by Jayne Castel
“You lie!” Raedwald bellowed. “I saw it in your face when Hengist accused you!”
“I don’t know what you saw,” Raedwyn parried, “but you are wrong! You have never been more wrong!”
The ringing sound of the slap, as the flat of Raedwald’s hand connected with Raedwyn’s face, echoed around the hall. The force of the blow caused Raedwyn to stagger backwards. She would have fallen if her mother had not grabbed hold of her.
“Father!” Eorpwald jumped to his feet.
Raedwald ignored his son. He glared at Raedwyn, as if there was only her and him in the Great Hall.
“You are a disrespectful, lying slut of a girl who I should have married off years ago. I tried to forgive you. I let you stay on here despite your shame but you could not mend your ways. As soon as spring comes I will wed you to the first man who’ll have you.”
“Raedwald!” Seaxwyn cut in, her face pinched. “How dare you talk to our daughter thus! If she says she is innocent then you should believe her, not continue to humiliate and berate her.”
The king turned on his wife then, and the force of his venom caused all in the hall to grow still in shock.
“You would say that dear wife, wouldn’t you? It’s mother like daughter I fear. I was foolish enough to forgive you, but now my own daughter has proven to be a deceitful whore and it will not be borne!”
Seaxwyn stared at Raedwald as if he had not struck Raedwyn but her.
Her look of horror caused Raedwald to check any more angry words that he might have let forth. A dreadful hush fell across the Great Hall then, as if the king had uttered a terrible curse.
Raedwyn forgot her own misery and stared from her father to her mother. This had nothing to do with her. Instead, it was some history between the king and queen that had been long buried – one that they had kept secret from her.
Seaxwyn did not speak. Her face was set like a stone sculpture of an ancient, wrathful goddess. Without uttering another word, the queen turned and left the hall.
Raedwyn’s left cheek still stung from her father’s hand, but she ignored it. She swept her gaze across the hall, to see the reaction of the others present. Her cousins looked as horrified as her, and so did many others. Only Eni and Eorpwald showed something other than shock. Eni looked immeasurably sad and careworn. He was Raedwald’s younger brother but at that moment, they seemed the same age. There were pouches under Eni’s eyes, and he looked like a weary old wolf that had lived long and had to hunt one time too many. He looked upon his brother with sorrow in his eyes.
Eorpwald had gone almost as pale as his mother; his thin face drawn. When Raedwyn looked into his eyes, she understood that he and Eni had carried this secret for as long as her parents.
Her world had suddenly shifted. One moment, Raedwyn had been defending herself from a raging father, and the next, years of smothered tensions and resentment had exploded between her parents, uncovering something best kept hidden.
Everything Raedwyn had ever known seemed unreal. During her infancy and girlhood, her family had protected her from more than just the outside world – all those years they had been protecting her from themselves.
Raedwald still stood, staring into the mid-distance at something only he could see. Raedwyn left him to his demons. Limping on her sore ankle, Raedwyn made her way to her bower, pushed the tapestry aside and let it fall behind her.
Once away from the stares, Raedwyn collapsed onto her furs and curled up into a ball. As she lay shivering, she realized that she had felt safer as a prisoner in Ceolwulf’s encampment than within the embrace of her family. They were her kin; the people who were supposed to love and protect each other from the bloodshed and violence of the world, not savage each other like wolves.
***
Eorpwald pushed aside the tapestry and padded softly into his sister’s bower; his thin fingers clasped around a steaming mug. Raedwyn was huddled within her furs, sleeping. Many hours had passed since he had witnessed the altercation between Raedwyn and her parents. Eorpwald had decided to let his sister sleep for a while before he went to her. He sat on the edge of the furs and watched Raedwyn for a moment. She looked far younger than her twenty-one winters in sleep, even if awake she had long lost any vestiges of girlishness. Her pale hair was spread out like a bird’s wing across the furs; the same color as their father’s when he had been young.
“Raedwyn.” Eorpwald gently shook her awake. “I’ve brought you spiced mead.”
Raedwyn’s blue eyes flicked open and focused on Eorpwald. Her face lost its relaxed cast and he saw her muscles tense, as if ready for yet another fight. Unsmiling, Raedwyn sat up and rested her back against the wooden partition. She took the cup of hot mead and wrapped her chilled fingers around it, sighing with relief as the warmth seeped into her hands. Neither of them spoke for a moment or two. Raedwyn then took a sip of mead before fixing her gaze on her brother.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How would that have aided you Raedwyn?” Eorpwald replied, returning her stare. “It would have been better if you had never known.”
“I agree, but since there was never any guarantee of that, I’d appreciate it if you would stop trying to protect me. I need to know the truth. Tell me what happened.”
Eorpwald sighed and massaged a tense muscle in his shoulder, almost as if to distract himself.
“I knew it would fall upon me to explain this to you, if discovered.”
Raedwyn said nothing. She waited in silence as Eorpwald gathered his thoughts, choosing his words carefully before continuing.
“I will tell it plainly for I cannot sweeten the truth with honeyed words,” Eorpwald began. “I don’t know if you have already drawn your own conclusions but this has everything to do with Ceolwulf. Father loathed that man with a passion that will go with him to his grave. He hates him for he once seduced our mother.”
Seeing the shock, followed by the confusion that clouded Raedwyn’s face, Eorpwald began his story at the beginning.
“It was late summer and you had just had your fourth birthday. Father decided to take Raegenhere and myself out hunting with his men. We were still boys but father wanted us to feel the blood lust of the hunt and prepare us for the warriors we were one day to become. We set out not long after sunrise, but we were only a few leagues away from Rendlaesham when one of my father’s servants reached us. His horse foamed at the mouth. He had galloped all the way from the Great Hall. He approached father and whispered something into his ear. The king’s reaction was terrible. I’ve never seen father like that – he looked as if he might collapse. Then he roared like a wounded beast and turned his horse back in a wild gallop for Rendlaesham. Thinking something terrible had befallen you or our mother, Eni, Raegenhere and I followed him.
Father was already pounding up the steps towards the hall when I reached the stable yard. Although I was thin and small for my age, I could run like a rabbit, faster than my brother and uncle. I took the steps two at a time and rushed into the Great Hall ahead of them. I saw father yank back the tapestry to his bower. Then he froze and so did I. Eni and Raegenhere who were close behind, nearly collided with me – but all four of us were witness to what lay within that bower.” Eorpwald paused then, his face pained. “They were naked: mother and Ceolwulf. They were rutting on the floor.”
Raedwyn winced at the crudeness of her brother's statement but Eorpwald did not notice. He took a deep breath, as if forcing himself to continue. “To a boy’s eyes it appeared he was attacking her, for his torso was covered in scratches and bite-marks and she was making sounds as if she was in pain. Of course as soon as I got older I realized the opposite was true.”
“Why didn’t father kill Ceolwulf?” Raedwyn finally found her voice. She was gripping the mug of cooling mead so tightly she was surprised it did not crumble in her hands. She felt ill, and Eorpwald had gone very pale and kept swallowing hard.
“He tried,” Eorpwald replied simply, before leaning forward
and resting his face in his hands. “It was an ugly scene Raedwyn. You are fortunate you did not bear witness to it. Your mother had sent you into Rendlaesham to play with your new puppy. One moment Ceolwulf was rutting, and the next he and father were fighting on the floor. Mother screamed, jumped into the furs and covered herself up. Her screams went on and on, echoing throughout the hall in a terrible wail. She cried that Ceolwulf had forced her and that she had fought him. Ceolwulf roared at her, calling her a lying whore. He said she had pursued him like a bitch on heat. Father went mad – he hammered at Ceolwulf with the intent of killing him. However, The Exiled was a warrior of father’s equal and he fought to kill. Ceolwulf was ambitious. He wanted Raedwald’s queen and his place as King of the East Angles.
It was our father’s rage that won him the fight. He was relentless. Generally, it’s easier to fight naked for clothes can hamper you, but Raedwald finally gained the advantage and throttled Ceolwulf until he passed out.
Father should have slain Ceolwulf then, while he had the chance. Instead, he wanted vengeance – he wanted Ceolwulf to grovel at his feet and beg forgiveness before he died. He told his warriors to take Ceolwulf to the market square and truss him up ready for a public beheading; the king would wield the axe himself.
Father’s warriors left him to deal with mother and dragged Ceolwulf, unconscious, from the hall. Unbeknown to father, some of the warriors were loyal to Ceolwulf. Instead of taking him to the market square as ordered, they slung him over the back of a horse and galloped from Rendlaesham. They took Ceolwulf’s son and a small band of men loyal to the ealdorman with them.”
Eorpwald broke off his tale to take note of his sister’s reaction. Raedwyn was pale and very still. Her face was taut and her eyes huge, but she was taking it all in. She would hear more.
“Ignorant of his warriors’ betrayal, father unleashed his rage on mother. He seemed to forget that Raegenhere and I were standing witness as he pulled mother up from the furs by her hair and threw her out of the bower. He was crying as he shouted at her. He told her to tell him the truth or he would kill her. There are women who may have become hysterical in such a situation, but it was mother’s calm head that saved her life that day. I watched her plead and reason with father. I saw her swear upon Woden and Frigg that she was innocent. She swore that she had been working at her distaff when Ceolwulf had entered the hall and dragged her into the bower. She showed him the welts, which would purple into small bruises over her breasts and arms. She talked and talked until father’s rage subsided.”
Eorpwald paused and looked into his sister’s eyes then. “Even as boys, Raegenhere and I knew our mother was lying, burying her deceit with clever words – but father wanted so badly to believe her he would not hear otherwise. He nearly broke Eni’s jaw days later when he suggested Seaxwyn had deliberately deceived him. Unlike Raedwald, who had been blind to the growing attraction between Ceolwulf and Seaxwyn, Eni had noticed their stolen glances during the months leading up to the incident. A wet spring had fuelled their frustration, cooped up inside the Great Hall without a moment alone together. They had been waiting for the opportunity to consummate their lust.
Deep within himself, father knew the truth but it would have destroyed him to admit it. When he discovered that Ceolwulf had gone, he sent warriors after him. However, when they returned empty-handed, he had no choice but to banish Ceolwulf instead, to strip him of his title of ealdorman and to proclaim him nithing. Henceforth he was known as Ceolwulf the Exiled.”
Eorpwald let out a deep sigh as he finished his tale. “And then we buried it. We hid it deep and forgot it ever existed. However, when Ceolwulf reappeared and abducted you, father was forced to face the whole ordeal again. The thought Ceolwulf and his men may have defiled you has nearly driven him mad. He was wrong to keep Caelin alive for it just adds to his bitterness and suspicion. When mother defended you today, it tore the scab off a wound which has festered for too long.”
Raedwyn watched her brother’s face, saw the naked grief there, and understood his coldness towards Seaxwyn over the years. He still resented her, blamed her for what happened.
“Just after my marriage to Cynric,” Raedwyn began in a low voice. “I was upset and mother came to me. She told me about her violent marriage to Tondbert, of how she came to be married to father.”
There was a pause while Eorpwald digested her words. “Our mother is strong Raedwyn. Over the years she has done whatever necessary in order to survive.”
“I thought she loved father.”
Eorpwald smiled sadly at that. “I believe she does.”
“Then why would she do something so despicable to him?”
“I know not,” Eorpwald replied gently. “Mother is the only one who could answer that question.”
***
Night was falling when Raedwyn emerged from her bower. The Great Hall was strangely silent for this time of day. Eorpwald had gone to carouse with friends at the mead hall in town; a place often frequented by ealdormen and thegns, and Raedwald had retired to his bower. Dinner had long since cooked and congealed over the hearth. The servants had all gratefully retired for the evening, happy to be free of the turmoil within the King’s Hall. A couple of men sat dozing near the fire pit. They watched her lazily as Raedwyn seated herself at the long table. She cut herself some strips of cold venison, poured a jug of mead and helped herself to a hunk of overcooked griddle bread. Despite the day’s trauma, Raedwyn felt hunger stirring in her belly. She ignored the thegns’ stares as she ate, although when she had finished her meal she forced herself to meet their gazes. Before her shaming, neither of them would have dared to stare at her like that.
“Where is my mother?”
“Not here M’lady,” one of the thegns replied, feigning disinterest when Raedwyn sensed he burned to know what was behind the altercation between the king and queen earlier. “Perhaps she’s in the store or the workshop?”
Raedwyn went back to her bower and pulled on a dry cloak before returning to the fire pit. Ignoring the thegns, who were still watching her, she collected some more dinner scraps and a jug of mead and, pulling up her hood to protect her head from the chill, left the Hall.
Outside it was snowing gently. Night had come even earlier than usual. It was silent outdoors and the air, although cold, was wonderfully fresh after the fetid air within the Hall. Raedwyn intended to seek out her mother, but first she had something else she felt compelled to do.
Still limping, she crunched through the snow, down the steps, and into the empty stable yard. This time she made sure no one saw her, keeping to the shadows. Grateful for the swirling snow, she crept past the individual stables that housed Blackberry and the other horses ridden by Raedwyn’s kin, and into the main stable. The air was warm with the smell of hay, dung and horses. She moved past the lines of shuffling horses to the stall at the far end.
A light flickered at the end of the stalls and she found him there, asleep on the hay. A small torch, chained to the wall above him, guttered on the verge of extinguishing itself.
Caelin lay on his side. Upon creeping closer, Raedwyn saw he held a heavy piece of wood against his stomach while he slept. Wise, she thought, since he was not safe here. The torchlight and shadows played across his features as he slept. Raedwyn watched her father’s slave with interest.
Caelin’s mouth had swollen. Raedwald could have killed him for daring to defend her honor. Careful not to wake him, Raedwyn knelt and placed the meat, bread and jug of mead on the hay near Caelin, so he would have food to break his fast tomorrow morning. Then, extinguishing the torch, Raedwyn left Caelin to sleep and crept back the way she had come.
Once again out in the snow, Raedwyn intently surveyed her surroundings. Her instincts were sharp, as they had been the evening she had escaped from Ceolwulf. With her family in turmoil, Caelin was not the only one in danger here. Certain there was no one peering at her from the shadows she made her way back up towards the Great Hall. Half way up, t
he stairs forked and Raedwyn took the right path.
Ahead, loomed the shadow of the three buildings that housed the barracks, store and workshop. Raedwyn rarely ventured here. Her father’s warriors slept in the barracks and as such it was not a place she had ever visited – Raedwald would have had her whipped if she had dared. She had played in the store house and workshop as a child but had been discouraged from continuing to do so once her girlhood ended.
Raedwyn checked the workshop first but found it ice-cold and empty. Next door, the store house was a considerably larger building. Just after harvest, their winter store of food packed it to bursting, although now with Yule nearly upon them, it had emptied slightly. Raedwyn pushed back her hood as she stepped inside. Clay cressets filled with oil burnt near the entrance and cast a dim light over the interior. It was considerably warmer than the workshop. Peering beyond the stacks of barrels and sacks, Raedwyn caught sight, in the shadowy recesses of the building, of a figure seated upon a pile of sacks of grain.
“Mōder?”
There was a lengthy silence before a woman answered.
“Leave me Raedwyn.” Seaxwyn’s voice struck Raedwyn as if her mother had just slapped her.
For a moment, Raedwyn just stood there. The force in Seaxwyn’s voice almost made her obey, but a resolve not to let more things remain unsaid, forced her to stand her ground.
“Leave me!” Seaxwyn’s voice caught and Raedwyn realized her mother was crying.
“Eorpwald told me everything mother,” Raedwyn said and waited for Seaxwyn’s reply. When none was forthcoming, she continued. “I just want you to know I understand why you couldn’t say anything. You and father hid the truth from me so well that if Ceolwulf hadn’t resurfaced I would never have known what had happened. You managed to be happy together despite everything. Some things are best buried and I’m sorry that when you defended me father threw the past in your face.”
Raedwyn broke off, near to tears, and waited for Seaxwyn to reply. When the queen did not, she understood her mother had meant her words. She did not want company tonight. Raedwyn did not blame her. She doubted things between the king and queen would ever be quite right again – and it was partly her fault. She opened her mouth to say more but no suitable words would come. Feeling sadness wrap around her like a heavy cloak, Raedwyn turned and left the storehouse.
