The Deepening Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 3) (5 page)

“You gave him permission?”

“I did – I wanted to smash my fist into his face but in the end
I agreed.”

Saba took a deep draught from his cup before responding. “Was
that wise?”

Annan shrugged. “Probably not, but since I can’t have her it
seemed petty to deny my brother.”

Saba shook his head at that. “You are a fair man Annan –
sometimes too much so. Did you not think about how it will be when Hereswith
bears your brother’s children while you’re saddled with your Mercian bride? It
will eat you up inside.”

Annan did not respond, and so Saba continued. “It will not be
easy, what is coming. Are you ready to face Penda again?”

Annan scowled. “I don’t fear that bastard – it’s only the
threat he poses to my kingdom that makes me do his bidding.”

“I know that,” Saba replied, “but you need to prepare yourself
for meeting his sister. Are you ready to take her home? She will be hated in
Rendlaesham, and marrying her will not make you popular either.”

“You speak the truth,” Annan admitted grimly, before draining
the rest of his cup and pouring himself another. “Although I am not in the
humor to hear it.”

“I’m not trying to blacken your mood,” Saba countered with a
wry smile. “I just think it’s important you reconcile yourself to your fate,
before
we enter Tamworth.”

Annan nodded before staring moodily into the fire.

“Saewara of Tamworth,” he said her name for the first time,
although it left a bitter taste on his tongue. “My doom.”

Chapter
Four

The Betrothal

“Saewara, the East Angles have come.”

The words that Saewara dreaded had been spoken.

Five long, miserable days had passed since her disastrous escape
attempt, and during that time Saewara had barely left the Great Tower of
Tamworth. Penda had assigned two of his ealdormen’s wives to watch over her at
all times; even escorting her when she went to the privy or standing over her
while she bathed. She was allowed not a moment on her own, and it appeared all
in the Great Tower, but her sister-in-law and nieces, now shunned her.

Not that Saewara was good company. She sat, eyes downcast, and
shut out the world. Not even the playful antics of her nieces, or Cyneswide’s
gentle concern, could draw her out of her misery.

And now the day of execution had arrived.

“Saewara?”

Cyneswide’s voice roused Saewara from where she sat
unthinkingly winding wool onto a distaff. For the first time in days, she
looked directly at her sister-in-law, and saw the worry etched on her lovely
face.

“So they have come?” Saewara’s voice was husky from the hours
she had spent crying every night since her recapture. “The waiting is over – I
should be grateful for that at least.”

“Come.” Cyneswide beckoned to her. “We must get you ready for
your betrothal. The king has gone out to greet them but they will enter the
tower soon.”

Saewara rose to her feet and followed the queen without
complaint; they both knew the time for resistance had long passed.

The two women entered an antechamber at the back of the hall,
screened by a heavy tapestry. For the first time in days, Saewara had a moment
of relative privacy. Moving woodenly, as if in a trance, she pulled her heavy
woolen over-dress and linen under-tunic over her head and stood naked on the
rushes while Cyneswide placed a basin of hot water before her to wash with.
Saewara bathed quickly, in deft movements. Despite that it was not cold in the
hall, she stood shivering while Cyneswide handed her a freshly laundered linen
under-tunic followed by a thick green woolen
wealca
; a tubular dress
clasped at the shoulders by two bronze broaches. Around her waist, she clasped
a heavy leather belt, studded with gold, and she adorned her bare arms with
gold and silver rings. Then, she donned a dark green cloak, embroidered with
gold around the borders. On her feet, she strapped on light leather sandals.

Cyneswide then brushed out Saewara’s long hair, letting it
fall down her back in a dark curtain. She had just finished fussing over
Saewara’s cloak, and was stepping back to admire her handiwork, when the rumble
of men’s voices entering the Great Tower, reached them from beyond the
tapestry.

Saewara’s legs began to tremble. Suddenly, the numbness that
had protected her over the past days lifted, and she was acutely aware of her
surroundings.

“I can’t go to them,” she whispered, clutching at Cyneswide,
“please don’t make me!”

“Saewara!” Cyneswide gave her a fierce hug. Then she stood
back and took hold of Saewara by the shoulders, her face uncharacteristically
resolute. “You must do this. If I could, I would help you – but there is no
choice. Only this.”

Saewara stared at her sister-in-law, frozen to the spot.

“You look beautiful.” Cyneswide gave her a tremulous smile, in
an effort to bolster Saewara’s courage. “Your new husband-to-be will be
enchanted.”

Saewara choked back hysteria at that. “Beautiful?” she gulped,
glancing around like a hare cornered by hounds. “I am nothing more than a
fattened sow at market, as well you know, Cyneswide.”

Her gaze met Cyneswide’s and she saw the tears brimming in the
queen’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Saewara gasped, “but I was not made for a life
such as this – it will kill me.”

“Saewara!” Penda’s voice sounded on the other side of the
curtain. “Annan of the East Angles is about to enter this hall. Come out now or
I will drag you out by your hair.”

The two women exchanged glances; looks full of unsaid words
that could never, and would never, be uttered. They knew their lot – and it was
time for Saewara to bow before the life she had been given.

Saewara closed her eyes, clutching the crucifix she wore
around her neck to her breast and saying a silent prayer. Then, opening her
eyes, she squared her shoulders and stepped toward the tapestry.

Annan walked up the stone steps to the great oaken doors of
Penda’s hall, with as much enthusiasm as if he were walking to his own hanging.
His warriors flanked him, with Saba at his right side. Their presence did
little to alleviate the dread which increased with every step.

Above him, reared the Great Tower of Tamworth; a magnificent,
if somber, sight against a colorless sky. Annan had heard many a tale of this
fortress, but even so was awed by its size and solidity.

At the doors, Aldfrid of Tamworth, the ealdorman who had
brought tidings of Annan’s impending nuptials, stood waiting. He had lost none
of his arrogance since the last time they had met; if anything the heavy-set
warrior looked even fuller of himself. Of course, he was on home ground now,
surrounded by his own people.

They did not speak. Instead, Aldfrid led the way, across an
antechamber and into the Great Hall of Tamworth.

A vast circular chamber greeted Annan. There were two great
fire pits at one end and a high wooden platform at the other, with stairs
leading up to it. Heavy tapestries lined the damp stone walls and flames
flickered from clay cressets, illuminating the cavernous space in soft, golden
light. A row of narrow windows, high up, let out the smoke from the fire pits.

At the far end, upon a stone dais stood King Penda of Mercia,
with his radiant blonde wife at his side. At the foot of the dais, her gaze
fixed upon his face stood another, very different, woman.

Saewara of Tamworth – his betrothed.

The Great Hall was packed with ealdormen, thegns and their
families. Each gaze bored into Annan as he walked the distance between the
doors and the dais. The crowd parted before him. His boots crunched on the
fresh rushes and he felt the heat emanating from the fire pit closest to him.

The time had come for him to meet his betrothed – and there
she was before him.

Frankly, she was not what he had expected.

He had expected a tall, pale, ice-blonde woman; hard-featured
and cold like her brother. However, the woman before him bore no resemblance to
King Penda of Mercia. She was small with long dark hair. Her figure was hidden
under a voluminous green cape but her face was heart-shaped and her skin milky.
She had a full mouth, delicate features and eyes that were the color of the sky
before a thunderstorm.

Her gaze was riveted upon Annan but her expression was one of
barely concealed terror, as if she watched a demon approach.

Annan had never seen a woman quite like her, and he could not
help but compare her to the woman he had left behind in Rendlaesham. Hereswith
was a willowy blonde, a beauty of Germanic stock like many on the eastern coast
of Britannia; yet the woman before him resembled a Celt. That was not to say
she was unattractive, it was just that Annan had always preferred tall, slender
blondes – and Saewara of Tamworth was none of those things.

Saewara’s pulse throbbed in her temples and she clenched her
fists against her skirts in an effort to control her panic. She watched as a
tall, blond man stepped through the archway into the main hall and crossed the
wide space toward her. Behind him trailed a group of East Angle warriors. One
of them, a tall man with dark hair and a forbidding expression, carried
something large covered by a linen cloth.

Despite her fear, she could not help but observe the man who
approached. Annan was far more handsome, and younger, than she had expected.
His mane of golden hair was tied back in a thong at the nape of his neck. He
was clean shaven and dressed in a fine linen tunic, a black leather vest, and calf-skin
breaches. A thick, rabbit fur cloak hung from his broad shoulders. Like many of
the men here, his arms were bare, and his muscular biceps wore numerous gold
and bronze arm rings – all tributes to his valor in battle. He moved with a
loose-limbed, confident stride, with his back ramrod straight. When he drew
closer, Saewara saw that his eyes were a deep blue.

Annan, King of the East Angles, stopped before the high seat
and, for the first time, made eye-contact with Saewara.

She stared back at him, and for a moment time stilled.

Here was a man, very different to any she had known; she could
sense it. But whether that boded ill or well for her, she did not know. His
gaze held hers for a few moments and when he looked away, Saewara slowly released
the breath that she had been holding.

Penda stepped down from the dais to greet Annan, and Saewara
was struck by how different the two kings were. They were both tall and blond,
but any similarity ended there. Penda’s looks were ice-cold, chiseled and hard;
whereas Annan’s golden hair and rugged good-looks gave him a warmth that made
her brother look even colder.

“
Wes hāl.
” Penda greeted Annan coolly.

The King of the East Angles gave a curt nod in response and
kept his gaze fixed upon the Mercian King as he returned to his wife’s side on
the dais. Saewara knew Annan was deliberately avoiding looking at her; and she
did not blame him. He seemed as unwilling as she to be wed.

“Let us pledge these two individuals, Annan, King of the East
Angles, and Saewara of Tamworth.” Penda paused then before his gaze met
Annan’s.

“Annan, are you ready to make a contract between our two
families – to make the
handa sellan
and pay the
handgeld
in order
to wed my fair sister?”

Annan nodded curtly. Penda spoke of the ‘hand-shake’ in which
he would formally promise to marry Saewara, and the payment, which would seal
the marriage pledge. Annan would also have to make another ‘payment’ – the
morgengifu
,
or ‘morning gift’, on the morning after their wedding night – but, for now, the
handgeld
was sufficient to seal the promise.

“Annan, take Saewara’s hand,” Penda continued, “and tell us of
the
handgeld
you bring in exchange for this woman.”

Annan turned to Saewara, his gaze still avoiding hers, and
took hold of her hand. His hand was warm and strong, and his touch made
Saewara’s pulse quicken.

“Sabert.” Annan turned his head to where the dark-haired
warrior stood behind them, acknowledging him for the first time. “Show him the
shield.”

The warrior nodded and removed the covering from the large
object he carried; revealing a huge lime wood shield, covered with leather and
studded with an iron boss. It was mighty, well-made and heavy.

“This shield was made for my father, Eni of the Wuffingas,”
Annan said, his voice toneless and flat, his face a mask. “He passed away
before he was able to wield it, so I give this shield as
handgeld
, in
payment for this woman. As
morgengifu
, your sister will receive two gold
arm rings.”

Penda nodded. “Your
handgeld
is accepted. Say then, the
words that will seal your betrothal.”

Annan turned back to Saewara. His gaze met hers, but it
appeared that he was looking through, rather than at her. His hand that
enclosed hers did not move but Saewara saw the despair in his eyes. This was
even worse than she had thought; they both despised this union.

“I, Annan of the East Angles, declare myself witness that you,
Saewara of Tamworth, bond me in lawful betrothal,” Annan began, his voice low
and emotionless, “and with this handshake you pledge me marriage in exchange
for the
handgeld
I have given and the
morgengifu
I have promised.
You are henceforth betrothed to me and will fulfill and observe the whole of
the oath between us, which has been said in the hearing of witnesses without
wiles or cunning, as a true and honest oath.”

A silence followed his words and Saewara closed her eyes as he
released her hand.

It was done.

“Very well.” Penda broke the silence. “Now, all that remains is
to fix the date of your handfast ceremony. I will make the arrangements.”

“No,” Annan replied, his tone firm. “We will marry in the ‘Golden
Hall’ of the Wuffingas, surrounded by my folk, not here under your roof.”

Penda regarded Annan, his pale eyes clouding. “I don’t think
you should be so hasty to make demands while you are ‘under my roof’. If I
insist, you are hardly in the position to deny me.”

“If my people are to accept your sister as queen, it is better
that we wed in Rendlaesham,” Annan replied, his tone brooking no argument.
“That way, they would witness the joining of our two kingdoms.”

A tense silence now filled the hall. Annan held the Mercian
King’s gaze, refusing to back down. Eventually, Penda gave a low, mocking
laugh.