Blood Enemy

by Martin Lake

  ‘You’ve come back to me,’ she whispered.

  ‘How could I not?’ he said. ‘We are one, you and I.’

  She pulled back and stared into his eyes. ‘I knew you lived. I was certain of it. I never doubted, though I feared for you.’

  She paused a moment. ‘I felt your pain, as if it were my own. Every day. But I was glad for it meant you were still alive.’

  ‘It was not easy,’ he said. ‘But all is well now.’ They embraced once again.

  Then his face lit up in a smile.

  ‘Inga, I want you to meet someone.’ He turned her to face Rebekah.

  The two young women stared silently at one another, each examining the other’s face minutely. Ulf felt a chill of disquiet as he watched. Neither spoke but continued to inspect the other for long, endless moments, looking from hair to eyes, to nose, to mouth, to chin. It was the way a warrior in a shield wall might look upon the man he marked out as his next adversary.

  And then both sighed, at the same moment, and reached out for one another’s hands.

  ‘Welcome, sister,’ Inga said.

  ‘Thank you, sister,’ Rebekah replied.

  And when Inga turned to Ulf she gave him a wry and knowing look.

  Ethelnoth saw this and laughed aloud. ‘You have many adventures to tell us, I see, Ulf. But some, maybe, are best kept for later.’

  None of them saw it, but Alfred leaned over and whispered something in Aethelflaed’s ear. She listened intently and nodded.

  TALK OF LOVE

  July 884

  It had been a year since Ulf had feasted so much, the heavy food and ale made him feel light-headed. As did the constant questions from Alfred and his friends. He enjoyed the attention at first but as he grew more drunk he began to grow weary. He struggled to keep his speech from slurring, even keep his eyes open.

  ‘You are exhausted,’ Alfred said at last. ‘Find yourself a sleeping place with your friends. We will speak more tomorrow.’

  Ulf nodded in relief. He focused his eyes to search for Rebekah but she was nowhere to be seen. And then Holdwine was helping him to his feet and pulling him to where his friends were stretching out beside the fire.

  ‘Rebekah?’ Ulf murmured.

  ‘She’s gone with your sister,’ Holdwine said. ‘It is for the best.’

  Ulf frowned, uncertain, but could not keep his eyes open longer. He sunk to the floor and Holdwine covered him with a blanket.

  He woke next morning with throbbing head and a taste of bile in his throat. The hall was empty of warriors, the only figures were those of servants clearing away the debris from the previous night.

  Ulf climbed to his feet and went outside.

  He relieved himself in the latrines and then the stench caught his nostrils and his stomach heaved. He vomited most of what he had eaten and drunk into the pit and felt better for it.

  In the distance he could hear the clang of metal on metal, the noise of warriors exercising. He sauntered over to join his friends. It was good to be home.

  Now he endured a lengthy period of questions and much good humoured insult. He did not tell them everything that had happened to him, especially those incidents which were most humiliating. He also kept silent about the deeds where he had acted most bravely. He feared they would sound like boastful vanity.

  And, although he was not sure of the reason, he did not speak of Rebekah at all.

  Eventually he felt too weary to continue and sat in the shade of a tree to watch the sword play. He yearned to join in but felt too weak to do so.

  Alfred and Edgwulf questioned him further that day. They were especially interested in what he had to say about Hæstenn and Hrólfr.

  Ulf wondered at this for the two Vikings were far away and posed no threat. If anyone were to be fearful of them it should be King Carloman of Francia.

  To all appearances Carloman was powerful and secure. The huge empire built by his great-grandfather Charlemagne had since been divided and wracked by civil wars. But the untimely death of other claimants meant that Charles had succeeded to the whole of Western Francia. Yet his power was not all it seemed. Dwelling in the heart of his realm, like serpents in a nest, were countless bands of Northmen.

  ‘I do not know which I fear most,’ Alfred said. ‘If Carloman proves weak then the Northmen will establish themselves in his territory and grow more powerful. Yet if he proves strong he may be able to eject them from his lands. And they may decide to attack us.’

  ‘I know naught of the Frankish king,’ Ulf said. ‘But Hæstenn and Hrólfr are dangerous men. Hæstenn is the more powerful, with a large army. He is cunning and a great leader and the most to be feared. But Hrólfr is young and seeks to win wealth and fame as swiftly as possible. He will attack wherever he thinks he has most likelihood of success.’

  ‘And they are but two of the wolves prowling close by,’ Edgwulf said. He stared at Alfred. ‘Wessex has survived the assault of Guthrum but I wonder if, alone, we can withstand a greater invasion.’

  Alfred nodded but did not comment.

  ‘We thank you for your invaluable news, Ulf,’ Edgwulf said. ‘Now you must look to regain your strength. Rest, eat well and train with your friends.’

  Ulf smiled and waited to be dismissed. But Alfred and Edgwulf exchanged a glance and then Edgwulf spoke once again.

  ‘This girl you arrived with?’

  ‘Rebekah,’ Ulf said. ‘I have not seen her since yesterday.’

  ‘The King thought it best to lodge her with his daughter and your sister.’

  Ulf nodded. It was a wise decision. He needed time to consider their future together.

  ‘She said she was born in Africa,’ Edgwulf said. ‘Does this mean the land of Islam?’

  ‘No, my lord. She comes from the Kingdom of Axum, farther to the south. It is a Christian country, she says.’

  ‘And you believe her?’

  Ulf frowned, surprised at the Horse-thegn’s doubtful tone.

  ‘I do. As I said, if not for her, I would not be alive.’

  ‘She is comely,’ Edgwulf continued, ‘despite her dark look.’

  Ulf blushed.

  ‘You are lovers?’

  Ulf paused for a moment and then nodded.

  Edgwulf turned to Alfred but he gave no sign of response.

  ‘Rebekah will continue to lodge at nights with Aethelflaed and your sister,’ Edgwulf said.

  Ulf felt a surge of anger but did not allow himself to show it. ‘Of course, my lord,’ he said. ‘Whatever you say.’

  Alfred waved his hand to dismiss him. As Ulf left the chamber he glanced back and saw that the two men were watching him anxiously.

  Ulf sought out his friends, Holdwine and Grimbold.

  Holdwine shook his head as he approached. ‘You look as skinny as an old cat,’ he said. ‘We shall have to feed you up.’

  ‘I welcome that,’ Ulf said. ‘But I also need to build up my strength. I have no sword.’

  ‘I will ask Cuthred to find you one,’ Holdwine said.

  ‘Cuthred?’ Ulf said. ‘He is here.’

  ‘As soon as we got back from Rome he returned to his village,’ Grimbold said. ‘But someone had taken over his smithy, thinking him dead. He decided to cut his losses and return here. He works in the armoury and stables.’

  ‘I shall be glad to see him,’ Ulf said. ‘And even more glad to begin training again.’

  STRENGTHENING

  July 884

  Inga watched Ulf intently as he trained. He pretended that he had regained his strength but she detected a core of exhaustion and hurt remaining deep within.

  ‘You need to rest,’ she said, as he slumped beneath a tree.

  She felt Ulf’s arms, squeezing gently as if she feared to break his bones. ‘You still have little flesh on you and your skin is grey and sallow.’

  ‘You sound like Ymma,’ he said, beginning to laugh. But then he stopped and stared into her eyes. ‘Very like her, in fact.’ A look of concern slipped
across his face.

  ‘I spent half a year with her,’ she said. She fell silent, a sense of loss filling her heart. ‘She taught me as much as she could before she died.’

  ‘Ymma’s dead?’

  For a moment, Ulf looked as though he did not believe her. He shook his head and sighed. ‘I thought she was like her island and would stand forever against the rising waters.’

  ‘Nothing lasts forever,’ Inga said.

  ‘Except my love for you, sister.’

  She smiled and brushed a lock of hair from his eyes.

  ‘And talking of love?’ she said.

  ‘Nobody’s talking of it,’ he said hurriedly. His face grew a little flushed.

  ‘Love does not need words to make itself known. A look, a sigh, a hastily hidden smile.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Yes you do.’ She put her arm in his and led him away from his friends. ‘I’m talking about you and Rebekah.’

  ‘She’s a friend, nothing more.’

  She stopped and stared into his eyes, shaking her head wearily. ‘You may think you can fool your friends, Ulf, but you can’t fool me. I see the way you look at her.’ She paused. ‘And the way she looks at you.’

  ‘So what of it?’ he said testily. ‘We’re doing nothing wrong.’

  Inga shrugged. ‘Some might think so. You’ve not wed.’

  ‘As if that’s an impediment. If it’s accepted for great lords and ladies then it will be accepted for me.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure.’

  He glanced at her suspiciously. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’ve not fooled anyone about your feelings towards Rebekah. Surely you recall what Ethelnoth said when he first saw you two together? He recognised the attraction immediately. And he’s not the only one.’

  ‘So people know,’ he said, in a petulant tone. ‘What does that matter?’

  She sighed, wondering how to say what she knew she had to. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it tight.

  ‘People, some people, are alarmed at the sight of Rebekah. I have seen the looks, heard the whispers.’

  ‘Because she’s black of face?’

  Inga nodded.

  He bit his lip. He was angry at this reaction and angry that Inga had chosen to tell him. Yet he also recalled when he had first seen Rebekah, and for long months afterwards. He had thought her a demon, a denizen spewed out of hell, sent by Satan to trouble the earth.

  It had taken him a long time to realise his error, even though he had daily seen how pleasant and intelligent she was. Perhaps it was no surprise that his companions felt the same way as he had once done.

  Nevertheless, it rankled.

  ‘She’s as good as you and me,’ he said at last. ‘Better than me, in fact.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ Inga said. ‘But others might. Others do.’

  ‘Including the King?’

  ‘I don’t know. How would I?’

  ‘You could ask Aethelflaed.’ He grabbed her by both hands. ‘And what does she think? Is she suspicious of Rebekah?’

  Inga shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. She has her own problems. Her father wants her to marry Ealdorman Æthelred of Mercia. He’s a much older man, Ulf and she does not care for him.’

  ‘Because he’s Mercian?’ A glimmer of hope came to his heart.

  ‘I doubt it. Remember that her mother is Mercian.’

  ‘Which makes her half-Mercian.’

  Inga put her hand to her mouth wide as if astonished. ‘Thank you for telling me that she’s half-Mercian, Ulf. I hadn’t worked it out for myself.’ She gave him a little shove. ‘You’d better hurry and tell Aethelflaed and Edward what you’ve discovered. They’d be most surprised.’

  ‘Very funny,’ he said. ‘What I mean is that if Aethelflaed is half-Mercian she should be sympathetic to Rebekah.’

  Inga frowned, pondering his words. ‘Perhaps. But Rebekah is…’

  ‘Rebekah is?’

  Inga stared into his eyes. ‘Rebekah is different. I like her, I like her a lot. I named her sister when first I saw her and that wasn’t only because of you. I felt some connection with her, though I can’t explain why.’

  She fell silent. ‘But others don’t see her that way. They think she is different, ugly, frightening. There are some who doubt she is even human.’

  She held her breath, worried that her words would make him angry. She was surprised when he listened to them without reacting.

  ‘That doesn’t surprise you?’

  ‘How could it?’ he said. ‘I felt exactly the same when I first saw her. I thought she was a demon.’

  Inga sighed. ‘That is what some of the warriors are saying. And some of the priests.’

  ‘Wighelm doesn’t think this. He grew to like Rebekah.’

  ‘Wighelm has lived in Francia for years. He must have got accustomed to all manner of men. For us, the only foreigners we see are enemies.’

  Tears suddenly filled her eyes. Ulf noticed immediately.

  ‘What’s wrong, Inga? Have you been harmed by a foreigner?’

  ‘Not at all. Not unless a foreigner wounds my heart out of malice.’

  Ulf shook his head in confusion

  Inga laughed. ‘You’ve such a child, sometimes.’ She took him by the hand. ‘You’re not the only one who has fallen in love,’ she said. ‘My heart has been captured and there’s nothing I can do about it.’

  ‘Captured? By who?’

  ‘Like you, by a foreigner.’

  ‘A Mercian? A Frank?’

  ‘I wish it were, Ulf. No. I’ve fallen in love with a Dane.’

  Ulf stared at her, shocked and speechless.

  ‘A Dane? How is that even possible?’

  ‘Because he’s a good man. And even were he not, he has won my love.’

  ‘A Dane? Who? How?’

  ‘It’s Ketil. He came here in the spring. He had a hunting accident and I tended him. And then, one day, we fell in love. There is nothing either of us could do to prevent it.’

  She held his hands tightly. ‘Say you’re not angry, Ulf. Say you understand it.’

  Ulf took a deep breath. He was horrified by this news. And yet. Part of him did, indeed, understand. He stared at his sister. She looked anguished and pained. Her love was obviously a cause of both joy and sorrow.

  ‘Of course I understand,’ he said at last. ‘How could I not?’

  FEAR AND LOATHING

  July 884

  The next day Ulf spent a couple of hours training. It was more than enough, he felt as weak as a kitten.

  ‘You’re no better than when I taught you as a child,’ Holdwine said with a grin. ‘You need to work harder.’

  ‘I will,’ Ulf said. ‘But I deem my strength will take a time to return.’

  ‘I will brew you a potion,’ came a voice behind them.

  He turned and saw Rebekah. ‘It will strengthen your sinews and quicken your blood,’ she said.

  Ulf smiled in thanks. But he noticed that his friends looked warily at her.

  ‘I will have it ready tonight,’ she continued. ‘And then, tomorrow, you will fight better.’

  Rebekah was right. The potion allowed him a deep, restful sleep and when he awoke he found it easier to exercise. The potion and training soon combined to make him feel much stronger. He also noticed that his agility had increased. Perhaps the months of ceaseless slaving for Hæstenn had developed muscles he had not much used before.

  ‘Am I better than I was when a child?’ he asked a week later when he sent Holdwine sprawling on the ground.

  Holdwine got to his knees. ‘Only because I felt sorry for you and let you win.’ But then he looked at Ulf. ‘Actually, you’re far better than before. You’re more skilled and growing stronger.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s that drink his black woman pours inside him,’ said a man who had been quietly watching them.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Framwick,’ Grimbold said. His tone belied his words.<
br />
  Framwick stepped closer. He was in his early thirties, tall and lean, dressed in fine clothes. He wore his hair short, the better to reveal his face of which he was very vain. The only blemish to his looks was his nose. It had been badly set after a break, bending to the right and then to the left. It gave him a querulous, suspicious look, like a mole blinking in daylight.

  Ulf stared at the stranger. A trickle of disquiet ran down his spine.

  ‘What is it to you what I drink or don’t drink?’ he asked.

  Framwick chuckled loudly. The noise attracted the attention of several men nearby and they strolled over to see what was going on. Some of them were Ulf’s friends but most were unknown to him.

  ‘It’s not what you drink that bothers me,’ Framwick said, ‘as long as it’s not my ale.’ Several of the men laughed at his jest.

  ‘No,’ he continued. ‘What bothers me is the hand that brews your potion.’

  ‘Let’s go, Ulf,’ Grimbold said. ‘Cuthred wants to show you a horse he has found for you.’

  He took hold of Ulf’s arm, pressurising him to turn. Out of the corner of his eye Ulf saw Holdwine nod once, his eyes flashing a warning.

  ‘Good,’ Ulf said. ‘I’m looking forward to riding.’

  ‘Is it a black mare?’ Framwick asked. ‘I hear you are experienced in riding such beasts.’ His friends laughed.

  ‘Not as black as some of the geldings,’ Grimbold said with a menacing air. He pushed Ulf ahead of him and they headed towards the stables.

  ‘What was that about?’ Ulf asked.

  Grimbold spat on the ground. ‘Framwick is a man who rates himself very highly. He is trouble on two legs. You’d do well to avoid him.’

  ‘But what he said about Rebekah?’ Ulf asked.

  ‘Forget it,’ Holdwine said. ‘He ever looks for trouble.’

  ‘As long as he doesn’t cause it for her,’ Ulf said anxiously. ‘She’s had troubles enough to last a lifetime.’

  Holdwine punched him playfully on the shoulder. ‘You seem a little smitten by her.’

  ‘She’s a good woman,’ Ulf answered. ‘And a good friend.’

  ‘Only a friend?’ Holdwine asked.

  Ulf paused, wondering how best to answer. ‘The nights were cold in the village of the Northmen,’ he said at last.