Dream of Me/Believe in Me

by Josie Litton

  Edvard and Aelfgyth were right in front. Even as the steward struggled to control a grin that proved uncon-tainable, Aelfgyth said, “Oh, my lady, welcome home! We were all so thrilled to hear the tidings of your marriage! Rumor has it yours was one of the grandest weddings ever seen in Winchester. Do say you will tell us all about it.”

  “Every little bit,” Krysta promised with a grin. “I shall so bore you with details that you will never want to hear tell of any wedding again.”

  “Oh, I doubt that, my lady. Indeed …” She shot a shy glance at Edvard. “I could do with much advice in the planning of mine.”

  Which set off a round of squeals and hugs that made the men sigh patiently as Hawk thumped Edvard on the back and congratulated him for being smart enough to snare the girl.

  Only then did he take note of Daria and Father Elbert standing a little way to one side. They each looked sour as usual but at least they were present. He nodded to them but there was no opportunity to speak as the crowd closed around the newlyweds. Hawk and Krysta's horses were brought. He ignored hers and lifted her into the saddle with him. That inspired yet more cheers that accompanied them all the way through the thronged streets to the stronghold itself.

  People called out their good wishes as flowers rained down upon them. Children ran up to the horse to hand bouquets of posies to Krysta, who soon had a lap heaped with blossoms. She shone with joy, waving to all and bestowing a warm smile of thanks on each child.

  Hawk's pride in her knew no bounds, nor did his happiness. Yet even as he saw Krysta settled into his quarters, now theirs, and went off to receive Edvard's report of all that had occurred during their absence, a niggling sense of doubt teased at him. He had heard Edvard out and was seeking a few minutes to himself in the sauna before the source of his concern finally surfaced in his mind.

  Love had come to him when he had never expected to experience it. Love shining and glorious, giving meaning to life and even, he dared to think, understanding of God's purpose. Yet had it come so easily when all was said and done. That should have pleased him and perhaps it would have were it not for the harsh instruction of experience.

  Nothing he valued had ever come to him easily. For the land he loved, he had fought, bled, and come very close to dying many times over. For the woman he loved, he had needed patience and to kill an enemy, nothing more.

  Too easy.

  He shook his head. It was folly to think that. Life was uncertain and fraught with peril, yet he had Krysta safe and by his side. Was he becoming like an old man to fret over shadows?

  But there was one shadow and honesty forced him to admit it. A thin, ugly shadow cast by his half-sister. Daria had run his household for more years than he cared to remember. Now she would have to yield that authority to his bride. A woman of ordinary temperament might well resent such change. Daria was likely to loathe it.

  He had fought Danes with more relish than he contemplated the action he must take and yet he was unwilling to put it off. Something Cymbra had said to him once in passing, having to do with difficulty establishing herself in her husband's household, encouraged him to settle the matter quickly. He rose from the sauna, doused himself with cold water, dressed, and went in search of Daria.

  He found her in the chapel. For a moment, entering that hallowed precinct of filtered light and scented air, he had the sudden perception that she had meant him to find her like that. Her head was bent, her hands clasped in reverent prayer. She looked the very image of a righteous woman.

  Daria gave no sign of knowing he was there yet he was certain that she did. His own senses were too keen to credit her unawareness. The thought drifted through his mind that he did her a disservice—that for all her unpleasantness perhaps Daria was truly devoted in her faith. He let go the notion as quickly as it came to him for it made no difference. It was her behavior that mattered and he had always in the private places of his heart thought her conduct distinctly unchristian.

  She stirred then as though awakening from a trance, blinked several times, and turned her head slowly. At first she appeared not to see him, and when she did, finally, she mustered an apologetic smile.

  “Brother, have I kept you waiting? I ask your pardon.”

  Hawk had little patience with pretense and he showed none now. “Ask pardon for being at prayer? I do not think so, lady. Had I been kept waiting too long, I would have left.”

  She frowned and he was glad to see it for he thought it the first honest response from her since he had entered the chapel. Slowly she rose as though made stiff by her devotions. Always she had made a show of such things, nurturing ills she was too noble to disclose. He had no patience with that either.

  Yet he must find some, for he truly wanted to deal with her gently.

  “You will always have a home here.” It was not the most tactful way to put it but he wanted her to know that he had no thought of abandoning her. She was his half-sister, they were bound by blood; whatever his personal thoughts about her and whatever the changes that occurred in his life, he would provide for her.

  “Home,” she said and looked at him quizzically. He thought of his own pleasure in what that word represented and wondered if she felt anything approaching the same.

  He plunged on. “But the Lady Krysta is now my wife and she must have the ordering of the household. Therefore, you will turn over your keys to her.”

  Something moved behind Daria's eyes. He was too skilled a warrior not to catch it yet was it gone in a moment, replaced by a swift nod.

  “Yes, of course, I had planned to do that without delay. Naturally, I will be happy to assist her in any way I can.”

  He had an argument prepared, a speech for persuading her to comply. So swift was her agreement that the words remained unspoken. Yet they hovered on his tongue, for he was that surprised to have such easy victory.

  Too easy?

  The same thought again, niggling at him. He dismissed it impatiently.

  “Good, then all will be as it should.”

  Daria said nothing more but only stood there in the scented chapel, her arms across her thin chest, the hands hidden in her sleeves. Hawk did not see that they were clenched.

  Father Elbert delivered the keys to Krysta. He brought them to her in the kitchens where she had gone with Aelfgyth, little Edythe trailing after them. Her first day back, a feast in the works, she thought it right to be there even as she wondered at Daria's absence. The priest explained it in his fashion.

  “I am instructed to give these to you,” he said and contrived to hand over the keys in such way as to take no risk of touching Krysta, a woman, a suspected pagan for all her claims otherwise, twice unclean.

  He looked torn, relieved of his burden and wanting to be gone yet driven all the same to instruct her from his lofty heights. “The Lady Daria has set a very high standard in the keeping of this manor. I hope you will endeavor to do the same.”

  Privately, Krysta did not think Daria's standards high at all, at least not in the matter of treating people with proper regard. But it would have been ungracious to say so. “I will do my best,” she said, and sighed with relief when he left, scowling as he had come.

  Scarcely was he gone than Aelfgyth could not contain herself. She bounced up and down, grinning hugely. “Oh, my lady, I hardly dare believe it! You're mistress here now and praise God that is so.”

  Mistress, Krysta thought, and tried to return her friend's bright smile but apprehension tugged at her. Never had she had the running of any place as grand as Hawkforte. By comparison, her lost home in Vestfold was small and simple. How was she to manage with so many hundreds of people looking to her to do what was right, expecting it of her really, and she dreading the thought that she might let her husband down?

  “None of that,” Aelfgyth said sternly, correctly divining what was going through Krysta's mind. “You'll do splendidly. We'll see to it, won't we, Edythe?”

  “Of course we will,” her little sister agreed. “Besides, t
here's no reason for you to be worried. Mother says the Lord Hawk is so far gone in love with you that you could serve him brine for supper for a month before he'd notice.”

  “Edythe!” Aelfgyth looked aghast at such candor even as she struggled not to smile. “I'm sorry, my lady. This one has yet to learn how to curb her tongue.”

  “I don't see why I shouldn't say that,” Edythe protested. “Everyone knows it's true. Why, just this morning heard the baker's wife say that if she'd ever seen a man better satisfied than his lordship, he lacked strength to walk. I'm not sure what she meant exactly but—”

  “That is quite enough of that,” Aelfgyth said. She was trying her hardest to look stern but could not avoid a hint of a smile.

  For her part, Krysta's cheeks were very warm, yet she was glad that Hawk's people knew he was happy. In the sum total of all things, that mattered a great deal more than whatever problems she might have assuming her new duties.

  They feasted that night in the hall of the Lord Hawk and spilled out well beyond the hall, down into the town through every lane, in every house, and even to the ships docked in harbor or riding at anchor just beyond. Torches gleamed like a sea of stars reflected in the water and in the tendrils of mist that rose from it with the cooling of the day. Long after the hour when all sensible men and women should have been abed, the revelry continued. Hawkforte resounded with song and laughter, the beat of drums and the high, haunting music of pipes. Dancers swirled in the torchlight, children ran about giddy with excitement until they subsided beneath gently sheltering trees and slept as fairy children do with music in their dreams. Barrel after barrel of mead and ale was cracked open to hearty cheers. Food there was in abundance, greater even than at the harvest feast. When the full moon rose over the beach below Hawkforte, men went down to the strand with their seines, tossed them out into the silvery water, and pulled them back filled with the bounty of mackerel that were roasted on spits over open fires.

  Late in the night, perched on a stone wall overlooking the beach, Krysta licked bits of honey cake from her fingers and leaned her head against Hawk's strong shoulder. “Did you ever wonder when the priests speak of heaven if they mean a place like this?”

  “Some say hell can be found on earth and I have been places where I believe that is true. It seems only fair that heaven should also be glimpsed.”

  He tightened his arm around her as the thought pierced him that he would be content and more to go through eternity gazing out at the moon-garbed sea so long as she was at his side. But his fey pixie had other ideas. Laughing, she fed him bits of cake until all were gone, then bestowed upon him lingering, honeyed kisses of sweet ardor that ran hot in his veins.

  Which is how it came to pass that the Lord of Hawkforte made love to his bride on the sand beneath the high walls of his fortress, finding for them a secluded spot deep in the shadows where they lingered until gentle darkness yielded to a new morning. A few valiant stars still shone when they finally made their way back inside, laughing like guilty children and stepping over the bodies of exhausted revelers who slumbered where they had fallen.

  A visitor to Hawkforte that day might have thought it a strangely enchanted place whose inhabitants had been put to sleep by a charm. Scarcely anyone stirred in the town. Yet did the guard still keep watch, stern men uncomplaining in their duty. They were not alone. After seeing Krysta to bed and satisfying himself that she would stay there, Hawk joined them. It was good to be among his men, receiving their silent nods and exchanging a few words with his lieutenants. The crisp breeze from the sea banished the wisps of sleep and made him feel rejuvenated. He walked the walls, looking out over his domain, and felt within himself the fierce will to protect what was his rising stronger even than ever before. Yet he kept his gaze steadfastly outward, with no thought for the possibility that the danger was already within.

  Chapter TWENTY

  DID YOU NOTICE THE MOON LAST NIGHT? Aelfgyth asked. They were in the weaving shed, counting the lengths of cloth that would be made into winter garments for the servants. The air was filled with little tufts of flax and wool that made them sneeze.

  “This place needs to be aired out,” Krysta said. She looked around critically at the narrow windows covered with wooden shutters that appeared nailed closed. “And how can anyone work in so little light?”

  “The Lady Daria believed too much light and air was distracting for the weavers. She thought it would cause them to shirk their duties.”

  Krysta's eyebrows shot up but she said nothing. There were too many opportunities to confront what Daria had thought and what she had imposed on people. To yield once to that temptation would be to bring on a deluge. Instead, she kept her views to herself and said, “Tell the carpenters to take off these shutters and expand the windows. Also, when the weather is fair the women should be weaving outside.”

  “They will be pleased to hear that. In truth, there has been trouble getting enough women to weave because the conditions were so poor.”

  Krysta understood that Aelfgyth had this from Edvard. Already the two were working together as a pair and their wedding still a fortnight off. It pleased her greatly to see that.

  “I did see the moon,” Krysta went on. She smiled to herself as she remembered the circumstances. If there was a sight more beautiful than her husband's powerful, sculpted body bathed in moonlight, she did not know it. Truly, they should make a habit of visiting the beach together. Was it really only a little more than a month since they had first made love, and then, too, by the water's edge? A lifetime seemed to have passed, yet when Krysta considered, she realized it was scarcely two months since she had first come to Hawkforte. So much had happened since then that she was not surprised it seemed longer. The moon had been full when she came, full again when she first lay in Hawk's arms, and shone full once more with her now his wife. Three courses of the moon marking the ancient rhythms of time …

  Marking, too, the rhythms of her body.

  So much had happened yet one thing had not. Krysta had not bled since shortly after coming to Hawkforte.

  A shock went through her. She paused in the midst of counting cloth and thought deeply. With all the tumult of events, she could not fault herself for failing to notice, yet was she startled nonetheless. Her courses had always been so regular. But mayhap it was not odd after all for there had been such tumult. If only she knew more about these things, had someone she could talk with about such matters.

  She thought of Aelfgyth for a moment but decided not. Perhaps women were accustomed to discussing such things among themselves but she had never had such a luxury. Besides, nature would likely correct the oversight soon enough. It was not as though she was …

  She could not be, could she? Swiftly she counted and almost laughed at herself. She would have had to conceive when she and Hawk first lay together. Even she, ignorant though she was, knew the unlikelihood of that.

  Unlikely but not impossible. There was a chance, however slim. She really could be …

  “My lady, is something wrong?”

  Krysta looked up, startled to find Aelfgyth studying her with concern. Swiftly, she said, “No, nothing at all. Everything is fine. Shall we go on to the dairy? I'd like to take a look at the cheese stores.”

  In truth, she had no interest at all in cheese or anything else just then save for the incredible, amazing possibility that had occurred to her. Could it truly be that she was with child? The very idea made her want to hug herself, jump up and down for joy, seek out Hawk, smother him with kisses, tease him about his impending fatherhood, and do all manner of other silly, wonderful things. But she restrained herself, for the idea was still so new and fragile that she feared her joy would vanish if examined too closely. Yet she was a happy woman as she lingered in the aging room beside the dairy, smiling broadly over each fragrant golden round until Aelfgyth could hardly be faulted for believing that her mistress was extraordinarily fond of cheese.

  Krysta's good humor lasted past midday
and no doubt could have gone on long after that had she not encountered Daria. Her sister-in-law was emerging from the chapel when their paths crossed. Aelfgyth had gone off to help her mother sew her bridal gown and Krysta was alone. She stiffened at the sight of Daria but the older woman merely blinked at her, as though her eyes were having difficulty adjusting to the brilliance of the day. She appeared disinclined to speak, but Krysta, cherishing her tentative hope and mindful of all her blessings, did not think it right to let her husband's half-sister pass without the courtesy of speech.

  “Good day, my lady. I trust you are well?”

  Daria blinked again and for a moment it seemed she would not respond, but suddenly her face transformed and she smiled with what could almost be thought of as warmth. So unexpected was that, and so oddly unnerving, that Krysta had no notion what to make of it. She had little chance to ponder the matter, for Daria said swiftly, “Oh, I am very well, my dear. Indeed, I cannot remember the last time I felt so at peace and unburdened. But I will confess to just a little worry. I do hope the responsibility of Hawkforte will not weigh too heavily on your young shoulders. If I can do anything to help, anything at all, you will tell me, won't you? For such time as I am still here, I would be happy to assist you however I can.”

  So great was this seeming transformation, so unexpected this generosity, that Krysta was at a loss as to how to respond. Finally, she said, “Thank you … I appreciate this greatly. But forgive me, what do you mean ‘while you are still here’?”

  Daria smiled again and dropped her voice a notch, confidingly. “I haven't spoken to Hawk about this yet but it is in my mind to seek the joyful serenity of holy vows. Long have I felt drawn to the cloister but I could not leave off my duties here. Now that you and Hawk are wed, it is finally possible for me to follow my heart.”

  She sounded so sincere that Krysta did not think to doubt her. Here then must be the explanation for Daria's sour temperament—a thwarted calling to the convent. How sad that she had postponed her yearning for so long, but how fortunate that she could leave Hawkforte happily.