Dark Under the Cover of Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 1) (11 page)

Joining
her mother in the main hall, she helped the servants prepare the evening meal:
roast pike, pottage and griddle bread. As Raedwyn kneaded the dough for the
bread, her ears strained for any sound of approaching horsemen. Catching
herself listening for her father’s return for the hundredth time since the sun
had started to set, Raedwyn forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Her
mother had said they would not return before the next morning.

Raedwyn
set the pummeled wheel of dough on the griddle hanging above the fire pit and
soon the aroma of baking bread filled the hall. She turned the bread over and
allowed the other side to cook until golden. Raedwyn’s stomach growled as she
placed the bread on the table to cool, reminding her of how hungry she was.

That
evening, the atmosphere was subdued. There were few at dinner, as most of the
warriors were away with Raedwald. Eanfled had not appeared, for which Raedwyn
was grateful. She wanted to see her friend, but did not feel up to answering
the barrage of questions that Eanfled would inevitably fire at her. Tomorrow,
she would seek her out. Seaxwyn picked at her food, her face pinched with
worry. Raedwyn chewed on a piece of fragrant griddle bread and took a sip of
mead, watching her mother over the rim of her cup. She could not tell Seaxwyn
not to worry, as she too was troubled about how the battle had gone. Instead,
she decided to tell her mother about Ceolwulf.

“He is an
ill-mannered bear of a man,” Raedwyn said ripping her bread into two pieces
with vehemence, “and a bully!”

“That he
is Raedwyn.” Seaxwyn nodded distractedly before taking a small mouthful of
pottage. “He was once as close to Raedwald as Eni. They grew up together,
became men together and fought alongside each other, but things changed after
Raedwald married me.”

“How so?”
Raedwyn asked.

“Ceolwulf
was ever a dissatisfied and unsettled man,” Seaxwyn replied. “He had a woman,
Hilda. She was a quiet, dark-haired girl, who it was rumored had been sired by
a Roman, but he was not satisfied with her. She bore him a son, I forget his
name, but she died in childbirth.”

“Caelin,”
Raedwyn said without thinking, immediately regretting it when her mother’s gaze
rested shrewdly on her.

“Yes, that
was his name. How did you know?”

Raedwyn
took a large gulp of mead and feigned disinterest.

“Caelin
follows his father,” she said in what she hoped was a matter-of-fact tone.

“He was
two winters younger than Raegenhere,” Seaxwyn continued, “but Ceolwulf ignored
him most of the time and allowed the boy to run wild. Ceolwulf could have
remarried, and there were plenty of fine young women to choose from – but it
was me he wanted.”

“What!”
Raedwyn spluttered, almost choking on her mead.

Now it was
Seaxwyn’s turn to look discomforted. “I did not encourage him!” she retorted.
“But soon after I became Raedwald’s wife I realized that Ceolwulf was insanely
jealous of his king. Ceolwulf wanted a high-born woman, not some Roman spawn.”

Raedwyn
noted the acidity in her mother’s voice as she finished her sentence. Seaxwyn’s
dislike of the Romans was no surprise. She associated them with the
encroachment of Christianity. Even Raedwald had converted to the new religion,
although Seaxwyn made sure that her husband always honored the old gods.

“Slowly,
insidiously, Ceolwulf began to show me more attention.” Seaxwyn continued her
tale. “He made excuses to seek me out, flattered me and flattered Raedwald even
more so. His attention worried me, and I even mentioned my fears to Raedwald
but he brushed them off, saying that Ceolwulf was just behaving like any strong
virile male and there was no harm in it.”

Seaxwyn
stopped here and Raedwyn noticed her mother’s cheeks were flushed. Seaxwyn
poured herself some more mead before continuing. “To cut a long story short,
one day Ceolwulf cornered me and tried to force himself upon me. Raedwald had
been away hunting and came back in time to find me fighting Ceolwulf off. He
banished him from Rendlaesham that very day.”

“That
explains it,” Raedwyn murmured.

“Explains
what?” Seaxwyn frowned.

“He was
very bitter about you. He said you poisoned father against him.”

“Now you
know why he would say such a thing,” Seaxwyn replied. “He could never accept
that his feelings weren’t reciprocated.”

Raedwyn
finished her mead and stood up, feeling the effect of the drink as the walls
around her swayed slightly. She was exhausted and the mead had only exacerbated
her fatigue.

“Let us
hope then, that it is father who returns to us in victory tomorrow.” Raedwyn kissed
her mother on the cheek. “I just want this nightmare to be over. The waiting is
the hardest part.”

“Goodnight
Raedwyn.”

Seaxwyn
remained seated at the empty table while her daughter disappeared into her
bower. The queen pushed away her bowl of pottage, largely untouched, and
massaged her temples. She had thought it had all finished, but even all these
years later the past would not be forgotten. Her gray eyes fixed unseeingly on
the low flames in the fire pit before her as the years rolled back and suddenly
it was as if no time had passed at all.

Chapter Eight

Raedwyn
pulled her hair back into a braid, wrapped a shawl about her shoulders and
stepped outside her father’s hall into the morning light. She turned her face
up to the sky and let the sun warm it before casting her gaze over Rendlaesham
below. She knew this place so well. Life at Rendlaesham always followed a
steady, unchanging pattern, year after year and Raedwyn found comfort in that.

 It was
now harvest-time and the arable fields that spread out around the town were
full of ceorls – the
folcfry
– free folk who farmed the land around
Rendlaesham. Also about were kotsetlas and geburs, higher and lower ranks of
peasant bound to their lord Raedwald. This morning they were harvesting the
summer barley and owing to the mild weather, the task was a pleasant one.

Raedwyn
walked down into Rendlaesham and made her way to Eanfled’s new home. Eanfled
would be a married woman now, as her wedding had been organized for two days
after Raedwyn’s. Despite everything, Raedwyn was eager to see her friend in her
new life as Alric the iron smith’s wife.

The smithy
sat in a narrow street just behind Rendlaesham’s main thoroughfare. It was a
long, low-slung dwelling with the forge at one end and the living quarters at
the other. Alric was at his forge. He waved to Raedwyn, put down his hammer and
stepped out onto the street to greet her.

“M’lady!”
Alric was a stocky young man with dark brown hair, a short beard and kind blue
eyes. As always, he was a little shy in her presence. “I’m glad to see you
safe.”

“Thank you
Alric,” Raedwyn replied gently. “I never thought to return to Rendlaesham so soon,
and certainly not in these circumstances.”

Alric
nodded, his brow crinkling in concern. “It’s terrible news about your husband
m’lady, and the whole town awaits word about the Battle of Uffid Heath,” he
continued, “although I can see that mention of this pains you. Come, Eanfled is
baking. She will be pleased to see you.”

Pleased
was an understatement. Eanfled dropped the rolling pin she had been using to
flatten a sheet of pastry and flew across the kitchen to give Raedwyn a floury
embrace. Alric left them with a smile, knowing his presence would not be
missed.

“I heard
you returned yesterday, but I wanted to let you rest.” Eanfled dragged Raedwyn
into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair. “I shall make us some hot spiced
cider.”

Raedwyn
was glad of Eanfled’s industrious, boisterous energy. She had been afraid that
she would burst into tears at the sight of her friend, but Eanfled’s fussing
galvanized her.

“I could
not believe it.” Eanfled poured some cider into a cast iron pot and hung it
above the kitchen’s fire pit. “I feared I would never see you again – and your
poor husband! I heard that Cynric did not even have the chance to defend
himself. The outlaw who brought Ceolwulf’s terms bragged about it after his
audience with the king. Was it indeed an ambush?”

“It was,”
Raedwyn replied. “They lay in wait for, and killed them all.”

Eanfled
glanced across at Raedwyn, her pretty brow furrowing, before she added some
spices and honey to the cider and stirred it with a wooden spoon.

“You are
not yourself Raedwyn,” she observed. “I’m sorry for my prattle. It’s the last
thing you want.”

“It’s not
that,” Raedwyn replied with a tired smile, “I feel as if years have passed and
it has only been a few days.”

“It’s cruel
to take your husband from you.” Eanfled used a ladle to pour two generous cups
of spiced cider, before passing one to Raedwyn. “You were so beautiful and
happy at your handfast ceremony Raedwyn – you look so sad now.”

Raedwyn
sighed and took a sip of her cider. It was delicious and soothing. She would
have to tell Eanfled the truth or their friendship would never be the same.
Raedwyn wanted to confide in someone, and she trusted no one else as she did
Eanfled.

“Things
are never what they appear,” Raedwyn replied, “and although I was happy at my
wedding, it did not last long. Sit down Eanfled for I have many things to tell
you.”

Eanfled
did as she was bid. She sat opposite Raedwyn at the scrubbed wood table and
listened without interrupting as her friend told her everything that had
happened to her since the handfast ceremony. Raedwyn left nothing out –
Cynric’s rough taking of her maidenhead, Ceolwulf’s vengeance, her hopeless
attraction for Caelin, and Caelin setting her free – she told Eanfled
everything.

By the
time Raedwyn had finished her tale, Eanfled’s eyes were like two huge moons.

“Woden!”
Eanfled breathed, her fingers curled around the cup of cider that she had
barely touched, and had now gone cold. “For once, I am at a loss for words!”

Despite
everything, Raedwyn laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day when you would be
struck dumb by something I said!” she teased her friend.

Eanfled
shook her head, her gaze still fixed upon Raedwyn’s face.

“I cannot
believe that you survived,” she replied, “and if it had not been for this man,
Caelin, it sounds as if Ceolwulf would have killed you.”

“He surely
would have,” Raedwyn agreed, remembering the maddened look on the Exiled’s face
as he stood over her and drew his foot back to kick her in the stomach.

Raedwyn
could see that this tale had upset her friend, and the worry on Eanfled’s face
was more than Raedwyn could bear.

“Come now
Eanfled.” Raedwyn reached across the table and took hold of her friend’s hands.
“I did survive and my father will make sure Ceolwulf pays for his treachery.
But what of you? What is it like being married to Alric and living here under
his roof?”

Eanfled’s
face broke into a wide smile and despite herself Raedwyn felt a small needle of
envy pierce her. It was the smile of a woman in love.

“He is a
wonderful man,” Eanfled breathed. “I can’t believe we are finally together. We
were betrothed for so long that I had started to worry that he would change his
mind. However, Alric insisted that he had wanted to establish his trade in
Rendlaesham first before marrying and starting a family.”

“He just
wanted to make sure he could take care of you,” Raedwyn agreed, pushing aside
her envy. What right had she to be jealous of Eanfled’s happiness, especially
when it was so hard earned? “I’ve never seen a man look so pleased with
himself!”

Eanfled
threw back her head and laughed. A moment later, Alric appeared at the kitchen
door. His bemused gaze rested on his young wife.

“Have I
been missing out on a great tale?” he asked. “There has been a lot of laughter
coming from this kitchen.”

Eanfled
smothered her laugher and gave Raedwyn a conspiratorial wink.

“No, my
love, we were just prattling, as usual!”

Seaxwyn
was at her loom, weaving a tapestry, when Raedwyn entered the Great Hall. Her
afternoon with Eanfled had relaxed her immensely, and it had taken her mind off
this morning’s battle and her worry about the outcome.

The
tapestry Seaxwyn wove was a detailed one, and when finished it would be one of
the queen’s best. It depicted a rearing white horse with a warrior astride it,
a royal blue cape rippling from his shoulders. It was Raedwald – victorious on
the field of battle.

Like her
mother, Raedwyn was a talented weaver. She had passed many a dark winter’s day
at the loom learning her mother’s craft. Raedwyn sat down next to her mother
now while Seaxwyn worked and chatted to her about Eanfled’s new life with
Alric.

Seaxwyn
listened to her daughter but said little. Raedwyn had inherited her father’s
uncomplicated and open nature rather than her mother’s quieter more
introspective ways. Both strong women, they dealt with the tense wait in their
own manner.

***

The
shadows were lengthening and the birds were starting to roost, when the horses
appeared at last. Moving as one entity of bristling shields and spears, they
crested the last hill to the south and headed towards Rendlaesham.

“Mother!”
Raedwyn was standing outside the hall with her eyes fixed on the southern
horizon and was the first to see the riders. Moments later, Seaxwyn appeared
beside her daughter and together they watched the
fyrd
enter
Rendlaesham. Dust boiled up from under pounding hooves and spears bristled
above bobbing heads. The horses streamed into the town.

Raedwyn’s
heart lurched when she saw the standard held by the first riders bearing her
father’s crest. She glanced at her mother, who had also seen the standard.
Relief bloomed in Seaxwyn’s face and the tension melted from her features,
giving her the countenance of a woman half her age. Despite her obvious relief,
tears streamed down the queen’s face.

Seaxwyn
picked up her skirts and rushed down to the stables. The path, leading down
from the Great Hall, widened out into a spacious yard. Raedwyn followed her
mother, running to keep up with her.

Raedwald’s
fyrd
thundered into the yard, filling it. Many warriors were forced to
draw their horses up outside as there was not enough space for all of their
number within. The king himself was out front with Eorpwald by his side.
Raedwald no longer rode his white stallion but an ill-tempered bay that snorted
and rolled its eyes as Raedwald drew up.

He rode
with his helmet tucked under one arm and his hair tumbling over his shoulders
like a lion’s mane. Despite that he was no longer a young man, Raedwald was
virile and regal in his victory. The king swung down from the saddle and
Raedwyn saw, for the first time, that he was injured. His right arm, his sword
arm, carried a deep sword wound. Someone had bound the injury but Raedwyn could
see the blood seeping through the bandages. Eorpwald dismounted next to his
father. Lithe and physically smaller than his father, Eorpwald landed lightly
on his feet, despite the heavy armor he wore. Sweat tangled his shoulder length
brown hair and he had suffered a graze to his left brow. Apart from that, he
appeared uninjured, although exhaustion made his face pinched and sharp.

Raedwyn
watched as townsfolk helped the injured and dying from their horses and carried
them away to healers. 

Seaxwyn
rushed into her husband’s arms. They clung together for a moment before Raedwyn
saw her father mumble into his wife’s hair.

“It’s over
at last. He is dead.”

Raedwyn
glanced over at her brother. Feeling his sister’s eyes on him, Eorpwald’s gaze
met Raedwyn’s before he winked at her.

“Thought
you had got rid of me, eh?”

Raedwyn
punched Eorpwald on the arm in response before hugging him tightly.

“I’ve
already lost one brother to battle,” she told him, “and I am relieved you came
home safe, as you well know!”

Once
Seaxwyn had released Raedwald and moved to greet her son, Raedwyn went to her
father. Raedwald hugged his daughter stiffly. Raedwyn felt the discomfort in
his embrace and drew back, confused.

“Father?”

Raedwald
turned aside to shout an order to his men.

“Bring up
the prisoners!”

Raedwald
smiled then, a cold vindictive smile of someone who had savored revenge and
enjoyed the taste – then his gaze met Raedwyn’s.

“I fought
Ceolwulf the Exiled, and slew him before taking this ill-tempered steed of
his,” he explained. “We thought all were dead but upon combing the battlefield
we discovered two survivors.”

The crowd
parted and a horse appeared with two men slung across its back – one was
unconscious while the other stared defiantly at the watching crowd.

Raedwyn
went cold.

The
survivors were Caelin and Hengist.

Caelin lay
immobile, his arms trailing earthwards, his dark hair falling about his
shoulders while Hengist had twisted to scrutinize his captors.

“One of
them was playing dead,” Raedwald said, motioning to Hengist, “while the other
one was near death and has not awoken since we captured him.”

Raedwald turned
to his daughter then, and held her gaze fast in his.

“Do you
know either of these men, Raedwyn?”

Raedwyn
nodded. She sensed a trap and knew it would be better for her if she spoke the
truth.

“What are
their names?” Raedwald pressed.

Raedwyn
licked her suddenly parched lips and looked at the two prisoners. Hengist
stared defiantly at her, his gaze as cold as her father’s, and suddenly Raedwyn
felt as she had in Ceolwulf’s encampment – a deer cornered by hunters with
nowhere to turn.

“The one
who is awake is Hengist.” She returned Hengist’s stare unflinchingly. “While
the other is Caelin.”

“This
Caelin is more finely armored than the others, save Ceolwulf, and rode at the
Exiled’s side. Who is he?”

Raedwyn
met her father’s gaze again and had the sensation that Raedwald already knew
the answer to his question. She was right, he was testing her.