The Deepening Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 3) (19 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Lovers and
Longing

Sabert and Hilda were handfasted on a hot, mid-summer’s day.
The ceremony took place outdoors, under a wide blue sky, on the grassy meadows
outside Exning.

The couple stood before an arch that had been festooned with
wildflowers. Hilda was dressed in a creamy white tunic made of fine wool that
accentuated her slender frame. She had daisies threaded through her long brown
hair and her face was radiant. Saba stood before her, beaming down at his
bride. He was dressed in a black tunic and leather breaches. Numerous gold arm
rings decorated his muscular arms and he had tied his dark hair back at the
nape with a leather thong.

Watching Saba and Hilda’s faces, Saewara felt her eyes sting
with tears. She discreetly brushed at her eyes, not bothered if anyone saw
them. After all, many people cried at weddings. Besides, she was not weeping
for herself, but for joy that Hilda was finally free and about to start a new
life with the man she loved.

The king stood before the couple. Saba had asked Annan to act
as celebrant, and although he had been a bit hesitant initially, Annan appeared
at ease in this unfamiliar role. Saewara watched him wrap the ribbon about the
lovers’ hands, before he stepped back and let them pledge their vows to each
other.

A huge crowd had gathered around Saba and Hilda. It was nearly
ten days since Aldfrid’s visit, and since then the
fyrd
– a king’s army
of hundreds of spears and axe-men, had been amassing on the grasslands outside
Exning. More would come, Saba had promised. He had sent out riders, far and
wide over the kingdom to call men to arms – and the men came, quicker than even
Annan had expected.

The East Angles readied themselves for war.

Before the kingdom’s defeat to the Mercians just over a year
earlier, the East Angles had grown complacent. The Wuffinga kings had kept them
safe; it had seemed unthinkable that another king would take their land for his
own. Now their complacency was gone, they feared the Mercians and knew that
they could no longer pretend the threat was not real. This fear galvanized
them, and spurred them to Exning. The huge increase in man-power also meant
that Devil’s Dyke was nearing completion months ahead of schedule. Exning was
no longer a sleepy village on the fringe of the kingdom but a bustling hive of
industry. Forges burned night and day as smiths fashioned a mountain of spear-heads,
arrow-heads, axe-heads and swords. Annan spent his evenings in discussion with
Saba, Aethelhere, and his most trusted warriors, discussing battle tactics and
the best method of defense against the Mercians.

Despite the shadow of approaching war, there was still time
for a handfasting. In fact, such an event was celebrated with even more joy
than usual. Marriage, like birth, was a life-affirming act. It reminded all
present what they were fighting for, and what they stood to lose.

The ceremony concluded with Saba pulling the blushing Hilda
into his arms for a passionate kiss. The crowd roared its approval and a
thunderous applause followed. Saewara clapped enthusiastically along with the
others, but could not help but note that Hereswith and Eldwyn, her constant
companion, stood with pinched faces, nearby.

Since their arrival here in Exning, Saewara had rarely seen Hereswith
smile. Relations between the Northumbrian beauty and Aethelhere had also
deteriorated. They often argued, and days would pass in frosty silence.
Aethelhere had stopped looking at his bride in adoration, and she ignored him.
All had noticed the change in them both – and Saewara wondered what Annan
thought of it. He too, had changed since arriving in Exning. His manner toward
Saewara had thawed considerably. They would often chat companionably before bed
in the evenings and, although they still slept separately, Saewara found
herself looking forward to her nightly conversations with Annan. Unlike in
Rendlaesham, where it was obvious that Hereswith’s presence had disturbed him,
he seemed not to notice her here – either that or he made a convincing show of
ignoring her.

Despite that her marriage had never been consummated, Annan’s
apparent disinterest in the woman who he had once pined for, gave Saewara a
ridiculous amount of pleasure. True, Hereswith’s mood had become even nastier
of late – her barbs even more cutting – but it was worth it to see that Annan
had decided to move forward with his life.

Warriors carried out long tables into the meadow for the handfast
feasting. It was a rare, and pleasant occasion to sit out for a feast under the
warm sun. The chirp of crickets chorused with the rumble of conversation and
bursts of laughter.

Saewara helped herself to a plate of strawberries drizzled
with honey and cream, and enjoyed the feeling of the sun on her shoulders. She
watched Saba feed Hilda a strawberry and smiled. It was wonderful to see Hilda
so happy; she looked a different woman in her beautiful gown and without the
iron slave-collar about her neck. She sat straighter; her eyes bright, and her
cheeks flushed.

The love of a good man – and freedom – had made Hilda radiant.

The mead flowed and the platters of roast meat and vegetables
slowly emptied. A musician started playing a jaunty tune on his bone whistle
and couples began to rise from the table to dance. Saba, unsteady on his feet
after copious amounts of mead, escorted his new bride into the middle of the
swirling dancers.

Saewara watched them with wistful longing. It was the same
dance she and Annan had been forced to participate in at Tamworth; only this
one had a completely different feel. There were no hostile glares, unless you counted
Hereswith and her maid, and everyone was in the mood to celebrate. It did not
matter that war approached, for at least they were free. Watching them, Saewara
decided that she liked the East Angles very much; and felt a far greater
kinship to these people than she had ever felt to her own.

The dancing had been going on a short while when Hereswith
rose from her seat and made her way around the table to where Annan sat
lingering over a cup of mead.

“Milord,” she greeted him, boldly meeting his gaze. “Will you
dance with me?”

Annan stared back at her, surprised. Aethelhere was sitting at
the other end of the table, deep in conversation and had not noticed that his
wife had approached the king.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Annan protested half-heartedly. “Are
you sure you want your feet trodden on?”

“I will take my chances, Milord,” Hereswith replied with a demure
smile before she held out a hand to him. “Shall we?”

Saewara watched as Annan got to his feet and took Hereswith’s
elbow, leading her into the dance.

She knew she had no right to feel jealous – but the sight of
them, golden haired and fair, dancing together, was like a punch to the
stomach.

No wonder he wanted her,
Saewara
thought bitterly.
They make a beautiful couple
.

The joy of the day suddenly disappeared.

How was it possible to go from contentment to desolation in
just a few moments?

Why do I care so much?

A lyrist joined the whistle player and the music stepped up a
pace. Annan was, in fact, a good dancer. He moved with grace and ease. Saewara’s
gaze tracked him and jealousy twisted her stomach. If she could, she would have
clawed Hereswith’s eyes out.

The blonde stared into Annan’s eyes as they danced; her gaze
not leaving his for a moment. It was a challenging gaze, a hungry gaze. The look
of a desperate woman who knew the effect she had on men.

Disgusted, Saewara looked away. She could not bear to see them
together.

Annan’s head spun slightly as he whirled Hereswith around once
more. He had eaten and drunk too much; and the dancing was starting to make him
feel queasy. It did not help that Hereswith had fastened onto him like lichen –
and seemed to have no intention of letting go.

She was still as beautiful as ever. Up close her skin was
perfect, and her eyes a luminous blue. Yet, these days he was able to admit
this to himself without feeling an aching sense of longing for a woman he could
never have. Instead, he had observed Hereswith interact with his brother, and
had found himself feeling relieved that he was not married to a woman who
seemed constantly displeased with everything and everyone.

“Milord,” Hereswith gasped, pressing close to him, her gaze
fusing with his. “I am miserable.”

“You are?” Annan replied, feigning ignorance. “I am sorry to
hear that.”

“Your brother is not half the man you are,” she continued. “I
wish I had never agreed to marry him.”

Annan’s body stiffened at that and his gaze narrowed.
“Aethelhere is a good man; you could do far worse.”

“I know,” Hereswith’s gaze dipped submissively before
returning with an intensity that made Annan draw back slightly. “But he is not
you. He will never be you. It is you I want.”

“Hereswith,” Annan replied gently. “I too wished for events to
unfold differently than they have – but fate had another will. We are both
married to others. I have made peace with my new life, maybe you should too.
You would be happier.”

“I don’t wish to make peace with it!” Hereswith snapped, the
demure façade evaporating as her anger surfaced. “I don’t want to remain
married to that oaf! You are the king, you can annul both our marriages and
take me for your own. You have decided to defy Penda anyway. There’s no need to
remain married to that Mercian drab!”

“Enough!” Annan stopped dancing, nearly causing them to
collide with another couple. “You will not speak of Saewara, or my brother,
so.” He wrenched himself out of her grip and took a step back, glaring at her.
“One is my wife, the other my kin – you would do well to remember that.”

Hereswith’s blue eyes filled with tears – but it was too late.
He had heard enough to know that his brother had been saddled with a shrew.

For the first time, it dawned upon Annan that he’d had a very
narrow escape. The realization was akin to a bright dawn shedding light over a
bleak landscape. He now pitied, rather than envied, his brother.

He could see Aethelhere now, elbowing his way through the
dancers toward him with a face like thunder.  Taking hold of Hereswith’s elbow,
Annan gently pushed her toward her husband.

“Your wife complains of my two left feet,” he said affably
when Aethelhere reached them. “She tells me I dance like a troll compared to
you.”

“Really?” Confusion warred with jealousy on Aethelhere’s face.
He was drunk and spoiling for a fight. Annan had no intention of giving him
one. Whatever it took, Aethelhere needed to know that Annan no longer coveted
his wife.

“I’m afraid so – just take a look at her face. It seems I’ve
put her in ill-humor.”

Aethelhere glanced at Hereswith’s face and frowned. “Are you
well?”

Hereswith nodded before favoring her husband with a brittle
smile. “I am now that you’ve rescued me from this oaf.”

A wary smile spread over Aethelhere’s face. “An oaf, eh? You
really know how to charm women, Annan.”

“My apologies.” Annan backed away with a shrug. “Now, if
you’ll excuse me, I really should get back to my wife. Saewara will be feeling
neglected.”

Aethelhere, satisfied that Annan had not been trying to seduce
Hereswith, pulled his wife into the mêlée of dancers, while the king turned to
return to his table. He had not lied about being keen to return to Saewara’s
side. After his encounter with Hereswith, it was if a fog had lifted.

Saba had been right – he had been a blind, stubborn fool.
Despite that he had fought his attraction to her from the beginning, it had
taken him a while to recognize Saewara’s worth.

Too long.

However, upon emerging from the dancing, Annan stopped
abruptly in his tracks. His gaze rested on the spot where he had left Saewara a
short while earlier.

His wife’s seat was empty.

Annan’s gaze swept over the surrounding crowd, searching for
the sensual features of his dark-haired wife. She had worn a becoming
forest-green shift today, and was looking even lovelier than usual. He had
wanted to tell her so.

Yet, there was no sign of his wife among the revelers. Saewara
had disappeared.

Chapter Twenty

A Meeting in
the Woods

Exning Woods were dark and unwelcoming. Unlike the meadows
beyond, where the sun warmed the earth and a soft breeze ruffled the grass, the
air here was damp and cool. Saewara shivered as she stepped over a
moss-covered, rotting log and rubbed her bare arms. It was like stepping from
one world to another. She did not like these woods, for they were melancholy
and sunless, but she sought refuge here all the same.

After watching Annan dance with Hereswith, all the joy of the day
had seeped from Saewara, making her feel lost and very alone. The folk of
Exning had continued their revelry but, whereas she had found it entertaining
earlier, it merely grated upon her now.

Annan and Hereswith had looked so perfect together that it had
made her feel ill to look upon them.

She needed to breathe. She needed peace and quiet – and the
woods gave her the solitude she craved.

She did not venture far inside the woods, for she was afraid
of getting lost; walking just far enough inside so that she could no longer
hear the music and ringing voices. When only the chime of bird song and the
rustle of forest creatures in the undergrowth surrounded her, Saewara sat down
on a tree stump.

She felt so conflicted; a sickening jealousy that she did not
understand, an ache of longing that she did not want to accept. She was also
consumed by a bitter disappointment at how
wyrd
had treated her – and an
anger that she cared at all.

This was a political alliance
, she told
herself as she brushed at the tears that blurred her vision.
I should not
care.

But she did.

She had been ready to give up on men; eager to embrace a nun’s
life at Bonehill without regrets. Even after her marriage to Annan, she had
managed to keep the wall up for a time. Yet, little by little, her defenses had
come down. She had found that she enjoyed being Annan’s wife; that although
they kept their distance physically, he was a good, kind man who made her feel
safe and protected.

Yet, seeing him with Hereswith had brought her fragile
happiness crashing down.

The tears flowed faster now, and eventually Saewara gave up
trying to stem them. She sat there, with her head in her hands and let herself
cry – for what had been, what was, and what, she was sure, would be.

“I saw the queen, M’lord,” a boy who was playing with a group
of children on the outskirts of the revelers, answered the king’s question. “A
short while ago. She walked into the woods.”

Annan smiled at the lad, and ruffled his hair in thanks,
before leaving the boy to return to his friends. The king then crossed the wide
stretch of grass and stepped under the dark eaves of Exning Woods.

He knew why Saewara had sought refuge here, and he did not
blame her. Most likely, he sickened her. Saewara deserved so much better than
the treatment she had received. It was bad enough that her own kin had treated
her cruelly, but she had fared little better under his roof. It seemed that no
one cared for her feelings; and he was no better than the rest.

He found her easily, for she had not ventured far from the
forest edge. She sat with her head in her hands, gently sobbing.

Annan stopped in his tracks. He knew that he was intruding,
and was not welcome. She had come here to be alone.

Shame washed over him.

I should not have followed her.

Annan stood there for a moment, before deciding to quietly
retrace his steps. However, he had only taken one step back when Saewara
realized that someone was watching her.

She bolted upright, dashing away the tears with the back of
hands, her gaze fastening upon him.

“What are you doing here?” The first words out of her mouth were
not welcoming. Annan inwardly cursed himself for following. Yet, it was too
late to slip away – and as such, he decided to be honest.

“Looking for you,” he replied.

“Well, now you’ve found me.”

“Yes, I have.”

They stared at each other. Annan stared into her anger-filled
eyes; the color of a stormy sky. Annan knew he should leave, but instead he
stayed.

“Why are you angry?” he asked.

She looked away, staring down at her hands. “I am not.”

“You are.”

“Why don’t you leave me be?” she shot back, refusing to meet
his gaze once more. “What does it matter to you how I feel?”

“I’m sorry I danced with Hereswith,” Annan said the words that
had been rising within him, ever since he had noticed her absence from the
feasting table. “But you need not worry. There was nothing it in. I care not
for her.”

Saewara looked at him then; her eyes flat with rage.

“Why are you telling me this?” she bit off every word. “What
does it matter to me if you wish to bed half the village?”

“But I don’t.”

“I care not!” Saewara jumped to her feet and faced him.

They still stood at least ten feet apart but he could feel the
anger emanating off her in waves. “You made it clear from the beginning how
things were between us – and I accepted it. If you want to dance with
Hereswith, that’s your business.”

“I don’t want her, Saewara,” Annan replied, taking a few steps
forward to close the gap between them, “and I pity my brother.”

“You pity him?” Saewara’s eyebrows arched. “You’ve changed
your tune.”

“Men can be fools,” Annan held her gaze steadily. “I am the
first to admit it – in fact, I’m the biggest fool of the lot. When Penda
ordered me to marry you, Hereswith signified the life I was giving up. I didn’t
know her then. I didn’t know you either. She represented freedom, whereas you
represented slavery.”

Saewara did not respond. She continued to look at him in that
direct, honest manner of hers. That look that had always disarmed him.

“I wanted you from the first moment I saw you,” Annan blurted
out the words before nearly choking on them.

Where did that come from?

Her eyes widened.

“What?”

“I know you will find that hard to believe,” Annan replied,
recovering from the admission that had cut him open and made him far more
vulnerable than he ever wanted to be. “Even under Penda’s stare, with the folk
of Tamworth jeering in my face, you enchanted me – and I hated you even more
for that.”

“Annan,” Saewara’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “You don’t
have to say this.”

“I do.” Annan took another two steps forward, bridging the gap
between them even further. “You think I am repulsed by you; I can see it in
your eyes. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have kept my distance
from you because I knew that once I bedded you I would be lost.”

They continued to stare at each other. Annan saw the blush
creep up Saewara’s neck, and knew his words had touched her.

“And my brother would have won,” she finished Annan’s sentence
for him.

Annan nodded. His heart started to hammer against his ribs and
he felt as he had that day on the river bank. He was losing control, and was
powerless to stop it.

“You are lovely.” He stepped close to her – so close they were
almost touching – and gazed down into her tear-filled eyes. “So lovely that
sometimes it hurts me to look at you.”

Saewara opened her mouth to reply but Annan smothered her
words with his lips. One moment they were standing close, staring at each other.
The next, he had pulled her hard against him, and his mouth covered hers.

Like that day on the riverbank, with the flooded river raging
beside them, the kiss was not gentle. It was hungry and desperate; filled with
much that was still unsaid. Saewara clung to him as if her life depended on it;
her tongue warring with his, her sharp fingernails clawing into his back. The
taste and feel of her unleashed something within Annan that no woman ever had;
blotting out all thought, all reason. At that moment, he would have given all
for the woman in his arms. The world could burn and he would not care – just as
long as he had her.

They broke apart, breathless. Annan gazed into her eyes, and
saw that they were glazed with lust. She stared at him, her lips swollen from
the violence of his kisses. He had never wanted anything more in his life than
to take her.

Yet, once he did, he knew there would be no turning back.

“Come.” He took hold of her hand and led her back toward the
edge of the woods. The hall would be empty as the feasters continued to
celebrate the handfasting. There would be no one to interrupt them. “Our bower
awaits. From now on, we will be sharing the same bed. In fact, I’m never going
to let you leave it.”