Come Back to Me (45 page)

Despite the heat of the sauna, Rycca shivered. "He came close to losing his life once because of me. I cannot bear for it to happen again."

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the hiss of steam. Finally, Cymbra said, "We are each of us married to an extraordinary man. There is something about them… even now I don't really know how to explain it." She looked at Krysta. "Have you told Rycca about Thorgold and Raven?"

Krysta shook her head. "There was no time before." She turned on her side on the bench, facing the other two. "Thorgold and Raven are my… friends. They are somewhat unusual."

Cymbra laughed at that, prompting a chiding look from Krysta, who went on to say, "I'm not sure how but I think somehow I called them to me when I was a child and needed them very much."

"Krysta has the gift of calling," Cymbra said, "as I do of feeling and you do of truthsaying. Doesn't it strike you as odd that three very unusual women, all bearing special gifts, came to be married to three extraordinary men who are united by a common purpose, to bring peace to their peoples?"

"I had not really thought about it," said Rycca, who also had not known of Krysta's gift and was looking at her with some surprise. All three of them? That was odd.

"I believe," said Cymbra, who clearly had been thinking about it, "that there is a reason for it beyond mere coincidence. I think we are meant to be at their sides, to help them as best we can, the better to transform peace from dream to reality."

"It is a good thought," Krysta said.

Rycca nodded. Very quietly, she said, "Blessed are the peacemakers."

Cymbra grinned. "And poor things,
we
appear to be their blessings. So worry not for Dragon, Rycca. He will prevail. We will all see to it."

They laughed then, the trio of them, ancient and feminine laughter hidden in a chamber held in the palm of the earth. The steam rose around them, half obscuring, half revealing them. In time, when the heat had become too intense, they rose, wrapped themselves in billowing cloths, and ran through the gathering darkness to the river, where they frolicked in cool water and laughed again beneath the stars.

The torches had been lit by the time they returned to the stronghold high on the hill. They dressed and hastened to the hall, where they greeted their husbands, who stood as one when they entered, silent and watchful men before beauty and strength, and took their seats at table. Wine was poured, food brought, music played. They lingered over the evening, taking it into night.

The moon was high when they found the sweet, languid sanctuary of their beds. Day came too swiftly.

By noon, the tide had turned. The drakars emblazoned with wolf and dragon joined the fleet of the Hawk as they set sail for the city of the king.

Rycca but dimly remembered Winchester, having been there only once as a child. Much more she recalled the scriptorium that adjoined the royal palace and her furtive, fascinated wanderings through it while the monks were at prayer. It was there she had conceived the extraordinary notion of learning to read, for so long her proudest accomplishment.

But no longer. Now it had to give way before her pride in being the wife of the Dragon. They entered Winchester on horseback and rode along the broad, straight avenue that led to the palace. People pressed in all around them, staring at the stern-faced warriors rank on rank behind the mighty lords whose names ran like quicksilver through the crowds. The Hawk was known in Winchester and his banner drew cheers, but Viking warlords in the king's city were something new. Heavy silence descended in the wake of the jarls of Sciringesheal and Landsende.

Riders had hurried ahead to alert Alfred. He came down the steps of his palace to greet them. Rycca was surprised by the ordinariness of his appearance. He was of moderate height, simply dressed in a plain brown tunic, a cape thrown over shoulders still broad despite his years. His neatly trimmed beard was liberally salted with silver but his eyes, when she came close enough to see them, were as keen as those of a much younger man.

"Long have I hoped to meet you both," he said to Wolf and Dragon when Hawk had presented them to him. "And honored am I to welcome you to my court."

True, as far as it went, Rycca thought. But the king was also curious, if not apprehensive, about what had brought the Viking lords to his doorstep. Well he might be.

Alfred drew to his side a plump and pleasant woman he introduced as his queen, Ealhswith. Krysta greeted her with unfeigned warmth that was returned in full. Graciously, the queen welcomed both Cymbra and Rycca and invited them to accompany her to their quarters so that they might rest and refresh themselves.

When they came back down to the great hall, the king was deep in conversation with his guests but he broke off to greet the ladies as they came forward, gloriously gowned, perfumed, and bejeweled, but for all that beautiful because of the radiance that shone from within each.

"Three brides," Alfred said, "and surely there have been none lovelier. Yet have your marriages, each and every one of them, been fraught with danger."

"Only at the beginning, sire," Krysta said. "I daresay, none of us has any complaints now."

This was just what was needed, Rycca thought, a light and gentle touch. Already the faces around the high table looked more at ease. She took her place beside Dragon, who squeezed her hand.

"Your husband has been telling me of events at Landsende," Alfred said to her. "I deeply regret what you experienced."

"It was hardly your fault, majesty," Rycca murmured. Indeed, she thought everyone knew very well whose fault it was.

"As to your father," the king said delicately, "his activities must be investigated."

"He sent his man to Landsende," Dragon said firmly, "and he conspired with my lieutenant to kill us both. Of that much we can be certain."

"Yet would I be certain of it all," Alfred said. He looked at Wolf. "You believe he may have conspired against all three marriages?"

"It is possible," Wolf said. "Father Elbert claimed the
Danes were behind Dana's plotting but he never named an actual Dane."

"He swore he did not know," Hawk said. "He insisted he was Daria's dupe."

The men, king included, exchanged glances. Clearly, none believed this. But the women shared their own silent communication and theirs was a good deal less certain.

"I face a problem," Alfred said. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and looked at each of them in turn.

"What am I dealing with here? An outraged father regretting his daughter's marriage and who perhaps even believed she had been given to a man who would harm her, which you can be sure will be his defense, and who therefore sought to free her of a union she did not wish? Or a traitor seeking to destroy peace between our peoples, plunge us into war, and unseat me from my throne?"

He sighed deeply, and for just a moment the weight of his years hung heavily on him. "The one I can kill under the law and men will uphold me for it, just as they did when the traitor Udell perished last year. But the other…" Again the king sighed. "That is a different matter."

"Fine," Dragon said promptly. "I shall solve your problem for you." He made to rise.

Rycca did not mask her response. She grabbed hold of his wrist with both her hands and yanked hard. "Sit down," she said emphatically, and then just to soften it, "I pray you, my lord."

After a moment's shock, Alfred laughed. He shook his head ruefully. "You three must know how men envy you? The beauty of your wives is spoken of with awe, yet I am pleased to see they are not lacking in spirit either."

"Mayhap too much spirit," Dragon growled, but he did not look truly angry, merely frustrated.

"Your killing Wolscroft will only cause more trouble," Alfred said. "No, this must be handled within the law."

Slowly, Dragon resumed his seat but he looked in no way pleased about it. Rycca returned her hands to her lap and tried hard to look abashed. He wasn't fooled but he did reach over, take hold of her chair, and haul it up close to his so that he could rest an arm around her shoulders. A rather heavy arm, she thought, reminded of his strength and will. Not that she minded. Above all, she wanted him near her, not off risking his life against her father.

"There would have to be a trial," Alfred said, "and that means the taking of evidence. Before we contemplate any such thing, I would know what Father Elbert and the Lady Daria have to say for themselves."

"You think they would tell the truth?" Hawk asked.

The king looked frankly skeptical. "They are both kept under harsh rule. A promise of some lightening of their circumstances might loosen their tongues. But," he added, "it would be difficult to know whether they spoke the truth or not."

"Rycca…" Dragon spoke, only her name to be sure, but buried within it was a question. He would not speak of her gift and neither would any of the others. Of that she was absolutely certain. It was up to her to reveal to the king what she had always kept hidden, if she so chose.

"Majesty…" She hesitated, uncertain of what to say. Alfred was looking at her, his eyes patient but tired. She thought suddenly of all he had done, the lifetime of battle and struggle, his entire being dedicated to the golden vision of a united England living at peace. Were it not for him, there would have been no release from the time of chaos and killing that had so scarred her childhood, of that she was certain. He was the hope of her peoples, both of them now, Norse and Saxon alike. She could not fail them or him.

"Majesty, I am a truthsayer."

The king looked from her to Dragon. The jarl of Landsende inclined his head. "It is as she says. Rycca can tell the difference between a truth and a lie. I cannot explain how this is but I have seen it work for myself and I know that it does."

Alfred's gaze shifted back to Rycca. The tiredness was gone. He stared at her intently with the look of a man who has seen far too much of the world to doubt that it held marvels. "Does your father know of this?"

She shook her head. "No, my lord. I concealed it from all, for it would have meant my death."

"At Wolscroft's hands?"

Though it pained her greatly, she said, "I was never of any value to him, my lord."

"His loss," Alfred said quietly. He thought a moment longer, then nodded. "Very well, I will send for Father Elbert and the Lady Daria. We will hear what they have to say."

"Why not send for Wolscroft?" Dragon asked, fingering the hilt of his sword as he spoke.

"To what purpose?" Alfred replied. "I can accept that the Lady Rycca is a truthsayer for I have no reason to doubt her word or yours. However, I do not wish to put her in the position of judging her own father. Beyond that, even if she did catch him in a lie, her word alone will not justify his execution in the eyes of my nobles. There must be more."

Rycca nodded, inwardly relieved. It was her fondest hope that she would never have to see her father again, but she was beginning to realize that might be impossible.

"The priest, then," she said, "and the Lady Daria. At least we will finally know the truth of them."

She had three days to ponder what that truth might be. Three days during which Dragon scarcely let her out of his sight. He went so far as to try to accompany her to the queen's solar, only to be shooed away by Ealhswith even as she smiled and took pains to reassure him.

"I promise you, my lord, the Lady Rycca will be as safe here as a babe in arms. Believe me, the quarters of the queen are not entered into by miscreants."

"That is all well and fine, majesty, but—"

"Should you not be aware, my lord, we had an incident here last year when the Lady Krysta was taken from Winchester by stealth. Since then, my lord husband has spared no effort to assure nothing of the sort can ever happen again." She gestured toward the grim-faced guards on watch in the corridor. "You will find the same beneath my windows, Lord of Landsende, and even above' us on the roof. Not even an errant bird can enter here."

Even as she spoke, through the open door where she stood Dragon saw a raven alight on the sill of one of the solar's windows. Rather oddly, he thought, Krysta walked over and began talking to it.

"There are four new books in the scriptorium, my lord," the queen said, unaware of what was going on behind her, "and a young priest—a friend of Father Desmond, who is now at Hawkforte—who is responsible for one of them. By the way, he has a yen to travel."

That said, she shut the door not quite in his face but as close to it as that gentle lady could ever come. Dragon hesitated. He eyed the guards, who eyed him back, reminded himself that he was in the house of the king, and finally decided to go look at the new books. While he was at it, he just might have a word with the priest.

Three days later, a stunned but delighted Father Thomas prepared for his journey to the fabled northlands, there to establish a new scriptorium. The Lord Dragon having readily agreed to his request for parchments, pens, inks, and the like, the good priest was racing about Winchester trying to spend the absurdly large quantity of gold he had been given to secure supplies. As it happened, he was the first to see the prisoners arrive, but so taken was he with his task that he failed to notice them.

Not so Rycca. She was standing at a window of the solar, gazing out over the town, when she saw the convoy of armed men surrounding two riders as they approached the palace. She said nothing but inwardly she gathered herself for what she knew must come.

Scarcely a quarter-hour later by the queen's water clock, she was summoned to the great hall.

"They are here," Dragon said without preamble. He took her arm and drew her close to him. She nodded but remained silent, absorbed with studying the man and woman who remained under the tight scrutiny of the guards. The man was garbed and tonsured as a priest but the light of faith did not shine in him. His face was pale and strained, his shoulders slumped, and he continually glanced around anxiously. After one quick look in the direction of the woman, he jerked his head away. If the Lady Dana noticed him, she gave no sign. Tall and thin, austerely dressed, she nonetheless held her head high and smiled widely. A cold, fierce pleasure seemed to seep from her.