Loveweaver

by Tracy Ann Miller

  Llyrica seemed to fight for air. “I want to stay here with you. Yet time grows short and a decision needs…”

  “Shhhh,” Slayde interrupted her. “Be still a moment. Time will grow shorter yet. But I will have you only to myself until the world intercedes.” He turned to face her. The price was a new pain in his side; the reward was the vision of his loomstress in wet silk. Her eyes, though shadowed with grief, looked at him with vibrant allure. He met her lips with his and truly tasted her for the first time. Possibilities of happiness, once a bleak dream, flourished now in the soft warmth of Llyrica’s kiss.

  The conflict between Broder and Ailwin mattered little in light of this very instant. She would foreswear, for now, the trials of the last few days and just how faltering was her state of mind. So Llyrica obeyed Slayde’s wish, surrendered to the sweetness of lying in his arms, and shared a kiss that changed everything.

  Wordless, it yet spoke of all she knew of StoneHeart, a man ruled by stern determination, and the sleepwalker, a man with the boundless need to love and be loved. The kiss he now poured into her possessed both halves of the man: a firm demand, and a gentle, almost desperate request. She answered both, would match the passion of the first, and the fragile emotion of the second.

  He ended the kiss and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I love you, Llyrica.”

  These words that she longed to hear radiated joy throughout her body. “And I love you,” she whispered against his mouth. She propped herself up on an elbow to look at him, to search the truth of his words. “Then is StoneHeart’s work finished?”

  “Aye, Vixen. But this man’s is not.” His smile was an unusual sight to see by daylight and made her belly flutter with a kind of trepidation. There had been safety in loving two unattainable men.

  Now Llyrica saw the danger of losing her heart completely to one.

  Slayde clasped her to him again, using one hand to sweep the curve of her back, and the other to stroke her from hip to thigh. In spite of his infirmity, his arousal hardened between them, the low rumble in his throat seeming to affirm his need. “If you only knew the days I longed for you, and the countless moments I wished to speak of my love for you. When I saw you with Canute at Athelswith’s lodge, I thought I would go mad.” Slayde drew a breath and Llyrica felt his heart pounding.

  Thinking of that day, of unleashed passion born of fear and anger, she wrapped her arms more tightly around him. “StoneHeart hurt me then and even after our time together on your ship, I doubted since that there would ever be love or peace between us…”

  “Say you forgive me. For every injury I have done you.” Slayde pressed his petition to her ear, followed it with a kiss to her neck. Hot chills raced through Llyrica’s body. Scant barriers, her wet garments melded to his bare skin. “I am no longer the sleepwalker with sweet words to seduce, nor StoneHeart who fears he will crumble at the slightest tenderness. I am now a man loving the woman who saved both. I swear I will never hurt you again.”

  She wanted to believe him, to give herself over to his promise. But her heart, uncertain of a future when judged by the past, sought to protect itself. “Swear not, since bits of StoneHeart surely yet dwell within you. That name and its way of life cannot so easily be changed. I must be cautious of you.”

  Slayde must have pondered this before his delayed reply. “Indeed perhaps, my sweet fox. But no more so than I must be of myself, since old habits die hard.” Stoic, almost unemotional, his voice contained the quality of StoneHeart’s cold resolve, and less that of the sleepwalker’s sensitivity. “So I shall not swear a vow that I cannot keep before I am a new man. Name what promise you require that you will know my heart’s truest intention. I would even put it in writing and sign it before a witness.”

  With these words that seemed so like the StoneHeart she had known, came her need to make a final decision. Should she give herself to a man who promised to change his ways? Could Slayde learn to give love, to share and to trust openly, or would he need to cling to what he knew? Promise or no, her life with him could prove full of misunderstandings.

  Llyrica raised herself from his side to carefully look at him. A mistake, yea, for the expression on his face erased all commonsense. His mouth was the hard line of fearlessness that she knew well, but there in the corners she saw a twitch of uncertainty and childlike vulnerability. A furrowed, determined brow reminded her that he could withstand loss and pain, but his moist, brown eyes entreated her with hope. And the tick in his eye had returned, a sight that her heart could not bear. Though a fool she might be, she would belong to him.

  She kissed his eye at once, then pressed her cheek against his. “Promise naught, for you have already given it. I love you and shall be your wife. Let me stay by your side wherever you go.”

  Slayde drew her near to enclose her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair, his breath coming in fitful waves. Half words and muffled phrases heated Llyrica’s neck, exposing Slayde’s outpouring of feelings, but his need to yet stifle them. Rather than worry that StoneHeart yet controlled the man, Llyrica would let him be. She would love him as he was.

  After heaving a long draught of air, Slayde cleared his throat. “Now tell me what troubles you, what decision must be made.”

  This sudden request and the tone of his voice said his mood was moderated, his emotions mastered. Llyrica opened her mouth to speak as she heard someone in the doorway of the hut.

  “I shall tell of it, StoneHeart.” It was Ailwin.

  Llyrica propped herself up. Turning to see Slayde’s second-in-command, her vexation with him rose again to the surface. In the last three days, Ailwin countered her every need and request, and Broder’s, with hostile disregard. This had intensified with Haesten’s death.

  Broder lived at the brink of sanity, and only by her constant effort had kept him from acts of violence. His lethal grief might be calmed with Haesten’s ceremonial funeral at sea. But Ailwin, heartless and unmoved, had already seen to it that Haesten was buried in a cairn. Llyrica must petition her husband and undo this misdeed.

  Byrnstan and thegn Eadwulf now stepped in along side Ailwin. The three men filled the small space to capacity.

  Wincing, Slayde turned his head to see them. “Llyrica, help me to sit.” He already endeavored to raise himself from his recline, while holding his side with one hand.

  Kneeling behind him, Llyrica pushed at his shoulders, then let him rest half upright on a roll of furs. Though her vow of unconditional love was mere minutes old, she was startled at StoneHeart’s quick return. Among his fellow men, he must need to show he could conquer pain. She helped him put on a tunic. Then, troubled at his grim expression so changed from its previous warmth, she remained silent.

  A throbbing head and blurred vision attended Slayde’s seated pose. Finishing the rest of the mead, he now also saw a bowl of cold broth, and drank it down. He vowed that in hours he would be walking. Duties remained and StoneHeart, as leader of an army, would see his campaign concluded. His familiar self stepped in, but would not rule as in the past. He assured himself with a remembrance of Llyrica’s recent kiss.

  “I require a full report, Ailwin, of what has occurred since your blade ran me through. But first defend your reckless and insubordinate actions.”

  Byrnstan intervened, stepped forward, and knelt to his godson’s pallet. Eyes that looked old and weary spoke of the priest’s worry. “I am mightily glad you live, son. Llyrica and I have prayed night and day.”

  “I, too, have worried,” added Eadwulf, rubbing his hand across his bald head.

  Slayde nodded to Eadwulf. He then ventured a smile and put his hand on Byrnstan’s shoulder. “You know I would not quit a task before its completion. Not even Ailwin’s sword can lay me low enough for that.” He aimed a critical eye to his second as Brynstan arose. “How came you to attack the fortress without my order?”

  Ailwin broadened his stance and folded his arms across his chest. “As your second-in-command I called a meeting. You had
been gone a day and a night. All present agreed that yours and Byrnstan’s success was in doubt, and that your ill-advised decision to go in alone in the beginning was influenced by your personal concerns in the matter. Your wife …”

  “We had this discussion beforehand.” Slayde felt what little blood he had left rise to his face. Anger flared along with the knowledge that Ailwin was right. StoneHeart had let his emotions replace rational thinking. He stammered an instant, but would not admit his mistake. “As commander, I did what I saw fit! I gave an order.”

  Derisive, Ailwin snorted. “Order? In your absence, I was in authority, and did what I saw fit. I devised a plan of action where none existed and seized opportunity before you and it were lost!”

  “Reason eluded you, so intent were you to march in at any cost! Did you consider the price, that Byrnstan and Llyrica’s life would be forfeited?”

  “Had you dealt with your wife in the start, we would not be here in this hut! No doubt we would be marching back to London victorious of the Battle at Lea.!”

  “We are in this hut, Ailwin, since you thought it necessary to fall upon and kill Haesten, a defenseless man who lay dying in his bed! Is that the type of soldier you have become?”

  This struck Ailwin speechless, the color rising to the roots of his blond hair and his hands tightening into fists. Eadwulf shifted his considerable weight from one foot to the other, obviously seeing this argument stemmed from men at personal odds. Ashen and small, Llyrica sat back, looking to shoulder the blame. Slayde regretted this.

  But Brynstan threw his hands in the air. “We know of one perfect human, and He is our Lord! The rest of us are flawed and take wrong turns! Go from this moment, children, and think clearer in future days!”

  Though heated, Slayde felt some humor filter through, that only Brynstan would call them children. This intervention that Byrnstan had practiced for years opened a way for StoneHeart to concede a bit of his pride.

  Ailwin must have had the same thought. His shoulders fell a bit, though his face remained tight. But his silence said that he, too, was not quite ready to admit aloud his fault.

  “Neither action,” added Eadwulf, “that StoneHeart and Brynstan enter the fort alone, nor that Ailwin lead an attack, was ideal. But decisions were made by all on hand using what resources we had. As men, we do not just think with our heads, but also with…” He hesitated and looked to Brynstan.

  The priest nodded and could continue where Eadwulf should not. “With our hearts. StoneHeart indeed had his wife to think of and whether wise or foolish, did what he could to satisfy all. And Ailwin, you were spurred with no less fervor and more hot blood than your ealdorman. A heated moment of battle drove you to a misjudgment just as surely as StoneHeart’s love of a woman drove his.”

  Ailwin shook his head as if scoffing the notion. But then his face softened, and Slayde wondered if his second now considered the truth of Byrnstan’s words.

  Slayde shifted his position to relieve a strain on his wound, and to stall before making an admission. “I will impose no punishment on Ailwin for his actions. Moments before he charged in, I myself had come close to killing Haesten.” He gave Ailwin his stoniest glare. It ensured that Ailwin would receive StoneHeart’s share of the guilt from one man to another. “I bear you no lasting ill will. And as my side heals, this day will foster tales of the Battle at Lea without mention of this mishap coming from me.”

  StoneHeart locked eyes with Ailwin, a dare.

  Ailwin held fast for a long while, but then blinked and looked aside. He quickly regained his straight posture. “I sought to do my duty, ealdorman. My intention was to subdue your captors and see you released. My one error is regretted and I have worked since to ensure proper procedure and order.”

  Ailwin’s statement would suffice, was more than Slayde would have expected. He nodded acceptance. “With this incident discussed and set aside, you will tell me what plans have been made for the future of this fortress. But first I need to hear what is at issue that so troubles my wife.”

  The noise of a commotion outside caught the attention of all inside the small hut. Slayde leaned forward, trying to interpret shouted words beyond the walls.

  Breathless, a young soldier rushed up to the doorway. “The king has come! King Alfred has come!”

  “Stop, brother! It is of no use, and will make matters worse!” Llyrica pulled on Broder’s arm. Her usual resilience was long worn away and she scarcely had the strength or the heart to hold on.

  Bloodshot, sunken eyes and lean body, on whose clothes hung too loosely, spoke plainly of Broder’s troubles. He was going mad with grief. “You say StoneHeart had awakened and yet you did not make my one small request of him! Let go of me and I shall!”

  The defeated inhabitants of Haesten’s hall paid little attention to Broder’s present tirade. It differed little from his last screaming outburst. Talk was that the Vikings of Fortress Lea were to be escorted to a Dane encampment to the north, and likely they cared solely for their ordeal to be over. Even the Saxon soldiers had quit the hall, trading the excitement of the meeting outside for the subdued mood within.

  “Be patient just a bit more, I pray! You must not rush out where StoneHeart meets with his king.” Llyrica lowered her voice, but kept it stern. “Slayde will allow it, I am certain, though Ailwin would not! And do not tempt Ailwin again to use his sword against you! I have come between you often enough!”

  Broder’s face contorted. “Ailwin is as much my enemy as StoneHeart and I would see him dead as well!”

  “Wish no one dead, but be reminded that StoneHeart kept Ailwin’s sword from Haesten. Ailwin cannot be reasoned with, but StoneHeart can.”

  Perhaps pondering these words, Broder’s arm relaxed somewhat within Llyrica’s clasp. His ceaseless demands on her attention were again her task, further fraying the last threads of her composure.

  But a blessed reprieve, the activity outside of the hall diverted her thoughts. Through the open door, she could see lingering violet clouds drifting past the first stars of evening. The rain had ceased as torches and fires sprang up in the yard. Countless black shapes rippled against the bank of the earthworks, the shadows of StoneHeart’s army and King Alfred’s. She tried to pick out her husband among the hundreds of men who now gathered to celebrate victory and to plan the final phase of the campaign.

  She could not see him, but reflected on their last moments. With her help, he had managed to stand, get dressed and prepare to welcome his king. As they left the hut he kissed her forehead and gave her a smile that scarcely hid his pain and weakness. Ailwin, Eadwulf and Brynstan were waiting, so she unwillingly put him in their care.

  She worried for his well-being and for their fledgling love. Caught between her unsettled need to stay with Slayde and this black cloud of Broder’s hysteria, she had no time to sort her thoughts. I cannot go to Slayde now. He is enmeshed in his duty.

  What started as a small headache was growing rapidly.

  Broder abruptly broke free and started again for the door. “My father will be denied entry to Valhalla while you and your demon husband scheme more evil!

  “Brother!” Returned to the crisis at hand, Llyrica ran and did her best to hold on to him. “Stay! I will help! Father will have his burial at sea.”

  Broder threw down her arms with freakish strength. With hands that she feared would wring her neck, he gripped her by the shoulders. Fevered eyes beseeched her with pitiable tears. “How can you help, sister, when you do more harm than good? Since I was a baby and you but four summers old, we thought our father dead. But when you were eight, mother told you he lived and bade you keep a promise to make him suffer. You kept that promise and it made me suffer as well! You married StoneHeart, our father’s enemy! You …”

  “Do not recite it all again! It changes nothing. I must have a moment to think.” Llyrica pressed her fingers to her temples. Surveying the hall, she saw Lorna and the two youths, Lunt and Egil huddled in a corner. Four other youngb
loods, Broder’s friends from their ill-fated sea battle, lounged nearby.

  Unnamed, unplanned, a deed must be done. Broder must have an end to his suffering and be paid for the wrongs he charged against her. Until this was accomplished her life with Slayde would not begin. Lord, all I wish is to be somewhere alone with my husband. But he had obligations to fulfill and so did she.

  Once more, it fell to her to quell her brother’s recklessness. Her resolve did not ease her misgivings, but impulse spurred her on.

  Llyrica pinned Broder with unblinking eyes. She summoned authority into her words, would be unyielding. “Listen! Listen to me! You know I can keep a promise. So do as I say now and I promise you that I will see your request fulfilled.” She paused, waited to judge that Broder listened and understood. “I promise.” Silenced, frowning, Broder fell under her command. “Now go to your friends yonder. Sit and wait but a short time.”

  Llyrica took his hand, squeezed it and glanced out the door into the dark. StoneHeart’s army would be occupied for many hours.

  “Come now,” she said, leading Broder to his comrades. “I promise that within two days, Valkyries will carry Haesten up to your gods.”

  If I am lucky, I can be there and back before Slayde has missed me long. I miss him before I have left! Now I pray he will understand why I do what I will do.

  “I will return anon and tell you what is to be done,” she directed Broder. “If you move before I say, all chance will be lost.” The decision made, she must now manage to get Haesten’s body on a ship and out to sea by early morning. The old cape that accompanied her to Lea, she pulled over her shoulders and head, then slipped out into the dark.