Margaret Moore - [Viking 02]

by The Saxon

  “I thought I saw that snow-white stag,” Godwin remarked.

  The gleeman’s words made Adelar look away from Endredi. “Did you see that woman I spoke of?”

  Godwin shook his head.

  “Did you ask about an old woman when you helped with the alms?” he inquired.

  “Yes. No one else has seen a stranger, either.”

  “I did see a woman, Godwin.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “She was too far away and she wore a cloak, so I could not make out her features.”

  “That was unfortunate. Maybe it was Helmi.”

  “I wondered that, too.”

  “Why would she be in the woods, though?”

  “Perhaps she was meeting someone, but if she was, I do not think she was having an assignation with a lover, or gathering wood or food,” Adelar noted.

  “That is a serious charge, Adelar. I thought you did not distrust the Danes now.”

  “I do not distrust Bayard’s wife. That is why I said nothing to Bayard. But I think the serving woman should be watched.”

  “I agree, although I’m sure it is nothing to concern us.”

  Ranulf and Ordella came into the hall, and Godwin grinned. “St. Swithins in a swamp, aren’t they the happy ones? Look at her face—like she drank the juice of lemons.”

  “I think Ranulf has enjoyed Gleda’s charms.”

  “Ranulf, too?” Godwin guffawed. “No wonder Ordella looks like that!”

  “I should warn you, Godwin, that Gleda’s got her eye on you. She wants a husband.”

  “I do not think Gleda wishes a gleeman for a husband. She would set her sights higher.” He looked pointedly at Adelar.

  “She is a generous and kind-hearted wench—which means I would not suit her,” he remarked.

  “That I cannot argue with. She likes a man who can make her laugh.”

  “She may be right, then, to look at you as she does.” He nodded slightly toward Gleda, who was indeed eyeing Godwin much as a woman might eye a piece of cloth she was of a mind to buy.

  “I have no wish to marry a soiled dove,” Godwin said, his tone so contemptuous that Adelar looked at him in surprise.

  Godwin grinned at once and said with mock humility, “A gleeman I may be, but I have some pride, my lord.” He nodded toward Ylla. “What do you intend to do about Ylla?”

  “Do about her?”

  “Yes. Are you finished with her?”

  “I have never started.”

  Godwin’s eyes gleamed eagerly. “Truly, Adelar?”

  “Truly, Godwin.”

  Ylla glanced their way, and Adelar gestured for her to join them. “But I intend to.”

  As she made her way to the bench, Adelar looked curiously at Godwin. “Are you interested in her?”

  “It would not matter if I was,” the gleeman replied with a grin and a shrug. “How can I compete with a handsome, noble warrior like you?”

  Ylla waited nearby, obviously unsure what was wanted of her, until Adelar patted the bench beside him. “Join me.”

  “Do you not intend to sit higher at the table?” she asked, her gaze shifting from Adelar to Godwin uncertainly.

  “I intend to sit with Godwin, and with you.”

  Ylla smiled with such genuine, unabashed pleasure that Adelar was ashamed of himself. What tangled web was he helping to weave, and who would be caught in it?

  “I have my duties to attend to, my lord.”

  He took hold of her hand and leaned closer. “Perhaps your duties might take you to the weaving shed tonight when the evening meal is finished.”

  Her eyes widened, and then—oh, how much he hated even this lesser treachery—she smiled, her face lighting as if a candle had been kindled within. “I shall be there, my lord,” she whispered intently, withdrawing her hand ever so slowly from his before moving away.

  “And you wonder why I do not try,” Godwin muttered sarcastically.

  * * *

  Adelar and Bayard met in the shadowy stable when the moon was halfway through its course, and quickly exchanged cloaks and tunics. “When you hear me call like an owl, you must go,” Bayard said, pulling up the hood of the light cloak.

  Adelar nodded his agreement. “Or if you hear me.”

  “Where is Ylla?”

  “She is waiting for you in the weaving shed. Where is Helmi?”

  “In the hall, as she will be every night. She was not pleased, but she will not disobey me.”

  “How much do you trust her?”

  “Helmi? Not a great deal, but she seems to have great affection for Endredi, and I doubt she would want to see her mistress disgraced. Nevertheless, I thought it wise to send her from the bower.”

  “I fear she may be a spy.”

  “Helmi?” Bayard asked doubtfully. “She has never once been from the burh.”

  “Can you be certain? I saw a strange woman in the woods while I was hunting, more than once. I think it might be wise to set a watch on her.”

  “I have always had a watch on her. Although I believe I can trust Endredi, I have never had any confidence in Helmi’s loyalty. Indeed, I would rather send her back to Dagfinn, but Endredi fears the woman would be punished. It must have been another woman, probably gathering firewood.” He went to the door, then hesitated and turned on the threshold. “Adelar, you do understand that I do not enjoy deceiving Endredi this way.”

  “Yes, Bayard. I do. And Ylla is a fine young woman.”

  Bayard sighed. “Adelar, perhaps we should end all this.”

  “The harm has already been done.”

  “Once. One sin. To continue, however...”

  “Bayard, you wanted this. You asked me. I agreed and now I have no wish to end it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I am saying that I want Endredi more than the breath in my body.”

  “Adelar, she is my wife!”

  “Do you think my heart is made of stone, Bayard? I care for her very much, and not merely as the potential mother of a son.”

  “How dare you speak so to me!”

  “I dare because it is the truth!”

  “I care for Endredi, too.”

  “So much you would let another man sleep with her? So much you yourself would take a wench pretending to be another to throw off suspicion? Look at us, Bayard,” he said coldly, gesturing at their exchanged clothing. “What kind of demons have we become?”

  Bayard slumped down on a nearby pile of straw. “You are right, Adelar. I never should have asked you this. I thought I had everything planned, but I forgot that hearts cannot be made to obey. I do care for Endredi, and it fills me with pain every time I think of you with her.” He looked at Adelar, his expression full of anguish and sorrow. “I began this because I need a son and I cannot provide one. I still want a son more than anything, even more than Endredi. All you want is Endredi herself. When I am dead, I hope you will marry her. For the present, I leave it to you, Adelar, to continue or end this deception tonight.”

  Adelar knew there was only one answer he could give, only one his heart would allow. “We have embarked on this course, Bayard, and I cannot turn from it now, come what may.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The hoot of an owl interrupted the silence of the autumn night. Entwined in Endredi’s arms, Adelar raised his head. “The hour grows late,” he whispered, stroking her silky cheek with his fingertips.

  She bent her head to kiss his callused palm. “I wish you could remain with me,” she said softly.

  “I, too.” But even as he spoke, he got out of the bed.

  She reached out and caressed his naked back. “You are shivering.”

  “It’s cold,” he said, reaching for his breeches. He twisted and gave her a roguish smile. “Without the benefit of your body to give me warmth.”

  “Is that all I am to you, my bold Saxon? A body to keep you warm?”

  He turned toward her, his face solemn. “Oh, no. You are much more than t
hat, Endredi.” The intense, passionate expression in his eyes thrilled her beyond the power to answer, either seriously or in jest.

  The owl hooted again, and Adelar once more began to dress.

  She allowed herself the enjoyment of watching him. How muscular he was, slim and lithe in his movements. Graceful, like a cat.

  He pulled on his tunic, one she had never known him to wear before, a black garment rather like the one Bayard had worn that evening. In it, he resembled his cousin even more. He picked up his cloak and put it on.

  “That is Bayard’s cloak,” Endredi said, recognizing it at once.

  “I must have taken the wrong one from the hall.”

  “You had better be sure to put it back,” she answered, a measure of concern in her voice. For a moment, she had forgotten the forbidden nature of their love. “It is a good thing Bayard chose to stay there, or he would be searching for it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did he remain in the hall?”

  “Godwin was telling the story of Beowulf again, and Bayard stayed to hear it.”

  “I am grateful to Godwin, then, for spinning so long a tale.”

  “Me, too, Endredi, me, too. But Godwin must be nearly finished by now, and so I dare not stay.”

  “Forgive this intrusion, my lord,” one of the watchmen said as he peered into the darkened bower. “I have news of the woman we were told to look out for.”

  Endredi tugged the covers up to her chin and glanced at Adelar, who had turned swiftly away from the door and reached for the vessel filled with wine on the small table, as if he was pouring himself a drink.

  “Woman?” she asked, wondering what woman was so important that the watchman would come to Bayard’s bower at this late hour.

  “Have you seen her?” Adelar asked, his voice little more than a mumble. He sounded enough like Bayard to fool this fellow, who was only a foot soldier.

  “I saw someone creeping through the woods and went at once to the commander of the watch. He sent me and Matthew to follow her, but I regret to say, my lord, that we could not find her.”

  “She moved quickly, then?”

  “She was bent like an old woman, but moved very fast for a crone.”

  “I see. Next time, take Baldric and the best hounds.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  “You may go.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  Endredi waited until the watchman had gone, then rose from the bed and pulled on her fur-lined robe. “What woman is this that you spoke of? Bayard has said nothing to me of her.”

  “It may be nothing. I have seen a strange old woman in the woods more than once. I simply want to know who she is.”

  “You fear a spy?”

  Adelar gazed at her steadily and nodded. “I do not like mysterious strangers, even if they are only old women.”

  “Nor do I.” Endredi glanced at the door nervously. “I think you should leave, Adelar, before another watchman comes.”

  He saw the tension in her face, and cursed the watchman for coming to the bower. She was as nervous as she had been the first time they had been together.

  And yet, perhaps she was wise to be leery. It would be a mistake to let his guard down. Although Bayard was a willing participant, it would be disastrous if Ranulf or Ordella discovered this liaison.

  He pulled Endredi into his arms. “Very well, I will go.”

  “Take care, Adelar.”

  “Always.”

  * * *

  Godwin shoved the bundle beneath the weaving shed into the hiding place he had prepared. Then he straightened, trying to slow his rasping breaths as he hid in the shadows.

  That had been too close, he thought as he scanned the walls in the distance, the sentries visible in the moonlight. He had been seen and nearly caught this time.

  And for what? He had had little enough to tell Dagfinn, other than the fact that Ranulf had dallied again with a serving wench and enraged his wife. The fellow seemed less and less capable of acting even slightly wise, for any fool could see that Ranulf’s wife was the clever schemer. Nor did he expect Dagfinn to use the information he gleaned. Dagfinn would relay it to the Danes close to Aethelwold, though.

  Godwin peered around the building. No one in sight, and the nearest sentry was speaking to another guard. Godwin slipped around the side of the building and hurried toward the gate. Once there, he began to whistle a jaunty tune.

  “Who’s there?” the watchman called out.

  “Godwin,” he answered. He waited for the gate to open.

  “What are you doing about so late?” the soldier asked suspiciously.

  “Visiting a friend,” the gleeman replied with a wink.

  “These are dangerous times, my friend,” the soldier said warily. “You had best keep your weapon sheathed.”

  “What good is a weapon in a sheath?” Godwin asked with a grin. “I would rather keep in practice.” He moved his hips suggestively, which made the soldier smile.

  “Still, I would suggest you do not linger quite so long,” the sentry remarked.

  “Why? Are you expecting trouble?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Well then, I shall do as you say,” Godwin answered before proceeding on his way.

  Too close indeed, he thought. He might have already overstayed the time for safety. And yet it galled him to leave with Bayard and his people so secure. This was an important burh in the defense of Wessex; if only he could leave its leadership a shambles, so that it could be easily conquered. He did not want the burh destroyed, though. It would be a fine jewel in the crown of a king. A Mercian king.

  A slight movement caught his attention. Instinctively he moved into the shadow of a building, every sense alert.

  It was the door to Bayard’s bower opening—so late? He thought Bayard would have retired long since.

  The figure of a man in the doorway was illuminated by the light inside for a brief instant, then he walked stealthily away. By the way his head moved from side to side, he was watching the sentries as carefully as Godwin had.

  What was Bayard doing sneaking out of his own bower at this time of night? Was he meeting someone? A lover, perhaps? Or was it something else?

  No. He was merely going to the hall. Except...as Godwin watched the man continue cautiously toward the hall, he noted something familiar about the lithe ease of the man’s movements. His gait was like Bayard’s, but different...and the man’s height was not quite right. Indeed, the fellow was more like...Adelar!

  Godwin stared, straining to see in the dark. No, he could not be mistaken. He had spent more time than anyone in Adelar’s company.

  For a heady moment the import of what he had seen swamped Godwin. Here was the thing he needed, the dagger that would rip the fabric of this burh to ribbons! Adelar, spending part of the night in Bayard’s bower, surely with Bayard’s wife!

  For a proud man like Bayard, this double betrayal of a wife and trusted cousin would wound nearly to the death. It would certainly be the death of Adelar, and possibly the Viking woman.

  If that happened—or if it merely seemed a possibility—it would be the perfect moment for Dagfinn or a more ambitious Dane to strike. They could claim Bayard’s punishment of his wife was an insult to her people, for the Danes believed in divorce, whereas the Christians did not. Godwin was certain one of them would welcome the opportunity to avenge an insult, real or imagined, if it meant a chance to loot Bayard’s burh.

  The question now was exactly how to proceed with the accusation. He should not be the one to tell Bayard, for here he was considered little better than a servant.

  Ranulf. He should be the one.

  There were some here who would support a bid by Ranulf for power, if this came to light, for Ranulf was rich and would surely pay those who gave him their allegiance.

  Godwin also knew it was imperative that he be gone when Ranulf made his accusation. The man was a fool you couldn’t trust with such information for long. Should Bayard s
omehow manage to get through the upheaval, Godwin wanted to be far from Bayard’s vengeance.

  Therefore, Godwin decided to wait awhile to be completely certain of the adultery before telling Ranulf. Even then, he would say only that he suspected. In the meantime, he would go to Dagfinn and warn him that Ranulf was going to accuse Endredi of adultery and that he should be prepared to take advantage of the situation. Afterward, home to Mercia, where he would tell his ealdorman that the Danes were moving on Oakenbrook and the defense of Wessex would be that much weaker.

  Godwin smiled. Adelar and Endredi had given him the very weapon he needed to see the end of Bayard, and quite possibly Wessex, as well.

  * * *

  Several days later, Helmi muttered to herself as she tidied up the bower. “Look at this stitching,” she whined, examining the hem of one of Endredi’s gowns. “Terrible. A blind woman could do better than Ylla. You don’t need her. You should have left her a slave.”

  Endredi sighed wearily. She felt ill and tired and had little patience for either Helmi’s complaints or her gossip. “Would you please get me some cool water?” she asked, anxious to have the woman gone.

  Helmi nodded. “Very well, since who knows where that girl is? She should have been back with the fresh herbs long ago. I tell you, my lady, it is shameful the way she carries on! Proud she’s getting, beyond her station! Just because she thinks sleeping with Adelar—”

  “What?” Endredi demanded, suddenly alert. “What did you say?”

  Helmi paused on her way to the door and turned to Endredi, her face the picture of surprise. “Didn’t you know about the two of them?”

  “What is there to know?” Endredi asked slowly and deliberately.

  Helmi’s expression changed from genuine surprise to sly triumph. “That little whore’s been with him in the night—and then too tired to do a proper day’s work afterward. Whenever I tell her she should rest more, the saucy creature has the gall to—”