by Mary Yarde
“What will you do?” Oeric said, choosing to ignore Alden’s last comment as he popped a sweet pastry into his mouth.
“I am going to take my lands back.”
“You will need to raise an army to do that.”
“I will.”
Oeric chewed slowly and then shook his head. “I cannot help you. I am sorry, Alden. I know that is not what you want to hear. Cerdic has made his point. None of us can afford to lose against him. I doubt even Budic will support you. I will sign Cerdic’s treaty and recognise him as High King.”
“I said I would recognise him as High King.”
Oeric shrugged. “Yes, but your recognition was wrapped up with conditions.”
How did he know that? Alden sat back against his chair and thought through his next words very carefully. “Cerniw has been in my family for generations. I wasn’t going to give all my powers away.”
“Well, that worked out well for you didn’t it?” Oeric chided. “If you want my opinion Cerniw was never worth the effort. Look at all the trouble Meraugis had with the Irish, and it has not been that long ago, so do not tell me I am mistaken. I was there. I saw the struggle Meraugis had to hold the lands. I’d forget about it if I were you.”
“Forget about it? Would you forget about it if the insult were to you and your lands? Would you sit and do nothing while your people were being oppressed?”
“This is not about what I would do. It is about what you can do. Your army is broken. Scattered. Dead, for all you know. Whatever is left of them will be no good to you.” He took another bite from his pastry. “Your influence amongst the other kingdoms has been dwindling since you agreed to marry Edmee. Many people saw that wedding as a weakness on your part, and I, for one, agreed with them. We do not like the new Saxon invaders and yet you welcomed them, married one of them, and now you claim to have married another. Your brother in his lunacy was right; you come across as a traitor to your own kind.”
“A traitor? Your father came over from Saxony. You are Saxon, too. And you have just said you are signing a treaty recognising him as High King. You are contradicting yourself.”
“Look at it from your people’s point of view,” Oeric continued, as if his heritage or his political allegiance was of no concern. “You are tainting your blood by mixing with theirs and look where it has got you. You gained nothing from your marriage to Edmee, and you will gain even less from this new marriage of yours. Your father, God rest his soul, would have been ashamed of you. He would have never allowed such an alliance.”
“And you would know all about what my father would and would not have done,” Alden said coldly. He should have remained silent, but he could not help himself.
“I knew him well. He was a good man.”
“You knew him not at all. You never even met him. I married Edmee to protect Cerniw. It was a political alliance.”
“You married her because you wanted her.”
“I had never even met her until the day of our wedding. Do not pretend to know me.”
“And what about Annis of Wessex? Why did you marry her? Love?” Oeric jeered.
Alden glared at him. “Whether I love her or not, that is my business, and it is between Annis and me. It is not up for discussion today.”
“You are in my kingdom now.” Oeric pushed back his chair and rose.
“For one night and I am not chained by your laws.” Alden rose as well.
“You are no longer a king. You and I are not the same anymore.”
“That is true, but that does not make me your subject.”
“You will pledge yourself to Budic?” Oeric asked, surprised.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t?” Alden said.
Oeric paused. “I heard a rumour that all was not well between the two of you. I heard you had quarrelled.”
“There has been no quarrel. He is my brother,” Alden lied.
“So is Merton and he just violated your wife. Listen to me, Alden, and listen carefully. This is what is going to happen. For old time’s sake, I am willing to let you have a boat and crew and sail to your brother in Brittany. As for your wife, she will remain here. With me.”
Alden shook his head. “My Lord —”
Oeric held up his hand. “I haven’t finished. Annis of Wessex will go back to where she came. I will make a small profit by ransoming her…I need the money, or I may be able to renegotiate my peace terms with Cerdic, more in my favour, I think. Then again, she is a pretty enough creature and I could do with some young flesh. I may keep her for myself. Natanleod will not have her now, but I am sure Cerdic would let me keep her as my mistress. Better my whore than your wife.”
“I will never allow you to do that.” Alden clenched his teeth to stop himself from saying more. The air around them cracked with tension and the courtiers looked on nervously, although one or two tried to hide their sly smiles. Octa, he noticed, had leant back in his chair, distancing himself from the conversation.
“Be careful, Alden, I could ransom you as well. Cerdic would pay well for the man who spoilt his daughter and escaped his executioner’s axe.”
Alden’s face showed nothing, not a hint of emotion from Oeric’s threat. “Make sure your bed is not your grave.” Merton’s voice echoed in his ear. Alden had said nothing about Wessex’s order to execute him, not even to Octa. The only other person who knew was Annis, so how did Oeric know?
He should not have come here, another mistake on the long list of things he had done wrong.
“Forgive me.” Alden bowed, although he would have rather grabbed his knife and flung it at Oeric’s black heart. “I spoke out of turn.”
Oeric, who was arrogant enough to believe that he could best a du Lac and sufficiently satisfied that he had put Alden in his place, sat back down and indicated with his hand for Alden to do likewise. Alden sat down and reached for his wine goblet. He did not take his eyes off Oeric while he drank. The conversation drifted on to another topic, although Alden took no part in it, being ignored by all who sat at the table, which suited him fine.
Eventually Oeric closed the meeting. Dusk was falling and the evening meal would soon be ready. It was time to leave the hall and prepare for the night’s entertainment and feast.
Alden watched as King Oeric and his courtiers began to leave. He swirled his wine around in his goblet absentmindedly.
“My father will be ordering your arrest,” Octa said. He too had hung back. “If you go now, you could escape.”
“Is your conscience pricking at you, Octa?” Alden got to his feet; he had already anticipated such an action from Oeric. Cerdic would pay Oeric well if he could deliver both himself and Annis. “You could have warned me.”
“I did.” Octa said.
“We must have been talking at cross-purposes, for I can remember no such warning.”
“My father found out you were alive and sheltering in his kingdom. I did not tell him and I swore my knights to secrecy; that is why you were left alone for so long to recover from your ordeal. I knew what would happen when he found out, and he did find out. To this day I don’t know how he did.” Octa did not look at Alden as he spoke but Alden could see the guilt etched into his brow. “I had hoped that you would pass through Kent undetected. But when my father found out, I had no choice but to bring you before him. A messenger was sent to Cerdic the day I rode back to the village to bring you here. My father has promised he will hand you over by noon tomorrow. Alive. Cerdic wants you alive.”
“And Annis?”
“Best you don’t ask.” Octa stopped and turned to walk away. “My mother’s herb garden is your best hope for escape.”
“I have to get my wife.”
“You have not the time. You cannot save her and yourself.”
Alden cursed Octa in Cerniw. “Unlike Saxons, we from Cerniw keep our promises. I promised to
keep her safe and by God, I intend to do just that.”
“Alden.” Octa called after him, but Alden was already walking away.
He broke into a run as he reached the door. Swinging it open he ran through the entrance hallway, knocking down a maid in his haste, he apologised over his shoulder, as he sprinted down the corridor.
Annis jumped up from the bed when Alden burst through the door. Not stopping to speak, he grabbed her hand and pulled her across the room.
“Alden.” She struggled against his hold, trying to free herself, for his grip was bruising.
He stopped and pushed her hard against the wall. “Do you want to die? Because if you do not come with me that is exactly what is going to happen to both of us.” He did not give her time to answer but dragged her out of the room.
“There he is,” a solder excitedly yelled.
They raced down the corridor in the opposite direction. Annis almost tripped as Alden swerved and entered an empty chamber. Annis leant against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She listened as the soldiers ran past the room they were in. Alden, with his knife in his hand, crept closer to the door.
“Come on.” He held out his hand and they ran back the way they had come. As they ran, he tried to remember the layout of the fort. He had been here several times before, so he knew it reasonably well. He prayed that Octa had not played him false; he prayed there was not an army of men, with drawn swords, waiting for them in the herb garden. They ran down another corridor, this one painted white. The mosaic floor was dulled with age and some of the tiles were cracked.
Alden stopped to get his bearings. The bathhouse was in front of him. He opened a door on his right, shut it and they ran farther down the corridor. Damn it, he was sure there was a door to the garden somewhere here. He tried two more doors before he found it. He pushed Annis through, and then quickly closed it behind him. He waited a moment, his ear against the door listening for soldiers. Hearing none, he grabbed Annis’s hand and they ran down the small, muddy path.
The path was narrow and twisty. The herbs in the garden had been chopped back; no green foliage adorned their brown sticky stems. The place looked like a tomb, full of perennial plants that had faked death.
Annis saw him first, the figure of a drunken man. She stopped so abruptly that Alden almost pulled her over, jarring her arm. Then he saw him too, staggering towards them.
“Stay behind me.” He held his knife out in front of him. He did not have time for this. He had hoped to avoid a confrontation, but God seemed intent on throwing hardship into his path.
Merton had not seen them yet; he was concentrating hard on his hand, which he was waving around in front of his face. Annis saw her braid was still clutched tightly in his other hand, which was caked in dried blood, like a trophy. He walked right up to them before he noticed them.
His bloodshot eyes seemed to stare right through them. His nose had swelled to twice its size where Alden had hit him. He lowered his hand and tilted his head like a bird, listening for a worm underground. Then he spoke, clearly, fluently and at odds with his unkempt and crazy appearance. “Head for the southeast side of the fort. Our men have been housed there, and I use that term very loosely. James is expecting you.” He staggered and grabbed hold of Alden’s arm. “Oeric and Cerdic signed a treaty. It was not just Wessex we were fighting at Cerniw; Oeric’s men were there as well. Oeric is an ambitious fool. Cerdic promised him some of the spoils of Cerniw, but Oeric wants more than leftovers; he thinks he can control Cerdic. You are a threat. Some of the other kingdoms said they would rather you were High King because of who you are, who our father was. Our name is our enemy; it always has been. He wants us all dead.”
“Merton?” Alden lowered his knife.
“Keep your knife up.” He continued to stare past Alden. “I brought what was left of your household warriors here, hoping that Oeric would help me rescue you. But he acted strangely from the start and roused my suspicion. So to save myself and to find out what the hell is going on, I lost my mind. He thinks I am insane. His one mistake has been not locking me up. The fool thinks I am no threat. He uses me as entertainment, look how the mighty du Lacs have fallen. It makes him feel powerful.”
Merton laughed loudly, like a madman. “We are being watched. Oeric hides behind the shutters of his chamber, but I know he is there. He is a coward, as men like him usually are.” He unsheathed his knife and cut one of the braids that hung from his long hair. Stumbling, he pressed it into Annis’s hand. He looked into her face. “An eye for an eye and all that. I am sorry about your hair; it will grow back, though, with time. I am not going to ask how the hell the two of you ended up married, you can tell me later. Just know for now that it is imperative that Oeric thinks we are divided. I had to do something drastic which would ensure that.”
“Could you not have thought of something else?” Annis managed to mutter nervously.
Merton smiled and the sunlight highlighted the red strands in his hair. He leant in closer and kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear. “I told my brother he would marry you in the end, but he would not listen, stubborn fool. He has always had a weakness for you. From the moment he first saw you he was enchanted. You are an idiot, Alden.” He raised his voice so Alden could hear. “When it comes to love anyway,” he whispered. Merton looked over Annis’s shoulder and placed his hand on her face, caressing her cheek and then touching the small mark his knife had left on her neck, frowning slightly as if he feared it would leave a scar. “They are coming. I have horses tied up outside the gate. I’ll keep these bastards off your back, give you time to get away. Our men will help you from there. Head for Sussex. It is the only place left to charter a boat. I just hope you are welcome there, after what happened last time.”
“We will go to Cerniw.” Alden stated. He had no intention of heading into Sussex.
“No, you will swallow your pride and go to Sussex. Our fleet is destroyed. The shipyards and docks are burnt. Cerniw is just a name now; there is no way you can get to Brittany from there. You need to go to Sussex, or else you will find yourself at the mercy of Cerdic and then we will all be dead.”
“We will escape together.”
“No. You need me here.”
“They will kill you if you stay.”
Merton laughed genuinely at that. “They will try to kill me. Alden, I was trained by the best. I’ll not die here. Go.”
“Merton.”
Merton stumbled and Alden caught him. “I’ll see you in Brittany. Alden, you know me, I can get in and slip out of anywhere. I’ll not be caught. Tell Budic to be careful. Go.”
“I won’t forget this, brother.”
“Believe me, I won’t let you! You need to go, now.” He looked into Alden’s face, his eyes sad but determined. “Go, or we all die.”
Merton staggered out of the way, as Alden pushed past him and headed for the wooden gate. He glanced back once as Merton pretended to lose his footing, then he righted himself and continued along the path singing loudly to himself, off key, in Cerniw. But the words to the popular song were wrong, for he was singing instructions.
“There they are,” a soldier shouted, pointing.
Alden shut the door and slammed the wooden bolt into place. It was the hardest door he had ever had to close, for he had left his brother behind.
There were two horses tethered to the high walls of the garden. Both horses, Alden recognised. The chestnut was Merton’s horse and the other, a pretty bay mare, was his own, the one he used for hunting. Unlike his destrier that Cerdic’s men had pulled him off, the mare was dependable and fast. Merton had thought of everything. There was a saddlebag across the horse’s withers and blankets rolled tightly and tied to the cantle of the saddle. Alden quickly helped Annis to mount on to his horse. He would leave Merton’s horse here, even if it wasn’t what Merton had intended. He would not deprive his brother of a chance
to escape. He jumped up behind her. Turning the horse, he galloped to where Merton had told him to go.
“Let us pass.”
Merton unsheathed his sword awkwardly, whilst pushing Annis’s braid through his belt.
“You want to fight me? Are you my enemy?” he slurred, waving the sword wildly about in the air.
“No, my Lord.” The soldiers held long spears pointed to the sky. “We are Oeric’s soldiers. You are safe. Some prisoners have escaped. Let us pass.”
“Prisoners?” Merton shook his head violently, his hair falling into his face. “I have not seen any escaped prisoners.”
“You were just talking to them, you drunk fool.” One of the soldiers pointed his spear at Merton. “Move my Lord, or I will make you.”
Merton looked at the spear and crossed his eyes. He raised his sword, “I hope you know how to use that.” He indicated the spear with his sword and then he sliced the air with his blade, almost falling over with the weight of the weapon.
The soldiers laughed and edged closer. Merton was no threat; the poor bloke did not even know what day it was, let alone what was going on around him. He poked him with the tip of his spear.
Merton frowned. No man threatened him with a spear. Dropping his crazed act, he became a warrior once more. He straightened his head; his eyes focused; his sword became steady in his hand.
The soldier, seeing the transformation in Merton’s face, took a step back, uncertain. Merton looked down at the spear and then back into the face of the soldier. “You do that again and I shall stick it up your bloody arse.”
13
The horse was fast and sure-footed. Alden hardly had to use his leg at all; he and this horse knew each other well. A slight squeeze of the reins and the horse turned. Her ears pricked forward, her head and tail held high.
Annis held tight to the pommel of the saddle as the fields passed by in a blur. Sheep scattered out of the way, bleating a warning, as the horse thundered through them. They jumped a small ditch and Annis would have come unseated if it were not for Alden pulling her back on to the saddle. She tightened her grip on the pommel, determined not to slip again.