Margaret Moore - [Viking 02]

by The Saxon

  Then, with another battle cry, Adelar made toward Dagfinn.

  * * *

  Endredi pressed her lips together to keep from screaming as the pain assailed her again. Perspiration blinded her as she strained to bring her child into the world.

  Something was wrong. She had no idea what, couldn’t think beyond the pain that seemed to be tearing her apart.

  “Get out!” she heard Helmi say through her agony. “We don’t want you here!”

  Baldric’s growling voice answered the servant. “I helped more bitches whelp than you’ve hairs on your head, woman. Stand aside!”

  Endredi struggled to sit up. “Baldric?”

  “Yes,” he replied bluntly. He ran his hand expertly over her stomach. “On your feet, my lady.”

  She nodded. The time must be near. “Something is...wrong,” she moaned, twisting to set her feet on the ground.

  “Not a bit,” Bayard replied. “Always hard the first time.”

  He was but a dog keeper, yet his words made her relieved as she stood, holding on to the bed for support. She groaned softly when another pain came.

  “My lady!” Ylla interrupted, her words piercing the mist of agony.

  “What?” Endredi panted as the pain lessened. She looked up at the serving maid standing nearby. She had sent Ylla to the walls to find out what she could of the battle.

  “The Danes are falling back.”

  Endredi nodded, then ground her teeth when the pain came again.

  “My lady!”

  “Save your chatter for afterward,” Helmi said sharply.

  “Let her speak!” Endredi said.

  “Adelar has come, but...”

  Endredi opened her eyes, then, with no warning and no conscious thought, burst into tears.

  “But?” Baldric grunted.

  “I do not know for whom he fights,” Ylla said. “He came from the line of the Danes.”

  “He will not fight against Bayard,” Endredi said, choking back her sobs, believing it to the very core of her soul. No matter what harsh words had been exchanged, no matter what his father had been, Adelar had not abandoned her. He had come back when he was needed most, as she had said he would.

  Then she cried out, the pain overpowering.

  “Move away, girl!” Baldric cried impatiently to Ylla. “This baby is in a hurry to be born. Now is the time to push, my lady.”

  * * *

  The battle lasted a very long time. All Adelar was aware of after he had killed Dagfinn was the need to protect himself and strike at whatever Danes he could, driving them farther and father away from the burh. He did not think of the men he had killed as men like himself. They were animals, trying to attack the people he cared about.

  So he took no notice of the dead, or the wounded, or the bodies he trod upon, or the limbs he bloodied. He paid no heed to his own exhaustion, or the wound in his side. At times, he thought he heard Father Derrick shouting admonitions, or the groans of wounded men, but they were mere noises.

  Until the moment he realized there was no one left for him to fight. The few Danes he could see were running off through the trees, leaving behind the dead and the near dead.

  Adelar bent over and put his hands on his knees, his bloodied sword still in his hand. He heard someone panting heavily, and after a short time came to know that it was himself. Then slowly, he lifted his head and looked around.

  Father Derrick was not far off, kneeling beside someone. Adelar strained to see who. Bayard. Bayard, on the ground.

  Adelar forgot his pain and his fatigue to rush to his cousin. A broken spear protruded from Bayard’s side, and the ground around him was red with blood.

  Father Derrick finished his blessing, then moved away when Bayard weakly waved his hand. “I would be alone with Adelar,” he whispered, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to breathe. “So, you have come back to me,” he said, valiantly trying to smile.

  “I would have come sooner, had I heard.”

  “Truly, Cousin?”

  “Truly. Forgive my words to you before, Bayard. I was angry and hurt and—”

  “It is you who must forgive me, Cousin. You and Endredi.”

  “I forgive you, Bayard, for giving me what I most desired.”

  Ylla came running toward them, staring about her with wide-eyed fright, then down at Bayard with terror and pity.

  “What is it?” Adelar asked.

  Ylla did not look at him, but knelt beside Bayard, too. “My lord, you have a son. A fine, healthy son!”

  Adelar rose to his feet. “Endredi?” he demanded. “How is Endredi?”

  “She is well, too.”

  Bayard smiled fully then, and looked at Adelar with tears in his eyes. “Do you hear? A son!”

  Adelar was beside him instantly. “Bayard, do not speak! Save your strength.”

  “I am ready to die,” Bayard whispered. “Do not pity me, Adelar. I am getting a better death than I had hoped. Better, perhaps, than I deserve.”

  “Take him to his bower,” Adelar ordered as a group of churls arrived carrying a bier. “He must see the child.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Endredi lifted herself on her elbows to see who entered the bower. In a cradle beside the bed her child, her son, slept peacefully, swaddled tightly, his downy head just barely visible.

  It was Adelar, his byrnie damp with blood and mud, his face streaked with dirt and sweat. He had never looked more wonderful to her. Despite her exhaustion and her fears about the battle, overwhelming joy filled her. “Adelar,” she cried softly as he hurried to her side. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

  She blinked away tears of happiness and peered past him. “Bayard...?”

  “Is wounded,” Adelar said quietly, anguish in his dark eyes. “Mortally, I fear.”

  Before she could fully take in his words, a group of men carrying a bier entered. She struggled to her feet, ignoring Helmi’s protests.

  Father Derrick came, too, muttering prayers as Endredi made her way to Bayard, seeing at once the gray face, the drawn lips, the mark of death upon his brow.

  Her husband’s eyes opened and looked about searchingly. “The baby?”

  Endredi quickly picked up her slumbering child and, with a glance at Adelar, laid him in Bayard’s arms. “This child is to have all my worldly goods,” Bayard whispered hoarsely. “And this land, when he is of an age. It is all in my will.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Father Derrick said quietly. “I shall see that it is as God—and you—have intended.”

  “Endredi?” Bayard held out the babe and she took him, cradling him tenderly as she knelt beside the bier. He turned to look at her and she knew he had but moments left. “Thank you, Endredi, for this child. Adelar?”

  His cousin knelt on the other side.

  “Give me your hand, Adelar.” He did, and Bayard lifted it across his chest. “You, too, Endredi.” He joined their hands beneath his own weak one. “This is how it should be. How it should always have been,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

  And then he died.

  * * *

  Some days later, Cynath sat in Bayard’s hall and sighed deeply. “It is a pity Bayard died so young,” Cynath said softly. “A measure of peace in our land at last, since that fool Aethelwold is dead, although I was ready to curse the Kentish men for hanging back.”

  “Yes. If they had not, Aethelwold might yet be alive,” Adelar replied.

  By now all knew that the attack on Oakenbrook had been but the first of a series of attacks on the borderlands by the Danes, the men of Essex and Aethelwold. While Adelar held Oakenbrook, Edward had retaliated with an invasion deep into that part of Mercia taken by the Danes. He had ordered a retreat, but the Kentish men, for reasons of their own, had lingered, only to be met by Aethelwold and the Danish army. After a fierce battle, Aethelwold was dead, as well as the Danish king, Eohric.

  “Edward will not be content with this, though,” Cynath ruminated. “Hi
s father would have been, but Edward is made of different stuff. I believe he will not rest content until the Saxons have control of the Danelaw once more.”

  “He will never get rid of the Danes,” Adelar observed. “They are too settled now.”

  “Then let them stay, as long as they obey the English king and English law.”

  “I think they might, if we do not interfere with trade.”

  “You are so sure they are more interested in trade than war, Adelar.”

  “I lived among the Vikings, my lord. Most of them want peace as much as any man.”

  “Well, I shall have to rely on your superior knowledge, as Bayard did, eh?”

  They sat in companionable silence. Adelar hoped there would finally indeed be peace. He was tired of war and talk of war. He wanted only to seek contentment, provided that could be in Endredi’s arms.

  Since Bayard’s death, she had wisely treated him with the proper deference due to a burhware. There seemed no question in anyone’s mind that Adelar was the commander in truth, if not in name. Nonetheless, he often saw in her eyes that she cared for him still. He was only waiting for the appropriate time to declare his undying passion for her.

  Cynath picked up a long piece of wood and stirred the fire so that the flames leaped into the darkness. “Your father is dead, Adelar.”

  “When?”

  “A fortnight ago.”

  “How?”

  “Cerdric returned, and as Kendric upbraided the fellow, he had a sudden fit and fell down dead.”

  Adelar’s eyes welled with sudden tears he blinked away, surprised that he should feel anything at all at this news.

  And yet, when Cynath spoke, he remembered his father in better days, teaching him to ride and to hunt. Those had been good times. He must see to it that his son had such happy memories, and no taint of shame to cloud his days.

  “Cerdric is laying claim to his burh. It is in your father’s will.”

  When Adelar did not respond, Cynath eyed him shrewdly. “Will you return there? You are his son, in law.”

  “No. I owe my loyalty to Bayard’s widow. He was better to me than my father was.”

  “Despite the will, the king may not grant his burh to Cerdric. That lout is nothing but a drunkard and a fool. The land may pass into other hands.”

  “So be it, then, my lord.”

  “I must ask you this, Adelar. Do you believe the stories about your father?”

  Adelar faced Cynath. “They were all true, Cynath. He was a traitor.”

  “You are not your father, Adelar,” Cynath said quietly. “Bayard believed you to be worthy, and I do, too. I was simply curious.”

  Cynath gave Adelar a piercing look. “I have heard other rumors. Of you and Bayard’s wife.”

  “They are only rumors,” Adelar said, prepared to lie for Bayard’s sake. Indeed, he would never tell the truth of things as long as he lived, to preserve Bayard’s reputation and that of his son.

  “Whatever the truth is,” Cynath said slowly, “Bayard deserves nothing but honor, alive or dead.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Adelar stared into the flames. He would miss his cousin’s easy banter, his jokes, his wisdom.

  “At least my decision is an easy one.”

  “What decision is that, my lord?”

  “I know who I will make burhware in Bayard’s place.”

  “Oh?”

  Cynath chuckled. “Do not play the coy maiden with me, Adelar. You are the obvious choice. Bayard favored you, and that fool Ranulf is dead. A shameful way to die, running from battle. But we will not speak of him. What say you, Adelar? Will you be burhware of Oakenbrook?”

  Adelar opened his mouth, intending to say that he had no interest in command, as he had said to Bayard so many times. He was even about to suggest that Dunstan, who had fought valiantly, be made burhware.

  But he did not, because suddenly he knew that he wanted the command. He was ready, as he had never been before, to take the responsibility. “Thank you, my lord,” he said. “I would be honored.”

  “I think the king will not hesitate to approve my choice, especially if you marry Bayard’s widow.”

  “My lord?”

  “She is a good woman. Not as attractive as some, I grant you, but I believe she is worthy to be the wife of a burhware, especially if, as you say, the Danes are here to stay. Also, I think you would do well by Bayard’s child, and that is important to me. I cared a great deal for your cousin.”

  “I know, my lord. I give you my word that I will treat him as my own son.”

  “Good. Has Endredi named the child?”

  “She has chosen to call him Bayard, after his father.”

  “Let us hope he is worthy of his name.”

  “With such a mother, he will be.”

  “You sound as if you admire her.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I see no reason to delay the marriage. Who knows how long this peace will last?”

  Adelar stared at Cynath, who grinned broadly. “Would you rather wait?”

  “Not at all, my lord,” the Saxon answered truthfully. “Not at all. But perhaps Father Derrick and the others will think we act with unseemly haste.”

  “Father Derrick and the other thanes will not dare to speak against my decision,” Cynath said confidently. He gave Adelar another of his searching gazes. “Do you not want the woman?”

  “I do, my lord.”

  “Then there is no more to be said. I will tell her of my decision in the morning.”

  * * *

  A man’s hand crept slowly up Endredi’s bare back while she lay sleeping in bed. She awakened at once, and a gasp escaped her lips as she twisted to strike the intruder beside her.

  The man grasped her hand. Then Adelar’s mouth covered hers in a warm, sensual kiss. With a low moan, she wrapped her arms about him and drew him toward her. “You should not be here,” she murmured, delighted that he was. She had missed him so much and yearned to have him with her again. Nonetheless, he should not be in her bed.

  “I am not leaving you.” His naked body covered hers. “Not ever again. Endredi, will you be my wife?”

  “Adelar, we have made so many mistakes—”

  He stopped her by placing his finger against her lips. “The past is finished,” he said softly. “Our lives begin now. Here. The two of us.”

  She felt the tension in his body, and realized he was not completely sure of her feelings. “You are all I have ever wanted, Adelar,” she whispered. She reached up and pulled him to her for a long, deep kiss.

  Although they were not wed in law, they both knew it was but a small particular. Free at last to love each other, they began a slow, delightful dance of reacquaintance.

  “Is it too soon after the birth?” Adelar muttered as his hands caressed her tenderly.

  “I do not believe so,” Endredi replied, stroking his muscular shoulders. “I will tell you if it is.”

  It was not.

  * * *

  Later, as they lay together in each other’s arms, satisfied and complete, the whimpers of the baby reached Endredi’s ears. “He is hungry,” she said apologetically, getting up and putting on her robe.

  “Will you not spoil him if you go each time he makes a sound?” Adelar asked lazily, taking her hand as if to hold her there.

  “And will I not spoil you if I listen to your advice? How many children have you nursed, my lord?”

  He smiled broadly. “None.”

  “That is obvious, my lord,” Helmi said, striking a light. “Or you would know that if the baby cries, there is no point not to feed him.”

  Endredi halted in her tracks. “Helmi! Where did you come from?”

  The serving woman lifted the infant from his cradle and brought him toward her. “From my place outside the door. It is well Adelar was gone through the winter or my joints would be stiff yet. Order me to sleep in the hall, indeed, with all those Saxon barbarians? I should think not! Besides, I know where my dut
y is. I made a snug place for myself in the alley between the hall and the bower. I suppose you two were too enamored of each other to notice? Warm enough in the spring and autumn, but I might have perished of the cold in the winter. Well, it does not matter, since all this sneaking about must end.”

  The baby started to wail in earnest. Endredi took her son, sat on a stool and began to feed him. With fearful eyes she looked at Adelar, who still sat in the bed.

  Helmi put her hands on her thin hips and frowned. “Did you think I did not know? You have no secrets from me, either one of you. Which is as it should be. And have I once given you cause to doubt me?”

  “What secrets?” Adelar demanded.

  Helmi gave him a sardonic look. “This will not be the first time you come to this bed, my lord.”

  “What do you mean?” Endredi asked sternly, glancing uneasily at Adelar.

  “Am I a dolt? A fool? As blind as a bat? No. Of course I knew all along that Adelar was your lover. And I also know that Cynath wants you two to marry. A wise man, for a Saxon. Ylla knew it, too. Just as she knew who she was really spending her nights with.”

  Endredi and Adelar were too surprised to answer.

  “Did you think we are both stupid?”

  “No...no, that is, you never said...when Godwin accused us and Bayard asked you—” Endredi stuttered.

  “Is that why Ylla has said nothing to me at all since I returned?” Adelar asked. “I wondered.”

  “But of course you said nothing to her, either. Do not worry, my lord. She is not pining for you. She shed many tears for Bayard’s sake, though.”

  “Why did you both answer as you did when Ranulf and Godwin spoke of adultery?” Endredi asked.

  “Do you think I would ever agree with anything Ranulf said?” Helmi countered. “If he said the sky was blue, I would have said it was black. And you know I have no wish to go back to any village Bera inhabits. As for Ylla, did you expect her to contradict Bayard, or Adelar, or even Ranulf, a thane?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Do? Help you prepare for bed.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Endredi said, relieved and certain Helmi would not betray their secret. “You may leave.”