoned her or was it just down to the situation he was in. Ubba wouldn’t understand - sometimes he only saw things in black or white.
Laying stiffly, she knew when he moved behind her. When his arm snaked across her waist, she knew what he would want, so she became rigid and feigned sleep.
When he tried to gather her near him, he felt her stiffen and pull away. He sighed. “I only want the best for you, Rosfrith. Always,” he whispered into the darkness.
Rosfrith didn’t reply.
Chapter 4
September 872 - East Angles – Dunwich Fortress
Rosfrith tentatively stepped onto the shores of East Angles, happy to finally be back on terra firma. She’d thought her sea sickness, when she first went to Ranaricii, had been bad - but the sickness on this journey had been tenfold. Feeling shaky and weak from lack of food, she stayed still and breathed deeply, despite the chaos going on around her.
After the shakiness subsided a little, she took a moment to look around. The land, which once was so familiar to her, now seemed alien. While she was a child, her father, Lord Arter Guader, used to bring her to the port to pick up cargo for the Kings of Northumbria. She sighed. It seemed a lifetime ago – both kings now dead, and her father at death’s door. A crunch on the ground behind her pulled her from her reflections.
“Come on, Lady Rosfrith, you can’t stand there, you’ll be knocked down by a cart,” said Eirik, stepping forward to take her arm. Before the voyage, Eirik hadn’t particularly cared for her, she was, after all, the reason why some of Ubba’s best men had been ostracised. But, during the time at sea, a respect had grown for her. Even when she’d been sick, not even taking in water, she hadn’t expected anyone to take care of her. She had an inner strength that Eirik admired.
“We need to get you to Dunwich. There is still a way to go.” His gaze narrowed on her as he inspected her face. She had colour back in her cheeks, so it must have been seasickness. Luckily, as he didn’t relish telling Ubba anything else when he returned to Ranaricii. “Will you be all right? You still look pale.”
She smiled weakly at him and noticed the other men standing around watching her. Ubba had sent them with her to make sure she arrived at Dunwich fortress in one piece.
“I’m fine now I am here on land.” She nodded, as much to convince herself. “I’m on my way.”
While the men loaded the cart, she took the view in once more. Whether the weakness from the sickness or something else was making her feel teary, she had to work hard at keeping her emotions in check. She suddenly wished she wasn’t there.
Initially, when she’d received her brother’s missive, she’d been determined to come. Stupidly, Ubba’s refusal only made her more resolute. But, once she’d calmed, she appreciated her husband had only been worried about her. Nevertheless, by then, it was too late to pull out. He’d already arranged her passage on one of the merchant longboats, paying good coin. She’d hoped he’d come with her, but he didn’t have anyone he could rely on to put in charge – his relationship with Gunnar was still not in a good place.
The days before she left had been torture, wanting to tell him she’d made a mistake. She hadn’t told him and had put on a brave face, but she felt miserable. She didn’t want to be without him. So, the only thing she could do was convince herself she was doing the right thing and would be back within no time. She realised now that she had been fooling not only him, but herself.
“Come on, my lady,” said Eirik, holding out his hand. “It’s time to get on the cart.”
Once she was settled, he nodded to the driver and the other men surrounding them on their horses to depart.
A couple of hours later, Rosfrith was glad they were nearing Dunwich. She didn’t think she could take any more of the rickety cart. The only thing that had taken her mind off the bumps was when they passed through some of the villages. Most had been rebuilt since she’d last seen them, some even in a more Norse style.
“We are here,” the driver said, nodding towards the wooden walls of the fortress.
Rosfrith’s stomach clenched and her chest tightened in apprehension. Grabbing the side of the cart to steady herself, she searched for the opening, which became larger as they neared. She put a hand on her stomach, trying to get rid of the knot there. She didn’t welcome the sight as she thought she would. This wasn’t her home anymore. Ranaricii was.
The ringing bell signalled that their arrival was noticed. The chimes were slow, indicating that guests were arriving, although Rosfrith noted that the Viking men around her briefly touched their weapons. She smiled. They would look after her. She sat back, trying to get as comfortable as she could, while they waited for the soldiers to open the large wooden gates.
When they entered, Rosfrith quickly scanned the faces. She was disappointed not to recognise anyone other than her brother, Bryan, although he had grown into a man. Despite reminding herself that this is what she wanted, she noticed that her mouth had gone dry. She was only comforted by the noise of the horses and men surrounding her. She ignored all the people staring at her, and waited for the cart to stop.
Eirik swung down off his horse to help her down. When her feet were on the ground, she looked up and watched her brother rush forward, his eyes flicking towards the large men flanking her.
“Oh, my sister, welcome back to Dunwich.”
Within seconds, she was encased in a huge hug. She couldn’t help but stiffen. She hadn’t expected a cordial welcome because the last time she’d seen him, he’d told her he didn’t have a sister. When she noticed Eirik finger his axe, she forced herself to relax in the embrace.
“It’s lovely to be here,” she said, glad Bryan was still hugging her and couldn’t see the truth on her face. She wasn’t one for not telling the truth, but it wouldn’t do to upset him on their first meeting.
Bryan released her and stepped back. “I’m glad you are here. Papa” - he paused for effect - “Papa will be so pleased, too.”
She studied him, the first time since he’d become a man. He was what could have been called handsome, with hair a mixture of their father’s light brown and her mother’s midnight black. His eyes were brown, but to Rosfrith, as shifty as a fox. He unsettled her, but she was here to see her father, so she put her misgivings aside. “Is he well?”
“Um, you’ll see him later.”
Rosfrith gave him a small smile. He seemed nervous. She couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking towards Eirik. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with
the large warrior men she had brought with her. She waved her hand towards them.
“Pardon. This is Eirik Ulfsson.”
Her brother didn’t come nearer to him, but just nodded. She introduced a couple more before turning to Eirik, speaking in their tongue.
“Eirik, men, this is my brother, Lord Bryan Guader.” She was proud when she heard some of them attempt to say hello in English. It was more than her brother had attempted.
“Right, Rosfrith. Let’s get you inside,” Bryan said while turning towards the main entrance to the hall.
She didn’t move. “What about my men?”
He turned back to face her, a questioning look on his face. “What about them? Surely they are not going to stay here?”
“I was assuming they would,” she replied, eyeing Eirik.
Bryan paled. “I haven’t got the room.”
Eirik stepped forward, puffing his chest out. “We will sleep in the barns, but we will not leave Lady Rosfrith until she says.”
Rosfrith smiled to herself at her brother’s shocked face. He’d never expect a Heathen like Eirik to speak English. It wasn’t perfect, but he got his message across.
“Very well.” Bryan waved his hand in the air. “Sort out your horses and come to the hall for food, later.” He looked at Rosfrith. “I can only feed them for a while; they can’t stay long.”
She just nodded. They would stay as long as she wished.
After they had some food, Rosfrith was shown to her old bedchamber. She looked around, running her fingers along her old cabinet. Apart from looking unloved, her room hadn’t changed since she was a child. Memories washed over her, and she smiled. It was good to remember; even the difficult memories didn’t seem so bad anymore. She turned when Bryan entered the room on a knock.
“Settled in?”
“Ay, but I’m tired after all that travelling.” She indicated the bundle of clothes on the bed. “What are all those for, Bryan?” She waved her hand towards the chests Eirik had brought up for her. “I have all the clothes I need.”
She was sure she saw Bryan sniff with disdain, but he quickly smiled at her. A small frown touched her forehead. Did he seem annoyed? Before she could think about it anymore, he stepped nearer and reached for both of her hands.
“I know, dear sister. It’s just” - he hesitated - “Papa.”
Rosfrith frowned. “Papa?”
Bryan nodded and let go of her. “Yes, Papa. He is very ill, Rosfrith.” He waved his hand in front of his face, as though chasing away his tears. “I don’t think he could cope with seeing you in clothes other than the ones dear Mama used to wear.” He sniffed.
She stepped forward to comfort him. “That’s alright, brother. I understand you don’t want Papa to be upset.”
Bryan turned away from her to look towards the opening, his lips pursed. He had cared about his Pa once, but not now. Since their father had taken him from Dunwich, just before it had been taken over by the Heathens, he’d followed him around like a lap dog. Did father thank me? Did he show me gratitude for standing by him? No, he just spent his time lamenting the fact the kings of Northumbria were dead, and his wife and daughters had gone. Silly fool. If his father had pulled himself together, they wouldn’t be in this position now – allowed to stay in their ancestral home on the permission of Vikings that ruled East Angles. He shuddered. His father was better off dead. It was up to him to make sure Dunwich became his again, and if he couldn’t do it on his own, he’d do it through his dear sister and that husband of hers.
“Can I see him, tonight? I’ll change before I go to see him.”
He gave her a weak smile, glad his years of acting while with his father were paying off. He tapped her hand, which was annoyingly laid on his arm. He wanted to move away from her contact. After all, those hands had been on a Viking. But for now, he had to carry on pretending that he cared for her. And their Papa. “Ay, you can visit for a short while.” He moved towards the door and looked at her over his shoulder. “Once you change.”
Rosfrith pushed the door of her father’s bedchamber open. It was dark inside, the tallow candles barely lighting the room and her father’s still body lying on the bed. She sighed. Mayhap her papa didn’t need to see? But, she did. If it wasn’t evening, and there wasn’t a chance her father could catch a chill, she would have thrown open the shutters. It smelled dank and stale. She glanced at her father’s still form and walked over to the bed, mindful not to startle him.
“Papa?” she leaned towards him, but he didn’t move. She turned to look around the room, searching for a chair. There was one tucked in one corner of the room. From its position, it didn’t look as though anyone commonly sat with her father. That knowledge upset her. She grabbed her skirt and walked over to it. Now she was here, that would be rectified. She might not be able to read the two books on his side table, her father were given by the Northumbrian kings, written by the monks, but she could recall some stories dear Edith or her mother used to tell her.
The next morning, eager to get back to her father’s room to open the shutters, Rosfrith arose early to break her fast. The hall was quite empty while she ate - so unlike the longhouse in Ranaricii. She had to push the feeling of home-sickness to the side. She was here for her father. The fact that he’d never been there for her never entered her mind.
Once she had finished the meagre offerings, she made her way out of the hall. The ringing of the bells made her pause. Of course, it was the Sabbath. She carried on, Christian religion held no interest for her. As she turned a corner, she bumped into Bryan.
“Sorry, brother.” She corrected herself and took a step back. “Good morning.” From the look on his face, it was far from a good morning for him. “Is everything all right?”
His annoyed look faded and was replaced with a smile. “Of course, dear sister. Sorry, I’m a little late… for church, this morning.”
“Oh, I’ll let you get on your way. I’m off to see Papa.”
“Good. I’ll see you later today. I have things to attend to.” He stood and watched her as she turned to go. He had to resist the urge to laugh at how gullible his sister was turning out to be. He thought she would be a little bit wiser after living with those dirty heathens. Church, indeed. He hadn’t set foot in one since he was a teenager. Nay, he was off to pay one of his servants a little visit. Make sins, not confess them. He turned to leave until her voice stopped him.
“Oh, I forgot. Can I have some skin and ink, Bryan?”
“Why?”
A frown appeared on Rosfrith’s face. “Why, to send word to Ubba I have arrived safely.”
“Won’t those” - he paused, wanting to call the men who came with her, heathens - “those men who kindly escorted you here be able to relay a message for you?”
She shook her head. “Nay, they are not going directly back. They will stay in East Angles for a while.”
Bryan had to stop the urge to scowl. That’s all he needed, bodyguards. He’d have to make sure they had no reason to tarry. “Can you… write?”
The frown on his face told her that he didn’t think she could. She bristled. Of course, she couldn’t write, but she didn’t want to tell her brother that. She felt inferior enough in his presence, just the same as when she was a child and he bullied her. “A little.”
Not wanting to cause a scene, he supposed one missive getting back to Ubba wouldn’t hurt. But, he would have to do something about any future correspondence. He couldn’t allow anything through, otherwise, his schemes wouldn’t go to plan.
“Not a problem. I will send some to you, after Church, with your new maid, Cate.”
Chapter 5
October 872 - Ranaricii
Ubba sat on his chair next to the fire and cast a glance at the two warring neighbours in front of him. Autumn was here, and with the shortening days came a restlessness within him. He’d expected to spend the long dark hours enjoying his new wife, not alone. He scowled at the men, ignoring the heckling, as he was no
t in the right frame of mind to sit in counsel. Even the darkness of the longhouse was depressing him. He knew he’d been in a foul mood since Rosfrith had left for East Angles, but he couldn’t shift his disposition. For his own sanity, he wanted her back by his side. For the first time in his life, he felt lonely.
Although he had relented and let her go back to Dunwich, it didn’t sit well. He didn’t trust that weasel of a brother, nor her father, for that matter. It was only because Eirik had assured him that he would stay until she was settled that he’d finally arranged for her voyage. Now he wished he’d listened to his gut and ignored her pleading.
While he half listened to the argument, he decided to seek out the Seer again. She might put his mind at rest, especially as Astrid and Gunnar had been welcomed back to Ranaricii in preparation for the birth. His relationship with Gunnar hadn’t been repaired yet. He could understand why – most would seek revenge - but, in his defence, he’d been young when Gunnar had introduced Astrid to him. Mayhap it had been a deliberate play by Gunnar to better his own family’s holdings? He’d resisted her charms for a while, but there was only so much flirty behaviour his body would let him ignore. He wasn’t naïve not to know that once he’d bedded her for the first time, a woman of her status would expect to marry. But, again in his defence, he had never voiced any words to make her think so.
Once his counsel had finished, Ubba strode out of the dark and smoky atmosphere. He stood in the doorway, enjoying the weak sunlight breaking through the clouds. He glanced around. It was market day and packed with many folk from near and far.
He made his way through the crowds, always alert for danger and walked towards the Seers cottage. He scratched his cheek, straining to look through a crack into the dark interior.