‘You’ve done well, dearest one. A girl and four boys, now.’
They looked over to where the infant lay in his nurse’s arms, gurgling at her soft talk. ‘Would you like to hold him?’ the Queen said.
‘May I? This one is... Edred?’
The child, a tiny bundle wrapped loosely in linen and soft wool blankets, waved his arms as he was given to Fearn, smiling up at her, full of trust. ‘You don’t swaddle him?’ she asked.
‘No. I believe children grow perfectly strong and straight if they’re left free. Besides, I don’t need to hang my infants up on a hook on the wall while I get on with my work, do I? I have ladies to tend their needs, though I’ve always suckled them myself. He likes the look of you, Fearn. See, he’s smiling.’
The Queen could not have known how her child’s smile almost broke her friend’s heart at that moment. The little fingers closed warmly round Fearn’s as if they belonged together, tugging the adult knuckles towards the little petal-like mouth that opened to suck greedily, sending a ripple of motherly desire through Fearn’s body that made her gasp at the sweetness of it. Sobs rose in her breast at the overwhelming ache to nurture, while hot tears of emptiness poured down her cheeks, shaking her with the pain of guilt at not wanting to bear any child of Barda’s which, as a dutiful wife, she ought to have done. This, the tears told her, was what had evaded her, quite naturally, time and again, and now she must accept the anguish of being childless through no fault of her own.
Haesel came to her aid, gently removing the babe from Fearn’s arms, handing it back to the nurse before helping her mistress to catch her sobs in the end of her veil. In the two years of Fearn’s marriage, Elf had naturally assumed that the joys of motherhood had eluded her, so far, and had no idea that the urge was so painfully within her, or that it had been so thoroughly stifled. Rocking Fearn in her arms, she made comforting sounds while wondering how her friend would keep herself chaste in this terrible situation. ‘For one year,’ she whispered into Fearn’s veil, ‘just a year. It may not happen in that time. Then you will return and find a good man to give you the family you never had. Think on that.’
‘I shall go to the nuns at Clementhorpe,’ Fearn said, wiping her cheeks. ‘I do not want any man, Elf.’
‘That’s your recent experience speaking,’ Elf said, gently. ‘I know what you fear, but really it can be the most wonderful thing with the right man. You are still young, dearest, and things change for the better as well as for the worse.’
‘May I see the other four?’ Fearn said.
‘Well, the three boys will be asleep now, but I can send for Gemma. She’s seven now and thinks herself a lady already.’ She made a sign to one of her ladies, pronouncing the name of her daughter ‘Yemma’ since the G was soft in their language. ‘But Fearn, love... I must warn you...are you all right...you’re sure? I don’t want you to be upset.’
Thinking that Elf referred to her recent bout of weeping, Fearn nodded, bracing herself to see an adorable child the sight of whom would show her again what she had missed. What she saw was indeed an adorable child with long fair hair like her mother’s, with the same regal bearing, too, with the same lovely features Fearn would have expected Elf to produce. Except for one outstanding oddity. Her eyes. One was as blue as bluebells and the other a deep mossy green, exactly like her own.
The voices came from a long way off and the room gradually disappeared from view. It was the first time Fearn had ever fainted.
Chapter Four
‘Forgive me, dear one,’ the Queen was saying, holding a beaker of wine to Fearn’s pale lips. ‘Forgive me. I could not tell you of this. Not while you were with my father. He obviously doesn’t wish you to know of your parentage, or he’d have explained, wouldn’t he?’
‘I’m completely lost, Elf. What does it mean? That my parents are not my parents? That I’m related to you and to the Earl?’
Elf did her best to excuse her father’s silence on the matter. ‘I don’t suppose for one moment he thought you and I would ever meet again. He wouldn’t have known your Dane would be here in Lundenburh while the royal court was here. We might have been anywhere. Winchester. Hamwic. We rarely stay anywhere for long. King Swein did his deal with Ethelred months ago and, had it not been for the storms, they’d have been away to Denmark earlier. So my father had no reason to think you’d ever have chance to find out that we’re half-sisters, love.’
‘So he doesn’t know that Gemma and I have the same eyes?’
‘No, indeed. I haven’t told him. That would be to admit that I know he’s your father, for obviously this oddity runs in his family. Like red hair, it doesn’t affect everyone. But I realised we were half-sisters ever since Gemma was born. Even at birth, her eyes were not the same.’
‘No wonder Hilda is such a bitter woman. Earl Thored has not been true to her, has he? I’d never have known about young Kean, either, if the Dane had not come for him. But Elf, who is my mother? Surely it cannot have been Clodagh, Oslac’s wife, the ones who were banished? They were devout Christians. She would never have...oh, it doesn’t do to think of it, Elf.’
‘I remember Clodagh and Oslac. I was eight when they were sent away. They were always kind to me, more so than Hilda.’
‘They were good people, but now this has stirred up a lot of questions. Why were they sent away? And was Clodagh my mother?’
‘She had black hair like yours. And she was lovely, like you.’
Fearn did not answer the compliment, but laid a hand over the Queen’s, hearing the past instead of the present tense and wondering if she would ever discover the truth of the matter. Wondering, too, if Clodagh and Oslac had suffered the same fate as Jarl Aric’s sister, whose husband had been quietly removed by Thored, yet in Clodagh and Oslac’s case had lived to tell the tale. ‘Elf,’ she whispered, ‘I refused to say farewell to him. I refused his blessing. That must have hurt him badly.’
‘He didn’t want you to know, dearest. Perhaps he was ashamed. In any case, he’s hurt you, hasn’t he, by letting you go? But I also think this must be kept from the Dane. It would not do for him to know he’s abducted the Queen of England’s half-sister, for then you would be even more valuable to him. He would demand a ransom for your return.’
‘Elf, the Danes are already bleeding us dry. I don’t think...’
‘I know, dear one, but the less he knows about your parentage, the better. If you take my advice, you’ll not tell anyone. Not yet.’
‘Does your husband the King know?’
‘Not having seen you, love, there’s no way he could know either and, for the time being, I shall say nothing. What’s he like, this Dane? Some of them are utterly ruthless. I hope he’s not ill-treating you.’
‘That’s what they call him. The Ruthless. And I suppose in war, he is. So far, he’s treated us reasonably well, but I cannot wait for the day I’m allowed to return. Heaven only knows what I’m supposed to do when we reach Denmark. Whatever it is, I shall make him regret this insult.’
‘Don’t, Fearn. Life is too short to be spent avenging insults. Men cannot help themselves, but we can. Did you bring your tablet-weaving?’
‘Yes, but...’
‘Then spend your time making beautiful things and in healing the sick, as you’ve always done. You must not make this an excuse to let your skills go rusty. They were God-given. Use them on everyone who needs them, as Mother Bridget does. And write to me. Let me know where you are. Will you?’
‘Of course,’ Fearn said, feeling the soothing energies of Elf’s advice.
‘Is that kirtle the only one you’ve brought? Have you nothing warmer?’ Anticipating a negative reply, the Queen was soon directing her ladies to re-clothe and groom her half-sister and maid in beautiful warm kirtles of softest lambswool. In a chest they packed more kirtles for her and Haesel, girdles, fine leather
shoes, linen veils and undergarments, lengths of wool, linen and silk for her to make more, with a pile of linen, silk and gold threads for embroidery, a box of sewing tools to add to her own and parchment for her letters. They also put in strips of worn linen, a necessary addition to any travelling woman’s accessories that Haesel had not had time to prepare in readiness for their monthly courses. A pile of exotic furs went on top. It was a perfect antidote to the heart-rending emotions earlier in their meeting, and by the time they had made their farewells, a messenger had arrived to say that Jarl Aric was waiting for her in the great hall.
‘This I must see,’ said the Queen, pinning the beaver-skin cloak under Fearn’s chin. ‘Sounds as if he’s impatient to reclaim his trophy.’
‘Oh, Elf! Hardly a trophy.’
‘You think not? Well, then, you watch his face.’
Fearn had been escorted to the palace not by Aric himself, but by Englishmen of the Queen’s own household. Perhaps, she thought, her visit had lasted rather longer than expected and the Dane had become concerned that she might have begged to stay there. So whether the expression that passed over his face as the great carved doors opened was one of relief or undiluted admiration, Fearn was unable to decipher except that, deep inside her ribcage, something thudded softly, as if trying to escape.
The Queen was the first to recover her surprise, having expected to see a large bewhiskered, overdressed Viking like King Swein Forkbeard, who fancied himself, rather than the tall, good-looking, neatly dressed younger man who met her with a respectful bow of his shining blond head. Aelfgyfu had never cared much for fair-haired men, but this one was quite exceptional, so her quick glance at Fearn implied.
‘So, you have come to take away my dearest friend,’ she said to him. ‘I dare not tell you what this costs me, Aric the Ruthless, but you should know that you will have the custody of a jewel beyond price for one year only. Nor need I tell you what will be likely to happen if she should be damaged before she is returned to us.’
‘Lady,’ Aric said, ‘your threat is unnecessary. If anyone is damaged, I believe it might be me. The Lady Fearn has already warned me of her intentions and I have no reason to disbelieve her.’
‘Good. Then I have one favour to ask, before you deprive me of her company. Allow her to send me letters and to receive mine. Regularly. Do you have ink and quills where you live?’
‘There are a few followers of the new faith where I live, lady. They will have the necessary tools. I will see that they are made available to Lady Fearn.’
The Queen nodded. ‘It will no doubt be something of a novelty to have a slave who reads and writes. Look after her well.’
Aric was not inclined to get into a discussion with the Queen about whether her friend was his slave or his woman, although either term would be correct. The Queen wished to shame him, naturally. ‘I intend to, lady,’ he said, holding out his hand to Fearn. ‘Come. It grows late. We must catch the next tide.’
The doors behind Fearn and the Queen were still open, giving Aric a view of the royal apartment, of her attendants, and the little seven-year-old girl whose curiosity was getting the better of her. While her mother’s ladies were attending to the baby, Gemma sidled quietly through the door to stand just behind the Queen and Fearn, listening to the exchange and sensing the restrained animosity behind the politeness. With the open regard of a child, she stared at the handsome Dane and, as her mother embraced the Lady Fearn, saw how the Dane looked at her intently and smiled. To a self-confident child such as Gemma, this was the kind of attention she enjoyed so, returning the smile, she sidled back into the company of the attendants ready to tell them, at some later moment, what they had missed. Haesel was the only one to see what had happened.
Drawing on all his resources not to betray, even by the lift of an eyebrow, what he had just learned from that exchange of smiles, Aric bowed again to the Queen and led Fearn out of the palace complex into the dark night that reverberated to the noise of thousands of Vikings. Crowded into the port of Lundenburh and making their presence felt in true Viking style, they were drinking all the mead and ale they could lay hands on. Now Fearn understood why Aric had thought it necessary to bring her back with his own escort. ‘Your men?’ said Fearn, keeping close to Aric and Einar the cook. ‘Are they carousing, too?’
‘They’re all on board, waiting to go,’ he said. ‘I told you.’
‘I thought you meant tomorrow. You mean...now?’
‘Yes, now. Can you imagine what it will be like for ninety-four longships all trying to catch the same tide? Our ships sail tonight. Last in, first out.’
‘Alone?’ she said.
He looked at her, trying to read her expression by the light of the torches.
‘You’ll hardly be alone with seventy men on board, will you?’ he said. ‘Yes, if you mean my ship, we shall be alone. Your friend the Queen thinks highly of you.’
‘She is a good woman and dear to me. She is generous, too.’
‘So I see. Those furs alone must be worth a fortune.’
The oarsmen were already in place as they climbed aboard where there were some smiles of welcome for the two finely dressed women and some silent admiration for the lady who could claim a personal friendship with her Queen. For her part, although her short time with Elf had been both happy and sad, Fearn’s return to the ship was not as distasteful as she might once have thought, for the dangers she had feared had not materialised. Nevertheless, she warned herself not to place too much trust in these men, being the enemy intent on winning her beloved country for themselves, taking every advantage of Elf’s weak husband, King Ethelred. His unreadiness to defend England was now causing havoc all over the country, of which her abduction was just such an example.
* * *
Fearn and Haesel had been asleep for several hours, lulled by the rhythmic sound of oars dipping and lifting, when the ship dropped anchor at the wide mouth of the Thames, just as it reached the sea. Padded with an extra layer of furs, Fearn felt the change of temperature as Aric joined her, too tired for conversation, but reluctant to waste the opportunity offered by Fearn’s recumbent form to make him even more comfortable. Spooning himself into her back, he encircled her waist with his arm, made a deep growl of contentment and fell instantly asleep. She also slept, but awoke briefly when all was still to find that his hand had slipped beneath her breast and was cupping it, tenderly. The ship rocked, bringing back thoughts of her meeting with the Queen, of the shocking discovery that somewhere, somehow, Earl Thored had taken yet another woman who was not his wife and had not seen fit to make her, Fearn, aware of her true parentage. She could not imagine how it could have happened, or why, when neither Clodagh, her mother, nor Oslac, her father, would ever have condoned adultery.
Laying her hand over Aric’s, she prised it carefully away from its snug position under her breast and placed it on his leg, reasonably sure it had arrived there in his sleep.
‘What is it, lady?’ he whispered.
‘Go to sleep,’ she replied.
‘Tell me.’
‘Are you married, Dane?’ The question emerged before she could stop it.
There was a pause, in which she knew he smiled. ‘If you agree to call me by my name, I will tell you whatever you want to know.’
‘If I call you by your name, you will take it as a sign of friendship. And I am not your friend.’
‘I think you should take the risk. We shall be together for a year and a lot of men will answer to the name of Dane. It could cause some confusion.’
‘Aric, then,’ she mumbled, unwillingly.
‘Lady?’
‘It is only fair that I should know something about the man I must be shackled to for a whole year. Wives are not usually best pleased when their husbands arrive home with female slaves. If there’s going to be trouble, I need to be prepared.’
‘And lovers?’
He smiled again in the darkness. ‘Now why on earth would you need to know that?’ he said.
‘I don’t need to know. It makes no difference to me. No reason.’ All the same, she had revealed the direction of her thoughts to him. That was a mistake. She tried to rectify it. ‘Just wondered.’ But it was too late.
Lifting himself up on one arm, he hung over her and moved her head to face him so that she felt his warm breath upon her cheek, the weight of his arm on her, bringing back the memories, still too recent, of a man’s insistence. There was barely time for him to say, ‘Wondered what?’ before her breathless plea,
‘No...no! Please don’t. Let me go...please...let me go.’
Immediately his hand lifted away as he rolled back, taking her hand in his and holding it, hearing the fear in her voice, feeling her body begin to tremble. Challenging one minute, fearful the next. What a conflict of emotions, he thought. What kind of abuse had brought her to this point where a man’s closeness crossed the boundary of acceptance and caused a reaction close to panic? She would have heard, he was sure, of the violence of Viking raids, the abuse of women and nuns, the savagery of warriors venting their war rage and lust upon innocents, the pointless destruction, the desecration of holy places. He had never indulged in sexual depravity, nor did he approve of his men showing that kind of madness, though he knew it happened, even so. But this woman had suffered not at the hands of Vikings, but her own husband, and now she was bound to believe that she had moved from one kind of violence to another. Interestingly, though, she wanted to know more about him, about wives, children and lovers. And if that was not a positive sign, then he did not know what was. ‘Hush, lady,’ he whispered. ‘Lie quiet. You wanted to know about my lovers?’
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