by Jayne Castel
Saewara drifted around the hall, pretending to be observing the wall hangings, tapestries and array of weaponry that hung there. In reality, she was not sure what she was supposed to do now. Once the feast ended, many folk had left the hall, returning to their own homes in the town below. It made her conspicuous, wandering around the huge space talking to no one, ignored by all, and she longed to step outside into the night and slip away forever.
Annan sat at the far end of the hall, chatting with Saba. Deep in conversation, both men ignored their surroundings. The women had shunned her. She had tried sitting near one group, who had appeared friendlier than Hereswith and her friends. Yet, they had all turned their back on her the moment she pulled up a stool near them; making it clear she was not welcome.
Thirsty after a huge meal and more mead than she was used to, Saewara walked over to the water barrel at the end of the hall, not far from the oaken doors that had been left ajar to let in the soft night air. On the way there she passed Hereswith and her hangers-on.
Unfortunately, she also overheard their conversation.
They spoke in high, excited voices with no regard to who heard them. If they noticed Saewara passing quietly behind them, they did not show it; for it was as if she were a ghost here.
“Wed or not, I think it won’t be long before he rids himself of her.” Eldwyn, the sharp-tongued woman who Annan had chastised yesterday was holding court as she stabbed her embroidery needle into the coverlet she was decorating. “He will not long suffer an enemy under his roof.”
“He can’t stand her,” another woman, one of the ealdormen’s wives, agreed with a vigorous nod. “It’s plain to see.”
“Can you blame him?” Hereswith spoke up now, her voice bordering on shrill. She had consumed a goodly amount of mead during the feast and her cheeks were now flushed, her eyes overly bright. “The woman is a drab.”
The others fell silent at this, even Eldwyn. Oblivious to the awkwardness her comment had caused – for exotic as Saewara was, all could see that Annan’s new bride was attractive – Hereswith pressed on. “She’s too short and will soon run to fat. Did you see how she ate yesterday? She was practically bursting out of that hideous gown she wore for the handfasting.”
Recovering from their ringleader’s viciousness, Hereswith’s companions all nodded with murmurs of agreement.
“And, I’ve heard she’s barren,” Eldwyn added triumphantly. “A plump wife who can’t bear children – what has Annan landed himself with?”
They all laughed at that.
Saewara slipped from the hall, her stop at the water barrel forgotten.
Outside on the terrace, under the curious stares of the two helmeted warriors guarding the entrance, Saewara walked to the edge and took a few slow, deep breaths to calm herself. She knew they were merely being vindictive and cruel – those women were her enemy and would say anything to wound her – yet their words still cut deeply.
Drab, short, fat and barren.
It was difficult not to feel the sting of their poison. Saewara realized with a sinking heart, that Hereswith was only just beginning her campaign against the woman she considered her usurper. She knew enough of how the world worked to recognize a spoiled young woman enraged that her life had not worked out as planned. Saewara could see that Hereswith had ambitions; her anger went deeper than merely wanting Annan for her own. His brother was handsome and charming but he was not king. Hereswith wanted to be queen. It galled her to see another take what she perceived to be her rightful place.
Saewara had been dreading this. The politics of life inside a great hall had always repulsed her; she had seen enough backstabbing under her brother’s roof at Tamworth to know what ambition did to some.
I never wanted this, she thought bleakly as she stared out at the night. It was overcast so she could not see the stars. I wanted a quiet life, a simple life – but instead I was born into this one. Saewara blinked back tears then, before brushing at her eyes angrily with the back of her hands.
They won’t make me cry, she promised herself stubbornly. I’ve faced worse than Hereswith and her coven. I won’t let them win.
However, Saewara was still not ready to return to the hall. She turned to one of the warriors, who had been watching her steadily since she stepped outside, her gaze meeting his squarely.
“Is there a Christian chapel here?” she asked.
The warrior nodded, his mouth pursing in disapproval. “It’s on this side of the barracks – although you’ll never find it in the dark.”
“Take me to it,” Saewara ordered, making her tone as authoritative and regal as possible.
The warrior hesitated.
“I’m waiting,” Saewara said archly.
“This way then,” the man muttered. He led her down the steep steps to the stable yard before turning right. They walked past the stable complex and up another set of steps that led to the barracks. Just before the sprawling, low-slung wattle and daub building that housed a large number of the king’s warriors, Saewara spied the outline of a squat, timber building standing in the shadow of the barracks.
“I’ll need your torch.” Saewara turned to the warrior, who wordlessly handed it to her. “Wait here,” she commanded him. “I won’t be long.”
Saewara pushed open the chapel door and stepped inside. It was an austere space, covered in a thin layer of dust; revealing that few who worshipped the same god as Saewara resided here in Rendlaesham. She had heard that King Raedwald had been baptized, although his wife had resolutely stayed faithful to the old gods. Of course, Sigeberht had been a devout Christian. Saewara suspected this chapel had not been touched since Sigeberht’s departure from Rendlaesham nearly a year earlier.
Hanging the torch from a wall bracket, Saewara knelt on the dirt floor, before a plinth with a wooden cross perched on top of it. She clasped her hands before her and bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to blot out her environment.
Please Lord, give me peace...
Yet even her prayers did not bring her solace this evening. Saewara’s faith was not enough to bring her the peace she craved; it could not keep the world at bay.
The warrior did not have to wait long for his queen to re-emerge from the chapel. Wordlessly, she handed him back his torch and followed him back to the hall. Inside, Saewara kept her gaze fixed ahead as she strode past Hereswith and her friends. The women fell silent as she passed by; their gazes tracking her, daring her to look their way.
She ignored them.
It was getting late now, and Saewara decided it was time for her to retire. Usually, a bride would never go to bed before her husband on the night of her handfasting. Often, a fuss was made about sending the newly-weds off to their bower together. Yet, this wedding was not like most. Ignoring her husband, Saewara mounted the dais and pushed past the heavy tapestry that separated the king and queen’s bower from the rest of the hall.
Out of sight of all, Saewara struggled to undress without assistance. She knew she could have called upon Hilda for help but the slave was busy kneading dough for tomorrow morning’s bread.
Saewara knew no one else would assist her.
Finally, she managed to loosen the laces at the back of her gown and squeezed out of it. Then, quickly, lest her husband step inside his bower and find his bride naked, she pulled a long linen tunic over her head and let it drop to her ankles, shrouding her body completely.
Plump. Barren. Drab.
Those words still echoed in Saewara’s ears, making her want to hide away from the world for the rest of her days.
Standing on the fresh rushes in her bare feet, in the center of the bower she was to share with her husband, Saewara let her gaze travel around the space. It was a warm, inviting space and, in other circumstances, she would have been pleased to have it as her bower. An enormous pile of furs sat at one end with a small fire pit at the other. Embers glowed in the hearth, casting the bower in a warm light. A tapestry hung behind her and rabbit pelts
had been sewn together to create wall hangings. A low table, with a clay washbasin upon it, sat against one wall. The privy was hidden behind a screen in the far corner of the bower.
Saewara hesitated a moment longer before crossing the bower to the pile of furs and climbing in.
She lay there for a while, staring up at the rafters, as the embers in the fire pit slowly dimmed. She wished only for sleep to take her, but knew she would not be able to relax until Annan came to bed.
Her husband finally made an appearance. Feigning sleep, Saewara listened to him moving quietly about the bower, undressing for bed. Unlike her choice to sleep wearing a tunic, she imagined Annan, like most folk, would sleep naked. The thought made her stomach twist nervously.
Moments later, she felt the furs shift beside her and thought Annan was climbing into bed beside her. However, when she opened her eyes a crack, she saw that he had, instead, taken two furs off his side and carried them a few feet away.
Saewara watched her husband, naked to the waist and barefoot, although still wearing breeches, make a bed up for himself. Without glancing in her direction, Annan lay down and turned to face the wall, pulling a fur up over his shoulders.
Annan had meant every word, it seemed, that he had spat at her on the riverbank. Not only would he not bed his Mercian wife, but he would not even share his bed with her. Despite the relief that she would be left alone – for Saewara had no desire to share a bed with anyone at that moment – she felt the sting of rejection nonetheless.
The worst is over with now, she consoled herself, staring at her husband’s back as she listened to his breathing deepening. I’m here, wedded, and the way of things has been made clear, at least. I need now only be strong for what is to come.
Chapter Fourteen
The Devil’s Work
One month later…
Annan stood on top of the earthwork and watched the wagons, filled with river stone and earth, rumble in from the northeast. From this height – over thirty feet above the grasslands – he had a magnificent view in every direction; especially on a day such as this. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue from one horizon to the other, and the sun warmed the exposed skin of Annan’s arms, shoulders and face.
‘Devil’s Dyke,’ as it had been named by locals, was just over two leagues from end-to-end. Annan’s forefathers had started work on it, nearly a hundred years earlier, but had then left it to deteriorate as other, more pressing, threats to the kingdom drew their attention. Even a century ago, the Wuffinga kings had sought to protect their land from the Mercians – even then they had known the danger their western neighbors presented.
Annan turned away from the approaching wagons, his gaze sweeping across the deep ditch that had been dug out of the western side. Black thorn and brambles filled the ditch in either direction, for as far as the eye could see, acting as a further defense.
Penda thinks he has beaten us, Annan thought, rebellious pride swelling within him. He can force me to ‘bend the knee’, and can even make me marry his sister but he can’t stop me from defending my borders.
Of course, Penda would not welcome news that Devil’s Dyke had been strengthened, and now extended from the impassable fens to the north, to the thickly wooded land to the south. Although he knew the news would reach Penda eventually, Annan had been careful not to mention his plans during his visit to Tamworth, and to keep all talk about the earthwork quiet while the Mercian emissary was in Rendlaesham. Yet, now that the man had returned to Tamworth, Annan had focused on the dyke in earnest. He wanted it finished before the autumn.
With the speed of the current work, it would be finished well before then. To ensure the work was completed in good time, Annan had imposed a corvée; bringing in peasants from every corner of the kingdom to work on the dyke. It was not forced labor, for the men could return to their homes once they had completed their allotted period, but it was obligatory all the same. The king called them, and they came, bringing whatever tools and materials they could spare. Annan had expected to see some resentment, for many of these peasants had left behind fields and crops that needed tending, yet it did not appear the case. After the East Angles’ defeat at Barrow Fields, the folk knew that the kingdom sat on a knife-edge; they all had to play a role in defending it.
Annan watched a group of men now, hoisting earth and stones onto the top of the bank on great hauling ramps. Despite that it was back-breaking work, they did it with good cheer; the sound of their singing mingling with the creak of wood and the dull thud of shovels. A few of them saw Annan walking along the top of the dyke and waved to him. It pleased them to see their king overseeing the work – and Annan wished he could stay longer. However, he was due to leave the dyke this afternoon, and return to Rendlaesham.
“Good morning, M’lord,” one of the men he had charged with managing the work in his absence, greeted Annan as he climbed down one of the tall ladders on the eastern side of the dyke. “She’s magnificent, is she not?”
“The dyke’s a credit to you all,” Annan replied with a grin. “Once we’re done here – it will be the finest in Britannia.”
“Those Mercian dogs won’t be crossing our border this way,” the man continued, his face turning grim. “Although, they can die trying.”
Annan’s grin faded. “They will come,” he assured the man, glancing up at the earthwork rearing above him; it was so tall that it blocked out the sun. “Let’s hope that Devil’s Dyke is enough to stop them.”
***
A warm breeze ruffled Saewara’s hair and feathered against the bare skin of her face and arms. A wet spring had developed into a balmy summer and Saewara raised her face to the friendly sun as she walked through Rendlaesham’s gates.
It was a relief to be away from the ‘Golden Hall’ and to stretch her legs. For her first days here she had been too nervous to venture far from the hall. She had been terrified that townsfolk would stone her. Yet, the hostility within the hall had worn her down and even the prospect of being spat at, or hounded in the streets beyond, was not enough to keep her indoors. To make matters worse, Annan had been away, dealing with matters on his southern borders. He was due back this afternoon. His presence here seemed to keep the women’s vindictiveness in check; without him their forked tongues had almost been intolerable.
Saewara left Rendlaesham by the back gates, which meant she avoided traversing the center of town. The view from this entrance was Saewara’s favorite in Rendlaesham. From here she could see the narrow dirt road winding its way down the shallow valley amongst the swathe of apple trees. At the bottom, she caught a glimpse of the stream glittering in the sunlight and the bright green profusion of willows.
Carrying a wicker basket over one arm, Saewara made her way down the hill, in search of wild berries. She had heard that raspberries grew thick near the banks of the stream, and she wished to make a cake with them. The life of a noble woman, cooped up inside the stuffy, smoky, dark hall was a monotonous one. She had spent days at her spindle, loom or distaff but found more joy in helping the servants prepare food for the hall. The other women sneered at the sight of the queen pummeling dough, dusted up to the elbows in flour; or chatting with Hilda as they peeled vegetables for pottage together. However, the alternative was to sit on her own in a corner at her distaff and go quietly mad.
The men, Annan included, did not appear to care how Saewara spent her time, provided she contributed to the life inside the hall and did not make a nuisance of herself. Strangely, Saewara had found freedom in her new role, and enjoyed improving her skills as a cook. She had even tried Oswyn’s onion soup one evening and had been pleased to see that most of the men asked for second helpings.
Halfway down the hill, Saewara left the road and wove her way through the rows of apple trees. They were fully in leaf, although would not show fruit for months yet. Saewara continued toward the stream. It was a peaceful spot and she would have preferred to sit down on the grass and spend the afternoon here. Yet, she could never absent
herself from the hall for too long before Hereswith complained loudly that the new queen was shirking her duties.
Reaching the banks of the stream, Saewara started her search for raspberries. It did not take her long to find the fruit bushes. Bright red, plump and juicy, it was an effort not to eat as many berries as she picked. While she bent over the raspberry bushes, Saewara’s gaze drifted across the babbling water of the stream to where willow trees draped across the water. The sight of the trees brought her sharply back to that afternoon, just over a moon’s cycle earlier, on the banks of the flooded river.
Annan, his wet tunic and breeches clinging to his tall, hard body, staring into her eyes as if nothing in the world existed but her. The feel and taste of him as they kissed.
Saewara let out a quiet sigh and tore her gaze from the willows. It was strange what could trigger memories. For the last month, she had done her best to forget that incident. In the hall, it was easier than she had thought. Annan kept a polite, cold distance from her; only speaking to her when absolutely necessary. Every night, he dumped his furs a few yards away from hers and slept separately. They were two strangers sleeping in the same bower, and although the arrangement had discomforted Saewara initially, she had gradually grown used to it. At least he was not a cruel man who took pleasure in tormenting her, as Egfrid had. She too, had become used to treating him coolly, and days would pass without them even looking at each other.
Yet, the memories that looking upon the banks of the willow-draped stream had triggered, reminded her of another man; a passionate man who had roused a response from Saewara, of which she never thought she was capable.
Brushing aside the lingering memories, Saewara turned her attention back to the task at hand. Her basket was filling up nicely and she was looking forward to baking a delicious sweet with them.