by Jayne Castel
“Very well,” Annan nodded, his expression shuttered. He then turned to Saba. “Will you join me as well?”
“Of course,” Saba replied without hesitation. “As long as Hilda accompanies your wife as her maid. I would prefer not to leave her for the summer.”
“So be it,” Annan nodded. “We need to make preparations but if we start tomorrow, we should be ready to depart within three days.”
Saewara listened with interest.
I wonder when he will speak to me of his plans, she thought.
Judging from the conversation, she was also to join Annan in Exning. She was curious to see this Devil’s Dyke – the border fortifications that would keep her brother’s army at bay. Saewara had initially been pleased with these plans to leave Rendlaesham behind, until Aethelhere had asked to join his brother. For, if Aethelhere travelled to Exning, so would his wife.
Saewara’s gaze swiveled to where Hereswith sat, her pretty face creased in annoyance. Even at Exning, Saewara would not be free of her tormenter.
The meal ended and the diners rose to take their places by the fire. Saewara got to her feet and glanced over at where her loom sat in a quiet corner of the hall. She did not enjoy weaving but she suddenly craved a moment of solitude and peace. She skirted the edge of the table, passing Hereswith and Eldwyn.
Suddenly, she felt hands shove her viciously between her shoulder blades. Saewara stumbled forward and fell flat on her face, skinning her knees on the rushes. She had been just inches from cracking her skull on the edge of the fire pit.
“Milord, it looks like your wife consumed a little too much mead this eve,” one of Annan’s thegn’s bellowed.
Saewara scrambled to her feet, face flaming, and turned to face the individual who had shoved her – only to see Hereswith glide away to follow her husband, as if she had been at his heels the whole time.
It appeared that no one had seen Hereswith move; either that or they did not care.
Saewara watched as Annan turned and raised an eyebrow at his thegn. “No more than you, Bercthun.” The king’s gaze then shifted to his wife.
For the first time all evening, Saewara met Annan’s gaze.
“Are you well, Milady?” he asked.
Saewara nodded, her cheeks burning. “Yes Milord. I just tripped.”
She turned her back on them all then and retreated to her corner, taking a seat at her loom. Saewara watched Hereswith perch on a stool at Annan’s side. Then, Hereswith leaned forward and whispered something to the king that made him laugh.
Bitch. A sudden, bitter rage surged within Saewara. One day, you shall pay for that.
Chapter Sixteen
Hereswith
They left for Exning three days later.
The king and his entourage rode out of Rendlaesham on a bright, breezy morning. Clouds scudded across a robin’s egg blue sky and the trill of a skylark accompanied Annan’s departure from his hall. The folk of Rendlaesham crowded at the roadside to watch Annan leave – and now that Saewara was wedded to their king, they dared not spit insults at her as she rode past. Nonetheless, many of their gazes were unfriendly, and Saewara kept her own gaze fixed firmly on her horse’s ears as they made their way down the main thoroughfare to Rendlaesham’s main gates.
She only began to relax with they were riding through the fields south of Rendlaesham, with the town at their backs.
Saewara rode near the head of the column, on a spirited filly that kept pace with Annan’s stallion, unlike the stubborn pony she had ridden here from Tamworth. Behind her rode a column of warriors, and behind them trailed Hereswith and Eldwyn. Another group of warriors and three wagons laden with goods brought up the rear of the company. Hilda, and two other slaves who had also been brought to serve the king at Exning, travelled with the wagons.
It was a relief to leave the ‘Golden Hall’ of the Wuffingas behind. Saewara knew that she would have to contend with Hereswith and Eldwyn at Exning, but at least the group of hangers-on – the ealdormen’s wives who had followed Hereswith around in adoration – would be absent at their new hall.
The journey east would take them two full days and one night, if the good weather held. Remembering the deluge on their way to Rendlaesham, Saewara hoped it would. The sun on her face and the wind on her skin cheered her up no end. There was a freedom in riding a horse, and to be away from the daily domestic duties that slowly ground one down. She had discovered a certain joy in cooking, but even that, under the sour gazes of the other noble women, did not give her the lightness of spirit that riding out under an endless sky and wide horizon provided.
Annan gradually drew ahead of Saewara as the morning passed, and she found herself riding alone. She did not mind this in the least; despite his slight thawing toward her over the last few days, relations between them were still strained. They continued to keep their distance, both emotionally and physically.
If only Egfrid had done the same during their marriage, she reflected. Saewara had been married to him, just after her sixteenth winter, on a warm spring day. She had spent little time with her betrothed before their handfasting and had been unprepared for the trauma of their wedding night. Her young husband had been drunk, and rough with her. Just four days after their handfast ceremony, Egfrid hit Saewara for the first time. She had dared disagree with him on a minor point and his fist had lashed out, nearly breaking her jaw. Unlike some violent men, who were overcome with remorse after striking their wives, the act had unleashed something brutal within Egfrid. He was not remotely sorry, and after that looked for excuses to lash out at his young wife.
Nine years of torture. Saewara preferred not to dwell on the worst moments of the last decade; instead, she had blacked them out, taking refuge in her faith and biding her time. When Egfrid died she had not been able to believe her good fortune – finally wyrd had looked upon her favorably, only to play a cruel trick on her once again.
Yet, with the sun beating down on her face and the smell of grass and warm earth around her, Saewara reflected that she had fared better than expected. She could not imagine the Kingdom of the East Angles ever feeling like home, or of the people here ever accepting her, but she was far from Tamworth and her brother’s cruelty.
Moments of happiness, even in the smallest of measures, had to be savored when discovered. Even if they were fleeting.
At dusk, the king and his entourage camped by the banks of a stream, near a copse of coppicing lime trees. The warm weather had put most of the travelers in good humor, and Annan’s warriors ribbed each other and laughed as they put up tents and started fires for cooking.
Tired after a day in the saddle, and knowing her muscles would be screaming the next day, Saewara watered and rubbed down her horse before walking stiffly toward the cluster of tents that now sat on the trampled grass. The men were already spit roasting a brace of rabbits over the fire and the smell of wood-smoke filled the balmy air.
The king’s tent, the biggest of the group, had been erected in the center of the cluster, and Saewara made her way toward it. There would be time to rest before the rabbits were ready. She longed to stretch out her aching limbs on a bed of soft furs. However, Saewara was passing the first tent – the one where Aethelhere and Hereswith would sleep – when the cracking sound of a palm hitting flesh caught her by surprise.
The noise was followed by a whimper of pain.
“Stupid bitch!” Hereswith’s voice cut through the warm air, causing all nearby who heard it to turn in surprise. “I told you to pack that gown. Why did you not obey me?”
“I’m sorry, Milady,” Hilda’s voice, low and shaking slightly, responded. “I packed all the gowns that you laid out. You did not tell me to pack the green one.”
“Liar!”
The sound of Hereswith slapping Hilda across the face rang out once more. Saewara stood, breathless. Anger rose in a hot wave up through her body. Hilda had already endured much in her life. Hereswith had no right to raise a hand to her.
It w
as strange how she could endure ill-treatment herself but the thought of others being bullied or tormented made her blood boil.
Without thinking upon the consequences, and indeed not caring, Saewara pushed aside the tent flap and strode inside.
Hereswith stood in the center of the tent with Hilda standing before her. Tears streamed down the slave girl’s lean face and she was clutching her cheek. Eldwyn stood nearby, where she was unpacking the items her mistress would need for the evening. The smug look on Eldwyn’s face and the vicious look on Hereswith’s both vanished as Saewara strode across to Hilda and took her by the arm.
“You will not touch Hilda again,” she told Hereswith flatly before pushing Hilda gently toward the tent’s exit.
“I will do as I please,” Hereswith recovered swiftly, her face flushing. “Get out of my tent!”
“With pleasure,” Saewara countered. “However, you will not command Hilda to do your bidding again. She serves me now. You will not speak to, nor touch her, ever again.”
With that, Saewara turned and followed Hilda.
“How dare you!” Hereswith shrieked, rage turning her beautiful face ugly. “You cannot command me.”
“I am the Queen of the East Angles.” Saewara turned in the doorway, fixing Hereswith with an icy stare. “If you do not wish to obey me, I suggest you take up the matter with my husband.”
That settled it. Hereswith stood, shaking with anger as Saewara calmly turned and stepped out of the tent. Unspeaking, she gently took hold of Hilda’s arm and led her toward the king’s tent.
Both Saba and Annan were still seeing to the horses, and had not witnessed the altercation. Saewara knew that Saba would be enraged to discover that Hereswith had been bullying Hilda. She wondered if Hereswith would have the gumption to complain to Annan.
“Are you well?” she asked Hilda when they were out of earshot. “Has she done that before?”
Hilda nodded, her pale blue eyes shining with tears. There was an angry, red welt on her left cheek. “I am well, thanks to you. She’s slapped me, and other servants, ever since she arrived at the king’s hall. However, her temper has gotten nastier of late. I swear to you she didn’t ask me to pack that dress. She hit me because she was in ill humor and for no other reason.”
“You don’t have defend yourself to me.” Saewara shook her head. “Whatever the reason, she had no cause to hit you.”
“I thank you, Milady,” Hilda repeated, brushing away tears, “but I take back what I said about you not standing up to her. Was that wise? You have just made an enemy.”
Saewara smiled then. “I already had an enemy where Hereswith is concerned. If it is war she wants then it is war she shall have.”
***
The flames from the fire pit danced against the inky depths of the night, and devoured a moth that fluttered too close. Annan watched the hapless insect dissolve in a shower of sparks before turning his attention back to the conversation of the other men around the fire. After a simple but delicious meal of roast rabbit, they were now sharing a cup of ale each before taking to their beds.
A pleasurable weariness seeped over Annan’s body. He was looking forward to sinking into a mound of furs in his own tent. Another long day of travel lay before them tomorrow and apart from those assigned to keep watch, most of the travelers would be in for an early night.
All the women, save Hereswith, had already retired for the night.
She sat, a fur cloak around her shoulders, at Aethelhere’s side, looking lovelier than Annan had ever seen her. The firelight accentuated her flawless skin and the gold in her hair. To make things worse, she kept glancing in Annan’s direction, and he had to force himself not to meet her gaze. It was too risky to do so – what with Aethelhere sitting beside her.
The men were discussing the fortifications at Exning, and Annan’s plans for the next stage of building. It was a subject that obviously was of interest to him, but fatigue and Hereswith’s gaze kept distracting him. He wished she would go to bed.
As if reading his brother’s mind, Aethelhere interrupted the discussion he was having with Saba to turn to his wife.
“Hereswith, it’s late. Go to bed – I will join you soon enough.”
She pouted in response before giving his arm a lingering squeeze, her gaze brazenly fixed upon Annan as she did so. “I will wait for you there then.”
Not seeing the direction of his wife’s gaze, Aethelhere puffed himself up as Hereswith walked away toward their tent.
“See,” he grinned, throwing Annan a look of victory. “My wife cannot have enough of me.”
Later, when the others had gone to bed and Aethelhere went off to join his wife, Saba turned to Annan with a shake of his head.
“Your brother is a fool.”
“Why do you say that?” Annan replied, pretending he did not know what his friend was speaking about.
“I saw the way she was looking at you – and I can’t believe Aethelhere didn’t see it as well. He must be blind. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. Be careful.”
Annan frowned back at Saba and tipped the dregs of his ale onto the ground.
“There’s no game,” he replied firmly. “More’s the pity.”
Saba regarded Annan quietly for a moment or two, considering his next words, before he spoke; keeping his voice low so that they would not be overheard.
“She may be beautiful but she is vain and selfish. Why can’t you see it? Your pompous brother is welcome to her. You have a wife, a lovely one. Why can’t you be satisfied with her? Most men would welcome a woman such as Saewara.”
Their gazes locked and held, before a sudden understanding crept across Saba’s face. Being a man, he had not realized what all the women in the ‘Golden Hall’ had known within a day or two.
“Woden – you haven’t bedded her, have you?”
Annan glared back at Saba. “Why don’t you shut your mouth? This is none of your business.”
“I don’t believe it.” Saba gave a low whistle and shook his head. “Why ever not?”
“She is Penda’s sister – remember?” Annan ground out, struggling to keep his voice low. “I will not touch that Mercian dog’s blood.”
Saba’s gaze did not leave Annan’s face as the ealdorman absorbed his king’s words.
“Whether you would have it or not, you are married to her,” he said finally. “Making a martyr out of you both will not change the way of things. You seem intent on making yourself miserable. I do not understand it.”
With that, Saba turned and walked away in search of his bed.
Annan watched him go, feeling as if he had been drenched with a bucket of icy water. For once, his friend’s frank approach to life had grated on him.
Saba doesn’t understand, he thought bitterly, leaving the warmth of the fire behind and heading toward his tent. How can he?
Inside his tent, he found his wife in a deep sleep, curled up like a kitten on her furs next to the glowing embers of a small fire. On the other side of the hearth, Saewara had made up a bed for him, as she had taken to doing ever since he had made it clear she would not be sharing his.
Annan sat down on his furs and took off his boots. His gaze rested then on Saewara’s face; peaceful in sleep, her skin burnished by the fire’s soft light.
Saba was wrong; it was not that he did not want Saewara. In one, very real, sense he did. If he’d had no desire for her physically, it would have been easy to share a bed with her. Yet, after their tryst at the river, he did not trust himself with her.
I won’t give in to this, he told himself before he lay down and turned his back on his wife’s sleeping form. If I do then Penda has won.
Chapter Seventeen
New Beginnings
Saba was enraged when he saw the welt on Hilda’s face the next morning. She had been helping Saewara saddle her horse when the ealdorman strode across to greet them both.
Saba stopped short when he saw her cheek, his gaze meeting Hilda’s.
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“Who did this?” he demanded, his face turning hard.
Saewara and Hilda exchanged nervous glances. They had both been dreading this moment.
“Tell me!” Saba ordered, his tone brooking no refusal.
“Hereswith,” Hilda eventually admitted, “but Saewara dealt with it, don’t worry. She has forbidden Hereswith from having any contact with me. She won’t touch me again.”
Saba’s gaze swiveled to Saewara.
“I thank you for that, Milady – however, the matter does not end there.”
With that, Saba marched off to find Aethelhere.
A short while later, angry voices echoed across the campsite.
Aethelhere, it seemed, did not know that his wife had a habit of lashing out at those who displeased her. He defended Hereswith blindly, as only a thoroughly infatuated man is able.
“Keep your wife in hand!” Saba roared.
“Calm down,” Aethelhere shouted back. “Woden, she only hit a slave!”
That was the wrong thing to say.
It took Annan, and three other men, to pry Saba off Aethelhere and haul him away before the situation deteriorated further.
It was under a cloud of simmering resentment between Saba and Aethelhere that the journey east continued. The day was as bright and breezy as the day before had been and Saewara managed to keep abreast with Annan for most of the journey. Although the silence was companionable, Saewara felt the increasing urge to speak with her husband; to know of his plans for the future.
“I think you show valor in your decision to fortify your borders,” she said finally, after gathering her courage to speak for most of the morning.
Annan gave her a sidewise look, surprise showing on his face.
“Really? I thought you would see it as an open act of defiance against your kingdom.”
“Mercia is no longer my kingdom,” Saewara reminded him gently. “Penda is no longer my king.”
Annan glanced at her again, his expression unsure, before he spoke. “It’s not valor that made me do it, but rebellion. I can’t stay under your brother’s yoke any more. If I don’t do something now, I will become his puppet.”