by Josie Litton
Yet was that only the beginning. On tall wooden desks, books stood open, some in the process of being created, others completed and being read. Their colors leaped out at her, brilliant gold, blue, red, green, and black entwined in the serpentine forms of letters and also in the delicate, complex illustrations scattered throughout each work.
She was staring enraptured at a capital A constructed of intricately intertwining vines in which myriad birds perched when Hawk cleared his throat, recapturing her attention. Alfred and the priest had moved on to a table at the far end of the room where an elderly monk stood guard over the precious new book. “You have charmed the king,” Hawk said lightly. “That is no small feat but I expected no less of you.”
His praise warmed her but it also left her flustered. “I know nothing of charm, my lord,” she said honestly. “It was not covered in my education.”
“True charm cannot be taught, my lady. Perhaps it comes from an open heart and a gentle spirit.”
She looked at him in frank surprise, then burst out laughing. “Forgive me, my lord, but for you of all men to call my spirit gentle … Did I not just yesterday suggest your skull would be the better for being dented by an oar?”
Hawk laughed as well but his eyes on her suddenly held a shadow of concern. “Better you speak your mind clearly than you bestow false smiles and hide ill-thought behind them. That is all too common here where power gathers, and you would do well to remember it.”
His warning sobered her for already she had some sense of what he meant. The undisguised contempt of Lord Udell and his sister was not forgotten. She wondered if there were others who would resent her as readily and shivered inwardly at the thought.
Hawk's hand closed warm and strong on hers. Without further delay, they rejoined the king and Father Asser.
Chapter THIRTEEN
THE QUEEN S SOLAR OCCUPIED THE MIDDLE floor on the eastern side of the royal residence. It was a bright and cheery room, well suited for the constant work of weaving, sewing, and embroidering, to which even the most noble ladies were expected to devote themselves. Krysta made her way there with the help of a maid after her visit to the scriptorium. She understood that the king and Hawk had much to discuss, and though she would have liked to hear what they said, she was not surprised to find herself gently but firmly dismissed. Her natural inclination to go off alone was thwarted when Hawk excused himself for a few minutes to escort her back to the residence, and found a maid to assure him she would get where he clearly expected her to go. His reward was a bemused frown that turned into a gaze of pure longing the moment his back was turned.
As soon as Krysta stepped inside the solar, she was certain she had made a dire mistake. Several dozen ladies were gathered there, of all ages but alike in the sumptu-ousness of their dress. They reminded her of the glorious birds sitting on the vines of the A, each garbed in magnificent plumage and seemingly interested only in what went on beneath their noses. At the moment, that meant Krysta. Before she could draw a breath, she was pierced by gazes both curious and knowing. They froze her in place and for an awful instant she thought she would not be able to move. Then Eahlswith, that wise queen and gentle mother, saw her. The queen's smile seemed a rope thrown into a storm-tossed sea. Krysta went to her gratefully and took the seat she indicated directly beside her.
“I was hoping you would come,” Eahlswith said. “You must tell us all about your visit. Is the new book everything my husband hoped?”
Several of the nearby ladies adopted expressions of polite interest but one did not. Lady Esa continued to give all her attention to the exquisite bit of embroidery she was stitching. Only the slight, sardonic curve of her lovely mouth hinted at her thoughts.
“The book is wonderful, my lady,” Krysta said, ignoring Esa determinedly. “It is very well organized and clearly written, setting forth those laws King Alfred believes are essential to the good ordering of the kingdom. It is divided into three sections, the laws as they pertain to men who pray, men who work, and men who fight. The script itself is in a very able hand, much easier to read than some I have seen, and the book as a whole is magnificently illustrated with each first capital on a page done in gold and many beautiful pictures drawn throughout.”
“How relieved I am to hear it,” Eahlswith said, “for I vow, my dear husband cares almost as much for his books as he does for his children, and that is saying a great deal indeed.”
The ladies smiled kindly, all save Esa, who rolled her eyes slightly.
Either the queen did not see her or she chose to ignore such behavior. Krysta suspected the latter for she had already surmised that Alfred's queen was as wise in her own way as he was in his.
“What did you think of the scriptorium?” Eahlswith asked.
“I think it the most wonderful place I have ever seen,” Krysta said candidly. “We were there long enough for me to read parts of several books, and the king was so kind as to say that I could borrow one.”
“How wonderful that you read,” the queen said. “I have thought from time to time of trying to learn, but with the children and all, I have rarely had a free moment.”
Krysta nodded, imagining how very difficult it would be even for a queen to steal time from her “wifely duties.” “I was fortunate to be taught as a child.”
“Fortunate?” Esa's voice was soft but carried far. Several of those in attendance perked up their ears as though this was what they had been waiting for. The lady smiled winsomely. “I would hardly call it fortunate to be raised without parents on the far edge of nowhere. From what I hear, Vestfold is a terrible place, barren and savage. No wonder you were so anxious to get here that you disguised yourself as a servant to make the trip.” She looked down her lovely nose at Krysta and inquired sweetly, “That is why you adopted such an outrageous pretense, isn't it, my dear?”
Before Eahlswith could intervene, Krysta said, “No, that is not why I did it. Vestfold is far from barren. It holds a haunting beauty all its own and I was in no way anxious to leave.”
“I see,” Esa said, her expression making it clear she did not. “Then did you merely think it … fun to pretend to be a servant and fool the Lord Hawk?”
The other ladies tittered. This was rare entertainment and it was clear they relished it. Again, the queen looked about to break it off but Krysta forestalled her. She was not about to leave the impression that she was unable to stand up for herself.
“My reasons are my own, lady, and not to be paraded before such as you.”
Esa's eyes narrowed. Her lovely mouth looked petulant. “A poor parade it would be, I am sure.” She paused, giving her followers time to voice their further amusement with the same light scattering of swallowed laughter and looks of furtive humor.
“Pray excuse this,” Eahlswith said. “Gossip travels on the wind and is about as useful as any chaff that does so. Unfortunately”—she pinned her gaze on Esa—“there are those among us without wit to ignore it.”
At once, Esa adopted an expression of repentance. “Oh, my lady, if I have given offense I am most sorry. It is only that I am like most everyone else here, so in awe of the Lord Hawk, so appreciative of all he has done, that the mere hint of insult to him rouses me to … well, I would say anger were it not such an unwomanly emotion.”
Krysta was having no trouble feeling that emotion herself. Her fingers twitched as she fought the urge to pick up one of the ewers of cool water standing nearby and upend it over the smirking face of the Lady Esa.
Eahlswith set aside the tunic she was stitching for her royal husband. Quietly but firmly, she said, “Lady Krysta is betrothed to Lord Hawk, their marriage a vital cornerstone of the peace our king builds between Norse and Saxon to protect us from the ravages of the Dane. Let us remember that Our Savior blessed the marriage at Cana and He told us that peacemakers are blessed. Therefore must we conclude that this union will be doubly worthy in His eyes.”
Krysta's throat tightened. She wanted to cry out to the queen that
she was wrong, there was no blessing to be had, and that Hawk must marry elsewhere for his own honor and well-being. But thankfully, no words could escape her. She remained mute while Esa pouted rebel-liously and resumed her embroidery with short, stabbing pokes of the needle that seemed to add nothing whatsoever to the design.
When the moment had passed and the ladies returned to their sewing, Eahlswith summoned a maid. She gave her a softly worded instruction, then resumed her stitching. A short time later, a young monk came in nervously, clearly unaccustomed to being in the exclusive company of women. He carried with him a book.
“If you would not mind, my dear,” the queen said to Krysta, “I thought perhaps you might read to us as we sew. I am certain whatever may be contained within these pages is far more elevating than mere chatter.”
The monk hesitated, but under the steady stare of the queen he reluctantly turned the book over to Krysta. She examined it cautiously, delighted to discover that it was a volume of the tales of a fabled Greek called Aesop.
“I have heard of these but have never read them. They are said to be wonderful.”
Eahlswith smiled encouragingly and picked up her sewing. With great care, Krysta opened the book and began to read.
THE REMAINDER OF THE AFTERNOON FLOWED smoothly, at least in part because Lady Esa pleaded a headache and departed, taking her followers with her. With them gone, the mood in the solar seemed to ease although Krysta wasn't sure whether she only imagined that. Certainly, she was far more relaxed.
With the men busy elsewhere, the ladies took their midday meal together. For the first time, Krysta found herself enjoying the company of women. She remembered how Hawk had teased that she would feel better when she could “sit around, do needlework, gossip …” and how annoyed she had been, only now to find the experience very different. Over the meal, the ladies talked about the stories Krysta had read, drawing parallels to their own lives and laughing as they did so. Some of the women were nicer than others, some wittier, but she could see something to like in each of them … now that Lady Esa was no longer among them.
But she would be back and no doubt she would continue to make herself as unpleasant as possible. The thought of Hawk marrying such a woman filled Krysta with dread. He deserved so much better, truly he should have nothing less than the perfect wife. Once she had foolishly hoped to be that, and would still, had love not placed such a burden upon her conscience. But surely she would not make so wrenching a sacrifice only to see him wed to a cold, hard woman unlikely to ever love anyone save herself.
Yet again, Krysta caught herself on the verge of tears. All her emotions seemed heightened, pain and pleasure vying equally, and she seemed fated to swing between one and the other. No wonder she felt vaguely nauseated, as though the meal she had eaten did not sit comfortably on her stomach. Eahlswith looked at her just then and frowned.
“My dear, are you not well?”
“I am … that is, I thought I was.” A wave of dizziness swept over her. She shut her eyes for a moment, hoping that might help, but it did not. The queen leaned over and put her hand on Krysta's, a mother's touch, gentle but firm. “Your skin is clammy. Did you eat anything else today besides what we just had?”
Krysta shook her head. “There was no time. I slept late and then—”
Several ladies giggled suddenly and looked abashed.
A few even blushed. The queen sent them a sharp, admonishing glance but it was too late, the damage done. Krysta paled.
“You really do not look well, my dear,” the queen said. She stood up and signaled to several of the maids. “Come now, you are going back to your quarters and we will see what can be done to make you more comfortable. I'm sure there is nothing to be concerned about but this is the season when such upsets are more common.”
Grateful for any excuse to leave, Krysta stood up and was instantly assaulted by a fresh wave of dizziness. Still, she managed to walk with a little help from the maids. “Please don't disturb yourself,” she entreated Eahlswith. “I will be perfectly fine.”
“Of course you will be, my dear,” the queen said. “But I am coming with you all the same.”
Brushing aside any further objections, Eahlswith accompanied Krysta back to her quarters, saw her comfortably settled in bed, and insisted that she sip an infusion of chamomile. Krysta did so simply as a courtesy, but within a few minutes she had to admit she was feeling better.
“I can't imagine what came over me,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I am never ill.”
“I would say you have had a great deal to cope with of late. That can be unsettling.”
The queen's sympathetic understanding touched Krysta greatly. She who had never known the love of a mother realized that Eahlswith must be a very good one.
“Your children are very fortunate to have you to care for them, my lady. As is your husband.”
Eahlswith looked surprised by the compliment and very pleased. “Thank you, my dear. I have sometimes felt that I do not keep up well enough with all the grand and exciting doings here at court but then I console myself that my family is well and happy.”
“I can think of no greater accomplishment than that,” Krysta said honestly.
“One I am sure you will shortly know.”
She was overly tired and still feeling ill. Her mind spun in confusion and her heart felt near to breaking. Perhaps that was why she could not repress the soft sob that broke from her as she turned her face into the pillows.
At once, Eahlsworth clucked in alarm. She gave a quick order, sending the maids from the room. When the door closed behind them, she held out her arms. Krysta went into them without a second thought.
“There, there,” the queen said gently. “My poor child, you must tell me what distresses you so. I will do everything in my power to see it put to rights.”
Deeply embarrassed by her display of emotion and at the same time grateful for the queen's kindness, Krysta shook her head helplessly. “I thank you, my lady, but truly I don't believe there is anything you can do.”
“Oh, no?” Eahlswith gave her a very womanly smile. “I have always been a good and obedient wife. Anyone will tell you that I have never failed to defer to my husband in all matters. However, you should not think for a moment that means Alfred does not hear my views.”
She sat back, gave Krysta a warm smile, and said, “Now let us see if we can get to the root of this problem. First, are you homesick?”
“Why does everyone ask me that? Or at least Hawk did. I am not homesick. My home was gone the moment I left it. My half-brother rules there now and I knew I would never want to return even presuming he would allow me, which he has made clear he will not.”
“He told you that? What a dreadful thing to say. What manner of man is he that he should be so unkind?”
“An angry and resentful man who never forgave our father for taking a second wife, my mother. But in all fairness, I have to say there were … complications with that union.”
“I am sorry to hear it but these things happen. Many men remarry after being widowed. If you are not homesick, then are you unhappy about your betrothal to Lord Hawk? It is only natural for a young girl to be concerned when she is sent to wed a stranger. I well remember my own concern when that happened to me. But truly, you have nothing to fear from Lord Hawk. He is an exemplary man.”
“I know that,” Krysta said. “Believe me, I hold him in the highest esteem. But it is for that very reason that I …” She was well aware of the import of what she was about to say. But the queen looked so kindly and understanding, and Krysta so badly needed to confide in another. “I cannot marry him.”
Eahlswith stared at her for a long moment as though trying to interpret words she must certainly have misunderstood. Slowly, it dawned on her that she had not. Her eyes widened in alarm. “You cannot marry him? But child, think what that means! Your marriage is the hope for peace between our peoples. It was arranged by the king himself and the great jarl of Sciri
ngesheal, Hawk's own brother-in-law. Believe me, I understand the burden of being wed in such a way for so was I, but you must put aside whatever fears you carry and do what is right. Far too much depends on it.”
“It is because I must do what is right that I cannot marry him. Too much hinges on this marriage to take the risk that—”
“That what? Child, this is gravely serious. You must tell me everything that is in your mind that I may have some hope of understanding how you could possibly have come to such a dire conclusion.”
“I may as well tell you,” Krysta said, her voice very low. “Sven told everyone at Hawkforte so I suppose word of it will reach here soon enough.” Quietly, without looking at the queen, she related the story of her mother. As she did so, she was certain that Eahlswith must be greatly shocked and even repelled, for surely such a tale would dismay any Christian woman.
But when she had finished, the older woman only sighed deeply and shook her head. “My poor child, what a dreadful weight to bear upon your young shoulders. But whatever the truth of it, and I would not presume to judge that, you have no reason to think you are other than a mortal woman.” She put a finger beneath Krysta's chin and tilted her head up so that she had to meet her gaze. “Do you?”
Krysta thought of Raven and Thorgold, and of the glimpses she sometimes had of a world other folk did not seem to see. Softly, she said, “In all honesty, there are circumstances in my life that sometimes have made me wonder.” She took a deep breath, feeling strangely calm all of a sudden with all the strength drained out of her. Wearily, she said, “I came thinking somehow I could make everything all right but I realize now how foolish that was. Hawk deserves better. Even more than that, do you truly believe any union so shadowed can be pleasing in the eyes of God, enough so to be the basis for lasting peace?”