Margaret Moore - [Viking 02]

by The Saxon

  “Bayard has his wife to give him counsel.”

  “She is but a woman. How wise can her counsel be, unless he asks her of clothes and jewelry?”

  “Other men will come to his hall. Bayard is a fine lord, as Cynath knows. You are seeing troubles that will not come to pass.”

  “Perhaps leaving so soon after the wedding will make Bayard wonder at the wisdom of his choice. He seems happy now, but maybe he will blame his wife for your going.”

  Adelar faced Godwin. “Unlike some, I do not believe Bayard would think any such stupid thing.”

  “Will you return to your father’s burh?”

  “I seem to recall telling you that I would sooner die than be in the same place as he.”

  “Then where?”

  “Anywhere a man can earn a living fighting. Or perhaps I feel the need for a religious pilgrimage. Maybe I will visit Rome.”

  “You? A religious pilgrimage?” Godwin scoffed. “That would last until you came upon a comely wench.”

  “So what would be wrong with that?” Adelar asked sardonically.

  “It will not ease your pain,” Godwin said, his usually jovial voice suddenly serious.

  Adelar glanced at his friend. “What pain?”

  “I don’t know. Something from your past. Is it because Bayard’s wife is a Viking?”

  “I say again, Godwin, Endredi has nothing to do with my decision.”

  “It seems there is nothing I can say to change your mind. Gleda will miss you.”

  “You can console her.”

  “And Ylla. She’ll cry herself to sleep when you are gone.”

  “Now that Bayard has set her free, I think she will have other things to think about.”

  The sound of horses’ hooves and the jingle of harness interrupted them. The two men looked at each other. “Bayard expects no visitors,” Adelar said shortly. They rushed to the door of the stable.

  “They’re from Cynath,” Godwin said, clearly awed as he stared at the standard one of the mounted men carried. They rode very fine horses, and several well-bred hounds ran beside them.

  “I know that fellow,” Adelar said, nodding toward a well-dressed, black-haired man bearing ornate weapons. “He’s Dunstan.”

  “Cynath’s eldest son?”

  “Yes.”

  “No wonder he looks as if he thinks he should be the Britwalda. What an ass!”

  “His father has been in the Witan for over twenty years, and he is Bayard’s overlord, so you had best take care what you say about Dunstan.”

  “I hope I will have little to do with him other than keep a smile on his fat face. He could use that belly of his as a weapon.”

  “Godwin, take care. He may be plump, but he is quite a fighter. I’ve seen him. I would hate to see you run through.”

  “Thank you for your kind words, my lord. But you will not be here to see it if he does.”

  Dunstan leapt from his horse and tossed his reins in the direction of one of Bayard’s men.

  Adelar watched as the retinue continued to arrive. “It must be important business, if Dunstan comes, and with so many men,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I should delay my departure until we know what it is that brings him here, and so early in the day.”

  * * *

  If Bayard was concerned about Dunstan’s presence, he was not showing it, Adelar realized when he entered the hall. Most of the warriors and thanes were still inside finishing the first meal of the day. Father Derrick, who no doubt believed his presence warranted at any meeting of importance, sat close to Bayard’s right.

  Endredi was not there.

  Adelar watched as Bayard greeted Dunstan with the correct amount of protocol and deference, then offered him a seat to his right and invited him to eat.

  Adelar silently took a place below the salt, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He was curious to know what had brought Dunstan, and that was all. Then he would go. Godwin sat beside him and reached for some boiled meat.

  Duff, obviously nonplussed by the unexpected arrival of this important visitor, rushed about giving sharp orders to the rest of the servants, who seemed to be somewhat dazzled. Gleda, especially, moved as if she was wading through water.

  Bayard didn’t look troubled, and Adelar wondered if he had known Dunstan would be arriving. As he watched the two, Bayard happened to glance in his direction. “Adelar!” he called out. “I have been wondering at your absence. You should not be skulking there! Come, join us.”

  Reluctantly, Adelar did, because although Bayard’s tone was friendly, there was a reprimand in it, too. He made a place for himself on the far side of Ranulf, who would not have yielded to even an angel if one had tried to sit between Bayard and him.

  “What I have to say is only for your most trusted men,” Dunstan announced without preamble when the meal was nearly over.

  Bayard nodded, apparently unoffended by the man’s officious tone. “Adelar,” he said, “Father Derrick and Ranulf, stay.” He named a few of his other warriors. “The rest, outside. Gleda, fetch my wife.”

  There were a few mumbles of discontent from those not chosen, particularly when it became obvious that Dunstan’s retinue had no intention of leaving. Nonetheless, Bayard’s men slowly filed out of the hall.

  “So, it is true. You are wed,” Dunstan said with no attempt to hide his displeasure.

  “Yes,” Bayard replied, a smile on his lips. “A man cannot live alone forever.”

  “A man is never alone, if he trusts in God,” Father Derrick intoned. Dunstan darted a startled glance in the holy man’s direction.

  “Very true, Father,” Bayard said calmly.

  “Is it also true, the other rumor we have heard—since you did not request my father’s permission to make this marriage—that she is a Dane?”

  “Cynath has never found it necessary to interfere in Bayard’s decisions. There was no need to trouble him with this one, either,” Adelar said.

  Dunstan eyed him coldly. “I do not talk to you, Kendric’s son.” He turned back to speak to Bayard, but fell silent when Endredi came into the hall.

  Adelar’s breath caught in his throat when she hesitated at the sight of the visitors. Her green eyes seemed to glitter in the flame of the torches. Her pale smooth cheeks grew slightly pink, and her lips parted as if about to ask a question. He knew she would not, though. She would stay silent and listen...well.

  When she drew near, his eyes roved over her thick, red-gold hair, which was covered by a thin scarf of the finest silk he had ever seen. The rest of her garments fell about her body with a fluidity that bespoke quality.

  Dunstan was surveying her, too, but with none of the deference due a noblewoman and the wife of his father’s ally. He looked at her as if she was nothing more than a serving wench. Or a slave. “This is the woman?” he asked insolently.

  Endredi’s face reddened and she bowed her head. It was all Adelar could do to remain silent. Even Father Derrick seemed taken aback at the conspicuous slight to a woman who was, after all, wedded to a thane.

  “This is my wife, Endredi.” Bayard also was clearly affronted by Dunstan’s manner, for his tone was reproving as he rose and escorted Endredi to sit beside him.

  “What I have to say is not for a woman’s ears.”

  “Whatever you have to say, you may say in front of my wife.”

  Bayard was worthy of her, Adelar thought, and she of him. What did he have to offer her? No land, no wealth.

  Nothing but his heart.

  She deserved more. And Bayard deserved the kind of wife Endredi would be.

  “I will not speak of the king’s business with a Dane in the hall.”

  Adelar flushed hotly, anger flying through his body at the rebuff, although had it been any other Dane, he would have been the first to agree. However, Dunstan spoke thus of Endredi.

  But it was not his place to defend her. Not his place.

  “I am sure that it was not your intention to cast doubt upon my w
isdom,” Bayard said coolly, “for of course an insult to my wife is an insult to me.”

  “You are playing a dangerous game, Bayard,” Dunstan warned.

  “And an insult is anything but a jest, Dunstan. My wife will stay, or I will go.”

  “My father—”

  “Your father knows he has my devotion and he always will have. Your father knows I am one of the king’s burhwares because my loyalty is without question. Your father knows that I have been leading men for him since you were a babe at your mother’s breast. Your father would not take kindly to an insult made to me, either.”

  Endredi stood up. “Bayard, I thank you for your faith in me. Nevertheless, if my presence is not welcome, I will return to our bower.”

  Dunstan stared at her, slack-jawed.

  “Are you so surprised I speak your language, sir? I am part Saxon myself, but I see that piece of gossip did not reach you. Nonetheless—” she turned to Bayard “—I have no wish to remain where my presence is cause for disagreement.”

  Her head held high, she swept down the hall. She paused on the threshold and flashed a smile that was at once scornful and proud. “I hope you will be able to remain for the night, Dunstan. You are always welcome here.”

  Bayard looked surprised and delighted, until Dunstan turned to him. “Now that I have seen her, I can understand your desire to wed,” Cynath’s son admitted with a sly and knowing grin. “I did not know she had Saxon blood. Pray forgive my hasty words.”

  He was still impudent, the scoundrel, for there was no contrition in his tone or looks. Adelar wanted to kill him even more.

  “Shall we get to the purpose of your journey here?” Bayard said, demonstrating once again why he was such a good leader. He had the ability to put away from him personal affronts and deal with the important issue at hand.

  “It’s Aethelwold,” Dunstan replied, his manner wisely subdued.

  “What now? Has he moved to strike?”

  “He continues to send small bands out of Essex to harass the countryside. However, Edward fears that he will lead a major attack either this summer or next spring. Edward has called a meeting of the Witan and all his loyal thanes. My father has sent me to bring you.”

  “My fyrd? Where and when?”

  “Cynath’s burh. In five days’ time. He does not require your whole fyrd. Just you and a few of your men, to discuss our plans.”

  Gleda and Ylla entered the hall. Gleda carried a vessel of wine, Ylla a tray bearing silver chalices. Dunstan eyed the maidservants as they handed the filled chalices to the men.

  Gleda gazed quite boldly at the finely attired Dunstan, but he was staring at the younger and prettier Ylla. Ylla accomplished her task quickly and competently, never once meeting anyone’s eyes.

  Gleda moved more slowly, and when the women left the hall, Gleda’s hips swung even more provocatively than usual.

  “Your hall does you credit, Bayard,” Dunstan said.

  “I am pleased to hear the son of Cynath say so.” Bayard leaned back in his chair. “Edward does not give his allies much time to muster.”

  “That is why he does not request the fyrds. He prefers to only make plans, for the present.”

  “And to discover if any men of Wessex will follow Aethelwold, probably. We can be ready to leave in two days. Will you enjoy our hospitality until then?”

  “Yes, and I thank you.”

  “Ranulf, you will choose five men to go with me to Cynath’s burh. Father Derrick, I am sure to need your wisdom and faith. I will leave Adelar in command here.”

  Dunstan nodded his approval, and Ranulf smiled smugly.

  “Cousin!” Adelar began in protest.

  “I know you would prefer to go with me, Adelar, but I will feel better if you are guarding my possessions,” Bayard replied.

  Adelar said nothing. He wanted to tell Bayard here and now that he was leaving right away, but Dunstan’s presence and Ranulf’s smug complacency silenced him.

  “I was planning to go hunting today,” Bayard remarked. “Would you care to join us, Dunstan? I understand one of my people has seen a snow-white stag in the wood. Surely such a beast should afford us fine sport.”

  “Nothing would give me more pleasure—except hunting Aethelwold!” Dunstan replied with a loud guffaw. “My dogs are anxious for a chase.”

  “Baldric!” Bayard shouted.

  “Here, my lord!” came Baldric’s deep voice from outside the hall. He stuck his head in the door.

  “All the dogs who are able will hunt today.”

  “Aye, my lord. Tom’ll have to—”

  “Make sure my men’s horses are taken care of,” Dunstan ordered.

  “Can’t do that, my lord. That bitch is whelpin’ and it’s goin’ to be a rough time.” With that, Baldric’s head disappeared again.

  Dunstan eyed Bayard with surprise. “You allow this fellow to speak thus to me?”

  “I will have the lads see to your horses for the present. And yes, I do allow the finest dog keeper in all of Wessex, Mercia, Kent and Essex to speak so, when the finest bitch I possess is having pups.”

  Not mollified, but obviously deciding it was better not to speak, Dunstan rose, followed by his entourage.

  “Would you care to have the pick of the litter?” Bayard offered. “I assure you, these are the finest hunting dogs you will ever see.” There was no servile conciliation in his tone, but the offer proved his wisdom. Dunstan nodded and made his obeisance with better grace than he had demonstrated thus far.

  “I shall join you shortly,” Bayard said, also getting to his feet, “after I fetch my cloak.”

  The rest of the men in the hall stood up and began to gather their weapons, while Dunstan and his followers departed.

  “Bayard, I would have a word with you,” Adelar said quietly, but not quietly enough.

  Ranulf came beside them. “What can Adelar have to say that needs such secrecy?” he demanded.

  “It is enough that he seeks it, Ranulf,” Bayard replied calmly. “Leave us now and wait for me at the stables.”

  Ranulf darted a suspicious look at Adelar, but he joined the others as they headed for the door.

  Adelar turned toward his cousin and suddenly noticed how tired Bayard seemed today. His face was drawn, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes.

  “Now, Cousin,” Bayard said, “as Ranulf remarked, what is it that requires such secrecy?”

  “I cannot remain here.”

  “I am sorry if you are offended that I did not ask you to ride with me to Cynath’s counsel.”

  “No, you misunderstand me, Cousin. I was planning to go from this burh today.”

  “Why? What has happened? Have I or any of my men done something to anger you?”

  “No, Bayard.”

  His cousin frowned. “There must have been something to prompt this sudden decision. Do you think I would let my kinsman—who is also my finest warrior—leave without a word of explanation?”

  “I have served my time in the fyrd.”

  “I did not expect you to act like the men who abandoned Thorney Island when the Danes were nearly ready to surrender just because their time of service was at an end,” Bayard said reproachfully.

  “You have others to take my place.”

  “There is no one I trust as much as you.”

  “You have your wife.”

  “Who is, whatever I may say to Dunstan, a Dane.”

  “But you do trust her, do you not? If I were to stay while you were at Cynath’s burh, it would not be to act as a prison guard.” And certainly never for Endredi.

  “Then I will have to leave Ranulf here. Or Father Derrick. I do not wish to have Endredi under either man’s rule, but...”

  Bayard had given Adelar the one reason he should stay. Ranulf would never dare to harm Endredi, but he was as sly as a snake. He would find a thousand subtle ways to make her life miserable. Father Der-rick’s low opinion of women was enough to try the patience of even Endr
edi. “Very well, Bayard. I will stay until you return.”

  Bayard smiled, his pleasure lighting his face. “Thank you, Adelar. I need you, and so does Endredi.”

  Adelar nodded, realizing he knew exactly how a fly feels when it discovers it is trapped in honey.

  * * *

  Dagfinn frowned as he regarded the spy. “You are certain of this? The full Witan as well as other thanes and warriors?”

  “Yes. The king requested a partial muster at Cynath’s burh in five days’ time. The thanes and ealdormen have much to discuss.”

  “You will find out everything you can, especially about the building of burhs. And a description of Cynath’s. I also need to know about Mercia and Kent. Will they follow Edward, or is there a chance they will leave the men of Wessex to fight alone?”

  “If Aethelwold is wise, he will choose to fight Wessex first. The Mercians and Kentish men may wait to see what happens, and Edward will be deprived of their help. It would be even better, of course, if Edward was killed. Then Ethelred of Mercia would be the best choice for king. Even those arrogant simpletons in the Witan would have to agree.”

  Dagfinn scowled. “I admit that what you say sounds a good course, but it is ambition that moves Aethelwold, not wisdom. Still, I shall pass on your advice.”

  “Good. There is another thing.”

  “What?”

  “It is about Endredi. And Bayard’s cousin, Adelar.”

  “The arrogant one who speaks our language? What of them?”

  “He attempted to seduce her.”

  “By Odin’s eye! Is this true?”

  “I have said so.”

  “He did not succeed,” Dagfinn stated with conviction.

  The spy’s eyes widened. “You knew of this? How?”

  Dagfinn’s laugh was more like a harsh grunt. “I did not—but I know Endredi. Her heart is as full of ice as the northern seas in winter. I have no liking for my brother’s widow, but she would never betray a husband.”

  “I know Adelar, and I would not be so swift to dismiss him. If he wants a woman...”

  “If he does, he can have her.”

  “Bayard may decide to send her back.”

  “He wouldn’t dare!” Dagfinn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The marriage is consummated, is it not?”