by Mary Yarde
“Sorry about them,” he muttered, “they’re a bit rough.”
“Please don’t apologise,” Annis giggled. “This is life Alden, this…” she smiled, “you’ve showed me a world that I never even knew existed.”
“Believe me, I never wanted to show you this.” He turned his face away from her so she wouldn’t see his expression.
“Right, we are ready to be off,” the captain shouted across the deck.
Annis placed her hand on Alden’s arm and he turned to look at her. “Don’t you dare have second thoughts. You promised.”
“I am not having second thoughts about us. I just want more for you than this.” He sighed in frustration.
“Now, my Lady,” the captain yelled from his side of the deck, interrupting them, “keep looking at the horizon and you won’t feel too bad. First time my father took me out on a boat, I had just filled my belly with strawberries. The sea turned red, I can tell you that. Keep your eyes on the horizon.” He laughed loudly. Some of his sailors turned and looked at Annis, a smile on their faces.
“What did he say?”
“I am not sure I want to translate it.” Alden said with a frown, although his eyes seemed to sparkle a little with amusement. “Just…Just keep looking at the horizon; it will help with any sickness you may feel.”
“How long will it take to get to Brittany?” Annis asked desperately, her stomach churning at the thought of being sick.
Alden laughed at the expression on her face. “Don’t worry; you will have plenty of time to offer up your own sacrifice to the god of the sea.”
“And I thought you were a Christian,” Annis complained, twisting around so she could keep an eye on the horizon. “How long?”
“A day and a night, maybe a little less — it depends on the weather.”
“Doesn’t everything?” Annis complained.
She was going to die. She was sure of it. The thick sea fog obscured the horizon, the sky and everything else. The bile rose to her throat again and she leaned over the side of the boat. She felt Alden smooth her back and was comforted somewhat by his concern. She was sure that she had never been so sick in her life. Her head was spinning so badly she could not even think straight. She allowed Alden to pull her on to his lap, too weak to resist.
“Close your eyes. Go to sleep,” he advised. His voice sounded strained.
Having her eyes closed made her head spin even more.
“I’m going to be sick again.” She struggled out of his embrace and hung her head over the side of the boat, heaving, but she was not sick.
The captain came over and handed Alden a horn of ale. “I thought when I saw her, she’d be right poorly. Women don’t take to the sea as well as men; that’s my thinking, anyway. You won’t get my wife near the boat; if she steps one foot on it she goes all queer.” He shook his head at the mysteries of women. “Won’t be long, my Lady. This fog will clear soon and we will see how off-course we are.”
“What did he say?” Annis asked, although she was really too exhausted to care.
“He said we are off course,” Alden translated before he thought.
“Off-course?” Annis said weakly, sitting back down, her head in her hand.
“He is teasing,” Alden reassured. “Night will come. Time will pass. Tomorrow this will be nothing but a bad dream.”
“If I don’t get off this wretched boat soon then I am going to die,” Annis complained bitterly as she curled into Alden’s side.
“You don’t die of seasickness.” Alden tried to hide the amusement from his voice. He held the horn of ale to her mouth, and she sipped it gratefully. It was cold and soothing against her sore throat; she would have drunk more if Alden had not taken it away.
“Little sips,” he advised as he curled his arm around her shoulder and pulled the smelly blanket over them both. “Now try to sleep.”
Alden shook Annis awake gently. The night had been long. Annis had slept lightly, waking every so often to be sick. He had tried to keep her spirits up, promising her that Brittany would come into view at any moment. He had encouraged her to drink, but whatever she drank came back up again. He had never seen anyone fare so poorly on a crossing before. Thank the Lord the journey was almost at an end.
Annis reluctantly opened her eyes. Her head was pounding dreadfully, her mouth felt dry and her stomach felt like it had been battered.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“You missed dawn. Look, we are here.” Alden pointed towards the rocky coast of Brittany.
Annis rubbed a hand over her eyes and looked. The sea crashed against the rugged cliff face; sea birds flew in large circles in the sky ahead, calling to each other. A large cormorant, with its wings outstretched as if it were worshipping an ancient god, was perched on a rock, its head raised to the heavens. The cliff face seemed to shimmer in the weak mid-morning sunshine, as if it were a precious jewel. She gasped in astonishment.
She turned her face so she could look into Alden’s eyes. She had never seen cliffs that shade of colour before. The colour wasn’t exactly orange, more a very pale red, it was stunning.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Alden said, but he wasn’t looking at the coast, he was looking at her.
Annis blushed and turned her attention back to the coast.
The boat began to turn towards the shoreline. Annis sipped at the ale and chewed on a hard biscuit that the captain had given her. It helped to ease her stomach and now that she had a horizon to look at she felt better, and as the boat entered the port of Brittany, her spirits rose.
There were boats everywhere, of every size and description. The harbour was a hive of activity. Nets, filled with fish, were being sorted; their contents were gutted and preserved on the quayside by men, women and children. The gulls flocked around them and fought over the leftovers. Annis wrinkled her nose at the smell and felt unsteady on her feet as Alden helped her off the boat.
“We will find something to eat and drink before we head to the castle. It will settle your stomach and make you feel more human.” Alden said, as she clung to his arm.
The men on the docks were busy unloading or loading ships. Others were getting ready to set sail. Those that noticed them stopped what they were doing and stared. One even bowed a little unsurely, and a few others followed his lead. Alden acknowledged his brother’s subjects with a slight tilt of his head and a narrowing of his eyes, but for the most he simply ignored them and ushered Annis out of the busy harbour.
Directly off the harbour there lay a small fishing village. Annis had heard about fishing ports and how they could be dangerous places, but this village appeared tranquil. Alden explained that because Brittany was a stopover for merchants as they travelled to and from the Mediterranean, there were often civil disturbances, hence, the need for the military. Much of what Alden said simply washed over her, for she was weary and drained from the seasickness. All she really wanted to do was lie down in a nice warm bed, close her eyes and sleep for the next day or so.
Directly in front of them stood a small group of soldiers, gathered around a small fire, warming themselves against the bitterness of the day. One of the soldiers watched as they progressed towards them. Without taking his eyes off them, he spoke to those with him. The soldier whose back was directly in front of them slowly turned and for a moment, simply stared. Then a smile spread across his face and he walked forward.
“Alden, by God, we thought you were dead,” he said, ignoring protocol and embracing the brother of his king. “Good God, you are thin; when did you last eat?”
Alden winced as Bastian brushed his arm. “This morning.”
“Are you hurt?” Bastian demanded to know, taking Alden by the shoulders.
“Arrow wound. It is nothing, I will live,” Alden said, brushing off Bastian’s concern. “You thought I was dead?”
“Two
sennights ago a messenger came from Kent, telling us that they had found your body.”
“Two sennights?” Alden scoffed. “I was with Oeric, not two days past. It was one of his archers that gave me this wound.”
“What?” Bastian took a step back. “I think you had better tell me what has been going on.”
“I’ll explain all when I see my brother, but first I have someone I want you to meet; and she could really do with sitting down and a warm drink would not be unwelcome, for the crossing was rough.”
“Of course. I apologise. Seeing you alive comes as a pleasant shock. I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not dead,” Alden answered, smiling.
“I forget my manners; forgive me, my Lady, please, sit.”
Annis sat gratefully down on the plank of wood that had been placed across two tree stumps. A moment later, a goblet of warm, spiced ale was placed into her hand.
“Bastian, I would like to introduce you to my wife, Annis,” Alden said as he sat down beside her.
“Your wife?” Bastian asked. His eyebrows rose as he sat down opposite them. He was so taken aback by what he heard, that he did not register that they had switched from speaking Breton to speaking Latin.
“And this old rogue, Annis, is Bastian, the general of my brother’s army and the man who taught me how to fight.”
“Alden was a reluctant soldier,” Bastian admitted. He didn’t look at Annis, but kept staring at Alden as if he could not believe the man was alive and sat in front of him. “He was afraid of being hit. You are married?” he asked the question.
“I was five,” Alden said in his defence. “And yes, I am married, to a woman of my choice this time.”
Annis found herself smiling into her ale. His choice. He had chosen her. Her.
“I am glad for you. We all need someone to love and you are mighty fine to look at, if you don’t mind me saying.” Bastian looked at Annis, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Annis blushed and risked a glance at Alden.
“Keep your hands off her,” Alden warned, but he was smiling too.
“Just make sure you treat her right,” Bastian said.
“I am planning to treat her right,” Alden said as he placed his arm around her in an almost possessive manner.
Bastian smiled at the gesture. “If I were you, I would want to know more about the man you married,” Bastian said to Annis.
“No, no, no, you don’t,” Alden warned, seeing the mischief in Bastian’s eyes. “I am not having the two of you conspiring against me.”
“My Lady, I don’t mean to offend, but you could have done better.” Bastian loudly whispered the last part.
Annis, despite her fatigue, giggled. She had warmed to the general of Budic’s army immediately. He had kind eyes and a wise face, not at all like a general should look like. Not like her father’s general looked like.
“Welcome to Brittany, my Lady. I have a feeling you and I shall get along. And if you ever want to hear any stories about what your husband was like when he was a little boy, just you come and see me.”
“You do that and we will go our separate ways,” Alden warned, although he was smiling too.
“So how did you two meet?” Bastian asked.
Alden’s smile fell from his face and he turned serious. “Annis saved my life. If it wasn’t for her, I would be dead.”
Bastian looked at Alden then at his wife. “How?” he asked, bemused.
Alden sighed deeply. “It is a long, complicated story.”
“The best ones usually are,” Bastian agreed. “Is it a story Budic is going to like?” he asked with caution.
“I do not give a damn what Budic thinks of my marriage. It is his army I want, not his opinion.” Alden spoke in Breton.
“He will give you his opinion anyway,” Bastian warned in the same language. “Who is she?”
“My wife.”
“That is no answer.”
“It is the only one I am giving,” Alden replied.
Bastian sat back and looked at Alden hard. “So you saved him,” he finally said, switching back to Latin and addressing Annis.
“He saved me back,” Annis said. She had listened to the exchange in Breton, wishing she could understand what they were saying. She hated it when Alden spoke a language that she could not follow. She knew whatever it was they were discussing was important; she could see it reflected in their faces.
“You can say that when he is in earshot, but we both know the truth,” Bastian said, grinning.
“No, it is true.” Annis insisted, not used to being teased so by a stranger.
Bastian simply smiled.
“I need to see him,” Alden said, turning serious and changing the subject.
“He will be shocked to see you, that is for sure. You were dead; a Mass was said.”
“Did Budic speak?”
“Yes. It was very touching.”
“I can imagine,” Alden said dryly.
“He was genuinely upset when he heard that you were dead. I was surprised by his reaction.”
“He will be genuinely upset when he hears that I am alive. Wessex has control of Cerniw.”
“Yes. We heard that too,” Bastian confirmed.
“Was he upset enough to send an army over there to get the lands back?”
“He sent a letter with an ambassador to Wessex.”
“A letter?” Alden laughed silently and without humour. He should have known. How typical of his brother.
Bastian shrugged in understanding. “You know Budic.”
“Oh yes, I know him. I know him too well. And what about Merton; was he concerned at all for him?”
“Believe me, Alden, when I tell you that I volunteered to go and look for him, for both of you, myself, but Budic said…” Bastian sighed. “Sometimes I don’t understand my King.”
“I want to take his army back with me.” Alden said, watching Bastian for his reaction.
“You might have a long wait,” Bastian stated. “He has not been in the best of moods of late.”
“He is never in the best of moods. What about sanctuary? Do you think he will offer that?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know, Alden. I don’t know what he will do when he sees you alive.”
“Perhaps he will do us all a favour and have a heart attack,” Alden stated. There was no mirth in his face.
17
Benwick Castle. The ancestral home of the mighty du Lac’s. Annis looked at it in awe. This was the castle that had never been breached. Her father knew all about that. Many years ago, he and his brother had laid siege to Benwick, but they had never managed to scale the impossibly high walls. Cerdic of Wessex might be a holy terror, but even he had respect for the fortress that was Benwick. He knew, as well as everybody else did, the only way you could conquer Benwick was from within. As of yet, he had not discovered a way to do that.
“It’s intimidating, isn’t it?” Alden said, seeing his wife’s expression.
“Are we speaking of the castle or your brother?” Annis asked, dragging her eyes away from the castle’s impossibly high stone walls and its hedge of brambles that grew thick and thorny around the bottom of the battlements. Archers patrolled the top of the battlements, with their arrows nocked and ready. Two well-armed guards stood at the arched entrance into the castle grounds and above them, hanging from the battlements, were two dark blue banners. The castle was ready for a fight, even in peacetime.
“I hate coming home. It’s just a reminder that my father is dead. As for Budic, I’m not intimidated by him…most of the time I just want to hit him,” Alden replied. He turned and looked at her. “I am not expecting this to go well. This is a gamble for me, Annis. I wouldn’t be here if I had somewhere else to go.”
“Bastian seems loyal to you.”
<
br /> “Bastian is loyal to my father’s memory.”
“Are we in danger here?” Annis asked, suddenly fearful.
“No, don’t think that.” He took her hand and squeezed her fingers gently. “Budic isn’t your father; he won’t try and kill us or anything like that. It’s just…” he yawned suddenly feeling really tired. “I have been an unwelcome thorn in his side, all my life, because I see him for what he is.”
“Alden?” Bastian called his name. “It’s best not to wait.”
“Here goes nothing,” Alden said with a slight smile. “Let us be brave and go into the dragon’s lair.”
“Then I shall pray that the dragon is sleeping,” Annis answered.
“No, my love. A sleeping dragon is the worst kind of foe.”
Benwick Castle was formidable on the outside, but inside it was cold. The kind of cold that made your bones ache. Annis wrapped her cloak around her tighter. The castle was also very dark; and if it were not for a multitude of flaming torches and candles, it would be impossible to see where they were going.
Bastian strode in front of them with the confidence of a man sure of his position and welcome. Alden hung back, which surprised Annis, for he had always seemed so sure. She felt fear because he felt fear, and he had never shown fear before.
Loud conversation almost drowned out the soft music of the Great Hall. Alden stopped and took a deep breath as Bastian announced him. The music and the talking stopped simultaneously and all eyes turned towards them.
“The King of Cerniw? My brother? Here? Alive? Are you sure?”
“See for yourself, Your Majesty,” Bastian answered.
Annis glanced at the King of Brittany as he rose from his throne and walked down two small steps. Like Alden, he stopped and simply looked at them. And what a look he gave.
Annis had not really imagined what King Budic would look like. She supposed she had expected to see an older version of Alden, as he and Merton shared such a striking resemblance to each other. But apart from his eyes, his appearance could not have been more dissimilar. His dark red hair was cropped incredibly short and unbecoming for a king. He wore a grey eye patch over one eye, which did nothing to disguise the knotted silver scar that ran from his hairline to just above his jaw. His other eye was the colour of a storm cloud. His nose looked like it had been broken several times and he had a very square jaw. His body was that of a warrior, strong, sturdy, and powerful. He was intimidating, like his castle.