Dark Under the Cover of Night

by Jayne Castel

  Alchfrid’s gaze flicked back at where Caelin had disappeared before he replied, “A bit of both I’d say. Have you not noticed? Since the king announced Raedwyn’s marriage to Eafa, Caelin has changed. He’s careless, angry and bitter.”

  His companions’ eyes widened at that. Obviously they had not observed any change in him.

  “You mean...” Sebbi began, as the full implication of Alchfrid’s words hit him, “that the fool is lovesick?”

  “The man is miserable with longing for her. Can’t you see it?” Alchfrid replied.

  Immin nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it... he always goes quiet and serious whenever anyone mentions Raedwyn.”

  “He has hidden it well though,” Sebbi added, “and I’d wager he wouldn’t thank any of us for mentioning it. I’ve never met such a proud fool.”

  Alchfrid nodded, his face thoughtful. He warmed his hands over the embers of their fire and decided to let the matter drop. “Let us hope that our proud fool comes back from his forage,” he replied, “or it will be a hungry night for us all.”

  ***

  Thunder boomed overhead and the thick veil of rain aided Caelin as he moved around the edge of the stable complex, towards the western wing where Eafa’s men stabled their horses. His boots squelched in the mud but there was no one about to hear him. Water sluiced down his face and ran into his eyes. Caelin blinked it away and slowly edged his way around the building. The first entrance he came to was too busy to risk entering. Behind the wattle door, Caelin could hear the rumble of men’s voices and the smell of cooking meat. His mouth filled with saliva; he had not eaten since his stale bread at breakfast and his stomach growled in protest.

  Passing the door, Caelin edged farther up the building and came to a narrow door at the far end. Carefully, Caelin pulled the door ajar. Beyond he could see nothing but darkness. The smell of horse filled his nostrils. Slipping inside, Caelin pulled the door closed and crouched low, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

  Eventually, Caelin could make out the edges of the stalls and the outlines of the horses. Some munched on hay, while others fidgeted in their stalls. Caelin was sure they smelled him but, fortunately, his presence did not startle any of them. Moving quietly, Caelin crept down the aisle between the horses. He reached a partition between the horses and the men, and it was here that Caelin discovered the food store.

  He could hear men’s voices just beyond the thin partition and firelight shone through the thin wall in fine shafts, illuminating the shadowy corner where Eafa’s men kept their food supplies. Caelin felt around inside the store, discovering sacks of onions, carrots and cabbages. He moved quickly, filling a small sack that he had brought with him, before he discovered a side of salted pork. Grinning at his stroke of luck, Caelin took out a small knife that he used for boning fish, to cut a thick slice off. He now had the ingredients for a half-decent stew.

  Caelin was about to continue searching through the store, just to see if he had missed any other delicacies, when he heard someone approaching on the other side of the partition. He had just enough time to fling himself into the next stall and crouch down next to its occupant, when the door opened and light flooded into the stables. The horse snorted nervously and shifted away from Caelin as the silhouette of a tall man appeared in the doorway.

  “Where did you put the onions?” the man called back over his shoulder.

  “At the front,” came the answer, “and find us some carrots for this stew while you’re at it.”

  Caelin held his breath as the man foraged around in the store, and the odor of mead reached him. The men had been drinking – and Caelin hoped that in the man’s inebriated state, he would fail to notice the horse pawing and snorting next door.

  “Milord!” the voice that had asked for the carrots, rang out across the stable, followed by the respectful chorus of “good evening Milord!” from the other men present.

  Caelin froze, his hands clutched around his sack of food. There was only one man that made others that nervous.

  Eafa the Merciful had paid his men a visit.

  The man searching for onions and carrots, hurriedly exited the store with a handful of vegetables, and pulled the thin wattle door closed behind him.

  “My Lord Eafa,” he greeted the newcomer, “will you join us for boiled mutton and pottage?”

  “I have already eaten,” came Eafa’s cool reply. “I did not come here to break bread with you Yffi – instead, I bring news that will affect you all. My uncle, the King of Mercia is dead.”

  Silence followed Eafa’s words. They had all been expecting this, for King Cearl had been ailing for a long while. His twenty-year rule, a time of relative peace for Mercia, was now at an end. They now stood before their new leader – for it was Eafa who was in line to succeed him.

  “My father died while I and my brother Penda were babes,” Eafa continued, “and Cearl stepped in, taking the throne for himself. He should have handed it over to me when I came of age but no, the old goat hung on to it like it was his birthright. Now he is dead and I finally have the lands I was born to rule. Kneel before your king!”

  Caelin heard shuffling as the men hurried to do their lord’s bidding. Even from behind the partition, he could taste their fear of this man. Just his voice made Caelin’s blood run cold.

  “That’s better.” Eafa’s voice was quieter now. “Rise and listen to me now. There is no time to waste. The greatness of Mercia depends on the actions of us all now. Tomorrow, I will wed Raedwyn the Fair, daughter of Raedwald, King of the East Angles – and after the ceremony, while Raedwald feasts and drinks to my health, I will kill him in his own hall.”

  Caelin heard the sucked-in breaths of Eafa’s men, and a shocked silence followed before Eafa continued speaking.

  “It is time that Mercia took her rightful place, as Britannia’s leader. We cannot lead if we are mice. I have brought fifty spears with me; enough men to justify my protection on the road to Rendlaesham, but not enough to arouse suspicion. If we take the Great Hall and kill Raedwald and all his male heirs, and take the women as hostages – the Kingdom of the East Angles will be ours!”

  “My Lord,” Yffi ventured, his voice brittle. “The hall will be full of Raedwald’s ealdormen, thegns and those loyal to him.”

  “Then we will have to kill them all,” Eafa replied decisively. “My spears will encircle the hall. Nobody will be let out alive, unless they swear their allegiance to me, and forswear all loyalty to Raedwald.”

  The silence in the stables lay heavily after Eafa the Merciful had spoken. Eventually, Yffi, obviously the leader here for the others had lost their voices, answered his king.

  “My Lord Eafa, we have little time to prepare. Have you planned the deed? If we are to do this, nothing can go ill or Raedwald will have us all butchered like pigs.”

  “I knew there was a reason I brought you with me Yffi.” Eafa’s dry wit did not elicit any laughter among his men – for he had not meant it to. “Of course I have a plan. Once the handfast ceremony is completed, we will sit down to a feast. There will be honey seed cakes served for the bride and groom, as is customary, at the end of the meal. At that point, I will rise from my seat and go to Raedwald with my cup raised, as if to toast him. Instead, I will slit his throat and I expect all my men in position to act the instant I kill Raedwald. Eorpwald, Eni, and his whelps – all must die.”

  “Yes My Lord,” Yffi replied. “I will gather your spears now and explain your orders to them.”

  “Just one more thing Yffi,” Eafa said, his voice dispassionate, as if he were arranging a hunting expedition rather than a massacre. “Raedwyn must not be touched. Spread the word that all male Wuffingas must die but I will disembowel any man who lays a finger on my bride.”

  ***

  Caelin slipped out of the stables, back into the wet night, clutching his sack with numb hands. The rain fell heavier than before, and Caelin was soaked within moments. Moving quickly, for Eafa’s men were
now moving about, passing word of their new orders, Caelin made his way back to his fellow slaves.

  Sebbi’s face split into a delighted grin when he saw Caelin emerge, dripping, from the darkness carrying a sackful of food.

  “Woden, you did it!” He rushed forward and took the sack from Caelin, emptying the contents onto the pitted wooden board that he used for preparing food.

  “Salted pork!” he exclaimed. “Caelin found us salted pork boys!”

  “Well done!” The fatigue lifted from Immin’s face. “Let’s get started on a stew then, I’m so hungry I could eat it raw!”

  Only Alchfrid saw the drawn expression on Caelin’s face.

  “What is it?” he asked as Caelin stepped up next to him in front of the fire and warmed his chilled hands. “You look like you’ve just seen your father’s ghost!”

  “Worse than that,” Caelin replied quietly, “I have just overheard Eafa the Merciful planning to kill Raedwald after the handfast ceremony tomorrow.”

  Caelin looked up from the dancing fire into the shocked faces of his friends. Sebbi and Immin had abandoned their preparations for the stew. Their faces had gone slack as they struggled to comprehend what Caelin had just told them.

  “It cannot be the truth,” Alchfrid hissed. “Even Eafa could not murder a king in his own hall in cold blood. There is no honor in it!”

  “He is a king now too,” Caelin replied. “Cearl of Mercia is dead, and Eafa will be crowned upon his return to Tamworth.”

  “And what glory, to return home with the head of the King of the East Angles,” Immin added bitterly. “Alchfrid is right. The man has the honor of a carrion crow!”

  Sebbi spat on the ground, his face twisted in disgust. “You insult crows!” he growled. “We are slaves, and have more reason than most to loathe Raedwald of the East Angles, but to murder a king at his own table, after you have just wed his daughter, is detestable!”

  “That it is,” Caelin agreed. “If Eafa succeeds it will be a dark day, not just for East Anglia, but for all Britannia.”

  His gaze swept over their faces: Alchfrid, Immin and Sebbi – three of the best men he had ever met.

  He was about to find out if they were also the bravest.

 

  Chapter Seventeen

  Raedwyn and Eafa’s wedding day dawned, gray and cool. A veil of misty rain shrouded the world from view, enveloping Rendlaesham and Raedwald’s Great Hall in an iron curtain. Standing at her bower window, Raedwyn looked out into the murk and thought that there was no weather more fit for the ceremony that would take place today.

  Tired from a sleepless night, Raedwyn turned from the window and cast her gaze over her wedding dress, which lay spread over her bed. It was so beautiful – yet she loathed the touch of it against her skin. Once the dress was on, Raedwyn stood patiently while Seaxwyn tied the intricate laces at her back. The two women did not speak. Seaxwyn had no words of advice for her daughter this time, and Raedwyn had no words at all.

  Raedwyn looked down at the delicately embroidered sleeves of her gown; needlework that she had done herself, and felt a pang. It was hard to believe that she had once dreamed of this day.

  Seaxwyn finished tying up her laces, and left her daughter alone to finish dressing. Raedwyn retrieved the knife from its hiding place under her furs and strapped it to her right thigh – as she had done each morning since Eafa the Merciful arrived in Rendlaesham.

  What are you doing Raedwyn? A small voice warned at the back of her mind. What will your new husband do when he beds you this evening – and finds you armed? Are you planning to kill him before he takes you away from here?

  Raedwyn had no answer to give. Strapping on the knife was instinct. She was not sure what would happen when she and Eafa were alone tonight. She imagined Eafa would be clever enough to keep his fists to himself while they were still under her father’s roof. Still, a bleak fatalism now gripped Raedwyn. If she was doomed, she did not intend to become an object of pity.

  Raedwyn emerged from her bower to find the Great Hall a glorious sight to behold. Wreaths of spring flowers hung from the walls and garlanded the ceiling. The interior of the hall sparkled after the thorough cleaning the day before.

  Feeling everyone’s eyes upon her, although Eafa was thankfully nowhere to be seen, Raedwyn walked across to where Eorpwald was breaking his fast, and took a seat opposite her brother.

  “Good morning, Eorpwald,” Raedwyn took the plate of bread smeared with butter and honey. “Could you pass me a cup of mead?”

  Eorpwald nodded, making no comment about the fact that Raedwyn never usually drank mead at this time of day. They both knew she needed something to take the edge off what was to come. Raedwyn’s gaze met his, and she was relieved to see no pity in her brother’s eyes – just sadness. Usually, bread, butter and honey was Raedwyn’s favorite way to break her fast, but this morning it merely choked her. She took a couple of mouthfuls and washed it down with a second cup of strong mead.

  “Eorpwald,” Raedwyn said finally, her voice low so that they were not overheard. “Brother, I know that you have fought father on this, and I thank you. We were never close as children, and that was my fault not yours. I have realized your true worth too late.”

  Eorpwald’s face went still for a moment and the enigmatic mask he wore slipped. His eyes glittered with sudden tears and he reached across the table and covered Raedwyn’s hand with his.

  “You talk as if we shall never see each other again,” he replied quietly.

  Raedwyn smiled, realizing as she did so, that her expression must have appeared forced.

  “You know the truth Eorpwald,” she replied gently. “We need not speak of it.”

  Eorpwald’s face had gone pale. He squeezed Raedwyn’s hand and she could see the effort he was making not to say more.

  “Raedwyn,” he whispered. “I wish things were different.”

  “So do we all.” Raedwyn removed her hand from his and took a deep draught of mead.

  ***

  Caelin was shoveling muck next to the stables when he saw Eorpwald make his way down the steps beneath the Great Hall. The king’s surviving son looked serious, his eyes downcast, as he strode across the stable yard towards the gates.

  It was the moment Caelin had been waiting for. It was the only chance he would get.

  Caelin casually put aside his pitchfork and followed Eorpwald through the gates into the street beyond. It appeared that Eorpwald had decided to take a short walk before the handfast ceremony. He paid no heed to his surroundings as he walked towards the orchards. Eorpwald had almost reached the gates when Caelin reached him.

  “My Lord Eorpwald!”

  Eorpwald came out of his reverie and turned. His gray eyes widened in surprise at seeing his father’s theow before him – not only that, but the slave was addressing him direct. Eorpwald’s gaze narrowed and Caelin saw his face harden. He only had moments to make Eorpwald listen to him and he could not waste any of them.

  “I apologize for approaching you,” Caelin said, “but this is urgent, it cannot wait!”

  “What is it?” Eorpwald’s voice was clipped when he replied. “State your matter and be gone.”

  Caelin took a deep breath and held Eorpwald’s gaze fast in his. Everything depended on how he worded this. If he spoke rashly or unclearly, Eorpwald would not believe him – or even worse – would haul him up in front of the king.

  “My Lord,” Caelin began. He measured each word carefully, hoping to impress his seriousness upon the man before him. “Eafa plans to kill the king.”

  ***

  The handfast ceremony passed in a blur. Raedwyn looked on, feeling more an observer than a participant, as Eafa presented the Wuffingas with a gorgeous golden cup. It was a king’s cup, studded with precious stones and exquisitely worked. On behalf of her kin, Raedwyn presented him with a two handed battle-axe with a crescent-shaped iron head. A magnificent, deadly weapon it was, and Eafa smiled as he received it. It was the
first real smile Raedwyn had ever seen him give. He admired the sharp edge of its blade and the long hardwood handle, reinforced with engraved metal bands.

  “A worthy gift,” he murmured, and Raedwyn saw her father beam at the compliment.

  Raedwyn and Eafa shared a cup of mead and a honey seedcake, as the ceremony dictated, before Eafa kissed her briefly. His lips were cold and hard. There was no raucous applause, as when she had wed Cynric. There was no backslapping, or ribald comments, just a subdued rumble of approval that came from her father and Eafa’s men.

  Once the ceremony was over, Raedwyn sat down next to Eafa, at the head of the banquet table. The king, queen and Eorpwald sat to their right and Eni and his sons to their left. There was enough food before them to feed three times the number seated at the table. Men carried in spit roasts of wild boar, venison, and suckling pig that had been stuffed with the last of the winter store apples. More servants followed, carrying trays of baked eel and clay pots of rich rabbit stew. They set these dishes down alongside mountains of griddle bread, boiled carrots glistening with butter and honey, braised leeks, and cabbage fried with slivers of salted pork.

  Raedwyn was surprised to see Caelin amongst the servants who carried in the spit roasts. Her throat closed at the sight of him but he did not once look her way. She belonged to Eafa now – and Caelin knew it. If her marriage had made him unhappy, there was no sign on Caelin’s face. His expression was neutral, his eyes downcast.

  For the first time all day, Raedwyn struggled to maintain her composure. The sight of Caelin brought everything rushing back. His bravery, tenderness and passion, the way he had protected and defended her when no one else would – she had never met a man like him, and knew she never would again. Raedwyn took a deep breath and blinked furiously as her vision blurred. She could not cry now – Eafa would be furious and she would pay for it later.

  Once Caelin had completed this task, he returned bearing an enormous jug of wine, and took his place at the end of the table next to the other slaves, waiting while the rest of the food was brought out. Seaxwyn gave the signal, and he and the other slaves began filling everyone’s cups with potent apple wine.