The Du Lac Chronicles: Book 1

by Mary Yarde

  “Come back,” Alden whispered, for he had a bad feeling about this place. It was like a trap one would set for a wolf lured to its death by the smell of fresh meat and promised sanctuary.

  The panels over the staircase lifted and an old woman with a rounded face and small eyes made her way down the stairs. She was not from her father’s army, Annis immediately thought, unless he had started recruiting plump old women to his ranks.

  The woman stopped when she met Annis halfway down the staircase and glared at her, before noticing Alden, who was still leaning heavily upon the table.

  “This is a safe place for a du Lac,” she stated, staring past Annis as if she did not exist and looking at Alden. “They will not find you here, Your Majesty, of that we will make sure.”

  “Thank you, Jess,” Alden said, closing his eyes in relief. A friendly face was just what he had needed. It was better than any tonic a healer could have given him. “Where are we?”

  “Under the smithy in Hordon. Do not worry about having a fire, the smoke will not be noticed because the forge is worked day and night. Wessex is very demanding and it is the only way his needs can be met. David said you had been hurt. He will pay for it, by God he will. What do you want us to do with her?” She pointed a crooked finger at Annis.

  “She is with me,” Alden said, opening his eyes and seeing the hostility on Jess’s face as she looked at Annis. So much for a friendly face. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. Another battle needed facing, although this time it would be one that involved words, and he did not relish the challenge. “If you hurt her in any way, you are hurting me,” he said, cutting to the heart of it, making his position clear from the start.

  “David said she saved your life. I thought it was just the drink talking. Listen to me, boy, a Saxon has no place with a du Lac; we all said it, even when you married that woman. She was not right for you. Edmee of Wessex was nothing but — ”

  “Say no more.” Alden warned. “She was my wife.”

  Jess seemed to consider this, but she was one of those women whose tongue would not keep still within her mouth. Her mother had been the same, and her grandmother too — a family failing. “Some wife. You married a Wessex.” She made it sound like he had committed a mortal sin.

  “Jess, what are you, my mother?” Alden tried to turn the conversation with humour, but the jest was not well received. He resisted sighing his annoyance; all he wanted really was for Jess to leave, so he could lie down and be weak. He hated anyone seeing him like this, with the exception, strangely, of Annis, but then she had seen him at his worst and she had risked her life for him, so she was different. He could see that Jess was building herself up for a grand speech, a speech she had probably been practicing ever since she had heard of his marriage to Edmee. Some people had nothing better to do than to judge the lives of those they did not understand and would never understand. How could she stand there and begin to lecture him on his own marriage, when she knew nothing about it?

  “She would want me to look out for her son. Brianna would never have agreed to that match.”

  “It is in the past. It matters not. Where is Bors?”

  “Daniel,” Jess corrected, for none of those who were once loyal knights to Arthur now went by the names of their birth. It was too dangerous.

  After the fall of Arthur, the knights had been hunted down like wolves and were all but destroyed; a change of identity was considered prudent. The only one who refused to change his name had been Alden’s father. He said he would not change who he was, or what he had been. He could say that; he had Benwick Castle to hide behind while he trained his army. Others were not so fortunate.

  “Daniel is busy. Cerdic came about an hour ago and rounded up all the men. They are all out searching for you. You are a very popular man at the moment.” She paused and looked at Annis. “You cannot travel with Cerdic’s daughter. Bors will not allow you to.”

  “It is not up to him.”

  Jess’s eyes narrowed into tight slits and Annis wondered if the old woman could still see out of them. She wished she understood what they said.

  “You sound just like your father, may God rest his soul. And look what happened to him.”

  Alden looked away from the old woman.

  “Do not travel in his footsteps. He is the reason the Saxons came in the first place.”

  “You know that is not true,” Alden said.

  “He broke faith.” Jess stated a fact.

  “Never.” He scowled at her, his pain momentarily forgotten as his beloved late father’s reputation was being sullied. “Arthur broke faith with him. He murdered my mother’s first husband in front of my father. Do not think to teach me my father’s history, for I already know it.”

  “Not all.” Jess said with the arrogant confidence one often finds in the very old.

  “All.” Alden confirmed. “All of it,” he said again, daring her to contradict him, and then he made himself smile. “Jess, I thank you for your help.” He lowered himself carefully down on to the bed. “But Annis isn’t up for discussion. I’m sorry if I have disappointed you. I am most grateful for everything you and your husband have done and are doing for me. I won’t forget this.”

  “Right then.” Jess said, realising she was being dismissed. “I’ll just leave you to it then, shall I?” She paused. “I can look at your wounds for you. I am reasonably skilled in the art of healing.”

  “I thank you for your offer, but I have Annis.”

  Jess shifted her attention to Cerdic’s daughter and the glower came back on to her face.

  Annis raised her head higher and stared back at the old woman’s hostile face.

  “Is she your lover?” Jess asked, her eyes not moving from Annis’s face. “Because you risk an awful lot for a woman.”

  A muscle began to twitch in his jaw. “She is,” he lied quietly.

  “And is she the reason Wessex warriors descended upon Cerniw and you were tied to the whipping post?”

  “No. She isn’t the reason. I don’t know the reason.”

  “I don’t think Cerdic knows the reasons why he does the things he does. Do you have feelings for her?” Jess asked, tilting her head to one side as she tried to see what Alden saw in her.

  “Jess.”

  Jess glanced back at him. “If you stay with her then your future will be as your father’s.”

  “My father was a good man, Jess.”

  “Your father was nothing but a liar and a deceiver, who estranged himself from everybody. Don’t do the same.”

  “My father —” Alden said, rising stiffly from the bed. Annis turned to look at him; she saw the pain flash across his face. She did not stop to think how it might look to this hostile villager as she turned to go to him, to help him. But Jess snatched at her arm, holding it tightly in her sweaty palm. Annis tried to shrug her arm free and spoke angrily in Saxon. The woman simply glared back at her and shook her head.

  Alden stood, swaying slightly, as if he had had too much to drink. “My father,” he began again, “was not a liar and he did not estrange himself from everybody. If he did, we would not be standing here having this conversation, would we?”

  “That is true. I used too strong a phrase. Your father…” A faraway look came into her eyes; her hand relaxed on Annis’s arm and Annis managed to shake herself free, and began to make her way back down the staircase.

  “Everybody liked him, in the beginning.” A small smile of remembrance flickered across her face. “I liked him,” she confessed. “Until he —” she cleared her throat. “Bors came home from the du Lac war and said it was like killing his brothers.” She wiped the back of her hand across her face, dashing at the tears that had gathered in her eyes.

  “My father said the same. He never wanted that war.” Alden said softly. “Arthur brought it to our shores. My father had to defend his kingdom.”


  “Well, you only know the one side, of course.” Jess looked again at Annis. “You cannot take her with you.”

  “I cannot leave her, Jess. She needs me.” He gave a small smile. “I promised her safety and I never go back on my word, you know that. My life for hers.” He added faintly.

  “You would die for her?” Jess asked, shocked, “I thought all honourable men had been killed.”

  “There are worse things than death.” Alden said.

  “Very true. Oh dear, what a mess.”

  “Help me get out this godforsaken country…please, Jess.”

  “We will do all that we can,” Jess answered.

  Annis watched as the old woman walked slowly back up the stairs and then disappeared from view. The trapdoor shut and she was once again alone with the former King of Cerniw. She let out a long, nervous breath and relaxed her fingers, shivering slightly as she allowed her fear to pass through her body. He had not sent her away with the old woman. He had kept her with him. That was a good sign. Right?

  Alden slowly lowered himself to his side, a hiss of pain escaping him as he did so. She did not immediately rush to his side. Instead, she walked over to the small fire and added more tinder. She watched as the flames leapt higher and she thought about the strange old lady. She had seen peasants and serfs before, although never had she seen a woman so huge. If the peasants were all as well fed as the old lady, then she wondered what on earth they had to moan about. The woman had clearly not liked her, though; she could see the animosity in her eyes, the outright scorn. Now she knew why her father had tried to keep her from meeting such people. Maybe he was simply trying to protect her. Maybe she had wronged him. Alden groaned again and she spun around and walked towards him.

  “Will the old lady help us?”

  “She says so.” Alden answered.

  “She doesn’t like me.”

  “No, I don’t suppose she does.”

  Annis walked over to the table, running her hand along the rough edge until she came to a basket. She lifted the cloth from the top and let out a little squeal of pleasure.

  “What have you found?”

  “Herbs,” Annis said. “Willow Bark. Pain relief.” She clutched the bark in her hand.

  “Thank God for that,” Alden replied.

  5

  Whether the herbs did anything to ease his pain or not, Annis did not like to judge, but from the gasps that came from the pallet every time Alden tried to make himself comfortable, she guessed it wasn’t quite hitting the spot. Besides, she had more important things to concentrate on. She was cooking and it wasn’t something she had ever done before. With her tongue between her teeth, she concentrated on stirring the lumpy mixture. Did people actually eat this? Annis screwed up her nose, leeks were something she was never really partial to and now the smell of them filled the tiny room.

  “I hope you like pottage,” Annis said over her shoulder.

  Alden’s stomach grumbled loudly and Annis suppressed a smile. He must be starving; goodness knows the last time he ate properly. Not that he was going to eat properly tonight. She stirred the mixture and then lifted some of it out of the cauldron and looked at the spoon, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She turned the spoon over and the mixture plopped back into the cauldron. So appetising. Soon the mixture was bubbling quite fiercely; she screwed up her nose again. When did one know when it was ready? Should the pottage be sticking to the bottom of the cauldron? She guessed not and lifted the heavy hot pot back onto the table.

  Annis spooned the pottage into a smooth wooden bowl and handed it to Alden. She did not feel like eating. Cooking a meal, she realised, had completely destroyed her appetite, not that she could have eaten leeks anyway. Alden, however, seemed to have no problem with the peasant food. She unwrapped some bread from a linen cloth and carved it, handing him a piece that was thin at the top and thick at the bottom. He took it from her, mumbling his thanks, and began to dip it into the stew. The beating had obviously not affected his appetite, Annis mused. Perhaps that was just men in general, for her father and her brother always had the most enormous appetites and were never full.

  Alden chewed slowly on the bread, then tore off another piece, and dipped it into the burnt stew. He had never known anyone to burn pottage before, but he was too hungry and his mother had instilled manners in him when he was a young lad, so he did not say anything that might offend.

  Annis stood still, not really knowing what to do with herself. She did not know what to say, or how to start a conversation. She wanted to ask about Jess. She wanted to know what the connection was between a peasant woman and a former king. She also hoped he would finish or at least elaborate on the conversation they had had in the tunnel. She swallowed nervously and decided to approach the subject herself.

  “Is Jess another du Lac spy?”

  Alden did not look up from his food. “No.”

  “A relative, then?”

  “Hardly,” Alden said, breaking off another piece of bread.

  “A friend?”

  “If you like.”

  “You are not going to tell me?”

  “Why would you want to know?” Alden answered, still concentrating on his food. What was it with this woman and her inability to stop asking questions? He wanted to eat.

  “Why was I wrong to help you, to run with you?” She looked down at the ground, for her mother had often said that one should never question a man. She seemed to have trouble remembering that advice when she was around Alden.

  Alden put down his spoon. The food was almost inedible anyway, so what did it matter. He looked at her. She had his attention now. “I am glad you helped me; believe me, I am grateful.” He put the bowl on the floor. “As for the other.” He paused and sighed before rising stiffly to his feet. “My Lady —”

  “Call me Annis. I am no longer a lady,” she interrupted. “I sacrificed the right of that title when I helped you.”

  “You did.” He would not lie to her, for her situation was desperate. He cleared his throat. “Annis,” he began again and stopped. Her name sounded familiar on his lips, too familiar. “My Lady.” He decided that formality was needed; there was no room for them to be friends. “You have run with a King who has lost his kingdom. I have nowhere to go.”

  Annis bit her suddenly trembling lip. “I had not thought of that,” she answered and turned away towards the fire, staring unseeingly into the flames.

  He stared at her back, noticing how she had tamed her curly honey-coloured hair into a braid. He preferred it the way she had styled it at the winter celebrations years ago, when it had hung loose, falling past her shoulders in an abundance of curls. He frowned. “You should go back. The future with me will be hard.”

  Annis turned back around, anger in her eyes. “And my future would be better with Natanleod?” Her tone was mocking.

  “At least he would marry you,” he argued.

  “I never asked you to. I never expected you to propose,” she replied, tilting her chin up and challenging him with her eyes.

  “I’m glad, because I would never accept or ask,” Alden spat back, and immediately felt childish in doing so.

  Annis furiously turned back around so that she did not have to face him. “Fine,” she snapped.

  “No it is not ‘fine.’ People will speculate.” He tried to keep his voice steady, talking as a King would speak.

  “And what do I care for their speculation?” Annis said through stiff lips, turning back to look at him.

  Her arms, he noticed, had folded about her chest as if she were refraining from throwing something at him.

  “A woman’s reputation is everything. If you stay with me, people will think you are my mistress.” People already did.

  She resisted the urge to stamp her foot. How dare he? How dare he assume to know what others would think?

 
; “They will think you are my whore,” he said softly. “And you will end your days in a Christian convent, if you are lucky, and if you are not, a whorehouse or worse.” He noticed the redness in her cheeks and wished he had not been so direct in his language. He was angry; he could feel rage in his veins; but he wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with her father, with his brother and with himself. Above all else, he was tired. He wanted to finish his inedible meal and then sleep.

  “Perhaps people will think you kidnapped me?” She argued the question, risking a look at him.

  “I was tied to a post!” He raised his voice before remembering where they were. “For the love of God woman, go home. I don’t want you with me, you are a Saxon.”

  He couldn’t have said anything more hurtful. She just stood there and looked at him. He held her stare, watched as the tears filled her eyes.

  “Annis.” He rubbed his eyes with his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — ”

  “I should go.” Annis made herself walk forward.

  He reached for her arm as she brushed past him. “You can’t go. Cerdic will kill you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters. Look at me.”

  She glanced at his face and then looked away. “I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding — if there is one.”

  “You are not going to marry Natanleod.”

  “No, you are probably right. He wouldn’t want me anyway, if people think what you said they will.”

  “I spoke out of turn. Don’t go.” He slid his hand down her arm and took hold of her hand. She didn’t hold his hand back.

  Her mother had been right all along. Why would a man like him want some stupid girl like her?

  “Don’t cry.” His voice was gentle now, soft.

  She used her free hand to dab at her tears.

  “You need to eat.” She sniffed and willed away the tears. “I know you don’t like me.”

  “It’s not about like,” Alden said. “I’m sorry. I need to sit down, because otherwise I am going to fall.”