“Have you forgotten Hugh and Magnus?” Erik reminded her.
“Magnus does serve King Harald, and Hugh had served Magnus. I cannot say why Magnus was interested in our whereabouts, unless he believed you were seeking support from King Philip,” Gwyneth replied.
“We will speak further of this tomorrow after Brother Damian has rested,” Father Gerard said. “See how his eyes close.”
“Brother Damian, please forgive us,” Gwyneth stammered. “We shall leave so you may sleep.”
Father Gerard followed Erik and Gwyneth into the gardens where they could speak without fear of being overheard.
“You have had dealings with Seymour in the past,” Erik told Father Gerard. “Would he be truthful should you question him?”
“Then he would be warned if indeed, he was King Harald’s man,” Gwyneth reminded them. “If Erik writes the dispatch this evening, Rheda will find it in the morning. She must arrange the meeting since Seymour should be arriving soon, given the time passed.”
“Very well,” Erik told his wife.
“Speak with Wynstan,” Father Gerard interjected. “Things are said amongst the men when officers are not near. They may know of Raulf’s dealings with Verrill and Rheda.”
“I will walk with you, Father,” Erik said. “There are many hours remaining before the sun sets.”
Gwyneth remained in the garden, listening to the sounds of nature, the restless sea and howling winds. If Brother Damian’s theories were proven to be correct, then what had been Erik’s fate? Could he have survived the Norman invasion and died in his sleep? What Malcolm had said was true; conspiracy theories were flawed, and it would seem she had been caught up in a plot of her own invention!
Chapter Twenty Five
The ruse had worked perfectly, just as Gwyneth had predicted. Rheda found the dispatch when she had been tidying up the bedchamber, copying the document hastily before leaving through the concealed door. Only this time, Gwyneth had been hiding within the shadows of the softly-lit tunnel, waiting patiently for Rheda to reveal her treachery. Following Rheda from a safe distance was effortless, since Gwyneth had mastered the intricate Roman labyrinth upon her return. She increased her pace each time Rheda came upon a junction to ensure she continued along the correct passageway. What Gwyneth did not expect was to have Rheda meeting with Raulf in the hidden room, which meant the tryst had been already arranged.
Gwyneth hugged the rock-embedded wall, the black cloak blending within the darkness. She was not surprised when Raulf opened the door and kissed Rheda passionately upon her lips before lifting her in his arms and carrying her towards a bed, closing the door with his foot.
“Should I wait until they satisfy their desire before confronting them, or should I leave them be and seek Erik’s counsel?” Gwyneth thought.
The sound of love’s fulfillment echoing throughout the corridor, made Gwyneth uncomfortable as she found voyeurism reprehensible. She decided to give them the privacy they did not deserve and walked toward the cave’s entrance. She was exhilarated by the sea air as she watched the waves pounding the rocks below. She saw a fishing vessel navigating the choppy waters and wondered if the nets would be filled. She glanced upon the beach, which would, one day, be swarming with sunbathers, but for now it was deserted as the frothy bubbles receded back from the muddy sand. She looked above her, seeing the hidden edge of the cliff, which was only noticeable from atop the Keep. She did not know why, but she had a strong desire to walk along the crystalline grains, wishing to feel the foamy seawater caressing her toes.
The path stood before her, an effortless descent, and it did not take Gwyneth long to reach the bottom where she removed her cloak and footwear, leaving them amongst the rocks before she ran along the coastline. She had not gone very far when she stopped and watched the waves breaking close to the shore and on a whim, ran towards them. Within minutes, she was soaked to the skin, her clothing clinging to her body. She laughed as she bounced off the ocean floor, trying to keep her head above the wave crests, shrieking with delight each time she was successful. She wanted to swim around the cliff, but decided against it, being content to jump above the colliding swells.
Unbeknownst to Gwyneth, Erik had seen his wife frolicking in the sea as he was walking the wall. He gave his orders and left, rushing through the southern gate and running towards the water’s edge, avoiding the waves rolling onto the shore.
“Gwyneth,” Erik shouted. “The tide will be in soon.”
Gwyneth turned around, waving to Erik as she managed to stay afloat before disappearing from sight when she was pulled under.
Erik paled, believing she was drowning as he dove into the breaking waves. The impact knocked him down, and he struggled with the forceful undertow, managing to stand, albeit unsteadily.
“Erik,” Gwyneth shrieked as she took hold of her husband’s hands and pulled him towards the shore.
They fell upon the warm sand, laughing like children now that they were safe.
“Whatever were you thinking?” Erik asked. “You could have drowned.”
“I am sorry I upset you,” Gwyneth said. “I just could not resist.”
“We must change our clothing,” Erik told her as he started to rise.
“Please stay, it is still warm. Share this moment with me.”
Erik held Gwyneth in his arms as they watched the waves rolling onto the sandy shore. The sea breeze was cold, which prompted Erik to lift Gwyneth to her feet.
“Wait, we must fetch my cloak,” Gwyneth said.
“Were you in the tunnels?” Erik asked as they neared the rocks.
“I followed Rheda, but she and Raulf had already planned their tryst, and I let them be.”
“Seymour arrived this morning. I wager they will meet this evening, after the meal.”
“We will be ready.”
“Not we,” Erik interrupted.
“You cannot go alone; you will be killed.”
“I will take Wynstan, so do not worry.”
“No, I shall accompany you. It was my plan or have you forgotten?”
“How could I forget? You would not allow it.”
“You are most wicked,” Gwyneth said teasingly as she and Erik entered their private quarters.
Once inside, they changed their clothing. Erik gave her a peck on the cheek before he left, much to Gwyneth’s disappointment since she would have preferred a romantic interlude. Sighing, she sat at the scribe’s desk, looking at the papers Erik had left, which is where Rheda found her.
“My lady, I would visit a woman in the village this evening if I am not needed.”
“Certainly, Rheda. I do hope it is a pleasant visit.”
“She is with child; a cause for celebration.”
“I shall keep them in prayer,” Gwyneth said as Rheda left.
“The truth will be made known tonight,” Gwyneth thought. “I must inform Aedre.”
***
The evening meal was served in Erik’s private hall, attended by Wynstan and Aedre who had been invited by Gwyneth. The food was simple, a stew served with berries and plenty of ale since a shipment of wine had been delayed. Gwyneth had not asked the minstrel to play his harp since she did not trust anyone, even though it was highly unlikely that the performer was involved in any political intrigue. She was aware Erik disapproved of involving Aedre, but Gwyneth had been adamant, reminding Erik that his nursemaid had played an important part in observing Rheda’s movements while they had been away. He had finally acquiesced, growing tired of arguing.
While Erik conferred with Wynstan, Gwyneth spoke with Aedre, sharing her concerns about the upcoming confrontation. The women would be able to subdue Rheda should the need arise, and she believed the men were evenly matched. In truth, she did not think Seymour or Raulf would draw their swords, but she would carry a dagger on her belt, nonetheless. She also had procured pieces of rope, suitable for binding the traitors’ hands before they were led away. There would be no escape with just the
one entrance and the guards patrolling the wall.
Everyone drank sparingly, not wishing to be addled since they needed their wits about them, but Gwyneth did not think the conspirators would submit willingly to being detained. She refused to believe that her theory was wrong, but she conceded that the evidence was circumstantial and would never hold up in court unless she had a confession that had not been coerced.
“You are sounding like one of your crime show solicitors,” Gwyneth thought.
“Have I told you the tale of Erik’s songbird?” Aedre asked, wishing to keep Gwyneth from thinking about what was to come.
“I do not believe so.”
“He had yet to come of age when he had accompanied a few men into the woods in search of game. The warriors were good men, teaching the young lad hunting skills during the summer months. This particular day, Erik had wandered off, for what reason, he could not say. That is when he found it. It was lying against a rock, weeping, if birds are capable of such things. Its wing was broken, and your husband picked up the creature and brought it to the sickrooms. The healer, bless him, examined it as he would have examined a man with a broken arm. He bound the wing and mixed powders to drink. Erik cared for his feathery friend with little rest. He managed to have the bird that he called Caesar drink the herbal remedies, which helped with the pain. I must admit your husband has a deeper faith than I have, because Caesar did return to the forest once his wing healed.”
“Aedre, thank you for sharing such a beautiful memory,” Gwyneth said through misty eyes.
At that very moment, there was a knock on the door, which opened slowly. Rheda stepped into the room, remaining where she was when she mentioned she would be spending the night in the village.
“An escort can be arranged, if you so wish,” Erik said.
“It is not far, my lord, but I thank you.”
Once Rheda had left, Wynstan climbed the stairs to the gallery and peered out the window. As they had expected, Gwyneth’s servant set out for the Keep and the concealed passageway, which led to the tunnels and hidden room.
“We should follow now. It will not take her long,” Wynstan shouted.
Erik led the way into the gardens, choosing an obscure ivy-covered doorway in the stone wall. Gwyneth’s heart was pounding as the adrenalin flowed through her veins. She was personally involved, which compromised her safety, but for some reason, she did not care. She wondered if her feelings were normal. Did warriors feel the same way she was feeling before a battle? Did coppers experience such exhilaration when perpetrators were subdued? All of a sudden, the career she had fought so hard to attain seemed inadequate. Yes, she had been overcome with joy whenever her archeological efforts had proved fruitful, but that emotion paled to what she was feeling now.
Erik held up his hand, signaling to stop. Gwyneth instinctively reached for her dagger, which surprised her. She remembered the phrase, a man is a product of his environment, and realized that her actions had corroborated the supposition. Subdued sounds could be heard through the wood as Gwyneth motioned for Aedre to stand behind her while Erik opened the door. He and Wynstan stepped into the room, taking the conspirators by surprise. Rheda fell to the floor, her body trembling while Erik removed Raulf’s sword.
“He is unarmed,” Wynstan said of Seymour.
“It is not what you think,” Raulf stammered.
“And what is it I am thinking?” Erik asked as he picked up the copied dispatch, staring at his second in command through steely eyes. “You held my trust.”
“The people fear what is to come once King Edward is dead,” Raulf said.
“Whomever the king names to succeed him, his subjects will support,” Erik reminded him.
“That is not true, my lord,” Seymour interjected. “The country is divided, which concerns our king. I report to King Edward what his subjects believe. It is his wish to name an heir that would not spark civil war.”
“No one would bend a knee to the Northman,” Erik replied.
“I do not serve King Harald,” Seymour said.
“You speak false! I have seen his seal on a document,” Aedre shouted while glaring at Rheda. “Treason is punishable by death.”
“Our allegiance is to King Edward,” Rheda sobbed. “We are innocent.”
Gwyneth kept Aedre close to her as Wynstan bound the conspirators’ hands.
“I am with child,” Rheda told them. “Raulf is my husband.”
“It will be for King Edward to decide,” Erik said. “You will leave for Winchester tomorrow under heavy guard.”
***
Wynstan searched the courtyard for Gwyneth, wishing to bid her farewell. He had been charged with the task of delivering the suspected traitors to the king’s court and had chosen the squad of men personally, their loyalties well proven. He was about to join his warriors when he noticed Gwyneth running towards him.
“My lady, I would take my leave of you,” Wynstan told her. “It has been an honor.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Gwyneth said, taking hold of his hands, “but this parting is temporary. I shall be here upon your return.”
Wynstan nodded, averting her eyes as he mounted his horse. He gave the order to leave, remaining behind until the last man was through the gate. He saluted Erik, kicked his heels into the sides of his horse and trotted out of the citadel.
“The king will be crushed by Seymour’s treachery,” Erik whispered.
“King Edward will not pardon them, will he?” Gwyneth asked.
“It is not for us to say. Their fate rests with the king.”
Chapter Twenty Six
Rumors were rife within the citadel once Raulf and his fellow conspirators were en route to Winchester. Erik kept Verrill and Norris at his side, but he failed to take either man into his confidence even though each man had sworn they had no knowledge of Raulf’s duplicity.
While Erik commanded the garrison, Gwyneth spent her days tending to Brother Damian’s needs with Aedre visiting frequently. She spent hours seeking answers to the myriad of questions that had plagued her once she had found Erik’s portrait. She had also made up her mind to accompany Erik to his fate. Gwyneth did not share her thoughts with her husband, fearing he might try to change her mind. She did not possess a time travel device, nor could she converse directly with the Lord. No, whatever Erik was to face, his wife would be at his side. Armies always had camp followers, and she would be amongst the women traveling with their men.
Gwyneth went about her duties with enthusiasm. She was exceptionally happy as the days passed and life within the fortress walls became habitual. She was immersed in her marital state, loving her husband with such a passion that was returned in kind. Her happiness was beyond measure until she thought of her sons.
***
Father Gerard found Erik in the commandant’s private office. He knocked on the door and entered, thanking God that they were alone.
“You must have faith to believe what I am about to tell you,” Father Gerard said.
“It concerns Gwyneth, does it not?”
“Yes, my son. She is to return to her world before this night ends.”
“How?”
“I do not know, but she must not resist.”
“She will not leave me, she...”
“Which is why she must be given a sleeping potion,” Father Gerard interrupted, “in her drink, at the night meal.”
The color drained from Erik’s face as Father Gerard handed him a pouch, which he had hidden beneath his habit.
“I had hoped ... but I will do as the Lord directs me.”
“We are most fortunate to have had Gwyneth with us these years,” Father Gerard said. “We knew of this day.”
“Yes, Father, but it is painful, just as leaving my sons was painful.”
“The Lord knows well your sacrifice and your reward awaits you in His heavenly kingdom.”
“I know, Father, I know.”
***
Gwyneth was reading in the
gardens where Erik found her. At first, she thought something was amiss, but when he told her his meeting with his officers had ended early, and since the sun had yet to set, he had wanted to walk the beach. He had also told her they would be sharing the evening meal alone in their chambers to celebrate their love.
Husband and wife walked hand-in-hand along the shoreline, rarely speaking as they avoided the spilling breakers hitting the shore. The wind blew fitfully, sweeping above the waves, which stirred the ocean’s floor.
“Do you think it will storm?” Gwyneth asked.
“I cannot tell, but we can return if you are chilled. I know how we can pass the time,” Erik told her with a seductive look.
Erik embraced his wife, kissing her lips tenderly, a long kiss, which Gwyneth responded to gently. They paid no heed to the setting sun, nor the roaring surf as the tide came in, the waves breaking perilously close to the wedded couple. He released her reluctantly, gazing upon her face as he brushed aside wisps of hair that were blowing in the wind.
“You complete me,” Erik whispered. “We are as one, just as the Lord commanded.”
Gwyneth ran her fingers lovingly across her husband’s face and lips as he pulled her towards him while the raging waters covered their feet.
“We must go,” Gwyneth whispered. “Take me to the nuptial bed.”
***
The sun had long set as Erik and Gwyneth were entwined in each other’s arms, their passion spent in the throes of lovemaking. They remained in their bedchamber while the servants prepared the evening meal in the outer room, taking care not to disturb husband and wife. The table had been adorned with a lace cloth and scattered petals of lavender. A platter of roasted wild boar had been placed in the center, garnished with red berries. Warm bread was wrapped in cloth, and curd-cheese pastries had been cooked to perfection, the crisp flakes tempting the palate. Flasks of imported French wine had been set in the corner along with a flagon filled with water. The women coughed when they left, shutting the door noisily so Erik and Gwyneth would know they were alone.
The Briton and the Dane: Timeline Page 17
