by Susan Amund
“A trial by combat?”
“Yes.” Eric did his best to stop Julia’s line of questioning at the same time that Ulrich answered, in the negative. He didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze moving across the crowd, but he could feel her frustration mounting. Her shoulder tensed where it leaned against him and her voice grew cooler.
“How, exactly, does a Holmgang differ from a trial by combat?” One slender hand flew up inches from his face before he could respond. “Ulrich, please.” The knight glanced at him, and Eric did not have to speak to know that Ulrich would have rather not had to obey. He nodded once, giving the man-at-arms his approval. He would have preferred to keep her from the details, but she would not stop until she was satisfied. No doubt she would not be pleased with the answers, but she would see reason if he remained calm while he explained the plan.
“A trial by combat is usually fought before a Lord whom both combatants are sworn to, or a noble panel or bishop. The purpose is to determine who the liar is: the accused or the accuser. The one who draws first blood is considered righteous in the eyes of the Lord. If the accuser wins, the guilty man is punished. If the accused wins, he is usually given recompense by the accuser and set free.”
“Yes,” Julia waved off his explanation, “I have heard of such before.”
“A Holmgang,” Ulrich paused and glanced at Eric again. The Norseman sat back and adopted a relaxed air, one hand on his knee and ready to seize Julia if she did not react well. “A Holmgang,” Ulrich began again, “is usually set for three days from the time of the accusation. It can be for a crime of law or a perceived insult. The combatants fight on a hide or in a circle, and stepping outside of the combat area is a declaration of guilt or admission of the other as the winner. The loser may owe some or all of his property to the winner. More often, as I understand it, if the dispute was personal rather than an issue of law, the item in dispute was given to the winner.” Eric slid his hand on top of Julia’s where it rested in her lap. Although Ulrich and the Abbot could see his gesture of comfort, the table hid his actions from anyone else.
“That will not happen,” he said softly. She ignored him, but she did not pull away.
“Is that all?”
“Holmgang is a challenge that may have its rules and stakes set by either the challenging party, or by those who are witnesses. A third party is usually agreed upon by both men to determine the winner. If no judge can be agreed upon, they have other means...” his voice trailed off and he cleared his throat and began again. “If the slight or personal insult is to a child, a man beyond the year of sixty, or a woman, they may appoint a champion to fight on their behalf.”
“So,” Julia spoke clearly and without feeling, “I have publicly admitted that Dunholm insulted my honor and that his attentions are offensive. I have the opportunity to have someone else fight him in my place. As the challenger, I may determine the prize and the rules-”
“As a woman, you cannot set the stakes,” Ulrich interrupted. A flash of anger lit her eyes and she gripped Eric’s fingers hard, but nodded.
“So the witnesses must do so,” she turned to face Eric. “I assume that de Beaumont will be the one?” He nodded, watching her carefully. She was acting calm, but she was an intelligent woman. As Eric expected, it did not take her long to come to the logical conclusion. “He will place Aurelius and myself as the prize. If Dunholm wins, William is happy. If you win, he gets Dunholm’s holdings and still has the opportunity to force me to choose another or attack the island.” He nodded briefly, and her eyes narrowed, “If you do not agree upon a judge, what are the terms of the combat?”
She did not disappoint. Eric felt a surge of pride and admiration that threatened to break into a smile. He did not think she would appreciate that.
“Death.”
The Summons
All things considered, Julia felt the Yule celebration had gone quite well. Certainly, it had been the most exciting feast since the time of her great-grandfather, when six different women claimed to be carrying his child and two gave birth at the event - one of whom was his wife - and one jealous husband attempted to murder great-grandfather Cruithne with the sharp end of the hog spit. She sighed and relaxed in her chair, slouching for the first time that day. She was alone, at least for a short time, and she took advantage of the opportunity to close her eyes and rub at the knot forming in her shoulders.
It was after midnight, and the islanders who had not already passed out, or were too drunk to walk home, had departed. Galen directed a cart to ferry the old and very young to the village and a few outlying farms. The remainder took tankards of ale and torches with them, singing o drive off the cold and evil spirits. Rooms had been made ready for de Beaumont and his men, filling the once near-empty fort to the brim. The barracks were 4-6 to a room in some places. The Norman leader had been given Julia’s old room next to Dunholm. Sir Robert, once released from the tower and awaiting payment of his ransom, was ensconced in Simon’s old room, waiting to return to London with de Beaumont in the morning.
Eric had inspected her rooms and left her with a tray of warm wine and two guards at each entrance to her chambers. She wanted nothing so badly as for the day to be over, but there was still much to do. She had to receive the Duke’s message from de Beaumont and exchange ransoms. The terms and stakes of the Holmgang needed to be set. Then, once everyone else had retired, she had to make Eric understand that he could not make decisions for her. Even if they were married, which was unlikely to ever happen given the Duke’s determination to secure Aurelius, she would still be the Lady of the island, not his chattel.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, the man opened the door, leading de Beaumont and Ulrich into the study. He closed it behind them, and de Beaumont waited for her wave of leave to seat himself in the large chair across from hers. Ulrich remained standing near the door, but Eric lowered himself to the chair at her right, clearly stating that he was on her side. Julia wanted to roll her eyes when she watched the two men size each other up.
“Lord de Beaumont, I believe you have a message for me?” She stood and poured him a glass of wine, taking one for herself and reaching out an open palm to accept the letter.
“Yes, Lady Cruithne,” he pulled the sealed paper from his tunic and handed it over. He took his cup of wine while she returned to her seat and continued, “While we wait for your scribe to arrive, shall we discuss the terms of the trial?”
“In good time, Lord de Beaumont.” Julia did not look up at him, but she imagined he was surprised to see her carefully break the seal with her dirk and open the letter. She held the paper, thick with ornate script, close to a candle and began reading.
Lady Cruithne-
I too am eager to secure the long-standing ties between England and her people. My coronation shall take place on Christmas Day, or shortly thereafter, and once I have taken my rightful throne I will be pleased to invite you to my court to discuss the loyalties of Aurelius.
I am most distressed to read that you have not yet been blessed with a husband. I feel it is my duty, as a Christian and your King, to secure your future good fortune and happiness with marriage bonds to one who is worthy of one of this country’s shining jewels. de Beaumont shall instruct your man-at-arms on the most expedient route to reach London to celebrate Epiphany at my court.
If you do not have a small guard to escort you safely to London by that date, please advise de Beaumont and he will secure your travel himself. God Bless You.
William, Duke of Normandy
Julia wanted to read it again, but she knew that would not change the words. Instead, she refolded the missive and set it on her reading table. She hoped her face remained calm, because inside she was shaking. William still insisted that the island was part of the English kingdom. He would not allow her to marry without his approval. The plan Eric had outlined called for FitzOsbern to come to Aurelius in the spring to oversee the trial. Epiphany was less than a fortnight away.
“I
shall have a response ready for you in the morning, de Beaumont. Now,” she picked up her cup and sipped at the warm wine, “let us discuss the trial.”
“I shall delay my leave-taking until mid-day. If we may use your lower bailey, the stakes shall be-”
“No.” Julia took another sip of wine, trying to calm her nerves. The Norman raised his brows, and she wanted badly to meet Eric’s gaze. She needed his strength almost as much as she wished she could warn him of the change in plans.
“Would you prefer any bloodshed take place outside the wall, Lady Cruithne?”
“There will be no trial.” She rolled over his noise of protest, “Vandalsson shall be my champion, and this matter will be decided by combat, but it will be done by Holmgang - not trial.” She took a deep breath and continued on, please agree, Eric, please at least don’t say anything in front of him, “And it will take place in London, a fortnight from now.”
She did not allow her eyes to stray to Eric, but kept them locked on de Beaumont’s face. Irritation, then surprise, confusion, shock, and finally a reluctant respect settled on his face.
“I will escort you and your champion to-”
“No.” His mouth snapped shut at her interruption, and this time his irritation won out.
“No, Lady? I have been given orders by the Duke and-”
“You were ordered to act as my guard if I had no other to do so.” She nodded pointedly at the Norseman. “I have another to do so.” Silence reigned in the study and Julia was well aware that she had smudged the line of acceptable behavior. “I would not care to trouble you, as you will have to escort Sir Dunholm back to his liege Lord.” She let her hand rest meaningfully on the letter from the Duke. “Certainly, such a delay in the combat is unfortunate enough, it would be beyond forgiveness if his man were to meet an untimely end on the journey to London.”
She worked hard not to hold her breath as de Beaumont considered her. After long moments, he finally sat back in his chair. One ankle resting on the opposite knee, a manner far too relaxed to be polite, he sipped his wine. “Forgive my ignorance, but is Holmgang not a fight to the death?”
“Yes. As every man of the Duke’s is a reflection on him, I do not doubt that he would support any price to deny such accusations - would you agree?” A small smile twitched the corners of de Beaumont’s mouth.
“Of course, God fights on the side of the righteous. An innocent, honorable man will persevere. I am more concerned that you would put your suitor up for such a violent challenge.” He turned his gaze on Vandalsson, “Perhaps you have not held her interest?”
Julia forced a chuckle, knowing that Eric would not keep the conversation civil if he was allowed to answer. “I could have chosen another champion, but I would not have denied Vandalsson the satisfaction.” She took a sip of her wine to steady herself. See if he really wants Dunholm to lose, she thought. “Although perhaps it would be fairer to do so. Sir Dunholm did not come out of his last encounter with the Bringer of Darkness completely intact.”
His eyes narrowed at Julia’s name for Eric, but he did not point it out. “You have sparred with Dunholm before?”
“I am not familiar with that word,” Eric said in a flat voice.
“A training exercise, to practice your skills.”
“Children play at fighting. A Viking hones his skill with a blade in battle.” Julia knew that was a lie. She had seen Eric and his men training many times, but the tone and serious expression he used had the desired effect on the Norman.
“So that is where Dunholm encountered you? In battle?”
“That is near enough to the truth.”
“And you defeated him?” de Beaumont was avidly curious, but Eric shrugged, his expression remaining uninterested,
“He could walk again after only a few days.”
“I would like to hear this story very much.”
“Another time.” Eric nodded to Julia, “A Lady should hear tales of honor and valor, not the cowardice of men who play at being knights.” de Beaumont glanced back and forth between Julia and Eric, a gleam in his eyes.
“I look forward to it.” He drained his wine and poured another cup. “Shall we set the terms of the Holmgang?” It took nearly another hour to work out that Vandalsson and Dunholm would fight in a circle before the court on the seventh day of January. The first man to leave the circle or die would be forfeit. As it was a fight to the death, ladies would be banned from attending, with the exception of Julia. She had to argue against not only de Beaumont, but Ulrich and Eric for that right. Should Dunholm win, he would receive the right to court Julia and 1200 shillings, which would be paid by Eric’s second. Ulrich was named as Eric’s second and de Beaumont agreed to discuss an appointment of a second with Dunholm before they left in the morning. Should Eric win, he would receive the same. Eric did point out that he already had the right to court the Lady, which only made de Beaumont laugh.
She offered her hand to de Beaumont when they were finished. He leaned over it, but held on when he straightened. “I must be honest, Lady, I was not pleased when the Duke ordered me to miss his coronation so that I could deliver a message. However, I am most pleased to have met you. I believe we may deal well with each other in the future.” He smiled, and bent over her hand again, this time his lips brushed against her skin. Julia did not pull away, despite her blush and Eric’s hand settling at the small of her back as he loomed behind her.
“You are kind, de Beaumont. I agree that neighbors should be allies as well as friends.”
He grinned, “You will do well at court, I think, Lady Cruithne. I look forward to introducing you to the Duke.”
Ulrich shut the door and they were silent until the knight spoke, “London, my Lady?” She sighed and returned to her chair.
“Duke William has generously offered to sponsor me at court so that I might find a husband worthy of such a devout, rich, Christian woman.”
“He wrote rich?” Ulrich raised his brows.
“That was implied.” She turned her eyes on Eric. “There would be no waiting for spring for the trial. William demands my presence in London by the sixth of January, and will send an escort if I am unable to make the journey by then.” His face remained stoic, so Julia continued, too tired to care if he disagreed with her decision. She was so exhausted from the stress of the day she didn’t even have the energy to be irritated with him. “I felt it would be better to put myself in a less secure position in London, than to test the Duke and see if he would bring a small army to the island.”
“This way, the people are secure. Did it say anything about your personal guard?”
“A small guard to escort me, he writes.” Julia frowned at Ulrich. “I wouldn’t take all of the men, even if I could. I won’t leave the island undefended.”
“What is the goal of this journey?” Eric interrupted. Julia frowned at him.
“The goal remains the same. End any chance of Dunholm worming his way onto my island and into my bed. Convince the Duke that I am capable of making decisions for the island that will benefit him.” She paused, finally slumping back into her chair, “I still need to impress him, and I am willing to go so far as to pledge loyalty to the throne, if that is what it takes.”
“That is not what we spoke of, My Lady.” Ulrich was surprised, and a little angry. Julia acknowledged him with a sad smile.
“Aurelius has been independent for five hundred years, Sir. But this is a very large world, and we are small. Aelfreic...” she swallowed and closed her eyes, “Aelfreic was wrong to think that we could stand alone against nations. If we are to survive, to prosper and continue on here with any measure of liberty, then we must be willing to give up some sovereignty.”
“Shackle ourselves to remain free? That isn’t-”
“Not ourselves, Ulrich.” She interrupted him with a strong voice which quickly gave way to resignation. “Me. Just me.”
“That has yet to be decided.” Eric frowned at her, and Julia almost smiled a
t his condescension. He smoothly changed topics, “You need to impress not just the Duke, but his advisors as well, yes?”
“If de Beaumont leads the Duke’s inner circle as Caemon says, then you already have a good footing,” said Ulrich.
“If those men speak to the Duke with respect and admiration for me, it would mean a great deal to my argument that Aurelius can be a valuable partner to England, without becoming a vassal.” She purposefully ignored Eric’s gaze as she continued, “If I have to choose a husband from among his men, I would prefer a wide selection.” Her heart wrenched a little in her chest, but she knew it was wrong to allow Eric to think that she would let her own desire take precedence over the future of her people. He did not comment on her continued insistence that she would marry another if it was necessary.
“Then you should arrive with a show of force and wealth.”
“I will not leave the island open to attack,” she warned again.
“I will defend both the ground, and the Lady,” he said firmly. Julia could feel the blush heating her cheeks, and did her best to pretend that Ulrich was not glancing at her sideways and holding back a smile while they finalized their plans. After the knight left, Eric secured the bar across the door and doused the brazier before he escorted her to her room. She stood behind a screen and slipped out of the ornate new clothing, laying it carefully across a chair to be brushed and put away in the morning. A simple short tunic of linen and a woolen robe replaced it while she removed the pins from her hair.
Eric had not shut the door to his room tightly, and she could hear him moving about. He had remained relatively calm throughout the afternoon and evening. She wondered how he could stay so focused, how he could make plans and keep her safe with all that was going on and not so much as frown. With the last ornate twist removed and her hair re-braided simply, she crawled into bed. The coverings had been heated with hot pans earlier and still felt warm, but she shivered.