by Jayne Castel
She had almost filled her basket, and was about to turn to leave, when the sound of voices – a man and woman, nearby – reached her. Saewara straightened up and looked across at the opposite bank, past the willows.
Her mouth curved into a sudden, and unexpected smile, when she saw who the man and woman were.
Saba and Hilda.
They were sitting further along the bank, almost out of Saewara’s line of sight. Saba was leaning back on his hands while Hilda sat next to him, her legs curled under her. The ealdorman said something and Hilda burst into laughter.
It was a musical sound, full of joy and fragile hope, and Saewara stilled upon hearing it. She had never heard Hilda laugh before.
Watching them, their gazes meeting frequently as they talked, Saewara felt a pull of longing from deep inside her – if only a man would look at her like that.
Saba had trodden carefully since arriving back in Rendlaesham, and wooed Hilda gradually. Just days earlier, the girl had been avoiding him but, somehow, he had now convinced her to take a walk with him.
Beltaine had just passed, although Saba had not been able to convince Hilda to leave the hall and join the folk around the bonfire outside the town. Even mention of joining the revelers had made Hilda cringe. She knew only too well that if a man invited you to dance with him around the Beltaine fire, he would end up dragging you into the bushes to make love afterwards. Hilda, who had only known rape and brutality at the hands of men, had no intention of letting that happen. Saba had understood; he had not pressured her.
Saewara had watched the unfolding story between Saba and Hilda with a quiet joy. Even now the ealdorman, a formidable warrior, and intimidating to those who did not know him, sat a respectful distance from Hilda. However, it was clear from the way Hilda’s cheeks flushed, and the frequency with which she made eye contact with Saba, that he was close to winning her trust.
As Saewara looked on, the girl timidly reached out and put her hand on Saba’s arm. In response, he placed a hand over hers and smiled down at her.
Saewara turned then, and left the lovers alone. Her chest ached strangely. As happy as she was for the pair, the sight of their burgeoning love made her feel empty and alone. She walked briskly away, glad they had not seen her, and climbed the hill back to the gates. A short while later she made her way through the stable yard.
Horses and men filled the yard and Saewara had to weave her way through them, in order to reach the steps up to the hall. Annan had returned and was unsaddling his stallion. He glanced Saewara’s way as she walked by and acknowledged her with a curt nod. Saewara nodded back before mounting the steps to the hall.
Inside the Great Hall, preparations for the evening meal were underway. With Hilda absent, the other slaves were panicking that they would not finish in time. Saewara set her basket aside for a moment and took charge. She started chopping carrots for the rabbit stew, before carrying them on a wooden board over to the bubbling cast-iron pot that hung over one of the fire pits.
Ignoring Hereswith and Eldwyn, who were sitting back from the fire, winding wool onto distaffs, Saewara poured the carrots into the stew and proceeded to add some sprigs of thyme and rosemary.
“Where’s that girl – Hilda?” Eldwyn addressed Saewara sharply. “She should be here preparing the evening meal. The king shall have her whipped for idleness on her return.”
“He won’t do anything of the sort,” Saewara replied, her voice icy. “Hilda has gone for a walk with Sabert. She will be back shortly, I’m sure.”
Eldwyn’s face screwed up at this news. “It’s disgraceful,” she sniffed before turning to Hereswith. “This would never happen in the Great Hall of the Northumbrian King. He would not allow one of his ealdormen to fraternize with a slave.”
Hereswith nodded. “He would not allow many things that are permitted here,” she said, her gaze spearing Saewara as she spoke.
Saewara ignored them both. Hereswith’s meanness was growing ever bolder, as the young woman’s bitterness grew like a canker. Saewara had become used to it.
Leaving the pair of ladies to their sniping, Saewara returned to the table at the back of the hall and began work on her cake. She mixed freshly churned butter and honey with ground spelt and eggs to make a batter, before pouring in the ripe raspberries. She then poured the batter into an iron pot before carrying the cake outside to bake in a clay oven, which had been built to one side of the stable complex.
Saewara was nervous to leave her cake unattended while it baked – lest one of the hungry warriors should help himself to it. As she waited, she sat down on a stool next to the ovens and watched the activity in the stable yard beyond.
Annan was talking to two of his thegns in the center of the yard, and Saewara, without even meaning to, found herself studying the tall, blond stranger who was her husband. He carried himself like a king, she thought, straight and proud. Due to the warmth of the afternoon, he had stripped off his cloak and was wearing a sleeveless tunic. Despite herself, Saewara found herself taking in the light gold of his skin, and the finely defined muscles of his arms.
Fortunately, Annan was too deep in conversation to notice that she was observing him. He had not yet seen her, sitting next to the clay oven.
Presently, Saba and Hilda entered the stable yard. At the sight of the king, Hilda became flustered and sprinted off up the steps to the hall to assist the other slaves with the evening meal. Saba watched her go with a wry shake of the head and turned to Annan. Even though their voices were faint at this distance, Saewara heard their conversation.
“Look, you’ve scared her off.”
“Hardly. If I’d spent the afternoon looking at your ugly mug, I too would be looking for an excuse to get away.”
Saba punched Annan playfully on the arm. “She finds my face interesting.”
Annan grinned at that, and watching her husband, Saewara was struck at how handsome he was when he smiled.
“So, how goes things at Exning?” Saba asked, turning his attention to the reason for Annan’s journey south. “How’s the building progressing?”
“Faster than I expected,” Annan replied with a note of pride in his voice. “The men are working from dawn to dusk. The local monks are calling it the ‘devil’s work’ – as such the folk of the area have named it ‘Devil’s Dyke’.”
Saba raised his eyebrows at this. “Penda’s going to have a fit.”
Annan gave him a slow look, as if he had already considered that prospect and cared not what the Mercian king thought.
“Of course. I don’t expect our neighbors to like it.”
A huge grin spread over Saba’s face as he listened to Annan.
“What about ‘bending the knee’ to Penda?” he asked, deliberately baiting his friend.
However, Annan was in good spirits – the best Saewara had seen since their arrival back in Rendlaesham – and he refused to be baited. He merely shook his head, his expression hardening.
“I’m through doing that bastard’s bidding. He can demand terms at the end of battle, and make me marry his sister to ensure peace, but he can’t stop me from defending my own borders. You should see the fortifications, Saba – I wish Raedwald and my father were alive to witness them. I am having a hall built at Exning so I can spend more time there and oversee the work. Next time I visit, you’re coming with me.”
Saewara watched, still unobserved by Annan and Saba, as the men turned and made their way up the steps to the hall. Moments later, she could no longer hear their conversation.
Turning her attention back to the reason she was out here, Saewara used a thick jute cloth to pull her cake out of the oven to see if it was done. The top was golden and a delicious aroma filled her nostrils. She gingerly picked up the cake and turned to follow the men up to the hall.
I don’t believe it. He’s deliberately defying my brother.
The news both thrilled and terrified Saewara. On one hand, she loathed her brother enough that seeing others stand up to
his bullying ways brought her enormous pleasure. Yet, on the other she knew what Penda did to those who crossed him.
She just hoped Annan was ready for the consequences.
Chapter Fifteen
Hare Pie
Saewara sliced the last leek into rings, before straightening up to ease her aching back. She had been preparing vegetables all morning and was starting to tire of it. The interior of the hall was quiet this afternoon. It was a cool, grey day outside and the mood inside was subdued. A few older men sat chatting by the fire while a group of woman – Hereswith and her friends – worked at looms in one corner. The king was nowhere to be seen, as he and a group of warriors, Saba and his brother Aethelhere among them, had gone hunting at dawn.
In contrast to the sedate mood of the hall’s higher ranking occupants, slaves scurried above the vast space like worker ants. Two boys were refilling the water barrels in both corners of the hall, while another carried in stacks of firewood. Next to Saewara at the work table, its surface pitted and grooved from years of food preparation, Hilda kneaded yet another batch of griddle bread for the evening meal.
Transferring the leeks to a huge cast-iron pot for soup, Saewara glanced over at Hereswith and the other noble women. Even after a month, they had still not accepted her into their ranks – not that Saewara had tried to befriend any of them either. Their hostility made her keep her distance from ‘the adders’, as she and Hilda called them. The few times she sat down with embroidery, or her distaff, she did so as far as possible from them. Even now, they stared at her before whispering amongst themselves and bursting into peels of derisive giggles.
Saewara knew she should not let their disdain bother her, but after weeks of being treated like a nithing, when in fact she was now Queen of the East Angles, it had begun to wear her down.
She realized that by helping Hilda and the other slaves with the cooking, she just made it easier for them to single her out for ridicule. They did so now, pointing at her before dissolving into paroxysms of laughter.
“She dresses like a slave-girl,” one of the women’s shrill voices carried across the hall. “She can’t be a highborn Mercian princess – I’d say Penda palmed off one of his Celtic slaves to the king. Annan was duped!”
Saewara’s face burned and she stared down at the cauldron she had just emptied the chopped leeks into, pretending she had not heard the woman.
“Milady,” Hilda murmured. “It’s not right. You should not allow them to speak of you so. You are the queen, they should treat you with more respect.”
“What would you have me do?” Saewara countered, her voice sharper than she intended. “Go over to that woman and slap her face? I will become even more hated than before.”
“They are bullies,” Hilda replied, showing a rare burst of spirit. “My rank dictates that I may say nothing to them, but you can.”
Saewara listened without responding this time. She knew that Hilda spoke the truth; it was just that she felt so alone here. If she had the support of her husband it might have been different, but she could not imagine Annan caring. It was true that ‘the adders’ never spoke against their new queen with the king present, for they were wary of him, but all it took was for him to absent himself from the hall for a short while before the taunts began.
“You are strong, all can see it,” Hilda continued, fixing Saewara with a pleading gaze, “but those women will break you if you let them.”
Saewara nodded and gave her friend a brittle smile. “You are wise, Hilda. Saba is a fortunate man.”
Hilda blushed at that. “We are not a couple,” she murmured before giving Saewara a shy smile. “Yet.”
Saewara smiled at that. “He can’t take his eyes off you whenever you are near. We’ve all seen the way he looks at you. You know the king has given his permission for you to wed. Saba will ask you soon, I am sure of it.”
Hilda looked flustered at that. She pummeled the dough she had been shaping with the back of her hand, flattening it into a wide disk.
“I never thought I’d marry anyone,” she admitted quietly. “I thought this was to be my life – forever. I still can’t bring myself to believe it. Saba is kind, strong and handsome. He could have any woman he wanted. Why me?”
“Because he sees your beauty, your gentle heart and your strength,” Saewara replied before she cast a scowl in the direction of Hereswith and her coven. “A man like Saba would never be happy with one of those empty-headed women who clamor for his attention. It’s you he wants.”
“I don’t understand it,” Hilda repeated, before giving another shy smile, “although I would not stop him for the world.”
Their conversation was interrupted then, by the arrival of the king and his men, back from a day’s hunting.
Annan strode into the hall, and as usual, the sight of him stilled the breath in Saewara’s chest. The man had an incredible presence. Whenever he entered a space, he drew the attention of those around him. Even though they lived under the same roof as virtual strangers, Saewara could not help but admire her husband’s masculinity, his charisma. She noticed that she was not the only woman in the hall who noticed his attractiveness; the gazes of ‘the adders’ tracked Annan as he crossed the floor.
The king carried with him two large hares, holding each animal by its back legs. They were magnificent creatures with soft, tawny coats and dark, bright eyes.
Annan made his way over to the table where Saewara and Hilda stood. Saewara felt a jolt as the king approached her. She was used to being ignored. Annan placed the hares on the end of the table, his gaze meeting Saewara’s.
“Hare pie this evening?” he asked hopefully.
Saewara gave her husband an arch look. “Do you enjoy my cooking, Milord?”
Annan raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I do. Although Saba’s been nagging me for another one of your pies for weeks now. I promised him I’d ask you for a pie this evening.”
“Very well,” Saewara cast a glance at the hares. “I’d better get started, if you want to eat before midnight.”
He left her to it, and Saewara got to work. She employed Hilda’s help to skin and gut the hares. As she worked, Saewara was aware of the venomous looks she was getting from the women. They had seen the king stop and converse briefly with his wife – something he rarely did – and they did not like it. Saewara was sure they knew that the king and queen slept on separate beds every night. Hereswith especially, often gazed at the queen with victory in her eyes. She might not be able to have Annan but neither could his wife.
Saewara made the suet crust for the pie while Annan settled down with Saba and Aethelhere near one of the fire pits with a cup of ale. A feeling of contentment stole over Saewara as she worked. She had seen Annan enjoy her cooking, although he had never before complimented her. She wondered why it pleased her so, since they were husband and wife in name only. Yet, in a life where she was a ghost in her own hall, validation of her existence and of the contribution she made to life there, filled her with a sense of satisfaction.
The hare pie was an enormous success amongst the men. Saba rolled his eyes in ecstasy and asked for a third piece while Annan savored each bite of his. Aethelhere lavished praise on the cook as he held out his plate for a second helping, and received a vicious look from his wife. Oblivious to Hereswith’s displeasure, Aethelhere blundered on.
“You are truly a cook of great talent, Saewara.”
“Thank you.” Saewara bowed her head graciously, a little overwhelmed by the praise. She noticed that Hereswith, Eldwyn and the other ealdormen’s wives picked at their meals listlessly.
“Truly, I’ve never eaten a pie like it.”
“It pleases me that you like it.” Saewara felt her cheeks burn at the sudden attention she was receiving. After weeks of being ignored, it was difficult to adjust. Only Annan remained silent, although Saewara could feel his gaze rest upon her face as she answered his brother. She resisted the impulse to meet his gaz
e and glanced back down at her plate, instead.
“She used too many herbs,” Hereswith spoke up, her voice clipped. “I prefer my food plainer.”
“The rosemary and thyme are the perfect accompaniment to hare,” Saba countered. “Can you do better, Hereswith?”
The young woman glowered at Saba in response but did not reply. Aethelhere chuckled at Saba’s comment, only to receive a dig in the ribs from his wife. He turned and gave Hereswith a reproachful look.
“What’s the matter with you tonight?” he hissed, slightly drunk after consuming three cups of mead in quick succession. “You look as if you’ve got a mouthful of horse piss.”
Most of the men roared at that, although Saewara noticed that Annan did not.
Hereswith gave her husband a look that could have curdled milk and turned her shoulder to him. Aethelhere shrugged and turned back to his meal; his wife’s anger already forgotten.
Conversation resumed at the table then, and Saewara was relieved to be ignored once more. She listened to Annan, Aethelhere and Saba’s conversation, which had been interrupted in order to comment on the food.
“So do you think the hall is ready?” Saba asked with interest, before he took another bite of pie.
Annan nodded. “I received word yesterday that the last of the roof thatch has been finished. Truthfully, I would like to spend the rest of the summer at Exning to oversee the work on the dyke.”
“Why don’t we go there for a spell then?” Aethelhere suggested. “Leave a few of your ealdormen here to look after Rendlaesham and return here in the autumn once the work has been completed.”
Annan nodded reluctantly, before he met his brother’s gaze. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here and look after Rendlaesham in my stead?”
Aethelhere shrugged. “I’d rather help you at Exning, if I may?”