The Briton and the Dane: Concordia

by Mary Ann Bernal

  While Brantson struggled to forgive his wife, Concordia was also struggling to accept the death of her child, blaming herself because she had sinned. She had truly loved Chad who was most probably dead, but he would have lived through his son had God willed it. However, God had not willed it, which made her believe He was angry because of her disobedience. She had strayed from her religious beliefs and had been duly punished. She had watched Brantson while he slept and had heard his ramblings while he dreamt, knowing she was the cause of his distress. Even though she could never love him as she had loved Chad, she loved him nevertheless, and she promised God that she would be a devoted and loving wife, and would practice, in earnest, the Christian faith until the day she died.

  Concordia was fortunate and healed quicker than expected, being able to walk after one month had passed. As her strength returned, she chose to stroll in the gardens, but preferred to sit atop the nearby cliff and watch the breaking waves. Initially Lord Stephen had forbidden her to leave the fortification, but Brantson was her husband now, and he had granted her request. However, Brantson did accompany Concordia on her walks, which appeased her overly- protective father.

  King Alfred had been most compassionate to Brantson’s plight, assigning him to train the recruits under Lord Stephen’s command, and Lord Stephen had given them their own household, much to Elizabeth’s delight.

  Both Concordia and Brantson were more than happy to have Elizabeth procure the furnishings and select their servants since neither of them had any interest in domestic affairs. However, Concordia was overjoyed to learn that Elizabeth had discovered Winifred’s whereabouts, and her personal maid would soon serve her once again. Within a fortnight, Brantson and Concordia were living in their own quarters with spacious chambers and a cloistered garden.

  Husband and wife were soon immersed in the trappings of daily life. Each day Brantson would rise at first light, leaving Concordia asleep when he went to the kitchens where a meal of porridge and berries awaited him. He was gracious to his servants, treating each of them with respect, endearing him to the men and women assigned to his household. He would meet Bryce on the training field where they spent the day, eating the midday meal in the warriors’ gathering room, and resuming the training until the sun disappeared over the horizon. Only then did Brantson return to his quarters where he would join his wife for the evening meal. Most of the nights they ate alone since Concordia had yet to recover fully. Once the servants were dismissed, husband and wife retired to their bedchamber, sharing their days while resting in each other’s arms until Concordia fell asleep. Once his wife was settled, Brantson would sit before the hearth, reading a Psalter since he found the devotional Psalms comforting.

  The serving woman entered the bedchamber, placed a food-laden tray upon the table and opened the window, welcoming the radiant sunbeams that brightened the room. Concordia stirred, stretching her arms above her head as she opened her eyes slowly. She felt the pangs of hunger as the aroma of freshly-baked bread was carried by a soft breeze.

  “Choose a colorful garment...the time for grieving is finished,” Concordia said as she rolled out of bed and walked towards the table.

  Concordia sat on the cushioned bench, sipped a cup of water, poured honey over a bowl of porridge and added a handful of berries. She ate in silence, staring at the luminescent rays as her thoughts wandered while her servant changed the bed coverings, tided the room, and chose a blue dress, a color Brantson favored. The serving woman approached Concordia quietly, placed her hands gently upon her shoulders and spoke softly into her ear.

  “Are you not pleased to see me?”

  “Winifred!” Concordia exclaimed as she arose and embraced her childhood attendant. “When did you arrive? Why was I not sent for? Oh, Winifred, you are most sorely needed.”

  “You had already retired, my lady, but I did speak with Brantson. We spoke long into the night, but I fear he will suffer from lack of sleep. He is a good man, and he cares for you deeply. You have chosen well.”

  “I have wronged him,” Concordia said. “There is much to tell, and I seek your wise counsel.”

  “Matters of the heart are, at times, difficult to share with one’s father or mother.”

  “Elizabeth is not my mother.”

  “Concordia, Elizabeth has always loved you as a daughter. She is your mother even though she did not give you life,” Winifred reminded her kindly.

  “My mother speaks to me...I hear her voice in the wind.”

  “Perhaps,” Winifred replied, “but you are a grown woman now, and you know well the pain you have inflicted upon Elizabeth whose only offense is calling you daughter. Elizabeth has held her tongue, but your father sees her sorrow just as I do...eyes depict the truth, or have you forgotten?”

  “I have not forgotten...at times I cannot look at Brantson because of my shame,” Concordia sobbed.

  Winifred held Concordia tenderly, remaining silent while she wept, and wept, and wept.

  “There, there, child,” Winifred whispered. “You have endured much and I fear you have not yet grieved for the loss you have suffered, but you must first forgive yourself so you can forgive others. Do you have a Confessor?”

  “There was no need when I was at the king’s court school, and I dare not speak with any of the priests at the Abbey...they would have me burn in hellfire.”

  “There is no sin that the Lord does not forgive,” Winifred reminded her, “but you must be truly penitent when you seek forgiveness.”

  “The child was taken from me because I am sinful and disobedient, yet I cannot deny the love I bear my son’s father...am I condemned, Winifred?”

  “I do not understand. Of what do you speak?”

  “What have you been told?”

  “Your ship was set upon by pirates, but you were spared a captive’s fate and brought to Thayer’s lands in Hispania. Your husband miraculously survived the attack, as did Bryce. They were fortunate to come upon a fisherman named Umar who knew well the coastline, and you were ultimately rescued. I realize this is a simplified version of your ordeal, and I do not claim to understand how frightened you were, but I know well the horrors inflicted upon beautiful captives. You did what you must to remain alive and cannot be held accountable for your actions, especially since you believed all was lost and being rescued was highly unlikely. There is no shame, my lady, but you must put the past behind you. Once you conceive, the pain of losing your firstborn will lessen, even though you will never forget.”

  “You bring me great comfort,” Concordia said, “but I must know I will not be judged if I take you into my confidence. I fear speaking to a priest, yet I do not fear speaking with you, but give me your word you will not think any less of me after you learn the truth. I have loved you since I was a child, and have trusted your counsel even though we quarreled many times. I need your guidance now more than ever. Do I have your word?”

  “Concordia, my child, I have never judged you and will not start now. Whatever confidences you share will never be repeated. You have my word.”

  Concordia wiped away her tears, breathing deeply while finding the courage to reveal her darkest secrets. She wrung her sweaty hands in her lap as her anxiety heightened and the muscles in her neck throbbed.

  “On the last night of the journey to Thayer’s villa...there was an abandoned grape farmer’s dwelling...I was asleep...the door did not lock...I awakened when he ravished me...but I was willing,” Concordia said, her voice barely audible. “The child was conceived that night...Chad is the father of my dead son.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  Concordia was looking forward to spending the day atop the cliff overlooking the sea, and was grateful to Winifred for having gained Brantson’s permission. She filled a satchel with bread, cheese and fruit, grabbed a water-filled wineskin and hurried out the door, becoming unsettled when she noticed Brantson walking towards her, and Winifred was nowhere to be found.

  “What is so pressing that cannot wait until l
ater?” Concordia asked. “Are you not well?”

  “I will escort you and Winifred to the top of the cliff,” Brantson said, “but where is Winifred?”

  “I beg forgiveness, my lord,” Winifred replied somewhat out of breath as she hurried towards them. “I found your book, my lady...it was still in your old quarters...I have made arrangements for the rest of your belongings to be brought to your rooms.”

  “Winifred, I had forgotten how resourceful you are,” Concordia told her while her eyes depicted her bewilderment.

  “Come, before the sun rises and the heat becomes oppressive,” Brantson grinned, taking Concordia by the arm as he headed towards the old Roman tunnels.

  Winifred dutifully carried the satchel and wineskin, following at a discreet distance as they walked through the dimly-lit corridor, choosing the passageway that led them towards the edge of the cliff overlooking the breaking waves.

  Concordia was all smiles when she stepped into the sunshine, exhilarated by the salty mist that caressed her face. She placed her arms around Brantson’s neck, kissing him invitingly upon the lips. She sensed his discomfiture when she pressed her body against him, laughing playfully when he pushed her away.

  “Have you forgotten we are not alone?” Brantson chided while Winifred remained within the shadowy recesses of the cavern.

  “I hope you are not displeased,” Concordia flirted, “but I am in high spirits...and would prove the love I bear you. Do not be angry.”

  “I am not angry,” Brantson whispered as he wrapped his arms around Concordia’s waist, “but I would have you prove your love this night, if your body is able.”

  “I am able...the healer has released me from his care,” Concordia teased.

  “Until this night then,” Brantson replied, bowing slightly as he kissed the tip of her fingers before taking his leave.

  Brantson nodded at Winifred, walking briskly through the tunnel, but soon his footsteps faded and the women were quite alone. Winifred spread a woolen cloth over the grass, set down the refreshments and retrieved a letter she had hidden in her belted pouch, handing the message to a started Concordia.

  “You serve me well,” Concordia told her, her shaking hands breaking the seal as she opened the parchment.

  Concordia felt the color draining from her face as she fell to her knees much to Winifred’s dismay.

  “My lady,” Winifred said, kneeling beside Concordia. “What has happened?”

  “How did you get this?” Concordia asked, her voice barely audible.

  “One of the boys from the village...he asked for me by name. When he found me, he gave me the letter to give you when you were alone. He ran away before I could question him further. I did as I was bid because I did not know its secrets.”

  “Brantson must not know...ever,” Concordia said softly. “He has suffered overmuch because of my foolishness...I cannot cause him any more pain.”

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Oh, Winifred, my sins haunt me...the fires of Hell await me...oh, Winifred,” Concordia sobbed as she handed her trustful servant the letter.

  Winifred read the brief note, folded the parchment carefully and placed the communiqué into her belted pouch.

  “Will you meet him?” Winifred asked once Concordia regained her composure.

  “I thought he was dead...how did he find me? Do you think he knows his son is dead? Why is he in the village? Has he been seen? Umar, Umar would recognize him! Where is Umar? Brantson will defend my honor! I cannot have their blood on my hands...what I am I to do?” Concordia rambled.

  “I could meet him in your stead, my lady, and send him on his way. No one need know.”

  “Would you think ill of me if I told you I want to see him? I need to know his true feelings because my heart is torn. Am I wicked?”

  “Chad took you by force,” Winifred reminded her.

  “I desired him and did not shy away from his touch,” Concordia confessed. “He helped me escape Thayer’s villa...he wanted his son born in Britannia, away from the treachery that plagued his family...once the threat was resolved, he was to have joined me here, and I would beg my father to sanction the match...we both believed Brantson was dead, but Brantson found me, and I was gone before Chad returned. What am I to do?”

  “You are no longer bound to Chad...your son’s death has set you free. If you meet Chad, you risk suffering Brantson’s wrath should he discover your duplicity.”

  “I am well aware of the risk, and I need your help if Chad and I are to meet,” Concordia replied.

  “I do not think meeting Chad is wise. If you act hastily, will you accept responsibility for your actions? Will you destroy the one man who almost lost his life because of your willfulness?”

  “How dare you!”

  “I dare, because you need to hear the truth. You have been coddled by your father, and by Brantson who still indulges your every whim,” Winifred said sternly.

  “Forgive me, Winifred. You are right, and I know I should not, but I must meet Chad one final time. I cannot meet him in the village. My father would hear of it. I need your help. Just this once, I beg you, and Brantson will never suspect...I shall be careful.”

  “What is your message?”

  “Bring Chad here in two days time, after the morning meal. Brantson will be on the training field until the sun sets, and you will not be seen in the tunnels. We will not need much time, you have my word. Chad will return to his lands without me...I promise.”

  A small table had been erected in the gardens since Concordia had requested that the evening meal be served beneath the starlit sky. Candles burned brightly upon the colorful linen cloth while songbirds chirped in the nearby treetops. A kitchen servant arranged the plates and bowls amongst scattered flower petals, filling the goblets with wine as food-laden platters were set upon the table just as Concordia and Brantson walked through the open archway.

  “You may leave us,” Concordia told the kitchen servant, who nodded before taking her leave.

  “This was not expected,” Brantson said as they assumed their places at the table, “but I am pleased by your efforts.”

  Concordia lifted her cup in Brantson’s direction before sipping on the sweet liquid. Her eyes sparkled as she watched her husband intently, lowering her eyes demurely when he glanced in her direction, his mutilated face a constant reminder that she had been at fault. They ate in silence beneath the moonlight since Concordia was at a loss for words. She had told her husband she was ready to resume her wifely duties, and she had meant the words, yet she was frightened, and she did not know why. Brantson had always been patient, and gentle, and she knew he would possess her tenderly, without causing pain, so why was she hesitant?

  “We need not bed this night, if you are not ready,” Brantson told her knowingly, somewhat amused by her bewilderment.

  “I am ready,” Concordia whispered. “Why would you think otherwise?”

  “Something is amiss...I sense it. Whatever troubles you can be settled, whatever the secret.”

  “I do not deserve your love,” Concordia told him through watery eyes as she arose from the table. “Return with me to our bedchamber...I grow weary.”

  Brantson finished his wine in one swallow before escorting his wife to their quarters. The sound of waves crashing against the rocky cliff resonated throughout the landscape as husband and wife walked the length of the gardens. Concordia wrapped her arm around Brantson’s waist, leaning her head against his shoulder while a gusty wind ruffled their clothing. However, this night Concordia heard her mother’s voice once again, repeating over and over with each blustery gust, words she had heard before.

  “You must not betray Brantson,” whispered the wind.

  “I know mother,” Concordia said beneath her breath.

  “What is it, my love?” Brantson asked. “Are you chilled.”

  “It is nothing,” Concordia mumbled as they entered the bedchamber.

  Concordia prepared herself fo
r the nuptial bed while Brantson added wood chips to the ebbing fire. He poured himself a drink and sat before the hearth while Concordia removed her clothing, finishing the wine before joining her in the nuptial bed.

  Brantson held Concordia in his arms, speaking of the events that shaped his day while running his fingers through her loose hair. He was pleased when she laughed and was grateful she welcomed his caresses. He was patient and kind as the night wore on, waiting for her to accept his love willingly, taking care not to cause her pain, but he was unnerved by her tears when she ran her hand over his severely-scarred body.

  “Forgive me,” Concordia whispered as she submitted to her husband’s advances.

  “Hush, my love,” Brantson murmured. “Hush.”

  Husband and wife succumbed to their pent-up passion, seeking love’s release as they cumulated their fervor in a rising crescendo of ecstasy to the comforting sound of the crackling embers glowing in the grate. Neither of them spoke as they lay satiated in each other’s arms, at peace with themselves and each other.

  Winifred left the fortification through the Roman tunnels, walking the deserted beach as she made her way to the nearby village. She glanced over her shoulder every now and then, ever vigilant lest she was being followed. She followed the forest path, grateful for the shadows beneath the moonlit sky as she skirted the village, staying close to the treeline as she made her way towards the stables where Chad waited. She lingered beneath the trees, watching the clouds floating across the darkened sky, crossing the meadow once the puffy strands covered the full moon. She hurried to the barn, opening the back door carefully and stepped inside, standing quite still as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She remained silent, searching the loft for any sign of movement, becoming anxious when a strong hand covered her mouth.

  “Who are you?” Chad whispered as he held her tightly.

  “I am called Winifred. Concordia sent me.”

  “Forgive me, I mean you no harm. What message do you bring?”