Dark Under the Cover of Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 1) (12 page)

“Ceolwulf’s
son.” she replied without hesitation, “but I think you already know that
father.”

Raedwald
turned to the warrior leading the horse. “Untie them.”

Raedwyn
watched as her father’s men unbound Hengist and Caelin and pulled them from the
horse’s back. They lowered Caelin to the ground, where he lay, unmoving. His
chest moved shallowly; he was still breathing, but two arrows protruded from
his side and he was deathly pale. Hengist could not walk. An axe had shattered
his left leg, and the limb dragged behind him uselessly. Two warriors held
Hengist up so that he could face Raedwald.

“Hengist
and I had an interesting talk this morning,” Raedwald explained. His voice was
gentle and quiet; the tone he used when he was the most furious. Raedwyn sensed
danger, but her father’s hostility towards her was confusing. The fact she had
done nothing to warrant it did not quiet her instincts.

“Hengist
is as disloyal as he is a coward.” Raedwald stared at his captive, who had the
good sense to look away from the king’s hard gaze. “He told me of Caelin’s
identity. He also told me that upon your capture you begged Ceolwulf and his
men to free you and offered your body to them.”

“No!”
choked Raedwyn, “Never!”

“He also
said,” Raedwald continued, cutting his daughter off, “you were only too eager
to share your body with him and that Ceolwulf and his whelp took turns with
you. His men were most appreciative of your willingness to accommodate them. I
met with the Exiled, moments before battle and he said the same. Do you deny
their words, daughter?”

Raedwyn’s
world shrank as she listened to her father’s accusation. She stopped breathing
for a moment, her surroundings blurred and she came the closest she had ever
felt to fainting. She knew, as she opened her mouth to defend herself, that her
father had believed the words of his enemies rather than those of his own kin –
and without solid proof she could not convince him otherwise.

“I deny
their words!” Raedwyn choked out eventually. Hard, accusing stares surrounded
her, cutting into her flesh like knives. It was like wading through thick mud
that pulled her under with each step forward she managed. Raedwyn took a deep
breath and the world expanded once again as the panic subsided somewhat.

“Ceolwulf
lied to you father,” Raedwyn’s voice was low and vehement. “Surely you know I
would never do as Hengist and Ceolwulf have said. Ceolwulf never laid a finger
on me. He said it only to bait you, and as for Hengist.” Raedwyn watched
Hengist now, amazed at how brazenly he stared at her. “When I was captured he
tried to rape me but was prevented by the man who lies dying next to him.”

A chilling
silence fell on the knot of warriors surrounding the two injured men.

Hengist
spat on the ground and lurched towards Raedwyn, held back by his broken leg and
the two men who held him fast.

“Lying,
filthy little slut!” he bawled. “You behaved like a bitch in heat, as you well
know!”

These were
the last words Hengist ever uttered for Raedwald unsheathed his sword and,
unhindered even by his injured arm, ran Hengist through with the blade. Hengist
fell gurgling and twitching to the ground and died as blood pooled on the dusty
earth beneath him.

“He was
beginning to vex me.” Raedwald calmly cleaned his blade on the dead man’s
clothes before re-sheathing his sword. “The cur had a loose tongue.”

Unconcerned
by the sudden, violent death in their midst, two warriors picked up Hengist’s
carcass and dragged it from the scene.

Shaken and
feeling as if she would be violently ill, Raedwyn stood before her father. She
stared at the bloodstain on the ground, not daring to meet her mother or
brother’s gaze for she could not stand to see the blame in their eyes. It broke
her heart to see her own father disbelieving her – and she could not bear the
rest of them to think her a liar as well.

“Hengist
lied,” Raedwyn said finally. The king ignored her and Raedwyn watched him walk
over to where Caelin lay. Ceolwulf’s son lay on his back, his face chalk-white
but still breathing, despite his grave injuries.

Raedwald
looked down at the unconscious man and frowned.

“The last
time I saw Caelin he was a child,” he mused. “There is little of his father in
his looks; more of that ill-fated wench who bore him. It’s ill for him that he
survived the battle. He has lost all honor.”

“We should
let him die.” Eni, his entire left side bandaged, limped up beside his brother.
“There is nothing to be gained in keeping your enemy’s spawn alive.”

Raedwyn’s
chest ached as she looked upon Caelin’s unconscious face, but she was inclined
to agree with her uncle. Caelin had lost everything.

“If he has
no honor then it is all the more reason for keeping him alive,” Raedwald
replied with a vindictiveness that made Eni draw back in surprise. “We will
tend his injuries and if he lives he will reside here as my slave, more lowly
even than a theow. Ceolwulf’s debasement will live on, even after his death.”

Raedwyn
looked at the others: Eni, his sons, Seaxwyn and Eorpwald, and saw her own
shock reflected in various degrees on their faces. Her father’s hatred for
Ceolwulf had driven him to the edge of madness, so much so that he would even
inflict his revenge further upon Ceolwulf’s son.

Tears
coursed down the queen’s face as she gazed upon her husband. Raedwald’s face
was hard and devoid of mercy. No one dared question him.

Raedwyn
stood, unable to move lest her legs gave way from shock, while Raedwald brushed
past her and took his wife’s arm. Watching her father walk away, Raedwyn felt a
crushing sense of betrayal. Her own father had humiliated her in front of his
fyrd
and her own kin. He had accused her of behaving like a whore and, even though
he had slain Hengist for insulting her, he had not cleared her name before the
crowd.

No one
spoke to her.

The
battle-weary warriors turned from her and moved off to tend to their horses and
see to their own wounds. They were treating her as if she was a
nithing
– forfeiting all honor and respect; an individual dead to their eyes.

Raedwyn
stood looking down at her bloodless hands. She clasped them in front of her and
wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. When she looked up, she
found that Eni, Annan, Aethelhere, Aethelwold and Eorpwald were still standing
watching her.

It was an
effort to meet their gazes, but when she did, Raedwyn was surprised to see
compassion on their faces. She had thought they would share her father’s scorn;
that they too would believe her to be a whore.

“It’s
truly a man’s world,” Raedwyn whispered brokenly, “when a father believes the
words of his enemy over those of his own daughter.”

In unison,
her brother and uncle stepped forward and pulled her into their collective
embrace. They smelled of sweat, horse, blood and leather. Raedwyn hugged them
tightly to her, their strength and vitality seeping into her like a healing
balm.

Finally,
she let the tears come.

Chapter Nine

A chill
wind battered against the timber framing of Raedwald’s Great Hall and howled
around the eaves. Night had long since fallen across Rendlaesham, but the
feasting and celebrations had only just died away.

Once
inside his hall, the king’s mood had seemed vastly improved. Mead flowed, music
echoed amongst the rafters and the weary but triumphant warriors feasted on
roast mutton and pottage, followed by slabs of bread and honey. Tales of the
Battle of Uffid Heath echoed from side to side of the hall and Raedwald handed
out silver and gold neck and arm rings to those warriors who had fought the
most bravely during the battle. Eorpwald, who carried only a few arm rings,
received a beautiful golden arm ring from his father.

“You
fought well son.” Raedwald’s eyes had brimmed with tears from mead-induced
sentimentality. “You have made your father proud.”

Eorpwald had
blushed deeply as, beside him, Annan slapped him on the back. Raedwyn watched
her brother and was glad for him. Long had he lived in Raegenhere’s shadow; now
it seemed his dead brother’s shade had moved on.

Little was
said to Raedwyn during the celebrations and, unlike other feasts in the past
where she had happily been the center of attention, Raedwyn was content to
watch and listen to the tales which swirled around her. Their victory had been
hard won and Ceolwulf’s army had slain many of the king’s
fyrd
before
succumbing to its sheer size. Raedwald did not speak to, or look at, his
daughter all evening. Despite Eorpwald and Eni’s kindness, Raedwyn still stung
from her public shaming.

Hours
after the feasting finished, Raedwyn lay in darkness within her bower and
listened to the wind. She wondered how long it would take for her relationship
with her father to recover from this. She had never seen him so angry with her
and the injustice of it should have made her respond in kind. In the aftermath
of her father’s accusations, Raedwyn wished she had defended herself more
strongly. She should have been the one to run Hengist through with a sword for
his vicious, lying words. However, shock had rendered her wooden. She could not
understand the depth of her father’s hatred towards Ceolwulf, and she knew to
be wary of him while it held him in its thrall.

Sleep
would not come and so, finally, Raedwyn rolled off her bed and wrapped a fur
cloak around her shoulders. She pulled aside the tapestry that shielded her bower
from the rest of the hall and stepped outside. Slumbering bodies carpeted the
floor and darkness shrouded the hall, save for the embers still glowing in the
fire pit and the odd torch flickering gently on the wall. Padding across the
floor barefoot, Raedwyn stepped over sleeping men and made her way to the annex
at the end of the hall, where she and Cynric had spent their wedding night.
Memories of that unpleasant episode flooded back as Raedwyn pulled back the
curtain and stepped inside the chamber.

Two
torches burned within, illuminating the figure stretched upon the bed. They had
stripped Caelin of his armor and mail shirt. He wore nothing but a pair of
loose breeches. Raedwald’s healer had removed the arrows, with great
difficulty, and the bleeding had been profuse. The healer had bound Caelin’s
chest with linen, and blood now stained the pale material. Raedwyn wondered if
the arrows had pierced anything vital, although she supposed if that had been
the case, he would be dead already.

Caelin’s
skin was pale in the torch light and when Raedwyn put out a hand and touched
his forehead, she found his skin clammy and waxy to touch. It should have been
a great honor, to be tended under Raedwald’s roof and by his personal healer –
but Raedwyn knew it was not kindness that had prompted her father’s concern. He
wished for Caelin to live, but not out of mercy.

Raedwyn
perched on the side of the bed and, taking an earthen bowl of water infused
with herbs, wet a cloth before mopping Caelin’s brow. The dark shadow of a new
beard covered his chin and bristled under Raedwyn’s fingertips. Not knowing why
she did so, Raedwyn gently traced her fingers over his patrician features that
were beautiful in repose. She re-wet the cloth and wrung it out before running
it over the areas of his chest and stomach not covered by the bandages. He had
a lean, strong body; his chest sprinkled with dark curly hair that tapered down
to a thin line of down over his stomach before it disappeared under the
drawstring waistband of his breeches. Noticing the direction of her gaze,
Raedwyn deftly placed the cloth back over the rim of the bowl.

It was
idiocy to be here, alone, with him, even if he posed no danger to her in this
state. Her father needed no further reason to disbelieve her. Yet, ignoring
good sense, Raedwyn lingered a while longer at Caelin’s side. She folded her
hands on her lap and looked into Caelin’s face.

“I’m sorry
Caelin,” Raedwyn whispered. “This should not have been your end.”

Raedwyn
rose from the bed. Then, she bent over and placed a gentle kiss on Caelin’s
forehead, before walking over to the doorway. She pulled aside the curtain and
looked back over her shoulder at his still form. His chest still rose and fell,
albeit shallowly, but he looked like a corpse. Raedwyn turned away and let the
curtain fall, wondering whether she would find him alive in the morning.

***

Autumn
arrived in a sudden bluster of icy gales and shorter evenings. The leaves on
the trees surrounding Rendlaesham changed from green, to gold and then brown
before falling from their host and carpeting the ground. The harvest was over
and, despite a wet summer, there was ample food for the coming winter. Wood
smoke laced the air around Rendlaesham in the evenings and the townsfolk took
to wearing stouter clothing and cloaks.

As memory
of the summer faded and winter beckoned, life in Raedwald’s hall settled back
into its old routine, save for one element – for the hall now had a new
resident.

Caelin,
son of Ceolwulf the Exiled, did not die.

Much to the
surprise of all, after many days of fever and insensibility, Caelin awoke and,
owing to the healer’s ministrations and cunning use of herbs, his wounds slowly
healed.

“As soon
as he’s well enough I want him out working,” Raedwald ordered the healer. “Let
it be known he is not here as my guest – he is my slave!”

“Yes
M’lord,” the healer replied before venturing. “He is yet too weak to stand. His
wounds were great and ‘tis a miracle he survived them. “It will be mid-winter
before he is well enough to work.”

This news
had not pleased Raedwald and it seemed to his kin that he now regretted his
decision to keep Ceolwulf’s whelp alive.

Raedwyn
had secretly visited Caelin a few times while he was still unconscious but once
she heard he had awoken, she hesitated, fearing his reaction. Her father’s
attitude towards her had thawed a little; now he treated her with mere
indifference rather than disdain. No one ever brought up Hengist and Ceolwulf’s
claims against her again, but Raedwyn knew they had not forgotten. The issue
still festered and Raedwyn longed to sit before her father and argue her
innocence. In the past, she had never been afraid of her father, but now she
hesitated to cross him.

Seaxwyn
made up for her husband’s coolness by mothering her daughter and fussing over
her in a way that irritated both Raedwyn and Raedwald. The king’s hall had
always been a happy, relaxed home, but now Raedwyn found her bower stifling and
the underlying tension between her and Raedwald needled her.

During the
day, she was careful to show no interest whatsoever in her father’s new slave.
She did not ask after his progress, nor venture near the annex at the back of
the hall. Instead, she assisted her mother with her tapestries and helped bake
bread every morning. She spent her afternoons visiting Eanfled or riding her
horse, Blackberry, in the folds of land around Rendlaesham.

 Life
slowly returned to its old rhythm and, despite her father’s continuing coolness
towards her, Raedwyn started to feel her old self once more. In the evenings,
she insisted that Eorpwald taught her how to play
Hnefatafl
, ‘King’s
Table’; a board game she had watched her brother and cousins play for years.

***

One
evening, as rain drummed against the thatched roof of the Great Hall, Raedwyn
sat opposite Eorpwald at one of the long tables next to the fire pit playing
Hnefatafl
.
Between them lay a beautiful board, marked out into twenty-six squares. Raedwyn
picked up her king and grinned at Eorpwald as she moved the piece three spaces
to the edge of the board.

“Ha
brother, I win!”

“Not
again!” Annan called out from where he sat nursing a cup of hot mead farther up
the table.

Eorpwald
shook his head and glared down at the board, unable to believe she had beaten
him.

“Ruthless
wench!” he muttered.

“Admit it,”
Eni, who had also been watching the game, chimed in, “after beating four men in
one evening, Raedwyn’s a better strategist than you all!”

“It’s only
a game father,” Annan protested, while his two brothers whom Raedwyn had bested
earlier that evening, Aethelhere and Aethelwold, also looked disgruntled at
their father’s rebuke.

Raedwyn
beamed at her uncle. It was not often Eni admitted a woman could beat at man at
anything.

“What say
you, Eorpwald?” Raedwyn turned back to her brother. “Another game?”

Eorpwald
threw up his hands. “Sorry dear sister but I don’t think my pride could
withstand another defeat!” His grey eyes twinkled as the chagrin of losing
faded from his face. “What I need now is a large cup of mead!”

“Cousins?”
Raedwyn looked hopefully towards Annan, Aethelhere and Aethelwold but they only
shook their heads, while Annan muttered something about bad winners under his
breath.

“Suit
yourselves then,” Raedwyn replied cheerfully, “but tomorrow eve shall we play
again Eorpwald?”

“Of
course,” Eorpwald sighed. “I shall ready myself to take another beating.”

Still
smiling from her victory, Raedwyn bid her menfolk goodnight and retired to her
bower. Despite that her father still sat apart from her every evening, and only
spoke to her when absolutely necessary, Raedwyn had grown closer to the rest of
her family of late. Their games of
Hnefatafl
had forged a bond between
Raedwyn and Eorpwald. No longer offended by her brother’s sharp wit, Raedwyn
found herself looking forward to spending time with Eorpwald, and she often
sought out his company.

Raedwyn
lay awake listening to the rain and waited for sleep to claim her. Eventually
the Great Hall quietened as everyone else retired for the night. Still
wide-awake, Raedwyn decided that it was time to face Caelin.

Raedwyn
slipped out of bed, wrapped herself in a fur cloak and silently made her way to
Caelin’s annex. She pulled back the curtain and saw he was sleeping under a
heavy blanket. Someone had shaved his chin, and cut his dark hair short to
denote his new slave status. His face was thin and strained. Around his neck,
he wore an iron slave collar. Raedwyn padded over to his bedside and tweaked at
his blanket.

“Caelin,”
she said softly, shaking him gently when he did not respond.

A hand
suddenly fastened around Raedwyn’s forearm and she had to bite down on her
tongue not to cry out in alarm.

“Raedwyn.”
Caelin’s dark eyes were open and he stared up into her face. “I was wondering
when I would see you.”

He kept
hold of her arm but his grip was not so strong that she could not have escaped
it if she had wished. Raedwyn perched on the edge of the bed and without
thinking placed her free hand over the hand gripping her arm.

She saw
Caelin’s eyes widen at that, but she kept her hand over his nonetheless.

“You look at
me with such pity in your eyes,” Caelin said finally. “Am I so diminished now I
am your father’s theow?”

Raedwyn
shook her head, suppressing the urge to weep.

“You know
why my father has kept you alive then?”

Caelin
nodded. “It was my misfortune not have died on Uffid Heath,” he replied. “The
feud between Ceolwulf and Raedwald continues, even after my father’s death.”

“It’s not
right.” Raedwyn shook her head. “To rid you of your honor.”

Caelin
looked at her and Raedwyn saw emotion flare in his eyes, before a dark veil
slid across them.

“You still
haven’t learned, have you?” he said finally, his voice though weak, had a
flinty edge to it.

Taken
aback, Raedwyn stared at him. When she did not reply, Caelin continued.

“Have not
the events of late taught you that it matters not in this world what is right
and not right?”

“It
matters to me!” Raedwyn shot back.

“Why?”

“Because
you did something selfless and kind for me – and this is how we repay you?”

“Did you
tell Raedwald I set you free?” Caelin’s eyebrows lifted.