The Du Lac Chronicles: Book 1

by Mary Yarde

  She helped him back to the bed and he pulled her down to sit next to him.

  “You will go to Brittany, to your brother. I am not asking you to take me with you. Just get me out of Wessex. Away from him.”

  “There is a chance for you to go home. You could say there were a dozen men and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “And what if I don’t want to?” She dared a glance at him, then immediately lowered her eyes. “What if I want to stay here, with you?”

  “Why?” He raised her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him. “Why would you want to? Annis, I am nothing now, at best a threat to my brother.”

  “Your brother? But…I don’t understand.”

  It was common knowledge that the du Lac brothers were close and if you were foolish enough to go to war with one, then you went to war with all. That is what made them such formidable opponents, and such sought-after allies.

  “But…I thought…I mean, it is said that you and your kin —”

  “Merton and I are, were…” He lowered his eyes to the ground, as he thought of his brother; he could not imagine a life without Merton in it. “But, Budic…” He stopped and raised his head, blinking away the tears, he could not be dead. “You can’t choose your family.”

  “No.”

  “I don’t know how this will end. I can make you no promises. Natanleod can give you a castle, a kingdom and a title. I can give you nothing.”

  “If you had all Natanleod had, would you let me stay?” Her voice quivered.

  Alden looked at her in astonishment and reached up and held her face between his hands.

  “Just find me somewhere I can hide.” Annis quickly backtracked, feeling the heat rise in her face. “I don’t mind if it’s a hovel and I share my home with the mice. Don’t ask me to go back.”

  She saw him waver and she pushed her advantage. “If I go back home, I will die. I can’t lie to my father because he would believe my mother. With you I will live. That I do know.”

  “I am not a master of death,” he said very quietly, dropping his hands away from her face. If he were, then the last few days would not have happened.

  “Do you really want me to leave you?” she whispered and then closed her eyes, for she could not bear to look at him as he sealed her fate.

  “No.”

  “No?” She hadn’t expected that.

  “No.” He looked at her. “You risked your life; you’ve sacrificed everything…for me. No one has ever done anything like that for me, ever.”

  “I never had anyone in my life I would sacrifice everything for.”

  Alden wished he could read her mind, to understand what she was thinking. “I will do everything I can to protect you.” He whispered the promise into her hair. “Please God it be enough.”

  Annis awoke with a start and sat up. The fire in the hearth had died. The room had a slight chill to it; and it had a horrible smell of mustiness, mice and leeks. She sat still for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the gloom, trying to remember where she was and all that had transpired. There was so much, it was hard to even begin to believe that it was real. That she was here, in this forgotten room, sleeping on a musty old bed with — she looked down, just to convince herself that Alden was lying next to her.

  They must be heading into day four. Although living in a windowless room underground, with no news from the outside world, made telling the days and what time of day it was, nearly impossible.

  Alden had slept for most of the time, waking only to eat and to take more medicine. The wounds on his back were healing, thankfully without any sign of infection, but he was exhausted. Sleep did not come to her so easily, for as soon as she closed her eyes she recalled the horrors of the last few days. She heard the screams of that young girl Draca had had his way with. She remembered the moment when David had closed the trapdoor, leaving her alone in the dark. She saw Jess’s scornful face frowning down from a great high, condemning her by association. And then her dreams would change, and she would dream about Alden; and she would awaken with a deep sense of what she could only think was longing. With Alden sleeping so very close to her, and she so restless for him, sleep was impossible and she would lie with open eyes and stare at nothing.

  She lay back down, pulling the fur blanket up to her shoulders, for she was cold. She should really get up, light the fire, and maybe cook something. Although the thought of any more of that pottage made her stomach turn. She was forced to eat it, trying not to breathe as she did so. She made a vow to herself that if they ever did manage to leave her father’s kingdom, she would never look at a leek again, let alone eat one.

  She shivered and closed her eyes.

  “Cold?”

  She opened her eyes. Alden was laying on his front, his eyes closed.

  “Yes,” she answered because she was. There was no point in denying it, and anyway he would know. She had noticed that he watched her. That his eyes were drawn to her as if he had no control in what they looked at. Annis knew how that felt, for her eyes were also drawn to him.

  Alden reached across the bed to her, turned on to his side and drew her into the contours of his body, sharing his body heat.

  “Better?” Alden asked, his eyes still closed, his beard tickling her hair.

  The voice in Annis’s head was ordering her to pull away, to not allow Alden such liberties. But she was cold and she liked the feel of his arm around her, of being able to hear his heart beating.

  “Much,” she managed to squeak.

  “Good. Now go back to sleep.”

  Was he trying to jest? She did not think she would ever be able to sleep, being this close to Alden. It was bad enough that they shared the same bed, something she had not thought they ever would do. Alden had insisted; he said there was no way she was going to sleep on the floor, and there was no way he was going to sleep on the floor. But this, this was something else entirely. She doubted that most married couples shared this level of intimacy. Her mother insisted on a separate room and her father did not seem to care. But Alden, seemed almost used to sharing his bed with another. He made it seem natural. A slash of jealously rushed through her. Is this what Edmee once had? Had he held her every night as she slept? She contemplated these questions as the time went by.

  The candles hissed and burnt out one after the other, leaving the room shadowed in darkness. She could no longer see the lines of his face. She could feel his breathing though, blowing softly on to her hair, and she snuggled closer into him. It was nice. She felt safe, protected and warm. Her eyelids felt heavy and with a soft smile on her lips, she allowed her dreams to take her where they willed, for she would be safe because she was in his arms.

  Alden tightened his hold on her. How long had he held her? How long had she slept? He could not tell. Damn this room, for it was like being buried and forgotten.

  He had tried to sleep, but that had been a foolish quest. He was not able to get back to sleep, not with Annis curled up in his arms as if she belonged there. As if she was his missing piece, or a part of his soul. Damn it, what was he turning into, a bard? He had more important things to think about, such as how to get out of here, for one and how to get to Brittany for another. Most importantly, how was he going to defeat Cerdic of Wessex and claim his lands back? That is what he should be concentrating on, not the feel of Annis of Wessex asleep in his arms. He let his arm go slack, hoping she would roll over and give him some physical peace, but she only snuggled closer into him, which a part of him knew she would. She would not leave his side to lie on a cold bed. She had been left out in the cold for too long. He was her rebellion. He did not know how he felt about that.

  She moved closer still and he closed his eyes, holding his breath, for he knew what would happen next. He had felt her, on every previous time she had curled up to sleep next to him, reach across the space between the
m and take hold of a small piece of his tunic, curl her hand around it and hold on tight. She treated him like a child’s comfort rag, like someone who could give her peace. He had not said anything, because he did not mind. She was doing it again, her hand curling tightly around the front of his tunic, holding on to him as if her life depended upon it.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he whispered into the darkness. “You are stealing my heart and I am not free to give it to you. I thought your father had taken everything from me, that there was nothing left to steal. But there was something left, and now you have stolen that too, and I am lost as to what to do.”

  Annis listened to Alden speak in Cerniw, and she wondered what he said. He sounded solemn and sad; and she wished she knew what to say to give him comfort, to reassure him. It must be hard to lose people that you love. It was not like that for her. There was no love in her life, only a dream. She once had a maid, a round-faced happy sort who had a big, full laugh that had made Annis want to laugh along with her, even if she did not understand the joke. This maid had told her that some dreams do come true, if you wish hard enough. Annis, slightly in awe of this larger-than-life woman, had dared to dream that one day a noble knight would defy all the odds and rescue her from her father’s clutches. He would take her away from this hostile land. When her father had told her of his plans to marry her to Natanleod, she realised that the maid had been lying and dreams did not come true. So she had taken matters into her own hands, had rescued her knight, and now she was here, sharing his bed, sharing his body heat, listening to him talk and wishing that she understood what he said. Her father had allowed her to learn only Saxon and Latin; he said that would be enough. What did he know?

  “Will you teach me Cerniw?” she asked into the darkness.

  “I thought you were asleep,” he said, glad of the darkness, for he knew his face was burning with embarrassment for speaking what his heart was thinking.

  “Will you teach me? I want to learn. I want to be learned. I want to know things. I want to be like you, to be able to speak another language as easily as one would breathe. You know four languages fluently. I know two and one of those I never want to speak again, for I hate it, as much as I hate my heritage for what it has done to you.”

  “I speak five, not that that matters, and I am not trying to boast. My family is a mixed bag of races and one has to be prepared to be able to pacify them, and nothing does that better than being able to speak their dialect. As for your heritage, we cannot choose our blood. It wasn’t your heritage; it was your father that did this to me. There is always a bad apple in the barrel; it is the same with any family.”

  “Then my family’s barrel must be ruined and crawling with maggots. Do not be fooled. My father stands for everything that a Saxon could wish to be. I want nothing more to do with my heritage. I want to forget about it. Forget the language — forget my past. If…I mean when, we leave Wessex, I will not be coming back. There are many kingdoms in Briton where my father has no influence. I mean to travel to one of them. And when I get there I am going to live a simple life. I am going to have children and I am going to be married to a man who loves me, not one who is with me for political gain.”

  He listened, and what she said made sense, but he did not want to acknowledge the thought of her as a serf in an unknown kingdom. And the thought of her married to some unknown husband was something he could not even contemplate. It would never happen, he told himself. She would never fit in. She would stand out like a sore thumb, even if she did speak the language.

  She fell silent and his thoughts turned to darker things: death and loss. Cerniw was gone; his home destroyed, his brother, Merton, dead. Merton dead? Such a thought was incomprehensible. He was too alive to die. To think of him as dead seemed as far-fetched as knowing that his father actually was. A person like that cannot die. But they do, the voice in his head mocked. Like your father and like Garren. “Garren isn’t dead,” he answered aloud in the language of his birth and the voice fell silent.

  “Come back to me. I have lost you.” Annis’s voice was soft, pleading.

  Alden frowned into the darkness. Had she been speaking? He had not heard her.

  “Who is Garren?” she asked, for although she did not understand what he said, when he had been delirious with fever he had shouted out for his late wife and this stranger that went by the name of Garren.

  “Garren was my brother. He was lost at sea many seasons ago,” Alden said, his voice sounded desolate and thick with grief.

  “I am so sorry,” Annis answered softly, her voice filled with compassion.

  “He was my best friend…I miss him. I miss him a great deal.”

  “I wish I could say the same for my brother,” Annis said. “This is going to sound cruel and heartless, but I would organise a grand celebration if my brother died. I should not think like that, should I?”

  “I hope I am the first person you invite. I would celebrate his death with you. Your brother is a butcher.”

  “I know,” Annis said quietly. “I know what he is.”

  “You do not know the half of it. And I will not be the one to enlighten you. Sometimes we hold love for the people who have always been in our lives without realising it. Maybe if he did die, you would feel differently. Maybe, you would even feel proud of his achievements.”

  “I am not proud to be associated with him, let alone be proud of his achievements. How would you feel, knowing you had their blood running through your veins? I may have been kept in the shadows all my life, but I have eyes and ears. I see and I hear things. I know what is said about them. My family is not like yours.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. There are one or two power-crazed madmen in ours as well.” He cleared his throat.

  “Is that what you were thinking about just now?” Annis asked.

  “No. I was thinking about Merton. Your request for me to teach you Cerniw reminded me of him. The last time I saw him he was on his horse, galloping towards me, trying to rescue me from your father’s men. I heard him shout my name and then he disappeared under a mass of spears and axes. I know he is dead, but I feel the same as I did when they told me Garren was dead — I do not believe it. I felt my father’s loss and my mother’s, when they died, but for Merton…I feel nothing. My heart is telling me that he is alive. But how can he be? I saw him go down; no man could survive that.” He choked on a sob and closed his eyes in an attempt to regain control of his emotions, for it was a well-known fact that Kings — and former Kings, for that matter — did not cry. They were made of the strongest oak.

  Annis raised her hand and gently touched his face. His beard tickled her palm. “I do not know if you would feel his death, but there is always hope. I am sorry I caused you additional pain. I didn’t think. I should not have mentioned Cerniw. I could not go there anyway, could I? What with my father ruling the kingdom.”

  “He won’t rule it for long.” Alden promised.

  “Do you think your brother, Budic, will help you?”

  “Maybe. If I humble myself enough. I loathe the man and the feeling is mutual. Can you imagine what joy me losing my kingdom is going to bring him?”

  “He cannot be that bad?”

  “You do not know him, Annis. He should never have been King of Brittany in the first place. He was not named heir.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  Alden closed his eyes. He had said too much. “Briton,” he said with a sigh, changing the subject.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Briton is the language you should learn. Although be warned, they have this awful habit of using the same word to mean entirely different things, and then there are the local dialects where they make up words or change them, I am sure for the hell of it. Nevertheless, I think Briton is a good place to start and the basics are easy enough.”

  “Yes, Briton, I could go anyw
here on this island if I could speak that. I could make up a story; no one would know.”

  “Do you really think you could live a lie?”

  “Better to live a lie than to die.”

  “Is this really what you want, though? To wipe your hands of the past, of everyone you ever knew?”

  “I do not know that many people and none of them I would voluntarily choose to spend time with, present company excluded, of course.”

  “You would choose to spend time with me?”

  Annis heard the teasing in his voice. “You above all others,” she said daringly.

  Alden moved, so he could wrap his arms around her, like a lover would. She did not resist, for she longed to be in his arms. “You should not say things like that to me,” he whispered against her ear.

  “I have no one else to say them to and besides, I mean it. I would never lie to you.” She heard his sharp intake of breath.

  “Tell me. When you heard your father’s plans to marry you to Natanleod of Sussex, did you make a list of men who would help you escape the arrangement?”

  The question caught her unawares and she took a moment to think of her answer.

  “There was no list,” Annis said at last. “I knew of only one man who could help me.”

  “Me?”

  “No.” Annis sighed in mock disappointment. “I was looking for Draca. He was such a friendly, pleasant knight, with good cleanliness, but I stumbled upon you instead.”

  The idea was so outrageous, Alden laughed. “I was the consolation prize?”

  “Well, if you want to call yourself that— ” she broke off as Alden tickled her. “No, no, Alden, stop it.” She wiggled against him, trying to break free. “No, no, not my feet. I will kick you,” she warned. “No one touches my feet.”

  “Then I shall have to be brave and be the first,” Alden said, reaching down the length of her calf and catching one bare foot in his hand. Her feet were tiny and cold, her skin soft. He drew one finger down the sole of her foot. A hysterical giggle escaped her and he did it again.