Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy

by Jo Beverley

  She clutched the jewel under her garments. What of this, then? Was it to bring her some other man? Never! She didn't want any other man. If she couldn't have Raef, she'd stay unmarried all her days.

  What of the Star, then? Why had it come to her?

  She needed guidance, and hurried over to the small stone chapel, a holy, peaceful place. She put one of the thick pads on the ground in front of the altar, and knelt to pray.

  Is this the Star? she asked.

  She could answer that herself. It must be.

  What am I supposed to do with it?

  She began silent, familiar prayers, letting them open her mind as she waited for an answer.

  Then, it was as if a voice spoke. A woman's voice, soft and gentle. Mary's voice?

  You must take the Star to Alfrida.

  Chapter Five

  For a moment, Hera rebelled. No! It was hers. Hers to capture Raef.

  But then she bent her head and accepted bitter bread. She didn't need a heavenly voice to tell her that Raef was not for her. She'd just tested it, hadn't she?

  Of course the Star was for Alfrida. Alfrida was the youngest daughter, and if she'd been here, she would have been cleaning the fish.

  What was more, Alfrida was in a better situation to bring peace to this area. If the Dane fell in love with her and married her, he'd want to make peace with her family. That meant he'd have to surrender Acklingham. Which would help keep Raef from killing him, especially if Raef could be convinced that Magnus hadn't raped Edith.

  She was beginning to think these tasks beyond even a miraculous pendant, and formed a simpler picture.

  Once out of Acklingham, the Dane would leave this area. Perhaps he'd go to Sheppey, where the Vikings had their principal winter encampment on this side of the sea. That would separate him and Raef, though it would presumably mean that Alfrida would have to go and live with the enemy.

  She began to try to plot ways around that, then realized this was hardly a pious response. She had to trust in God's mercy and wisdom.

  "Thy will be done, O Lord," she said, crossing herself and rising to bow to the altar. "Dear Mother of God, pray for us all."

  She left the chapel, only then realizing how difficult a task she faced.

  You must take the Star to Alfrida.

  All very well, but how? Was she to walk into a nest of Viking pirates, and deliver it?

  Yes, it was just the sort of thing Christ and His mother expected of people. She swallowed panic and muttered another, "Thy will be done, O Lord."

  One thing was certain. If Raef guessed her plans, she'd end up locked in her room like Alfrida!

  The day had cleared a little, but the sun was already low. Not long to full dark on the longest night of the year. If she was to travel to Acklingham, she must leave now.

  She couldn't help searching the sky like the peasants, looking for a hint of Christ's coming. She shook her head. Would Christ's mother have told her to take the jewel to Alfrida if within hours her Son was coming to bring the Last Judgment?

  Safe from that, at least, she hurried into the hall, keeping an eye out for Raef, the only person likely to interfere with her movements. He must still be in the stables, and she must trust Mary to keep him there. Deep inside was direct fear of the Danes, but that wasn't something she needed to face now, and she tried very hard to put faith in God. Her task was to get out of Froxton without raising the alarm.

  She dressed in her warm cloak and mittens then headed toward the gates. No one guarded them when they were closed, for the watchman would alert everyone if people approached. She should be able to unlock the smaller portal and leave with no difficulty.

  When she was close, however, she met the laundry woman, a basket of wet washing on her back. "Going out this late, Lady Wulfhera? Dark's coming."

  Though her heart started to flutter nervously, she'd prepared for this. "Just down to the mill, Hilda. A problem with the flour we just received."

  "That miller. Bone idle, he is," the woman muttered. The laundry women were generally in a foul mood at this time of year, and with reason. It was hard to get things dry, and working with wet cloth in cold weather was penance-work. Hilda said a God-go-with-you, however, adding, "You take care not to be benighted out there, Lady."

  Hera hurried on, feeling guilty for making an unfair accusation about the miller, even though he was lazy and too fond of drink. She'd make reparation later.

  In moments, she was through the gate, and crossing the wooden bridge over the ditch. She walked briskly down the track toward the river and the mill. If anyone was watching, her mission would look innocent.

  Near the watermill, however, the road forked. One branch led to Tildwold, and the other to Acklingham, further down the river. There were a number of coracles tied up below the mill and she thought about taking one. The river was running fast, however, and she wasn't particularly skilled with the small, round leather boats. Near Acklingham, the river was tidal, too, and she didn't know when the tide came in.

  No, she would have to walk, and make haste.

  She set off, breath puffing white into the cool air. She prayed that the watchman wouldn't see her, or wouldn't find it strange and alert Raef. If only she'd been able to take horse. As it was, if he came after on horseback, she'd have no chance.

  She couldn't help hoping he'd come after, hopeless though it was.

  Though the weather had stayed dull, it had warmed a little and the ground wasn't so hard beneath her feet. In places she even had to skirt puddles of mud. The land around her was still deadly quiet, however, apart from the harsh cawing of the crows.

  She knew the deserted feeling was nothing unusual. It was a quiet time of the year, and any people who'd been out in the fields and woods would have returned home before dark, especially with Danish raiders in the area. Still, as the light slowly faded, she felt dismally alone in a harsh world.

  Clutching the pendant through her clothes, she prayed to the Blessed Virgin for protection. It was she, after all, who had sent her on this mission.

  It would take an hour to walk to Acklingham. Time—too much time—to think of a future as bleak as wintertime Kent. If she survived this, what was she to do? It was more than her soul could take to live here with Raef nearby, perhaps watching him take another wife. And yet, she had no true devotion to the religious life.

  With a wry laugh, she thought she could understand Raef's bleak outlook. At times, the end of the world seemed positively attractive.

  Then, Acklingham came in sight, a solid, wood-walled manor set near the river. For the first time she wondered how it had been taken, even with Raef, his father, and most of his men away with the king. Some trick, she supposed, but they would have had a system to guard against that.

  Had the Danes come by water? The river was navigable to here. As she speeded her steps, she glimpsed boats anchored on the river beyond the palisade. A few small fishing boats—and two Viking longboats. Proof of what she had to face.

  A bend in the road gave a new angle, and she saw that indeed the dragon prows had been replaced by crosses. She didn't think that would make much difference to her fate. Christian men seemed as able as pagans to be cruel. Her faith in the Star of the Magi faltered and her steps slowed. Was she really planning to walk into a den of Viking raiders...?

  She stopped.

  In her own silence, she heard thunder behind her and whirled to see Raef hurtling toward her on horseback. Her purpose surged back full strength, and perhaps her purpose was as much to escape Raef as to reach the gates! After a quick, frantic glance around, however, she didn't run.

  That was pointless.

  Instead, she waved at Acklingham and screamed, "Help! Help!"

  A moment later, Raef was off his horse beside her and had her tight in one arm. "By St. Peter's Keys, what do you think you're doing?"

  "Going to Alfrida."

  "Why?"

  "I have a reason!" She pushed against his unbreakable hold. "Let me go, Raef."


  "Never." He began to drag her toward the horse. "Is everyone in the world mad? Or are you just mad for Danes like she is?"

  "Don't be ridiculous." She kicked, she squirmed, she fought, all without daunting him. "I have a holy purpose there!"

  "What purpose?" He turned her roughly toward him and for the first time in her life she saw true, burning fury in his eyes.

  For the first time, she feared him.

  She feared for him twice as much. He was unarmed except for his sword. No shield. No mail.

  "Raef, I called for help. They'll be coming."

  "Then they'll come to my sword."

  "No! Leave! This is nothing to do with you."

  "Only if we leave together."

  "I can't do that. I have a holy mission."

  He focused on her for the first time. "What?"

  She didn't want to tell him, but she must. He was holding her so her back was to Acklingham, but she thought she heard distant sounds as of men gathering or emerging.

  "The Star of the Magi," she said rapidly. "I have it. I have to take it to Alfrida. The Blessed Virgin said so."

  Anger left him, but pain remained. "Oh, Hera. Not you too. What is this madness that flies around like a contagion?"

  "It's not madness!" The sounds were growing louder. "Go, Raef! Leave me here. I'll come to no harm. Mary will protect me."

  Instead, he picked her up and flung her astride the wild-eyed horse, leaping up behind her, arms around her to the reins. Seeing the riders coming, she tried to slide off, but he had her in a pincer grip. "Raef. Stop this!"

  "Never." He'd dragged the horse around toward Froxton, but then, insanely, he turned it back. "If God is kind," he almost purred, "this is Magnus Ravenbringer."

  "Raef...!" Madness like contagion indeed. He couldn't mean to face six men alone.

  Of course he could.

  Doubtless the big, red haired man on the leading horse was Alfrida's Dane, but he was followed by five others, carrying ax or spear. Sick with dread, Hera stopped struggling so that at least Raef could defend himself.

  She began to pray.

  He drew his sword, but the Vikings surrounded them beyond sword-length.

  Grinning through a thick beard, the leader spoke. "The woman cried for help."

  "She's mad," Raef said. "I am taking her to safety."

  The Dane gestured toward the wooden palisade. "Here is safety, close to hand."

  "Safety from you, Magnus Ravenbringer."

  "Ah. You must be Raefnoth Eldrunson."

  They were like two snarling, circling dogs except that one was in fury, the other amused.

  Hera had her mission, and she knew what she had to do, though it would be like a spear wound to Raef.

  "I did cry for help. I am Wulfhera of Froxton and I wish to visit my sister, Alfrida, to be sure you are treating her well."

  It struck all the men silent, as well it might. It was an extraordinary claim, and must seem completely mad.

  Then Magnus threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Two peas in a pod. Of course you must be Alfrida's sister. Come then."

  His approach was halted by Raef's sword. "Over my dead body."

  "This one's yours, is she? Then you have my word she'll return to you safely. I have need of your manor, not of your woman."

  "She is not my woman," Raef snarled. Hera knew it was stupid to be hurt by that, but she was. "She is under my protection."

  Magnus's eyes turned to Hera, and she saw they twinkled with amusement. She'd never imagined that a Danish raider's eyes might twinkle. "What now, sister of my bedmate?"

  "I need to go to Alfrida," she said, as steadily as she could, stuck literally in the middle of this male confrontation. "But you must not hurt Raef."

  "He said you were not his woman."

  "We're friends. We've been friends all our lives."

  "Ah. And he was the husband of the timorous Edith."

  Hera heard Raef growl and felt his body become hard, vengeful muscle. His horse sidled nervously beneath them. Why could men be relied upon to always say the thing most likely to make a matter worse rather than better!

  "You didn't harm Edith," she said, knowing it was true. She didn't make the mistake of thinking him harmless, but she couldn't imagine this man raping a terrified woman, or even being interested in trembling Edith. Alfrida was much more his meat.

  "Never touched her," Magnus agreed.

  "You lie," Raef yelled, and his sword jabbed out as if it might reach the other man.

  "Why should I lie?" Magnus asked, lip beginning to curl in a snarl as well. "If I'd wanted her, I'd have taken her, and felt no shame at it. But she was nithing, that one. Why do you fight over her memory? She betrayed you. She gave me your manor out of fear, and then whined at everything."

  Hera expected Raef's enraged denial, but she heard nothing but another speechless growl.

  Edith had surrendered Acklingham to the Danes?

  "You should have married this one," Magnus said, with a nod of his head toward Hera, "or her sister. They're real women."

  Raef howled and kicked the horse toward his enemy. Hera threw herself forward to clutch the horse's neck, both to hold on and to get out of the way of the swishing sword. Hell take both of them!

  Magnus was backing his horse, but his sword was out and soon he'd have to fight.

  Enough of this.

  Muttering a mixture of prayers and curses, Hera grabbed her eating knife from the sheath on her belt. Then, with one hand tangled firmly in the horse's rough mane, she jabbed the mount with the knife. It squealed and reared. She managed to stay on. On the hindquarters, already unbalanced by the weight of the sword and his attempts to get at his enemy, Raef didn't have a chance.

  He was good, though. He rolled so his sword didn't harm him, and bounced onto his feet, already beginning a mighty swipe at Magnus's horse's legs. One of Magnus's men swung his spear handle to crack against Raef's head.

  Hera stroked the neck of her shuddering, foaming mount and watched as he crumpled to the ground. She thought perhaps he'd forgotten there was anyone in the universe other than himself and Magnus Ravenbringer, the man who had said such cruel things about his wife.

  She slid off the horse and went to him.

  "Raef," she said in despair, running her fingers gently over the wound. Under her breath, she whispered, "He's right, though. Edith was nithing."

  It was a word usually used to describe a man who abandoned his lord in battle, who fled his duties out of fear. At heart, however, it meant coward, and she saw now that Edith had always been not gentle, but a coward.

  "Not his woman, eh?" said Magnus, his big boots appearing on the road by Raef's head. His hand under her arm raised her firmly to face him. Alfrida was right. He was big. Hera had to look a long way up.

  "Come along, Wulfhera of Froxton, and let's see what we can make of this."

  At his command, Raef was tied hand and foot and slung over the saddle of his horse. Hera winced, but there was no point in protesting the rough treatment. She was put up behind him to make sure he didn't fall off. Once mounted, Magnus led their horse by the reins. Be he good man or bad, they were still his prisoners.

  Raef came to his senses before they were inside Acklingham. He groaned and struggled for a moment, but then went silent. Hera tried to tell herself it didn't matter if he hated her. It might be a blessing, in fact, since she couldn't live with him as just a friend.

  It didn't help.

  She could only hope she'd not have to face him for a long, long time.

  Chapter Six

  It was strange to enter the familiar grounds of Raef's home and find it invaded but unchanged. If Edith had opened the gates and let the Danes in it had been a dishonorable act, but one that had preserved the place. Hera was further eased by the sight of Alfrida running toward her, hair flowing in one wild mass, but clearly unhurt in body or spirit.

  "Hera, you idiot!" Alfrida cried, sweeping her into a hug as soon as she
was on the ground. "What are you doing here?" Then she looked beyond and her eyes widened. "Is that Raef?"

  Hera turned to see Magnus's men cutting the bonds on Raef's ankles and setting him on his feet. He did nothing and stayed grimly silent. At one point, his eyes passed over Hera as if she didn't exist.

  Hera shuddered.

  With another hug, Alfrida led her toward the manor house.

  Hera went, but then she turned back to fix Magnus with a stare. "Don't hurt him."

  He laughed, but for some reason she felt sure that Raef was safe for now. Whether she'd ever be safe from Raef was a different matter.

  "Sweet Mary Mother," she prayed softly, "I don't think this was your plan. But guard him anyway. And guard him from hurting me."

  The chief hall was one story, and as Alfrida led Hera inside, she asked, "What are you doing here? This is crazy."

  In fact, it was beginning to seem so, and Hera half feared to find the Star gone, or to take it out and see a piece of iron set with glass. Perhaps she had imagined it all. But when she shed her cloak and pulled the leather thong out from under her dress, it was there, it all its eerie beauty.

  "What's that?" Alfrida asked, lips parted with wonder. "It's beautiful!"

  Hera found she didn't want to part with it, didn't want to surrender her dream, but she pulled it off over her head and passed it to her sister. "It's the Star of the Magi. I found it in a fish."

  "The what?"

  "The Star of the Magi! You remember. Melchior, Miriam, Star!"

  "That star?"

  "That star. Look at it. Look into the stone."

  Alfrida raised the pendant into the fading light. "Oh," she breathed. "It's like magic." But then she looked at Hera. "Why are you giving it to me?"

  "It's meant for you. Don't ask why or how. I just know it. It's to make Magnus love you." She saw the big Dane come into the hall, so bit back the words about peace. Having seen him and Raef together, the idea of peace short of death was becoming ridiculous.

  He strode over, bigger than Raef, but not more beautiful. Though not much older, his face was craggier, and marked by a vicious scar on his temple. He casually plucked the Star from Alfrida's hand, and Alfrida did nothing to stop him.