Dark Under the Cover of Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 1) (15 page)

Eorpwald
paused and looked into his sister’s eyes then. “Even as boys, Raegenhere and I
knew our mother was lying, burying her deceit with clever words – but father
wanted so badly to believe her he would not hear otherwise. He nearly broke
Eni’s jaw days later when he suggested Seaxwyn had deliberately deceived him.
Unlike Raedwald, who had been blind to the growing attraction between Ceolwulf
and Seaxwyn, Eni had noticed their stolen glances during the months leading up
to the incident. A wet spring had fuelled their frustration, cooped up inside
the Great Hall without a moment alone together. They had been waiting for the
opportunity to consummate their lust.

Deep
within himself, father knew the truth but it would have destroyed him to admit
it. When he discovered that Ceolwulf had gone, he sent warriors after him.
However, when they returned empty-handed, he had no choice but to banish
Ceolwulf instead, to strip him of his title of ealdorman and to proclaim him
nithing
.
Henceforth he was known as Ceolwulf the Exiled.”

Eorpwald
let out a deep sigh as he finished his tale. “And then we buried it. We hid it
deep and forgot it ever existed. However, when Ceolwulf reappeared and abducted
you, father was forced to face the whole ordeal again. The thought Ceolwulf and
his men may have defiled you has nearly driven him mad. He was wrong to keep
Caelin alive for it just adds to his bitterness and suspicion. When mother
defended you today, it tore the scab off a wound which has festered for too
long.”

Raedwyn
watched her brother’s face, saw the naked grief there, and understood his
coldness towards Seaxwyn over the years. He still resented her, blamed her for
what happened.

“Just
after my marriage to Cynric,” Raedwyn began in a low voice. “I was upset and
mother came to me. She told me about her violent marriage to Tondbert, of how
she came to be married to father.”

There was
a pause while Eorpwald digested her words. “Our mother is strong Raedwyn. Over
the years she has done whatever necessary in order to survive.”

“I thought
she loved father.”

Eorpwald
smiled sadly at that. “I believe she does.”

“Then why
would she do something so despicable to him?”

“I know
not,” Eorpwald replied gently. “Mother is the only one who could answer that
question.”

***

Night was
falling when Raedwyn emerged from her bower. The Great Hall was strangely
silent for this time of day. Eorpwald had gone to carouse with friends at the
mead hall in town; a place often frequented by ealdormen and thegns, and Raedwald
had retired to his bower. Dinner had long since cooked and congealed over the
hearth. The servants had all gratefully retired for the evening, happy to be
free of the turmoil within the King’s Hall. A couple of men sat dozing near the
fire pit. They watched her lazily as Raedwyn seated herself at the long table.
She cut herself some strips of cold venison, poured a jug of mead and helped
herself to a hunk of overcooked griddle bread. Despite the day’s trauma,
Raedwyn felt hunger stirring in her belly. She ignored the thegns’ stares as
she ate, although when she had finished her meal she forced herself to meet
their gazes. Before her shaming, neither of them would have dared to stare at
her like that.

“Where is
my mother?”

“Not here
M’lady,” one of the thegns replied, feigning disinterest when Raedwyn sensed he
burned to know what was behind the altercation between the king and queen
earlier. “Perhaps she’s in the store or the workshop?”

Raedwyn
went back to her bower and pulled on a dry cloak before returning to the fire
pit. Ignoring the thegns, who were still watching her, she collected some more
dinner scraps and a jug of mead and, pulling up her hood to protect her head
from the chill, left the Hall.

Outside it
was snowing gently. Night had come even earlier than usual. It was silent
outdoors and the air, although cold, was wonderfully fresh after the fetid air
within the Hall. Raedwyn intended to seek out her mother, but first she had
something else she felt compelled to do.

Still
limping, she crunched through the snow, down the steps, and into the empty
stable yard. This time she made sure no one saw her, keeping to the shadows.
Grateful for the swirling snow, she crept past the individual stables that
housed Blackberry and the other horses ridden by Raedwyn’s kin, and into the
main stable. The air was warm with the smell of hay, dung and horses. She moved
past the lines of shuffling horses to the stall at the far end.

A light
flickered at the end of the stalls and she found him there, asleep on the hay.
A small torch, chained to the wall above him, guttered on the verge of
extinguishing itself.

Caelin lay
on his side. Upon creeping closer, Raedwyn saw he held a heavy piece of wood
against his stomach while he slept. Wise, she thought, since he was not safe
here. The torchlight and shadows played across his features as he slept.
Raedwyn watched her father’s slave with interest.

Caelin’s
mouth had swollen. Raedwald could have killed him for daring to defend her
honor. Careful not to wake him, Raedwyn knelt and placed the meat, bread and
jug of mead on the hay near Caelin, so he would have food to break his fast
tomorrow morning. Then, extinguishing the torch, Raedwyn left Caelin to sleep
and crept back the way she had come.

Once again
out in the snow, Raedwyn intently surveyed her surroundings. Her instincts were
sharp, as they had been the evening she had escaped from Ceolwulf. With her
family in turmoil, Caelin was not the only one in danger here. Certain there
was no one peering at her from the shadows she made her way back up towards the
Great Hall. Half way up, the stairs forked and Raedwyn took the right path.

Ahead,
loomed the shadow of the three buildings that housed the barracks, store and
workshop. Raedwyn rarely ventured here. Her father’s warriors slept in the
barracks and as such it was not a place she had ever visited – Raedwald would
have had her whipped if she had dared. She had played in the store house and
workshop as a child but had been discouraged from continuing to do so once her
girlhood ended.

Raedwyn
checked the workshop first but found it ice-cold and empty.  Next door, the
store house was a considerably larger building. Just after harvest, their
winter store of food packed it to bursting, although now with Yule nearly upon
them, it had emptied slightly. Raedwyn pushed back her hood as she stepped
inside. Clay cressets filled with oil burnt near the entrance and cast a dim
light over the interior. It was considerably warmer than the workshop. Peering
beyond the stacks of barrels and sacks, Raedwyn caught sight, in the shadowy
recesses of the building, of a figure seated upon a pile of sacks of grain.

“
Mōder?”

There was
a lengthy silence before a woman answered.

“Leave me
Raedwyn.” Seaxwyn’s voice struck Raedwyn as if her mother had just slapped her.

For a
moment, Raedwyn just stood there. The force in Seaxwyn’s voice almost made her
obey, but a resolve not to let more things remain unsaid, forced her to stand
her ground.

“Leave
me!” Seaxwyn’s voice caught and Raedwyn realized her mother was crying.

“Eorpwald
told me everything mother,” Raedwyn said and waited for Seaxwyn’s reply. When
none was forthcoming, she continued. “I just want you to know I understand why
you couldn’t say anything. You and father hid the truth from me so well that if
Ceolwulf hadn’t resurfaced I would never have known what had happened. You
managed to be happy together despite everything. Some things are best buried
and I’m sorry that when you defended me father threw the past in your face.”

Raedwyn
broke off, near to tears, and waited for Seaxwyn to reply. When the queen did
not, she understood her mother had meant her words. She did not want company
tonight. Raedwyn did not blame her. She doubted things between the king and
queen would ever be quite right again – and it was partly her fault. She opened
her mouth to say more but no suitable words would come. Feeling sadness wrap around
her like a heavy cloak, Raedwyn turned and left the storehouse.

Outside,
it had stopped snowing and the clouds parted revealing an inky, star strewn
sky. From here, Raedwyn could see the fires of the rest of the town huddled in
the shallow valley below the Great Hall. She stood there awhile watching the
sleeping town, until her feet ached with cold, before she crunched through
pristine snow back to her father’s hall.   

Chapter
Twelve

Yule
arrived with yet another wintry blast of snow and ice. Raedwyn had always loved
Yule, especially in milder winters when she and her kin would join the people
of Rendlaesham outdoors in the celebrations. However, this mid-winter solstice
she could not dredge up much enthusiasm. The winter’s chill had crept into her
father’s hall since that fateful evening. Despite the roaring hearth in the
center of the Great Hall, the atmosphere within the timber walls was frosty.
The queen spent most of her time weaving in her bower while the king sulked.
Everyone, including the servants, was unsmiling and on-edge, as if they
expected hostilities to re-erupt at any time.

Raedwyn
remembered happy occasions on past years. Apart from the special food they
would prepare and enjoy, one of Raedwyn’s favorite traditions at Yuletide was placing
cakes in the boughs of the oldest apple trees in the orchards outside
Rendlaesham. They would sacrifice animals under the trees and let their blood
soak into the earth to give thanks for the fruit. The sacrifice also ensured
that the trees produced abundant fruit in the future.

Boughs of
mistletoe and holly festooned the town and, in the center of Rendlaesham, a
great bonfire burned on Yule Eve. The Yule bonfire gave renewed life and power
to the sun, ensuring its rebirth so that the darkest part of the winter would
be over and they could all look forward to gradually lengthening days and the
approach of spring. The townsfolk began building the Yule bonfire with oak and
pine branches two moon-cycles before the mid-winter solstice.

As Yule
approached, Raedwyn helped the servants prepare the Yule delicacies. Most of
the cakes they prepared were round and golden, like the sun, and served warm.
Raedwyn helped the other women bake huge batches of hot seedcakes, spiced buns,
and sour plum or apple cakes sweetened with honey. Chestnuts popped and snapped
in the hearth, filling the frosty air with their sweet aroma. Big pots of
mulled, spiced mead simmered over fires before servants ladled it into earthen
mugs; a welcome remedy for numb lips and fingers.

On the
morning of Yule Eve, Raedwyn awoke early, as was her habit, and dressed in her
best winter dress; an embroidered blue gown with a heavy, floor length woolen
tunic and long, tight sleeves underneath. She pulled fur-lined boots onto her
feet and fastened her finest rabbit fur cloak to her shoulders with the two
matching amber brooches Cynric had given her as her ‘morning gift’. Raedwyn had
not touched the brooches since the day of the ambush but they were so beautiful
it had seemed a pity never to wear them.

Raedwyn
pulled on gold bracelets and clasped a gold, jewel-encrusted circlet around her
neck. She left her hair loose and emerged from her bower to find her mother at
her distaff, seated on the raised dais at the end of the hall, while her father
and two of his ealdormen chatted with Eni and her cousins near the fire pit.
Eorpwald was playing
Hnefatafl
with one of his father’s thegns while,
around them, servants scurried like squirrels late stocking their winter store.

The smell
of roasting chestnuts and honeyed seed cake mingled with that of the enormous
boar roasting on a spit. Raedwald had selected the boar especially for Yule.
They had sacrificed it that morning. The scent was heavenly and Raedwyn’s mouth
watered. She took a drink of water, feeling as she did so, someone’s gaze upon
her. The thegn who played
Hnefatafl
with Eorpwald was staring
brazenly at her. He was the same one who had stared at her on the night she had
learned of her mother’s deceit.
Like then, Raedwyn chose to ignore him.

 Raedwyn
was helping herself to a seed cake when Caelin appeared, swathed in furs and
weighed down by a load of logs for the fire pit. Raedwyn felt an unexpected
jolt at seeing him. She had deliberately not sought Caelin out, even if she had
found him in her thoughts more often than she wished. The king and his men
ignored Caelin as he made his way over to the stack of logs against one wall.
Raedwyn’s gaze tracked him, like a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame, even at
its own peril. Should her father see her watching his most reviled slave, she
knew he would punish them both, but even this knowledge could not prevent her.

Feeling
her gaze upon him, Caelin returned Raedwyn’s gaze for a moment. He gave her a
fleeting, slightly mocking smile, before he started to stack the logs.

Someone
else had noticed their exchange. The thegn excused himself from playing
Hnefatafl
with Eorpwald and let another take his
place, before sauntering over to the fire pit. There, he retrieved some roast
chestnuts and placed them in a small basket.

“Here,
M’lady,” he said solicitously, placing himself in front of Raedwyn and blocking
her view of Caelin. “Would it please you if I peeled these?”

“No thank
you,” Raedwyn replied icily, taking the basket from him with ill-grace. “I
shall peel them myself.”

The thegn
smiled, as if her rudeness had no effect on him. “You look especially fair
today, M’lady.” His gaze dropped to the circlet she wore around her neck, then
to the swell of her bosom under her dress, before his voice softened to almost
a whisper. “I look forward to the celebrations this eve, I hope to dance with
you.”

Scowling,
Raedwyn picked up a chestnut and peeled off the blackened skin. The chestnut
was still red hot; she could not eat it yet. She felt like stuffing one into
this man’s mouth – anything to prevent him from irritating her further. By the
time the thegn had finished whispering compliments and trying to gaze longingly
into her eyes, Caelin had finished stacking wood and had left the hall. The
thegn then strolled back to rejoin Eorpwald for another game of
Hnefatafl
, a triumphant smile lingering on his
lips. 

Irritated,
Raedwyn ate her chestnuts and let her gaze travel around the interior of the
Great Hall. Its lushly decorated interior was even more splendid with the mid-winter
solstice festivities. Boughs of holly and mistletoe hung from the rafters. Oil
infused with rosemary and pine burned in clay cressets. Raedwyn’s kin were all
dressed as richly as she was. Seaxwyn was dripping in gold and gemstones. She
had piled her hair onto her head, revealing her long, shapely neck. Raedwald
too looked handsome in his finery, although Raedwyn noted that her father’s
hair was now nearly completely gray and his skin had lost the ruddy bloom he
had possessed as a younger man.

Relations
between the king and queen were still frosty and they both remained cool and
detached towards their only daughter. If it had not been for Eorpwald, Eni and
her cousins, Raedwyn might have felt as if she were living in a house full of
strangers.

Finishing
her chestnuts, Raedwyn made her way outside. She had been so used to seeing low
cloud and either driving sleet or snow, that the bright sunlight that greeted
Raedwyn made her squint. The snow still lay thick on the ground but the sky
beyond the horizon was limpid blue and unmarred by even a single cloud.

Raedwyn
sighed in pleasure at the feel of the sun on her skin. She turned her face up
to its warmth and closed her eyes. If the weather remained like this it would
be pleasant to venture outside after dark to watch the Yule Bonfire burn and
celebrate Mother Night; the first eve of the twelve days of Yule.

***

Ealdormen,
thegns, ceorls, and the king and his kin filled the Great Hall for the Yule
feast. They banqueted on roast boar and onions followed by sour plum cakes. The
feasters downed the rich food with copious quantities of warmed mead. Once
night fell, the revelers left Raedwald’s Hall. They crunched through the snow,
down into the center of Rendlaesham and lit the vast bonfire that the townsfolk
had spent the last two months building. There the music and dancing began.
Someone began playing a bone whistle, and its haunting notes carried far across
Rendlaesham.

Raedwald
and Seaxwyn made an appearance, as was customary on Mother Night, and made a
show of togetherness. They stood side-by-side and even held hands at one stage,
but Raedwyn saw that they barely spoke to each other. The bonfire crackled,
sending tongues of flame licking up into the night sky, before the king finally
took up his lyre and began to sing.

Raedwald
was a gifted musician and singer. Raedwyn recalled many a winter’s eve when she
would curl up like a puppy at her father’s feet near the fire pit and listen to
the soothing lilt of his baritone as he sung heroic lays and sad songs of lost
love. Despite his bluff exterior, Raedwald was a man of hidden depths that he
rarely revealed, except to those closest to him. However, when he sang,
Raedwald exposed his soul for all to see. As it was this eve.

The king
drew a bow sweetly across the strings of the small wooden lyre and began to
sing. He sang of battle, he sang of bloodshed and loss, of brotherhood and
valor, and finally, of treachery and reckoning. Raedwyn listened, feeling the
fine hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Raedwald’s voice and that of the
lyre rose in harmony while around him, some people sang, while others danced.

Eanfled
and Alric had attended the Yule bonfire. Raedwyn thought her friend had never
looked more beautiful or serene as she danced with her beloved. Eanfled’s
pregnancy was now starting to show but she moved with the same grace as ever.
Finally, breathless, Eanfled sought out Raedwyn while Alric went to find
himself a cup of mead.

“Your
father’s voice is so beautiful!” Eanfled exclaimed. “I love to hear him sing!”

“So do I,”
Raedwyn admitted, “although his choice of theme these days is a bit repetitive
for my liking.”

Eanfled
nodded. Raedwyn had told her of the secret her family had kept for the past
sixteen years. For the second time in only a few months, Eanfled had been
struck dumb by Raedwyn’s news – only this time they could find no humor in it.

“Are they
still not speaking then?” Eanfled asked, glancing over at where Seaxwyn was
conversing with the wife of one of the king’s ealdormen. “They seem happy
enough this eve.”

“Yes, at
least they are not still at war,” Raedwyn admitted. “He forgave her once –
perhaps he will again and things will go back to the way they were, in time.”

At that
moment, Raedwyn’s admirer – the amorous thegn – appeared in front of them.

“I
promised you we would have our dance Raedwyn the Fair.” The man’s teeth flashed
against his tawny beard. “And I am a man of my word!”

Raedwyn’s
heart sank, and she would have refused him if Eanfled, completely misreading
Raedwyn’s pained expression as one of shyness, had not pushed her into his
arms.

“Go on
Raedwyn – you have not yet danced!”

Needing no
further encouragement, the thegn grasped hold of Raedwyn’s arm and swung her
round into the whirling dancers.

“My name
is Osric,” the thegn introduced himself, before he crushed her foot under his,
“and I have long awaited this day.”

Raedwyn
grimaced and tried to keep her feet clear of him. She was relieved when the
dance forced him to fling her away from him and twirl her around him.

“I must
confess,” he breathed into her ear when he pulled her close once more. “I was
disappointed when Raedwald married you off to Cynric. I wanted you for my own.”

There was
a lull in the music, as the king finished his epic lay and took a long draught
of mead. Raedwyn stepped back from Osric who was eyeing her like a hungry wolf.

“I must
accompany my mother back to the hall,” she said, hurriedly glancing over at
Seaxwyn. The queen looked tired and drained at the conclusion of the king’s
song. Raedwald’s lay of treachery and retribution had exhausted her.

“Do not
tarry.” Osric let his gaze trail down Raedwyn’s body. “I want plenty more
dances before this night ends.” As if to make his point all the clearer, he
squeezed her bottom as she turned away.

Seaxwyn
was visibly relieved when Raedwyn offered to take her back to the Great Hall.
The king had begun another song, this one even angrier and more heart-wrenching
than the last. The strains of his voice died away as the two women made their
way through the snowy streets. It was a clear night and the full moon lit their
way. They walked in silence for a spell, each immersed in their own thoughts
before Seaxwyn spoke.

“You must
hate me as your brother does.”

Raedwyn
was taken aback.

“You are
wrong, mother” she replied when she had recovered. “Neither I nor Eorpwald hate
you.”

The
silence drew out between them for a short while before Seaxwyn spoke again. “I
thought your father would never forgive me all those years ago, and I was so
grateful when he did. I realized how blessed I was. Ironically, we were even
happier together after that, for we no longer took the other for granted.”

“If
Ceolwulf had not returned you would have remained happy together,” Raedwyn
replied sadly. “Father seems so altered. He has no proof against me but he
continues to believe I gave myself to Ceolwulf and his men. He is so bitter, so
angry. Nothing I say will make any difference.”