The Deepening Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 3) (15 page)

Saewara was nervous to leave her cake unattended while it
baked – lest one of the hungry warriors should help himself to it. As she
waited, she sat down on a stool next to the ovens and watched the activity in
the stable yard beyond.

Annan was talking to two of his thegns in the center of the
yard, and Saewara, without even meaning to, found herself studying the tall,
blond stranger who was her husband. He carried himself like a king, she
thought, straight and proud. Due to the warmth of the afternoon, he had
stripped off his cloak and was wearing a sleeveless tunic. Despite herself,
Saewara found herself taking in the light gold of his skin, and the finely
defined muscles of his arms.

Fortunately, Annan was too deep in conversation to notice that
she was observing him. He had not yet seen her, sitting next to the clay oven.

Presently, Saba and Hilda entered the stable yard. At the
sight of the king, Hilda became flustered and sprinted off up the steps to the
hall to assist the other slaves with the evening meal. Saba watched her go with
a wry shake of the head and turned to Annan. Even though their voices were
faint at this distance, Saewara heard their conversation.

“Look, you’ve scared her off.”

“Hardly. If I’d spent the afternoon looking at your ugly mug,
I too would be looking for an excuse to get away.”

Saba punched Annan playfully on the arm. “She finds my face
interesting.”

Annan grinned at that, and watching her husband, Saewara was
struck at how handsome he was when he smiled.

“So, how goes things at Exning?” Saba asked, turning his
attention to the reason for Annan’s journey south. “How’s the building
progressing?”

“Faster than I expected,” Annan replied with a note of pride
in his voice. “The men are working from dawn to dusk. The local monks are
calling it the ‘devil’s work’ – as such the folk of the area have named it
‘Devil’s Dyke’.”

Saba raised his eyebrows at this. “Penda’s going to have a
fit.”

Annan gave him a slow look, as if he had already considered
that prospect and cared not what the Mercian king thought.

“Of course. I don’t expect our neighbors to like it.”

A huge grin spread over Saba’s face as he listened to Annan.

“What about ‘bending the knee’ to Penda?” he asked,
deliberately baiting his friend.

However, Annan was in good spirits – the best Saewara had seen
since their arrival back in Rendlaesham – and he refused to be baited. He
merely shook his head, his expression hardening.

“I’m through doing that bastard’s bidding. He can demand terms
at the end of battle, and make me marry his sister to ensure peace, but he
can’t stop me from defending my own borders. You should see the fortifications,
Saba – I wish Raedwald and my father were alive to witness them. I am having a
hall built at Exning so I can spend more time there and oversee the work. Next
time I visit, you’re coming with me.”

Saewara watched, still unobserved by Annan and Saba, as the
men turned and made their way up the steps to the hall. Moments later, she
could no longer hear their conversation.

Turning her attention back to the reason she was out here,
Saewara used a thick jute cloth to pull her cake out of the oven to see if it
was done. The top was golden and a delicious aroma filled her nostrils. She
gingerly picked up the cake and turned to follow the men up to the hall.

I don’t believe it. He’s deliberately defying my
brother.

The news both thrilled and terrified Saewara. On one hand, she
loathed her brother enough that seeing others stand up to his bullying ways
brought her enormous pleasure. Yet, on the other she knew what Penda did to
those who crossed him.

She just hoped Annan was ready for the consequences.

Chapter Fifteen

Hare Pie

Saewara sliced the last leek into rings, before straightening
up to ease her aching back. She had been preparing vegetables all morning and
was starting to tire of it. The interior of the hall was quiet this afternoon.
It was a cool, grey day outside and the mood inside was subdued. A few older
men sat chatting by the fire while a group of woman – Hereswith and her friends
– worked at looms in one corner. The king was nowhere to be seen, as he and a
group of warriors, Saba and his brother Aethelhere among them, had gone hunting
at dawn.

In contrast to the sedate mood of the hall’s higher ranking
occupants, slaves scurried above the vast space like worker ants. Two boys were
refilling the water barrels in both corners of the hall, while another carried
in stacks of firewood. Next to Saewara at the work table, its surface pitted
and grooved from years of food preparation, Hilda kneaded yet another batch of
griddle bread for the evening meal.

Transferring the leeks to a huge cast-iron pot for soup,
Saewara glanced over at Hereswith and the other noble women. Even after a
month, they had still not accepted her into their ranks – not that Saewara had
tried to befriend any of them either. Their hostility made her keep her
distance from ‘the adders’, as she and Hilda called them. The few times she sat
down with embroidery, or her distaff, she did so as far as possible from them.
Even now, they stared at her before whispering amongst themselves and bursting
into peels of derisive giggles.  

Saewara knew she should not let their disdain bother her, but
after weeks of being treated like a
nithing
, when in fact she was now
Queen of the East Angles, it had begun to wear her down.

She realized that by helping Hilda and the other slaves with
the cooking, she just made it easier for them to single her out for ridicule.
They did so now, pointing at her before dissolving into paroxysms of laughter.

“She dresses like a slave-girl,” one of the women’s shrill
voices carried across the hall. “She can’t be a highborn Mercian princess – I’d
say Penda palmed off one of his Celtic slaves to the king. Annan was duped!”

Saewara’s face burned and she stared down at the cauldron she
had just emptied the chopped leeks into, pretending she had not heard the
woman.

“Milady,” Hilda murmured. “It’s not right. You should not
allow them to speak of you so. You are the queen, they should treat you with
more respect.”

“What would you have me do?” Saewara countered, her voice
sharper than she intended. “Go over to that woman and slap her face? I will become
even more hated than before.”

“They are bullies,” Hilda replied, showing a rare burst of
spirit. “My rank dictates that I may say nothing to them, but you can.”

 Saewara listened without responding this time. She knew that
Hilda spoke the truth; it was just that she felt so alone here. If she had the
support of her husband it might have been different, but she could not imagine
Annan caring. It was true that ‘the adders’ never spoke against their new queen
with the king present, for they were wary of him, but all it took was for him
to absent himself from the hall for a short while before the taunts began.

“You are strong, all can see it,” Hilda continued, fixing
Saewara with a pleading gaze, “but those women will break you if you let them.”

Saewara nodded and gave her friend a brittle smile. “You are
wise, Hilda. Saba is a fortunate man.”

Hilda blushed at that. “We are not a couple,” she murmured
before giving Saewara a shy smile. “Yet.”

Saewara smiled at that. “He can’t take his eyes off you
whenever you are near. We’ve all seen the way he looks at you. You know the
king has given his permission for you to wed. Saba will ask you soon, I am sure
of it.”

Hilda looked flustered at that. She pummeled the dough she had
been shaping with the back of her hand, flattening it into a wide disk.

“I never thought I’d marry anyone,” she admitted quietly. “I
thought this was to be my life – forever. I still can’t bring myself to believe
it. Saba is kind, strong and handsome. He could have any woman he wanted. Why
me?”

“Because he sees your beauty, your gentle heart and your
strength,” Saewara replied before she cast a scowl in the direction of Hereswith
and her coven. “A man like Saba would never be happy with one of those
empty-headed women who clamor for his attention. It’s you he wants.”

“I don’t understand it,” Hilda repeated, before giving another
shy smile, “although I would not stop him for the world.”

Their conversation was interrupted then, by the arrival of the
king and his men, back from a day’s hunting.

Annan strode into the hall, and as usual, the sight of him
stilled the breath in Saewara’s chest. The man had an incredible presence.
Whenever he entered a space, he drew the attention of those around him. Even
though they lived under the same roof as virtual strangers, Saewara could not
help but admire her husband’s masculinity, his charisma. She noticed that she
was not the only woman in the hall who noticed his attractiveness; the gazes of
‘the adders’ tracked Annan as he crossed the floor.

The king carried with him two large hares, holding each animal
by its back legs. They were magnificent creatures with soft, tawny coats and
dark, bright eyes.

Annan made his way over to the table where Saewara and Hilda
stood. Saewara felt a jolt as the king approached her. She was used to being
ignored. Annan placed the hares on the end of the table, his gaze meeting
Saewara’s.

“Hare pie this evening?” he asked hopefully.

Saewara gave her husband an arch look. “Do you enjoy my
cooking, Milord?”

Annan raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corners of
his mouth. “I do. Although Saba’s been nagging me for another one of your pies
for weeks now. I promised him I’d ask you for a pie this evening.”

“Very well,” Saewara cast a glance at the hares. “I’d better
get started, if you want to eat before midnight.”

He left her to it, and Saewara got to work. She employed
Hilda’s help to skin and gut the hares. As she worked, Saewara was aware of the
venomous looks she was getting from the women. They had seen the king stop and
converse briefly with his wife – something he rarely did – and they did not
like it. Saewara was sure they knew that the king and queen slept on separate
beds every night. Hereswith especially, often gazed at the queen with victory
in her eyes. She might not be able to have Annan but neither could his wife.

Saewara made the suet crust for the pie while Annan settled
down with Saba and Aethelhere near one of the fire pits with a cup of ale. A
feeling of contentment stole over Saewara as she worked. She had seen Annan
enjoy her cooking, although he had never before complimented her. She wondered
why it pleased her so, since they were husband and wife in name only. Yet, in a
life where she was a ghost in her own hall, validation of her existence and of
the contribution she made to life there, filled her with a sense of
satisfaction.

The hare pie was an enormous success amongst the men. Saba
rolled his eyes in ecstasy and asked for a third piece while Annan savored each
bite of his. Aethelhere lavished praise on the cook as he held out his plate
for a second helping, and received a vicious look from his wife. Oblivious to
Hereswith’s displeasure, Aethelhere blundered on.

“You are truly a cook of great talent, Saewara.”

“Thank you.” Saewara bowed her head graciously, a little
overwhelmed by the praise. She noticed that Hereswith, Eldwyn and the other
ealdormen’s wives picked at their meals listlessly.

“Truly, I’ve never eaten a pie like it.”

“It pleases me that you like it.” Saewara felt her cheeks burn
at the sudden attention she was receiving. After weeks of being ignored, it was
difficult to adjust. Only Annan remained silent, although Saewara could feel
his gaze rest upon her face as she answered his brother. She resisted the
impulse to meet his gaze and glanced back down at her plate, instead.

“She used too many herbs,” Hereswith spoke up, her voice
clipped. “I prefer my food plainer.”

“The rosemary and thyme are the perfect accompaniment to
hare,” Saba countered. “Can you do better, Hereswith?”

The young woman glowered at Saba in response but did not
reply. Aethelhere chuckled at Saba’s comment, only to receive a dig in the ribs
from his wife. He turned and gave Hereswith a reproachful look.

“What’s the matter with you tonight?” he hissed, slightly
drunk after consuming three cups of mead in quick succession. “You look as if
you’ve got a mouthful of horse piss.”

Most of the men roared at that, although Saewara noticed that
Annan did not.

Hereswith gave her husband a look that could have curdled milk
and turned her shoulder to him. Aethelhere shrugged and turned back to his
meal; his wife’s anger already forgotten.

Conversation resumed at the table then, and Saewara was
relieved to be ignored once more. She listened to Annan, Aethelhere and Saba’s
conversation, which had been interrupted in order to comment on the food.

“So do you think the hall is ready?” Saba asked with interest,
before he took another bite of pie.

Annan nodded. “I received word yesterday that the last of the
roof thatch has been finished. Truthfully, I would like to spend the rest of
the summer at Exning to oversee the work on the dyke.”

“Why don’t we go there for a spell then?” Aethelhere
suggested. “Leave a few of your ealdormen here to look after Rendlaesham and
return here in the autumn once the work has been completed.”

Annan nodded reluctantly, before he met his brother’s gaze.
“Wouldn’t you rather stay here and look after Rendlaesham in my stead?”

Aethelhere shrugged. “I’d rather help you at Exning, if I
may?”

“Very well,” Annan nodded, his expression shuttered. He then
turned to Saba. “Will you join me as well?”

“Of course,” Saba replied without hesitation. “As long as
Hilda accompanies your wife as her maid. I would prefer not to leave her for
the summer.”

“So be it,” Annan nodded. “We need to make preparations but if
we start tomorrow, we should be ready to depart within three days.”

Saewara listened with interest.

I wonder when he will speak to me of his plans,
she thought.

Judging from the conversation, she was also to join Annan in
Exning. She was curious to see this Devil’s Dyke – the border fortifications
that would keep her brother’s army at bay. Saewara had initially been pleased
with these plans to leave Rendlaesham behind, until Aethelhere had asked to
join his brother. For, if Aethelhere travelled to Exning, so would his wife.

Saewara’s gaze swiveled to where Hereswith sat, her pretty
face creased in annoyance. Even at Exning, Saewara would not be free of her
tormenter.

The meal ended and the diners rose to take their places by the
fire. Saewara got to her feet and glanced over at where her loom sat in a quiet
corner of the hall. She did not enjoy weaving but she suddenly craved a moment
of solitude and peace. She skirted the edge of the table, passing Hereswith and
Eldwyn.

Suddenly, she felt hands shove her viciously between her
shoulder blades. Saewara stumbled forward and fell flat on her face, skinning her
knees on the rushes. She had been just inches from cracking her skull on the
edge of the fire pit.

“Milord, it looks like your wife consumed a little too much
mead this eve,” one of Annan’s thegn’s bellowed.

Saewara scrambled to her feet, face flaming, and turned to
face the individual who had shoved her – only to see Hereswith glide away to
follow her husband, as if she had been at his heels the whole time.

It appeared that no one had seen Hereswith move; either that
or they did not care.

Saewara watched as Annan turned and raised an eyebrow at his
thegn. “No more than you, Bercthun.” The king’s gaze then shifted to his wife.

For the first time all evening, Saewara met Annan’s gaze.

“Are you well, Milady?” he asked.

Saewara nodded, her cheeks burning. “Yes Milord. I just
tripped.”

She turned her back on them all then and retreated to her corner,
taking a seat at her loom. Saewara watched Hereswith perch on a stool at Annan’s
side. Then, Hereswith leaned forward and whispered something to the king that
made him laugh.

Bitch.
A sudden, bitter rage
surged within Saewara.
One day, you shall pay for that.