by The Saxon
“I know you say what is truly in your heart, Adelar,” his cousin replied. “So I will tell you what is in mine. I think this is a sign from God. I am going to take the woman for my wife.”
Adelar nodded. Bayard was wise and respected. If he saw nothing wrong with this marriage and he honestly believed it was a sign to make peace, then Adelar could not question it. And yet...and yet Adelar had seen that love could change a man or a woman. Had not his nursemaid married the Viking who had taken her captive and remained there when Adelar had gone home? Perhaps this woman would be able to sway Bayard and weaken his resolve to regard the Danes with suspicion.
It was already too late. Bayard had decided. As he returned to his place, Adelar silently vowed that he would watch this woman and protect his cousin to the best of his ability.
Bayard sat in his chair. “Adelar, tell Dagfinn of my decision, provided the woman is truly comely. I will not let him give me an old hag, even if it means peace.”
The Saxons looked at each other with undisguised surprise as Adelar did as he was told. Ranulf tried to appear both distressed and certain that Bayard was acting wisely. That way, Adelar knew, he could later say he agreed with both those who welcomed the alliance and those who were against it. As for Father Derrick, he was like a marble effigy, expressionless except for his disapproving eyes.
“She is as lovely as Freya, as wise as Baldur, and Endredi speaks the Saxon tongue,” Dagfinn said eagerly.
Again Adelar had to struggle to keep his face expressionless. Surely, surely there were other Viking women who had learned the Saxon tongue and who were wise in healing arts.
“What did he say?” Bayard demanded.
“He says the woman is wise, beautiful and speaks our language.”
Suddenly Father Derrick stepped forward. “Is she Christian?” he asked sternly.
“She has had the ceremony of the water,” Dagfinn answered.
His Endredi was not a Christian, and she had never been baptised. But years had passed and everything could have changed.
Father Derrick, apparently satisfied, returned to his place in the shadows.
The men haggled for a short time over the bride price, and again over the gifts to Endredi, but all knew it was only because it was expected. The true goal had already been achieved when Bayard had agreed to the marriage.
“We are finished, then,” Dagfinn said, heaving himself to his feet when they decided on the sums. “We will bring her in a fortnight when the roads are clear.”
Bayard rose, too. “I will have the wedding feast prepared.”
The Dane nodded as Adelar finished speaking. Then he turned and strode to the entrance of the hall, followed by his men. The Saxons watched silently while the Danes collected their weapons and left.
“You are making a mistake, Uncle,” Ranulf declared immediately. “Cynath will not be pleased.”
Not for the first time, Adelar was disgusted by Ranulf’s lack of discernment. He had been one of Bayard’s men for longer than Adelar, yet he could not seem to comprehend that there was no point to question one of Bayard’s decisions after it had already been made.
Bayard faced his nephew. “Unless I have lost my wits,” he said with deceptive calm, “it was you who first suggested making an alliance, Ranulf. There is no cause for second thoughts now. Cynath knows that he has my complete loyalty, and so does the king.”
“By king you mean Edward?”
Bayard’s expression was hard as flint. “He is the Britwalda, King of the Britons, and anyone who says otherwise has no place in my hall.”
“Of course, my lord,” Ranulf replied hastily. “I meant nothing else. But what of the woman’s loyalty?”
Adelar darted a condemning look at Ranulf’s lean, anxious face. “Are you saying you doubt that Bayard can control his own wife? That he will be influenced by a bright eye or soft cheek?” he asked, inwardly hoping it would not be so, and that perhaps Bayard would hear his words as a warning.
“Not at all,” Ranulf answered, reddening under the scrutiny of the two men whose haughty, stern eyes were so alike. “Naturally I wish that this marriage may be a happy one.”
“Women are evil creatures, full of sin and temptation,” Father Derrick said, his stern, deep voice commanding silence. “Men should beware their traps and snares.”
“Yes, Father,” Bayard replied peaceably. “I regret that I cannot be as strong as you in denying the desires of the flesh, but I shall be very careful. And this is merely a marriage of necessity.”
“That is good, my son.”
“Now you must all join me in a pledge of loyalty to any future children this marriage will bring.”
Ranulf struggled to look pleased. “Yes, my lord. To your children.”
Bayard lifted his goblet. “To my heir.” For only a moment, Adelar thought he saw a look of pain in Bayard’s eyes, but it passed before he could be sure it was pain and not mere annoyance with Ranulf. “This alliance should ensure that my land will be safe for someone to inherit when I am dead. The woman’s dowry will also enrich my estate.”
“My lord, surely you know I hope you will live a long and happy life and leave many sons to follow you,” Ranulf said.
“I know precisely what you hope, Ranulf,” Bayard replied.
“Beware the yearning for earthly wealth,” Father Derrick intoned. “A camel can pass through the eye of a needle sooner than a rich man enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
“Thank you, Father, for your timely reminder,” Bayard responded with his usual good humor. “Someone find Godwin. We need music—oh, there you are, Godwin. No time for hanging about in the shadows, gleeman. Sing something suitable for the occasion. Adelar, where is your ale? Are you not going to drink to my impending marriage and my future bride? What was her name?”
“Endredi,” Adelar replied, looking about for that timid female slave. “Ale!” he shouted impatiently. He wanted to get very drunk very quickly.
But not for celebration. He wanted to forget.
* * *
Ranulf’s wife shoved his wandering hand away. “I’m talking to you about serious matters, dolt!” Ordella said sharply, her pale blue eyes seeming to glow in the dim building.
Ranulf, lying beside her in bed, gave her a peevish look. “And I’m acting like a husband.”
“Speak quietly, you lustful beast. A husband would have his family’s interest in mind, and that is what I am trying to discuss.”
“Oh, very well.” Ranulf shifted to a sitting position in his bed. In the other part of the building, which was only half the size of Bayard’s hall, slaves and servants slumbered. His wife, however, had the amazing ability to sound as if she was almost shouting without waking anyone. “What is it?”
“I want to know what you are going to do about this marriage.”
“Do about it? Nothing. An agreement has been made.”
“Because of your stupidity.”
“Mine? I am not marrying some Viking widow. And you yourself said we should make peace with the Vikings. If the betrothal is broken now, who knows what those savages might do?”
“I didn’t mean a marriage alliance.”
“And I tell you again, I did not suggest it. Dagfinn did, and Bayard agreed.”
“Yes—and for that reason alone you should have stopped it.”
“I should have stepped into the middle of the discussion and ordered Bayard to refuse?” Ranulf asked scornfully. “He would have had me tossed from the hall.”
“If you had been witless about it, of course he would,” she snapped. “You merely needed to find a way to delay the negotiations. Then you could have dissuaded him.”
“I did protest his decision, after the Danes had gone.”
Ordella fought the urge to scream. “After was much too late. You should know that about Bayard by now. The time was already past to influence him! He will never alter his course now—never!”
“How was I to even guess he would consider a marriage?�
�� Ranulf whined. “All I knew was that he was prepared to argue over the amount of the Danegeld. It’s taken me many days to convince him to go that far. Nor has he ever so much as hinted at a marriage.”
“Bertilde has been dead these three years,” Ordella reminded him, all the while wishing she had waited a little longer before agreeing to marry Ranulf. Then she might have had a chance for Bayard, rather than this clod.
“So I thought he had no interest in marriage.”
“That is the stupidest thing you have said yet. He is a wealthy thane with no children. You should never have dismissed a possible marriage.”
“As you have just pointed out, Ordella, it is done. I cannot undo it.”
“But now he might have children, too.”
“He hasn’t yet, and he’s had many women.”
“That is no guarantee. He so rarely stays in one place for long, it could be that he is gone before a woman knows. Or perhaps he has never acknowledged any children, if they were born out of wedlock. If you had the sense of a donkey, you would have considered these possibilities.”
Ordella was almost weeping with frustration. Her only reason for marrying Ranulf had been to become part of Bayard’s wealthy, important family. Unfortunately, she had come to realize she had chosen the least promising member of the clan. “She is young, too. She could give him many children.”
“Or maybe he will hate her and never go near her. This is a political match, Ordella. Don’t forget that.”
“I hope for your sake it is so. Or you can forget any hope of inheriting anything from him.”
“You said the same thing when Adelar arrived.”
“That was before I knew the kind of man Adelar is—and for that you should thank God. If he was more ambitious, he could have you living in some hovel at the edge of the wood. It is clear Bayard favors him, and their mothers were sisters.”
“You are forgetting the stories about his father.”
“That old tale? No one believed that Viking. Imagine trying to imply that a Saxon thane would betray his own people.”
“Yet Kendric has never tried to be in the Witan, and any other man of his stature would have.”
“The main thing to consider now is how to increase your importance to Bayard.”
“I am his nephew. What more reason should Bayard need to listen to me?”
“If that’s the only cause he has to suffer your presence, he can easily discard you, fool!”
Ranulf started to climb out of the bed. Ordella grabbed his arm and held on. “Forgive me,” she said in wheedling voice. “I am upset to think that Bayard did not take you into his confidence. After all, you deserve to be. You are his closest relative. Adelar is but a cousin.”
Ranulf relaxed a little. She crawled closer and encircled him with her thin arms. “I simply fear you may not get what is your due, Ranulf, and then I get angry. Forgive me for taking out my indignation on you.” He sighed softly as she caressed him. “You do forgive my harsh words, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He twisted and his mouth swooped feverishly over hers. His hands groped her breasts.
Ordella made all the appropriate noises. But her mind was not on Ranulf, or his clumsy attempts at lovemaking. She was wondering how to proceed when Bayard’s bride arrived.
* * *
“The hour grows late, and I think I have done enough celebrating,” Bayard proclaimed as he rose clumsily to his feet. Around him, his men raised their drinking horns in yet another salute.
Except for Adelar. He had left the hall some time ago, his arm draped over a serving wench with a high-pitched voice and a constant giggle.
Bayard made his way past his men and past the servants who were already asleep. Once outside, he walked casually around the outer wall of the hall and into the shadows.
Then, with a muffled groan, he suddenly doubled over.
His malady was worsening. There could be no doubt of it. The pains were coming more frequently and growing in intensity.
When the spasm passed, Bayard straightened slowly, certain of two things. His plan had to work, and he had little time left to implement it.
Chapter Two
A fortnight later, a Danish maidservant fussed about Endredi as they stood in Bayard’s bower. They had been told to wait there until the marriage ceremony, while Dagfinn and the others had gone immediately to the hall.
Thick, colorful tapestries hung over the wattle and daub walls. The chest of the bride’s goods stood in a corner. Other, larger wooden boxes were placed throughout the room, a testament to the groom’s wealth. There were also two intricately carved stools beside a delicate round table upon which sat a jug and two silver chalices. Light came from a many-branched iron rod bearing several tallow candles. A large bed, ornately carved and hung with heavy curtains, dominated one end of the building.
The older woman brushed off Endredi’s gown, straightened her belt and tidied a stray wisp of her mistress’s thick, red-gold hair.
“Will you please stop?” Endredi asked, trying to keep annoyance from her voice and reminding herself it was simply Helmi’s way to be always hovering about like an insect.
“Dagfinn said you had to look—”
“Beautiful?” Endredi looked at Helmi skeptically. “I look presentable—beautiful will be for Bayard to decide.”
“Unless the man is stupid and blind, he can’t help but think so. Still, he is a Saxon, so who can say how his mind might work? Everyone knows they are all vicious, horrible barbarians—”
“You have done your best,” Endredi said, interrupting the woman before she began another tirade against the Saxons. Endredi knew that there could be good Saxons as well as bad, just as there were good and bad Danes.
“I don’t know what that oaf Dagfinn is trying to do, marrying off his brother’s widow to some Saxon.”
“Dagfinn seeks peace.”
“Huh! I think I am not the only old woman among the Danes here! When I was young, a man was glad to fight. Wanted to fight. Dagfinn is a coward.”
Endredi put her finger to her lips. “Take care, Helmi, lest he hear your insult.”
Helmi straightened her slim shoulders. “Well, he and his men could not win a battle if Odin himself was on their side.”
Endredi could not argue with her servant’s observation. Indeed, Dagfinn’s thoughts were all too obvious, despite his attempts at subtlety. Nevertheless, she felt duty bound by her respect for her dead husband to say, “Dagfinn may be acting with more wisdom than you think. After all, who among his people would marry a woman of my ill luck? Besides,” she finished, “Dagfinn is the chieftain, so I must obey.”
“I do not believe Dagfinn thinks of anything but his silver and his belly. And where would he be if he didn’t have Bera to oversee everything?”
“I shall miss her.”
“I will not. A harder mistress never breathed, I can tell you.”
“She was always kind to me,” Endredi answered truthfully, although now she knew why Helmi had offered to go with her to the Saxon village. Obviously Helmi considered even the Saxons less threatening than Bera.
As for Endredi, she would miss Bera, but she had always been alone. Even as a child, she had had few friends. The sins of her mother had made her an object of curiosity and scorn, and she had soon learned that sometimes it was better to be alone than to be questioned, or worse, pitied.
“I almost forgot!” Helmi cried, hurrying to Endredi’s small chest. “Dagfinn said to be sure you wore this.” She took out a jeweled crucifix.
Endredi stood motionless while Helmi put it over her head. She had heard that Bayard’s priest had asked if his future wife was a Christian.
She put her hand to the crucifix. Thanks to her stepmother, she understood the Christians’ beliefs and indeed found it no hardship to believe them, too. When a priest had traveled to their village, she had been baptized. Nonetheless, she wore an amulet of Freya beneath her gown. Surely the Christian god would understand that it was
hard to ignore the old beliefs.
“I have never seen such an enormous building as that hall,” Helmi said. “I wonder what it is like inside. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if the tapestries are full of gold thread.”
When Endredi didn’t respond, Helmi went on. “It is also a good thing you speak that Saxon language, although I must say it has a most horrible sound to it.”
“My mother was a Saxon.”
“Oh, yes, well then, have you heard anything about Bayard? His looks, I mean.”
Helmi’s eyes gleamed eagerly, and Endredi knew she would hear what Helmi had learned whether she wanted to or not; however, Bayard’s appearance mattered less to her than the way he would treat a foreign wife. “Dagfinn said he is not old,” Endredi said slowly.
“A mature man and no foolish youth, thank the gods. Handsome, too, I hear.”
“He is a respected leader.”
“He wears fine clothes and much jewelry, Erik said.”
“If he were not just and good, surely he would not have so many men under his command.”
“He washes regularly and trims his beard.”
“I hope he will be patient.”
“He has no children.”
Helmi’s last announcement caught Endredi’s attention. “No children?”
She shook her head. “And he’s been married at least two times.”
“Oh?”
“Still, I hear he is quite virile. Rumors abound that he has bedded dozens of women.”
“And yet no children?”
“Not one.”
“How could anyone you know come by that knowledge?” Endredi asked, her immediate surprise replaced by suspicion.
“I heard some of the men talking about it.”
“Why would any Danes know about Bayard’s children?”
