by Jayne Castel
Suddenly, Annan was aware of how close they were. His face was just inches from hers, and the warmth of the fire enveloped them. Saewara had closed her eyes; her lashes were long and dark against her pale skin. Her cheeks were flushed from the ale, and Annan could also feel his senses heightened. His gaze then travelled down Saewara’s face, observing her delicate features and her full, sensual lips. Then, suddenly, his breath stilled in his chest.
The cloak shrouding her, had slipped open.
Her breast, in its soft glory, was visible. Annan closed his eyes. A strange ache took up residence in his chest. He longed to reach out and touch her. It would be easy to lower his lips to hers and kiss that soft mouth.
What is wrong with you?
Annan swiftly rose to his feet and took a rapid step back. “Saewara, cover yourself up,” he said, his voice strangely hoarse, turning so that she would have a moment of privacy; so she would not see his face.
Saewara made a soft sound of mortification as she realized that the cloak had slipped, and when Annan turned back toward her, she was covered up once more. A moment later, the warrior that Annan had sent to retrieve Saewara’s possessions entered the tent.
“I will leave you to change,” Annan told her brusquely, before draining the remnants of his ale and ducking outside into the rainy night.
Saewara watched Annan go; her forehead still tingling from where his fingertips had touched. She felt oddly light-headed but imagined it was a combination of the warm ale and shock from her ordeal.
Putting aside her empty cup, she rose to her feet and quickly stripped off her ruined tunic. She pulled a clean tunic from her bag and a woolen wealca to go over it and dressed as rapidly as she was able. Her hands trembled slightly as she fastened the over-dress’s straps with two simple broaches.
When Annan returned to the tent a short while later, she was dressed and warming her feet in front of the fire.
He nodded at her and, without warning stripped off his sodden tunic before reaching for a dry one. Saewara hurriedly averted her gaze, staring into the dancing flames. However, one glance had been enough for her to appreciate his broad shoulders, finely muscled chest and back, and the masculine spray of crisp blond hair across his chest. Unaware of his betrothed’s flushing cheeks, Annan shrugged the dry tunic over his head and began to unlace the garters around his calves. He then kicked off his sodden boots and stripped off his breeches. Annan moved with a complete lack of self-consciousness; a man who was completely comfortable with nakedness.
Saewara kept her eyes firmly downcast until he was clothed once more.
“It is only a short while till daybreak,” he told her curtly. “I suggest you try and get some sleep or the next day of travel will exhaust you.”
Saewara nodded, noticing that the coldness he had exhibited toward her before her abduction had returned. She had caught a glimpse of a different man for a short while after he had saved her – for the ordeal had momentarily bonded them – but now, it was as if that man had never existed. Instead, a cold stranger; the man who looked at her with resentment in his eyes, stood before her once more.
Bone-weary, Saewara climbed into the furs without a word. She snuggled into their warmth and closed her eyes, hearing Annan leave the tent.
I won’t sleep, she told herself. After tonight I shall never sleep again. Yet, moments after curling up in the furs, she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
***
They buried Oswyn in the clearing, as a wet dawn crept across the world.
Saewara stood at the edge of the grave, watching as Annan’s warriors shoveled dirt over the girl’s body.
“Her name was Oswyn and she might have found hope in her new life,” Saewara murmured, catching the attention of both Annan and Saba who watched the burial beside her. “For there was no hope in her old one. We murdered her kin and stripped away her identity. She had every right to hate us, but I sense that she and I might have been friends. In a different life we would have been friends.”
“Milady?” Saba spoke up, frowning. “Her death was not your fault.”
Saewara looked up and met the warrior’s gaze. She saw that he had kind eyes. Smiling sadly, Saewara shook her head.
“Death is the easy part,” she looked back at the small, lonely grave. “In many ways I envy her.”
“So you would trade places with her then?” Annan asked. Saewara met his dark blue-eyed gaze and held it. “You wish it was your throat they had cut last night?”
The words were brutal – he had meant them to be. Yet, Saewara merely smiled.
“Yes, I would trade places with her,” she replied simply. “At least she is now in peace.”
With that, Saewara turned her back on the men and walked away from the grave, toward where a knot of warriors were readying the horses and finishing packing away the last of the camp. She had left Annan and Saba before she said more; before she said too much. Words, sharp, angry and bitter, made her throat ache from the effort it was taking not to shout them. However, she knew what men were like. Penda would have knocked her to the ground for even saying what she had. Although Annan did not appear to be brutal, she knew he would not appreciate her telling him that she would rather be in that grave than travelling to Rendlaesham to become his bride.
Annan watched her now with a slightly perplexed expression, as if he was trying to decide what to make of her. Saewara ignored him, busying herself with making sure her pony’s saddle and bridle were adjusted properly, before tightening its saddle’s girth.
Keep your mouth closed from now on, she warned herself. Men hated women with opinions. Shrew, harpy, and fishwife – she had been called all these things, and worse, by Penda and her late husband. Annan already resented her deeply; she did not want to give him even more reasons to do so.
Chapter Ten
The River Crossing
The moment they crossed the border from Mercia to the Kingdom of the East Angles, Saewara felt a sense of finality; a certainty she would never return to her homeland. It was an odd sensation – a mix of melancholy and longing for a place she had wanted to love but had never been accepted in, blended with a very real dread of what lay before her.
Mingled with all of this was relief; with each passing league they were drawing ever farther away from her brother.
Stepping from one world to another was easy. One moment they were riding through woodland with the rain beating down on their heads, the next the trees gave way and they rode out onto flat heathland under leaden skies.
The weather worsened as the day wore on. The ground squelched underfoot and the going became ever slower. Often, they would have to stop to dig the wagon out of the mud, or detour around areas that had become flooded.
Soon, Saewara forgot what it felt like to be dry. The only saving grace was that it was not overly cold, although the damp seemed to penetrate to the bone. The company rode in silence; after the events of the night before they were all exhausted and irritable from lack of sleep. Like the day before, Saewara fell back to the end of the group, riding alongside the wagon while Annan led the column.
The farther east they rode, the flatter the landscape became and the bigger the sky loomed overhead. Despite the foul weather, Saewara found herself looking about with interest. She had thought the whole world resembled the rolling, lush-green hills and wooded thickets of Mercia. She had not expected her new home to be so different – so flat.
That night they made camp on the only higher ground they could find. Saewara now shared a tent with Annan. The rain drummed on the roof of the tent while Saewara sat eating a light supper of stale bread, cheese and small, sweet onions.
She was alone. Annan ate with his men, which was a relief for Saewara. After the events of the last few days, relations were strained between them. For herself, Saewara was keenly aware of Annan’s presence whenever he was near her. The night before, when he had touched the welt on her forehead, she experienced the same hunger she had felt during that fatefu
l dance in Tamworth. She was not sure if he had also felt it, although judging from his swift departure from the tent and his refusal to come anywhere near her ever since, Annan was aware of the pull between them and did not want to encourage it.
She hardly blamed him – she was Penda of Mercia’s sister, after all.
That night, Saewara slept on a pile of furs on one side of the fire pit, while Annan slept on the other. Saewara fell into an exhausted sleep as soon as she stretched out on the furs, and awoke to the dripping of water on her face from the slit at the top of the tent.
It was still raining.
Huddled under a heavy fur cloak, Saewara emerged from the tent to find Annan and his warriors breaking their fast with stale bread and broth. Annan wordlessly handed Saewara a cup of hot broth and a heel of bread before going to help the others ready themselves to move on.
The broth, although a bit insipid, revived Saewara somewhat and she helped the warriors load the provisions into the wagon.
“You don’t have to help us, Milady,” Saba told her with a grin as Saewara struggled over to the wagon with armloads of furs. “The king’s betrothed should enjoy being waited upon.”
Saewara shook her head and found herself returning Saba’s grin. Smiling felt odd, and she realized that it was the first time she had done so in a long while. “The king’s betrothed will get fat and lazy if she doesn’t do anything for herself.”
Saba laughed at that before going to dismantle the tents. Meanwhile, Saewara busied herself with packing away the food provisions and covering them with oiled cloth; packing the ends in tightly so that they did not get wet.
A short while later, the company set off for another long, wet day of travel. According to Saba, they still had another three days journey east before arriving in Rendlaesham. As in previous days, Saewara and her shaggy, bad-tempered pony brought up the rear of the group. She rode alongside the emissary that Penda had sent to ensure the handfasting actually took place. The young man was ill-tempered and did not invite conversation. She only learned that his name was Yffi, and that he bridled at being given this task; something none of the warriors had volunteered for. Eventually, Saewara tired of trying to draw Yffi into conversation, and they both rode in silence.
Despite the rain, Saewara found herself enjoying the monotony of the journey. It left her alone with her own thoughts. Unlike her brother’s hall in Tamworth, where she had constantly felt observed and judged, no one paid her any mind here. Even Yffi was content to ignore her. She reveled in the peace and wished that it would never end.
Mid-morning the journey came to an abrupt end.
A river, swollen and muddy from the rains boiled before them. The bridge, which the East Angles had used to cross the river on their way west, had been washed out, making crossing the divide a risky and laborious process.
“Is there no way we can go around it? Another bridge up river maybe?” Saewara heard Saba ask Annan. Both men had dismounted near the riverbank and were looking despondently upon the obstacle in their path.
Annan shook his head. “The nearest bridges, both up and downriver, are at least three days’ ride from here – and what’s to say they haven’t been washed out as well?”
Saba grunted, his brow furrowing as he gazed upon the swollen river.
“We could cross it, if we tie the horses together with rope and cross in a line. It will be difficult, and we’ll have to leave the wagon behind, but if we’re careful we’ll manage it.”
“We could be swept away,” one of the other warriors piped up. “And I can’t swim.”
“Why don’t we just wait out the rain?” another warrior, an older man, asked. “It can’t continue like this for much longer. As soon as the rain stops the river will go down quick enough.”
“That could be days,” Saba replied before his gaze returned to the king. “What say you, Annan?”
“I don’t like your plan much,” Annan admitted with a scowl, “but since no one has a better solution, we should try to cross.”
There were a few grumbles and dark looks, for it seemed that few of the warriors could swim. Only Annan, Saba and Saewara had ever learnt, and even they were nervous about crossing.
“In good weather children could cross this river,” Saba said with a shake of his head as he dug out a long coil of rope from one of their packs. “Now it rages like a beast.”
It took them a while to prepare themselves for the crossing. As much as possible was removed from the wagon and strapped to the horses’ backs. Tying all the rope they carried into one length, they were able to link it through the horses’ girths to form one chain. Saba complained that he would have preferred to have been able to wrap the rope around the waist of each person, but they did not have enough rope to do so – as such, each warrior would have to grab on to his horse’s saddle as he waded beside it.
“I’ll put you up on my stallion.” Annan turned to Saewara, addressing her for the first time all day. “You should be safe there.”
Saewara nodded, before casting an eye over the river. If anything it was flowing even more swiftly than when they had arrived at its banks. Although she had not said so to Annan, she was relieved to be carried across on horseback, unlike everyone else who would have to wade. That water looked freezing.
They began the crossing carefully. Annan helped Saewara up onto his horse’s back before taking his place at the stallion’s shoulder. Saewara’s pony was tied up behind. They were in the middle of the chain; which gave Saewara some comfort. However, the stallion, sensing her nervousness sidestepped and bucked as they approached the water.
“Relax, Saewara,” Annan said while he soothed the horse by stroking its quivering neck. “He can feel your fear.”
Saewara tried to take Annan’s advice, relaxing the grip her thighs had on the saddle and talking to the stallion in a gentle voice. The horse’s ears flicked back and forth and Saewara felt the animal calm under her.
“That’s right.” Annan nodded in approval, his gaze meeting Saewara’s briefly. “Hold on, here we go.”
The first horses and warriors entered the raging river. Saba took the lead, with his huge, heavy-set bay stallion; a fierce creature that Saba had difficulty controlling as it surged into the water. The river was deep, reaching Saba’s breastbone and halfway up his horse’s chest. As her horse entered the river, Saewara glanced over her shoulder at her pony. Once they entered the river, the water rose up over the pony’s back so only its head, neck and withers were above the water. She could see the whites of the pony’s eyes and heard its shrill neigh of fear. Poor creature.
At first, they made good progress across the river. Saba had nearly reached the far bank and although the chill water lapped at Saewara’s feet, she felt hopeful that she would get to the other side without getting drenched.
Then, disaster struck.
Annan’s horse stumbled, suddenly floundering in the swirling water. For one moment, Saewara held on, believing that the stallion would find its footing once more. However, one misstep was all it took. The horse went under and Saewara pitched forward and fell into the river.
Cold water embraced her and Saewara came up gasping. She was already a few feet down river and struggled to stand up in the water. However, the current yanked her feet from under her, and she went under once more.
“Saewara!” Annan shouted, reaching for her. “Grab my hand!”
He was stretching toward her, struggling with his other hand to control the stallion. The horse was now squealing in terror and trying to lurch forward out of the line.
Annan’s fingers brushed hers.
Saewara resurfaced, coughing. Then, she saw Annan let go of the rope as he threw himself forward and grabbed her hand.
A moment later, the river swept them both away.
“Annan!” The last thing Saewara heard, before the current sucked her beneath the river’s surface, was Saba’s shout. After that, the water blocked her ears.
Annan’s hand was the o
nly thing she had to cling on to.
When she resurfaced once more, lungs burning, it was Annan who had pulled her up. Gasping and spluttering, Saewara clung to him. He pulled her against him, while he lay on his back and lifted his head up in an attempt to get his bearings. Together they hurtled through the foaming water.
Their salvation came a short while later, when the river narrowed.
Willows draped over the river here. They both managed to grab hold of an overhanging branch, as they passed under it, and hoist themselves up. After catching their breath, Annan and Saewara inched their way along the branch’s length, to safety.
Saewara dropped from the branch, on to the mossy bank, before collapsing onto her back. The grey sky wheeled above through the bright green growth of the willow trees and her pulse beat in her ears. Annan lay beside her, his breathing coming in ragged gasps.
“That,” he gasped when he finally regained his breath “was Saba’s stupidest idea yet. Remind me to punch him in the mouth when he catches up with us.”
His unexpected attempt at humor caught Saewara off guard; especially so soon after they had avoided a watery death. She tried to laugh but hiccupped instead, before being seized by a coughing fit.
Eventually, she sat up and, pushing her wet hair off her face, turned to meet the gaze of her savior. Annan had pushed himself up into a sitting position. Their gazes met and held.
“You saved me – again,” she croaked. “Twice in two days.”
“A woman like you certainly keeps a man on his toes,” he admitted. “Woden, I thought the river had swallowed you.”
Saewara looked away from him, the laughter of moments ago draining from her; a chill that went right to her core replaced it.
“You should have let it,” she said quietly, meaning every word. “It would have made both our lives easier.”
“Enough, Saewara.” Annan gently but firmly took hold of her chin and turned her face to him, forcing her to meet his gaze once more. She could see that her words had angered him. “Do you think me a monster, capable of letting a woman drown?”