Margaret Moore - [Viking 02]

by The Saxon

  “You see, I was telling the truth. She likes you.”

  “She belongs to Bayard.”

  “Who never touches slaves.” Suddenly Godwin smote himself on the forehead. “Ah, I am the biggest dolt in the kingdom! You are not interested in that little slave because you care for another!”

  “And who might that be?”

  “Gleda—no! You have but to crook your finger and she is in your lap. Someone who lives elsewhere, perhaps. Let me think...you haven’t had her yet, or you would not be pining for her—a minor delay, I am sure.”

  “You seem confident of my charms.”

  “Are you going to try to deny that women find you irresistible? I tell you, Adelar, between you and Bayard, it is a wonder there is a virgin left in En- gland.”

  “Who am I to disillusion you? But do you think I would wish to find myself in Ranulf’s place? I am not as rich as he is, to risk my money seducing noblemen’s daughters.”

  “Perfectly right. So, she must be married. And she must be beautiful, because everyone knows you would only want a beauty. That lets out Ordella—” Adelar sniffed derisively “—and I think Bayard’s wife, who although not as ugly as Ordella, is no beauty, either.”

  Adelar did not reply. Endredi’s beauty was not the kind that most men would see. It did not flaunt itself with bright eyes, pink cheeks and beguiling, empty smiles. It was far more subtle, in her intelligent eyes, in the slight flush that would steal over her soft cheeks when she was embarrassed, in the fullness of her lips when she smiled her shy, sweet smile.

  The same smile she had given Bayard last night. He stabbed at the bread in front of him. “Why don’t you stop talking and eat?”

  “Careful! You nearly got my hand. I didn’t realize you were that hungry. You are right. We mustn’t tarry or Bayard will be even more angry. I do not want to be the one to further sour his mood.”

  * * *

  “Where is the priest?” Endredi asked Helmi, who had been bustling about the bower trying to look busy for some time. She knew the serving woman was probably full of questions about her husband, but she was in no mood to satisfy a servant’s need for gossip.

  “That one? He has done their ceremony and gone already, I am happy to say. A more pompous, miserable, misguided man never lived, I believe. Do you know he actually thinks all women evil? Everyone knows the gods and goddesses are both good and bad. I think this Christianity is a Saxon plot to disrupt the natural relations between men and women. I hope your husband does not think you are evil, my lady? I trust he treats you well?”

  Endredi did not answer Helmi’s questions. “So I have missed Mass.”

  “The noon draws near, my lady,” Helmi said with a knowing grin. “A good sign, being so tired. Your husband must be a virile man, eh?”

  Again Endredi did not answer. Her husband had done what was necessary to consummate the relationship, no more, but that was no subject to be spoken of to another.

  Helmi finally seemed to understand that she did not wish to discuss her husband or the wedding night. “Do you have any plans for today, my lady? Or would you rather rest?”

  “I wish to meet all of the servants,” she said thoughtfully. “Bayard said he would see to it that someone shows me about the burh, too.”

  “I should hope he would arrange an escort. We couldn’t go by ourselves. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  Endredi kept her smile to herself. Helmi thought all Saxon men were little removed from rutting rams, at least those who weren’t vicious murderers. “Perhaps one of the thanes will escort us,” she said, washing her face and reaching for the comb Helmi held out to her.

  Helmi opened a chest of clothing. “This gown is a pretty one. I am sure your husband would like it.”

  “What of Dagfinn and the others?”

  “Still snoring in the hall, no doubt.”

  “I believe you are right. It would be an act of the gods if they move before nightfall after the amount of ale they imbibed at the feast.”

  Helmi grinned slyly. “Perhaps you would rather wait here for your husband’s return.”

  Endredi picked up her thin wool cloak and an intricately carved wooden box. “I will meet the servants of the hall now, and see to the preparations of the meals. Will you come with me?”

  Helmi looked as if Endredi had suggested she run naked through the burh. “There will be Saxons in the hall.”

  “I expect so.”

  “I...I have too much to do here, my lady. I will eat later, when the men are gone. All of them.”

  Endredi suppressed a small smile as she went and crossed the yard, surveying the timber wall surrounding the burh as she did so. It was of stout oak trees, and the ends were sharpened to dangerous points. The gate they had entered yesterday had been thick, too, and the village that surrounded the thane’s enclosure had been a large one, for Saxons. It was not as big as some of the Viking towns, and certainly not to be compared to Hedeby or one of the other Viking ports, but obviously Bayard kept a sizable force near him, and it was the workers who serviced warriors that no doubt made up most of the village trade.

  She could hear the rhythmic clangs of more than one smith at work, and judging by the smell, knew the stables were being cleaned out.

  A few women lingered by the well and made no secret of their curiosity as they stared at her. She bowed her head very slightly, acknowledging their presence but making it very clear that she was of superior rank to them.

  Endredi entered the hall and at once she realized Adelar was there. He was sitting at the farthest end, near Bayard’s seat, and the gleeman was beside him.

  He was no more than any other warrior in her husband’s service, she reminded herself. She turned her attention to the hall, which was now her concern. Her nose wrinkled with disgust as she picked her way through the soiled rushes. The fire in the large hearth was out, goblets and drinking horns lay scattered amid puddles of ale and mead, benches were overturned. Several men were still sleeping there, oblivious to the time of day and the activity outside. She spotted Dagfinn immediately, his loud snoring like the growl of a bear. A young female slave she recalled from last night appeared. “Where are the servants?”

  “I...I don’t know, my lady.”

  Endredi knew the girl was lying, but it was also obvious that she was frightened, so she spoke kindly. “What is your name?”

  “Ylla, my lady.”

  “Where are the cook and the other servants, Ylla? They need not know how I discovered where they are.”

  “He, um, they... Duff is in the potter’s shed.”

  “And Duff is...?”

  “The cook, my lady.”

  “Ah. Can you point out the potter’s shed?”

  Ylla went to the door and did so.

  Endredi handed her the wooden box. “Please hold this for me,” she said, then she left the hall and marched toward the shed. Once there, she peered inside and saw a man and a woman, their half-clothed bodies intertwined.

  Endredi turned away and went back to the hall, where she picked up one of the iron kettles and a spoon. She began to bang on the pot, the loud sound enough to wake all but the dead. Adelar and Godwin stared, and Ylla looked startled until Endredi smiled at her.

  “By Odin’s eye!” Dagfinn shouted. “What are you doing?”

  “It is nearly noon. I thought you might want to eat.”

  He frowned as he adjusted his rumpled tunic. “Come,” he barked at his men. “I have no wish to linger here. I want to be in my own longhouse.”

  Dagfinn ignored his curious men while he gathered his scattered belongings. His men staggered after him out the door, several of them barely able to stand.

  In the next moment those still in the hall heard angry mumbling, then the cook came inside, pulling on his tunic. “What in the name of—”

  Endredi put the kettle down.

  Duff saw who was making the noise and smiled weakly. “Ah, my lady! What are you doing here? This is a...a surprise!”


  “I would like something to eat,” she said. “Our guests have already departed without eating. I am most displeased.”

  Duff blanched.

  “Fortunately, I do not believe they were very hungry. However, I am.”

  “Of course, of course.” The cook was a big man, but he bustled into the hall with surprising speed. “What would you like? Boiled fish? Fried eels? Some oatmeal?”

  “Bread and boiled ham,” Endredi answered.

  “The baker—”

  “Must also be found and set to work. I suggest you rekindle the hearth. Then I want the servants to help this girl clean the hall. It is a disgrace.”

  “Yes, my lady. At once, my lady.”

  The woman Endredi recognized from the shed came inside, adjusting her bodice, her eyes wide with surprise and dismay. “Merilda!” Duff barked, making her jump. “Get to work!”

  “I have something here to use in the cooking,” Endredi said, taking the wooden box from Ylla and approaching the cook.

  “Oh, my lady?” he replied respectfully, if insincerely.

  “Yes.” She placed the box on the ground and opened it. Immediately a wonderful spicy aroma filled the air, and despite himself, Duff moved closer to look inside. The box was filled with a variety of small earthenware jars.

  “It was a wedding gift from my grandmother’s husband,” Endredi explained. “He was a trader and these spices and herbs come from all over the known world.” She glanced at Adelar. Surely he would remember Thorston, who had treated the boy so kindly and who had been repaid with thievery.

  Duff gazed in awe as she lifted out a jar and gently opened the lid. “This comes from far in the East.” She closed it and brought out another. “This is from Rome.”

  Duff looked as if he was being offered costly jewels until she closed the lid of the box. The maidservants no longer even pretended to work, but listened unabashedly. “Do you not intend them to be used, my lady?” he asked.

  “Of course they will be used,” she said. “By me, when I help you prepare the meals.”

  He regarded her with surprise. “But you are my lord’s wife!”

  “I like cooking.”

  “For having such a beautiful, accomplished lady who does not seek merely to be waited on, Bayard and the rest of us will be forever thankful,” the gleeman said. Endredi turned to the young man with a small smile, which vanished when she caught Adelar’s eye.

  “Naturally I would welcome your help, my lady,” Duff said, scowling at the gleeman, then smiling at Endredi.

  Just as naturally she doubted his truthfulness, but she guessed, from the greedy expression in his eyes when he looked at the box, that he would have said anything to get his hands on some of those spices.

  “Shall we start with some stew? I think a little of this will help,” she said. She pulled out a jar.

  Ordella’s voice interrupted them. “Get to work, you lazy creatures!”

  Everyone turned as Ordella stepped daintily toward them, her face wreathed in smiles distinctly at odds with the harsh order she had issued. “Servants can be so slothful,” she explained sympathetically. “You shall have to take care that they fear you enough to obey you.”

  “It is a well-known fact that terror inspires loyalty,” Adelar said gravely.

  “Thank you for the advice,” Endredi said to Ordella, fighting an urge to look at Adelar. “If I find I have any trouble with them, I shall certainly ask your opinion.”

  “What are you doing here?” Ordella asked of Adelar. She also gave Godwin a less than pleased look as the servants hurried to their work.

  “Bayard has asked me to escort his bride through the burh today, if she is agreeable,” Adelar replied quietly.

  “That will not be necessary,” Ordella said sharply. “I shall show Endredi what she needs to be shown.”

  “Of course, that is your privilege,” Adelar responded. “But then I would be disobeying Bayard’s order.”

  Endredi glanced at the two uneasily. She had no desire to spend time in Adelar’s company. Indeed, it was a strain even now. Although she tried not to, she kept wondering what he was thinking about her and trying to read his inscrutable dark eyes. It was obvious he had no wish to be near her, either, if he was acting as her escort only on Bayard’s orders.

  How much better it would be to spend her time cooking, especially since the food Duff prepared was somewhat plain, if good. Then perhaps she could forget Adelar, Bayard and everyone else in this burh. However, she did not think it wise to go against Bayard’s wishes. And although she did not want to be anywhere near Ordella, it was probably best that she come along.

  “I see no reason I should not enjoy the company of you both,” Endredi said at last.

  “Bayard told Godwin and me to escort her, Ordella. You must have other things to do,” Adelar said coldly.

  “I assure you, Adelar,” Ordella said even more coldly, “some of us earn our keep around here. I do have many things to do. I simply wanted to make Bayard’s wife feel welcome.”

  “You have,” Endredi said quickly. “I see that Adelar and Godwin have already broken the fast. Please, Ordella, eat with me. You can tell me of the village while we break bread and before you must go. I am most interested to hear what you can tell me.”

  Ordella gave Adelar a triumphant look and moved toward the high table.

  “I shall leave the spices here for the present,” Endredi said to Duff. “Use them sparingly. They are quite strong. Please bring us some bread and meat as soon as you can.”

  “Bring some ale,” Ordella said to Gleda, who had only just arrived. The maidservant hurried off at once.

  Endredi was now nearly alone with Adelar and Godwin. “Godwin, would you be so good as to fetch my warmer cloak from the bower? I feel a slight chill.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” He paused a moment, then went on seriously. “Perhaps you should give me a word of passage, lest your servant think I come to ravish her?”

  Endredi had to smile at the gleeman’s words. It seemed he understood Helmi rather well. “I think Helmi will not fear you, Godwin, if you smile at her as you do at me.”

  The gleeman grinned and hurried out the door.

  Endredi turned to Adelar, very aware that Ordella was watching them. “That wasn’t very clever, Adelar,” she said quietly but firmly. “There is no need to treat Ordella as an enemy.”

  “And you have no need to make jests with Godwin.” He gazed at her with his penetrating brown eyes. “You know nothing of the people here, especially Ordella and Ranulf. Leave me to handle those two in my own way.”

  “There can be no harm in a little banter with Bayard’s gleeman. You used to be a clever boy. Have your wits grown dim with age? My husband has plenty of enemies outside the burh. Why make more within?”

  “Again, you do not understand.”

  Realizing that she should not spend any longer in conversation with him, she said, “We will speak of this later.” Then she hurried toward Ordella, a smile on her face. “I am sorry, but I wanted Adelar to know that I cannot allow such disrespect in my hall.”

  Ordella’s eyes widened with genuine pleasure. “I see Bayard has indeed chosen his wife wisely. Adelar has been too free with his ways.”

  The two women watched Adelar leave the hall. Gleda made her way past him, and Endredi saw the girl press against his body quite unnecessarily. He seemed to find nothing amiss, although he had chided her for exchanging a jest with Godwin. Still, his brow remained furrowed and he said nothing to the serving wench at all.

  Endredi looked away. She should not be pleased that he ignored Gleda. It could be that he was oblivious to many things, for he also seemed not to care that he had angered Ranulf’s wife. Ranulf was not worthy of respect, perhaps, but he was Bayard’s kin.

  Gleda poured the women some ale while Ylla brought bread and meat.

  “I see you have managed to instill some proper respect in that harlot, too,” Ordella said, her lips pursed as she watche
d Gleda stroll away.

  “Harlot?”

  “She goes with any man who looks at her, even that fool Godwin, probably. She will be with child again soon, and then you will have to find another to take her place.”

  “Again? She has children?”

  “Two. They died during their birth.”

  “Oh, how sad for her!”

  “It was a punishment from God, which unfortunately has not made her change her ways,” Ordella said peevishly. “I think every man in this burh has been with her, except Bayard, of course. He has some discernment. I think Adelar’s bedded her every night for nearly a month.”

  Endredi wished Ordella had stayed in her bower. She had seemed quiet enough before, but she was proving to have a wasp’s tongue. Not that Adelar’s women mattered to her.

  “I suppose we can’t expect Adelar to have any sense of discernment or discretion,” Ordella went on, “considering that his mother was little better than a harlot herself, and such behavior runs in families.” She reached for more food, so she did not see the way Endredi clutched the knife in her hand or the slight flush on her cheeks. “I do not mean to imply, my lady, that Bayard would behave so,” she went on condescendingly. “Everyone knows that since Bertilde died he has not touched another woman.” She sighed sadly. “Of course, Bertilde was quite a beauty.”

  After a brief moment of anger, Endredi set Ordella’s insult aside. After all, Ordella knew nothing about her mother.

  But her other words had pricked at Endredi like the tip of a knife. Endredi had always known she was not pretty. Indeed, in the still small hours of the night she had often wondered if Adelar would have come back to her if she had been more beautiful.

  She also felt the beginnings of sympathy for Adelar. He, too, had lived with gossip and rumor—and not just for one parent, as she had, but for both. How difficult it must have been! No wonder he had left his father’s village. Yet the gossip and the rumors followed.

  “It was a great pity she did not give Bayard children. Or Magreth, or Adda.”

  “Bayard has had three wives?”

  “Yes. Sad, is it not? Still, we all hope that Bayard will have children now.”