by Mary Yarde
“I don’t regret that either. I just regret what I have done to you. When I realised who you were and what you had done…the courage you had to stand up against Cerdic like that… No man has ever humbled me before, but you did. I tried not to fall in love with you. But I couldn’t find anything not to love.”
“You love my cooking?” Annis teased, although her eyes were full of tears as she listened to his words.
“I do, strangely. My stomach doesn’t so much.” He leant back against the wall and wrapped his arms about her, holding her close. “When Budic marched into this room with the annulment that you had signed, I felt like I had lost Cerniw all over again. Only this time it was ten times worse. I felt like I had my soul ripped in two.”
“It wasn’t something I wanted to sign.”
“You could sign a thousand such declarations, but it would not change the way I feel about you. Nothing could change that. By the way, I burnt it. There isn’t another copy. As far as I am concerned the annulment of our marriage never occurred.”
“But it did.”
“Annis…in my religion there is a ceremony where we pledge ourselves to each other before God. With God as a witness, then no man can separate us. Even Budic is not brave enough to go up against the Almighty.”
“Are you asking me to marry you? Again?” Annis turned so she could see his face.
“Yes.”
“But I am not a Christian.”
Alden let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and he laughed. “Is that the first thing that pops into your head when the father of your child asks for your hand? I know you are not a Christian, but that doesn’t mean you cannot convert.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “Let go of your heathen ways. Come join the more civilised folk.” He was smiling as he spoke.
She didn’t smile back; instead, she was frowning. “But what happens if I do not believe the things I am told.”
“Are you actually considering it?” Alden asked, surprised. “I thought I was going to be up all night trying to convince you of the merit of marrying me again.”
“I thought you said you had burnt the annulment and there was no other copy.’
“I did.”
“So there is no need for us to marry again.”
He turned serious again. “Only from a legal point of view. It would keep you safe, from Budic anyway. You would be legally mine.”
“Would you love me less if I wasn’t?” Annis asked.
“It would keep our baby safe.”
“This is really important to you, isn’t it? This marriage before your God.”
“Keeping you safe and my child safe is my number one priority.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to marry you…again. Oh, the hardship!” She put the back of her hand to her forehead, pretending to faint.
Alden chuckled. “You’ve spent too long in Merton’s company; you are beginning to sound like him.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you jealous.” She said, hoping that he would believe her.
“I know.” He bent his head and captured her lips. She twisted around until she was sat on his lap, her hands around his neck. It had been so long since he had kissed her; so much had happened between this kiss and the last one. She whimpered as he deepened the kiss. She had missed this, missed his taste, the texture of his lips against hers, the thrill of his hands in her hair, holding her to him. Slowly he lowered her down onto the bed, still kissing her, but he was careful not to squash her with his bodyweight, mindful at all times of the child she carried inside her.
“Know that I would give everything up, for you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I did give everything up,” Annis answered as she wove her fingers in his hair, tugging him gently back down to her.
He kissed her gently but briefly and raised his head to look at her. “Tell me again why you did. Something about your soul, wasn’t it?”
She tugged on his hair again and narrowed her eyes.
“I love you,” Alden stated, smiling down at her. “I have been in hell living without you.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I was there with you,” she whispered. “My soul never left yours.”
Alden breathed deeply, for he felt a lump of unshed tears in his throat. “I’ll never leave you again.”
“You had better not.” She didn’t wait for him to speak, but tugged his lips back to hers and kissed him the way she had dreamed of kissing him on all those long lonely nights.
Annis stood in her and Alden’s chamber and stared at the embroidery that hung on the wall. It was the smallest of the tapestries and it wasn’t showy or extravagant like some of the others. It was exquisite. There was a woman, her red hair flowing in the wind. She was holding the reins of a powerful white stallion, and she was looking out over a kingdom. There was something about this redheaded woman, something pure, that touched Annis heart. There was a sadness about the woman, though, as if she had lost something precious, something irreplaceable. The tapestry was old and something had been spilt upon it…Wine? Blood? This tapestry had a history, although it did not make her feel uncomfortable to look upon it. It made her feel strangely hopeful.
Almost a month had passed since the Christian celebrations, and she had never been so happy in her life. Alden was finally hers, although they had not yet married before his Christian god, for the bishop wanted to make sure she was fully committed to her new religion first. It all seemed a little farfetched to her and she could not grasp the idea of there being only one god. The world seemed too big a place to rule alone. She was not partial to the idea of hell or the devil, either. But she listened to the bishop and tried her best to see things from his point of view. She must have convinced him of her sincerity because he had allowed a date to be set. Alden found the whole business rather amusing when she came to him with questions. He had reassured her that he would love her regardless of her religious beliefs and if there really was a hell and she so happened to fall into it — which, of course, was highly unlikely — then he would come and find her and if that were not possible, then he would join her there. Nothing would separate them ever again…he had promised forever.
There was a soft knock on the door and Josephine entered the room. Annis smiled warmly and held out her hands. Josephine crossed the room in an instant.
“Are you well?” Annis asked.
“Yes.” Josephine looked down at her feet and tried not to smile as a blush stole across her cheeks. When she raised her head again, her eyes were shimmering with happiness. “I am in love with him,” Josephine blurted out. “Last night,” she blushed deeper and looked down at her feet, “you will think me the lowest sort, but if I don’t tell someone I am going to die of happiness. He kissed me. Well, actually I kissed him. We both had too much to drink, I think; anyway, I kissed him. He was shocked at first by my actions and I thought he was going to push me away, but he didn’t. Anyway, he and I — we…” She giggled.
Annis’s smile fell from her lips. “Tell me you didn’t. Josephine, you didn’t share Merton’s bed, did you?”
Josephine looked up. “I love him, Annis.”
“Oh Josephine, what have you done?”
Josephine’s smile did not waver. “We will be married.”
“Has he asked you?”
“He will. I know him. I know he will. I know I have acted rashly, but I trust him. He will not wrong me,” Josephine said with the confidence of one who was ignorant.
“Then I am happy for you.” She couldn’t look at Josephine; instead, she looked again at the tapestry. She knew from Alden that money had already exchanged hands between Merton and his cousin Marcus. Merton had bought his mistress a groom and here she was dreaming that he was going to marry her. She would say nothing, though; it was Merton’s place to tell her.
“That is pretty,” Josephine said, looking a
t the tapestry. “Oh, I forgot why I came. I am so caught up in myself.” She took a deep breath. “It has arrived,” she announced.
“What has arrived?” Annis asked, turning back to look at Josephine.
Josephine grinned. “The linen. We can start on your wedding gown.”
“It is here?” Annis asked, her eyes taking on the same sparkle of delight as her friend. “Well then, show it to me.”
“It is in the Queen’s chamber. We thought it would be the safest place for it. Alden never comes to see the Queen.” She grabbed hold of Annis’s hands. “You simply must see it.”
Amandine looked at the material with tears in her eyes. “It is beautiful,” she said, “really, really beautiful.”
“Here’s the pattern,” Josephine said, pulling a face.
The Queen had summoned Amandine to her chambers, for the pattern for the wedding dress was complicated and needed a skilled seamstress.
“It might as well be in Greek. We cannot make head nor tail of it,” Josephine babbled on.
“I can speak Greek,” Amandine said as Josephine handed her the pattern. Josephine carried on talking, but Amandine had stopped listening. The pattern was old, passed down through the generations. She glanced at the Queen, wondering how she could be so cruel. Anna stared back, frowning slightly, and then her eyes turned sympathetic and she mouthed the words “I’m so sorry. I forgot.”
Amandine straightened her shoulders and blinked away her tears. She could do this. She could make this gown again. Annis deserved a dress like this. She would overcome her own emotions and remake the dress that she wore when she wed Garren.
Annis had watched with a fascinated envy as Amandine set to work. All the ladies unconsciously held their breath as the first cut was made to the exquisite material; Amandine heard none of this. She concentrated on the fabric and tried not to think.
Annis hovered over Amandine, watching with wide eyes as Amandine worked on the fabric. In what seemed like no time at all, the fabric lay in pieces and Amandine was busy pinning it together.
“Who taught you such a skill?” Annis asked.
“My mother,” Amandine mumbled, for she was holding a collection of pins between her lips so her hands were free. “She was very good with a needle.”
“So are you,” Annis stated. “I wish I had half your skill.”
“Maybe I could teach you?”
“I’d like that.” Annis said, taking the pin Amandine offered her and placing it in the fabric under Amandine’s gentle gaze.
The women had not been expecting any visitors, so they all jumped in horror when the door opened, letting in the cold air of the corridor. Amandine threw her own cloak over their work, hiding it from view.
“You should knock,” Anna scolded Alden as he walked into the room. “And for goodness’ sake, shut the door; you are letting the cold in.”
Annis smiled as Alden kicked the door shut behind him.
“Really, Alden,” Anna continued, picking up her embroidery and sitting by the fire. “Can you not leave us in peace for a single moment? How are we meant to accomplish anything with these continuous interruptions?”
“My humble apologies.” Alden said and gave Annis a quizzical look. He had no idea what he had interrupted, but the ladies were up to something, he could tell. “I have come to steal my wife for a few moments.”
Anna started to protest, but Annis had already stood up and was heading for the door. Alden bowed and followed Annis out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Unable to resist, he pulled her into his arms, pushing her against the wall and plundered her mouth with his.
“Your lips are cold,” Annis complained.
“So would yours be if you had been outside all day,” he said as he nipped at her bottom lip. “I think I know of a way that you could warm me up.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Annis asked, trying not to giggle as Alden pushed off the wall and grabbed her hand. She had to run to keep up with him. She knew exactly where he was going and exactly what he had in mind because she was thinking it too.
“How was training?” Annis asked as she straightened her clothes. Alden was busy pouring weak ale into the two goblets that stood on the bedside table.
“Challenging.” He passed her the drink. “But I think my arm is beginning to regain its strength.” He flexed the muscles in his arm and then knelt down next to the hearth and built up the fire. Annis knelt behind him and laid her cheek softly against his back. The lash wounds had healed well, although much to Alden’s annoyance, Annis had insisted on rubbing an ointment the healer had given her into the scars morning and night. He could not see what the point was, yet she did it anyway, despite his grumbling.
Alden watched the flames as they fed on the dry tinder. His thoughts had drifted back to Cerniw and the people he had left there. The guilt was still there. It seemed time did nothing to lessen it. He tried not to let Annis know of it, but it was there all the same. He should be there, now, this instant, fighting to win her back. Instead, he found himself thanking God for this brief respite from war, to be with his wife. And, although he hated to admit it, he wasn’t ready to face Cerdic. And a small part of him wondered if he ever would be. The bastard was in his dreams. Far too often, in the dead of night, he would awaken with a racing heartbeat and a feeling of dread. The dreams had started when Annis had been taken from him. Now she was back in his arms, they were not as bad as they had been, but still they haunted him.
He had known men who had come back from the wars changed. He had never thought he would be such a man. He trained hard with Budic’s knights every day; and often he had to be told to stop, that he had done enough. But no matter how hard he trained, he could not shake the feeling of unease and the uncomfortable new sensation of panic.
“Tell me about your family.” Annis rubbed her cheek against his back, her eyes drawn to the tapestry on the wall.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, although he wasn’t really in the mood to talk about them.
Her hands had slid around his middle and he stroked them absentmindedly with his fingers.
“Tell me about your father.”
Alden sighed deeply. He did not want to think of his father; he was fed up with the past intruding on the present. “He was one of Arthur’s knights and then he fell out of favour. He was a warrior and a good king.”
“I know that already. I meant what was he like? What do you remember about him the most?”
Alden thought for a moment. “His eyes. He was never guarded; he let you see what he was thinking. It was like he wanted you to glimpse into his soul.” Alden closed his own eyes as he remembered. Sometimes, in moments of silence, he had tried to catch his father’s voice in the wind. Or the way he looked in the ripples of a river. Alas, memories fade and the only thing he could now remember vividly were his eyes. “I think the two of you would have got on well.”
“He would have probably hated me,” Annis contradicted.
“I don’t think so.” Alden squeezed her hands and rose. “My father was not like Budic. He did not judge others because of their forefathers. He would have seen how much I loved you and that would have been enough for him.”
The warmth of the fire began to chase out the cold of the room and a ray of sunlight flickered through the window and illuminated the tapestry. “Did your father always rule Benwick and Cerniw?”
“No. Cerniw was under the kingship of my father’s uncle. It passed to his son, Meraugis, but he died without issue. It was supposed to fall to my brother Garren. Both kingdoms were supposed to fall to him, and then when he,” he paused, “when he died, I was next in line.”
“To both kingdoms?”
“I guess; when you look at it logically. But Garren had revoked his claim to Benwick before he died, so I just inherited Cerniw.”
“What was your home like in
Cerniw?”
“You have a lot of questions today,” Alden said with a smile.
“I want to know you,” Annis said, looking up at him.
“You do know me,” Alden said and then turned away from her, “better than anyone. Don’t ask me to speak of it.”
She remained quiet after that.
“What did I interrupt just now?” Alden asked, searching for a way to start a conversation again. He did not like silence between them.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Annis said, trying to smile. Her heart broke for him, for the pain he was in. She wished there was more she could do to help him.
He turned back to look at her. “Oh, I think you do. A man can tell when a woman is up to something.”
Annis grinned, genuinely this time. “The material came today for my gown.” She rose and closed the distance between them. “Thank you.” She kissed him gently on the mouth as his arms closed around her. “Thank you so much for giving me such a wonderful gift.”
“I would like to take the glory,” he said between kisses, “but Merton paid for your gown, not I. He wanted to give you something to make up for what he did in Kent.”
“There was no need for him to do that,” Annis said.
“He wanted to.”
“Then I shall have to thank him.”
“You will only embarrass him if you do.”
Annis bit her lip, thinking of Josephine. “I need you to talk to him about something. It wouldn’t sound right, coming from me.”
“What’s he done now?” Alden asked, groaning.
There was a loud knocking on the door. “Alden, it is Marcus, are you in there? It is urgent.”
“Enter.” Alden said, wondering what the hell Marcus wanted. It wasn’t a normal thing for Marcus to seek him out.
Annis frowned as Marcus entered the room. He was short, not much taller than her, and as thin as a willow tree. Although he was the same age as Merton, his face had not the look of a man, but that of a boy battling against manhood. Whereas Merton was strong, Marcus appeared weak. He had expensive taste in clothes; what he was wearing now must have cost him an arm and a leg. She didn’t like him and she wondered what Josephine would make of him. She felt a wave of protectiveness for her new friend. How could Merton do such a thing, sell his beloved to a man like this?