The Betrothed Sister (16 page)

‘Mother is with them.' Mary nodded in the direction of the altar. Following Mary's nod, Thea's eyes glanced along the nave. As her eyes adjusted to the church's dim interior she saw four strangers who wore embroidered tunics with wide sleeves and broad belts. ‘The Rus ambassadors?' she said, turning back to Mary.

‘Correct, Thea. You are not totally addled by your day in the sun. Their guards are in the yard. You may have noticed horsemen. Queen Elizaveta has come to speak with you. You will find her with Father in the hall. Everyone has been waiting for you to return. Mother brought the foreigners into our church, just to keep them busy until you were found.'

Thea felt an anchor was weighing her heart down, dragging her deep into the depths of a great unknown sea. What would Jarl Niels say to her? Her mind worked quickly, composing a lie. Where
had
she been?

‘To the hall now. You look a mess. Is that a bramble tear in your gown?'

Thea glanced down. Her saffron gown did have a rip near the hem. ‘Oh, it must have got caught when we paddled in the stream.'

Mary's answer was to prod Thea in the back and send her hurrying out through the church door. Gudrun followed, trying to keep up. Thea could hear the girl's stout boots clatter on the tiled floor of the porch. The priest intoned on, singing a long prayer. Thea turned her head and looked back through the opened door at those gathered in the nave. No one had shifted their attention from the priest.

‘Hurry; the skald has returned,' Lady Mary said as they crossed the yard. A group of armoured men were sitting with their backs against the stable block wall, their weapons by their sides. These must be the guards they saw a while ago before Gudrun pushed the barrow to the kitchen lean-to.

Lady Mary paused by a crab apple tree close to the hall entrance. She lifted up Thea's chin, forcing her to look into her darkening eyes. ‘You had better have a good excuse ready for Queen Elizaveta. Where have you been, child? You were not at the mill. Nor were you at the dyers.'

Thea fumbled about for words of explanation. ‘We had a picnic and then fell asleep under bushes close to the river bank. It was hot and we were tired. The bells for Vespers awakened us.' The lie had easily tripped off her tongue.

‘Just look at the state of you …' Lady Mary began.

‘There they are …' A familiar voice reached out from the shadows beyond the open, great, studded hall door. Thea peered through it, trying hard to see him. She stepped closer and there he was. Padar, wearing his familiar red mantle, was sitting on a stool inside the hall doorway; his harp lay across his knees. He was twiddling the strings. Standing up, he carefully placed the harp on the stool.

‘What does the queen want with me?' Without even greeting Padar, the question tumbled out of her mouth.

His eyes slid past Lady Mary to Gudrun then back to her. ‘Queen Elizaveta and Jarl Niels are waiting to speak to you.'

‘About what?' She stood on the hall threshold momentarily frozen, cold despite the warmth of the afternoon.

‘Your betrothal, of course.'

‘They can wait a quarter of that candle notch longer,' Lady Mary said, glancing at the fat candle standing in the hall porch gloom marking time. ‘Look at her, skald. She is not fit to be seen in those garments.' She turned to Thea again. ‘Go and change your gown, Thea. We shall tell Jarl Niels you are on your way. There is to be a feast in your honour. Wear your best gown.'

Thea peered past the hour candle into the hall. Figures were rushing about. She now heard the bumping of benches, the clanging platters and the noise of servants' chatter. She peered past Lady Mary. She stepped past Padar and looked about. Two of their servants were hanging fresh tapestries showing sailing ships and river scenes from beams by the walls. The king's pennant hung behind the top table on the raised dais. Servants and slaves were bustling about carrying loaves of hastily baked bread and barrels of ale. There was the smell of fowl roasting.

Lady Mary, who had followed her inside, said in a cross voice, ‘Yes, you are to be betrothed to Prince Vladimir. You can see the hurried preparations we have been making for the queen's visit, while you fall asleep by the river.' She lifted Thea's hands. ‘Wash those. You are not a slave.' She seized Thea's arm and propelled her out of the entrance and along the outer wall to the staircase. Trembling with excitement, Thea began to mount the stairway. Padar, who had followed them, momentarily smiled up at Gudrun as she placed her boot on the first step. ‘Come on, Gudrun,' Thea said irritated at them both. ‘We have only a quarter of the candle notch.'

That afternoon, Thea, who had hastily washed and changed her overgown, stood before the queen, feeling a sense of fear as the queen told her that she was to return to Roskilde and warned her how she was to behave that evening.

‘You must look your best tonight. We have a few weeks and a little more to prepare, my dear. One of the ambassadors will stand as proxy for Prince Vladimir. This evening you will be veiled and you will say nothing. It is discreet. Nothing, my dear. You do understand. They will be watching you. You will behave like a princess. You eat daintily if at all and you must lower your eyes. You will walk gracefully, not like a country woman but like a noblewoman.'

‘My child,' Jarl Niels broke in and spoke gently to Thea, ‘important matters of trade with the Rus are at stake. There is a little disappointment that they have chosen an English princess rather than a Danish princess. However, for you it is a grand marriage. Queen Elizaveta has your interests at heart and she intends that you will understand the way a Rus princess must behave. We want no misunderstandings.'

Elizaveta nodded and Thea wondered if she resented the fact that she was to marry Prince Vladimir rather than one of her stepdaughters. ‘Are the princesses recovered?' she politely ventured. ‘Are they well, my lady?'

‘They are recovered and as well as can be expected but all our hopes, my child, are with you. Do not disappoint us. Now go and prepare yourself. Lady Ingar will fetch you when we are ready to introduce you to these new ambassadors.' She sighed. ‘They are a serious group of men, more serious than those who carried the pox to our palace.'

Gudrun's hands were shaking as she pulled the sapphire blue gown from the coffer. Moments later, she lifted out the silver, sapphire-studded circlet and its luminous veil. Both had been folded into a rose-coloured gown that Thea rarely wore.

Thea seized the circlet from Gudrun, allowing the rose gown to fall onto the floor. She would soon be betrothed to Prince Vladimir and travel to Novgorod where she would marry the prince in a great, no doubt exceptionally magnificent, Russian wedding. He would appear as he had this afternoon in a fine mantle. Soon she would meet him. The vision in the wood was an omen, a good omen. Her prince was not warning her, he was greeting her. Tonight was one of the most important of her life. She must impress them all.

She stood still in the middle of the floor, her hands flying to her face. ‘By the nons, how could the witch's magic work so quickly? Do you think she had intelligence of their coming here before we went to her cottage? Or is it coincidence?'

Gudrun bent down to rescue the gown that lay in a heap on the floor rug. Clutching the garment, she said, ‘Coincidence maybe, though she clearly can see things we cannot. But, my lady, Padar is back, however it has come about.'

Thea raised an eyebrow. Her maid's eyes were shining and her face was glowing with pleasure.

‘You may keep that rose overgown. It becomes you. When I am Princess of the Rus, I shall have all the dresses I could ever desire. You must have that one. The undergown is still in the chest. Wear both this evening. My handmaiden should complement her mistress.' She instinctively touched the swan talisman that lay cool and comforting between her breasts. Should she wear it or keep it hidden? Better it remained hidden.

She lifted her polished mirror from the coffer, peered at her face, pinched her cheeks and laid the mirror down again.

Gudrun blushed, her creamy skin taking on a lovely glow. ‘I am pale beside your beauty, my lady.'

‘We must both look radiant tonight. Once my betrothal is settled, you will travel with me into the country of the Rus.'

Gudrun's eyes looked anxious and her skin paled to the colour of church candle wax. ‘But Padar?'

‘I shall request Padar's protection. We shall see if he is the one Lady Ragnar thinks will bring you joy.'

Gudrun removed the brooch from her belt purse and peered at it. ‘Needle will remain in my belt purse as my talisman.'

‘See it does. We are in enough trouble.'

Gudrun lifted Thea's comb from the chest. ‘Shall I braid your hair into two plaits or fold it into a neck twist?'

‘Two braids will suffice. There is no time. They are waiting for me. And I think use the sapphire clasps. They will show beneath my head covering.' She smiled happily. ‘I feel, Gudrun, that our visit to the witch was a good omen. Our lives are changing.'

‘And about time too, my lady.'

Ingar was mounting the staircase. Thea recognised her tread so she placed a finger on her lips, composed herself, raised her head and arranged her veil.

Part Two

Betrothal

The son of Prince Vsevolod and of a Byzantine princess of the house of Monomakh, Vladimir married Gita, the daughter of the last Anglo-Saxon king, Harold, who was defeated at the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

Medieval Russia's Epics, Chronicles, and Tales,
edited by Serge A. Zenkovsky, 1974.

12

Roskilde, Calends of August 1069

The day of Thea's betrothal feast arrived within a month of her return to Roskilde. Since Prince Vladimir was helping his father to keep order in Kiev, the Rus diplomat, Lord Igor from Novgorod, stood proxy for him. If Thea had hoped that the prince, himself, would come for her, he did not and she was disappointed when she discovered that she would not travel to the Rus lands before the spring sailing season.

She asked Padar to describe Prince Vladimir. Padar confirmed that he was tall and dark with brown eyes that sometimes looked hard but quickly added that they were more often softly hued. He told her that the prince could be distant but that was his sense of how a prince should behave. Her face fell. She had hoped he would be lively and fun to be with. Padar raced on, ‘Oh yes, my lady, he is very devout. He attends all the services.' So he was serious. ‘Yes, a learned prince,' Padar said. ‘He is much loved by them all. I think him fair and kindly. My lady, you must not be disappointed that after your betrothal you cannot travel over the seas at once. There will be time for you to make ready for your journey to the lands of the Rus.' She wondered for a heart-beat if Padar was being diplomatic and if there were other reasons that she must wait.

This is usual with betrothals, she told herself, chasing off her disappointment as if it was a bothersome fly to be flicked away. She spun around. She was ready. Followed by a group of fussing maids, she swept from the chamber where she had dressed and down the stairway.
Great princes are busy, fighting battles or caring for their peoples, and I am sure my Vladimir is already a great prince.

As Thea stood at the bottom of the stairway she found that she had difficulty breathing. Her new overgown of gold damask, embroidered with silver crosses, was stiff, tight and uncomfortable. She disliked the hardened damask, its tight sleeves scratching her skin. She resented the fact that it hung badly on her because it had not been made for her but, long ago, for Queen Elizaveta.

‘It is suitable and becoming,' the queen had said firmly.

Thea thought otherwise. It itched as if it contained a host of crawling creatures, though she knew it had been kept carefully in lavender and its seams were ruthlessly checked for lice by maids before she had her fitting for it.

As she had prepared for the ceremony, Elizaveta had explained that a Russian husband did not look upon his bride's face until the third night of their wedding.

‘Even though Ambassador Igor is only standing in as the prince's proxy?'

‘Thea, you must observe the Rus custom.'

Elizaveta held up a fine silk veil, so fine that, in fact, Thea was relieved when she realised that she could see through it. She smiled to herself thinking, surely if I can see through it,
others
might see
my
face.

Her maids discreetly withdrew into the shadows. Thea paused momentarily. Through her cobweb-fine veil, she observed the gathering of Danish noblemen and women waiting by the whetstone close to the hall entrance. Sweltering in the wretched gown, Thea stepped forward from the stairway. Flanked by Elizaveta and the king's older daughters, Helene and Ragnhild, she walked sedately up the length of the hall, past the central hearth and took her place close to the nobility and the Danish princesses.

She felt the princesses glowering at her from behind closely drawn silk wimples. Only their cheeks, noses, chins and eyes showed. Thea knew well how Lady Fortune had smiled on her. She had escaped unmarked from the previous year's attack of the little pox, except for a few tiny scars on her body.

Guttorm, the third princess, had remained sulky ever since Thea had returned from Søderup. Her petulance, on this betrothal day, Thea knew did not stem from the illness suffered by her sisters during the previous autumn. Godwin had not returned to Denmark from Ireland with Edmund during the spring sailing season.

Guttorm had said bitterly, ‘Lucky for you that
your
betrothal goes ahead. Your brother has not fulfilled his promise for
our
betrothal. It was part of my father's agreement with our great-aunt.'

Thea had replied diplomatically, ‘Princess, I am sorry, too, that he has not returned with Edmund. Perhaps the Pope considered you too closely related.'

‘Pah! Others marry cousins twice removed.'