Avelynn: The Edge of Faith

by Marissa Campbell

  “How does she fare?” Judith was akin to a heroine in my mind. Her strength of character compelled me to seek out my own life, not one governed by men, society, or the church. Her love story with Count Baldwin inspired a young, impressionable me to want more. Alrik gave me that.

  “She is well. Her boys are strong, brawny lads, full of mischief. I daresay they get that sparkle in their eye from their mother. Did you know her?”

  “My mother did.” I bit my tongue. Lying on the spot, it would appear, was not a strong suit of mine. “At least she knew of her.” I changed tack. “Eadfrith mentioned you just came home from the continent. Are you returning so soon?”

  “No, no, my dear. I am accompanying them on their way to St. Dogmael’s. I have a few matters to settle with Abbott Rys before I return to Bangor in Gwynedd. I oversee a large convent there. I’ve been away far too long. Speaking of home, perhaps you know my traveling companion; he too is from England.” Frances caught the attention of a man deep in conversation behind her. He lifted his head, and my heart leapt as he turned. A mass of bright red hair filled out his tonsure. “May I present Father Plegmund of Wedmore,” she said.

  Our eyes locked. How long had he been traveling? Did he know the events that had transpired in England?

  “We are well met, lady.” He embraced me. “I’ve not seen you since you marched away to war. I was relieved to hear you were delivered safely to your husband.”

  “Husband?” Frances looked across the room at Alrik.

  I cringed. “No. I’m not married. Not yet.”

  Plegmund followed our gaze. “Would you excuse us, sister?” I wrapped my arm around Plegmund’s.

  “Of course.” She called after me as I led Plegmund farther from the crowd.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Father. What brings you to Wales?”

  His good-natured face creased with worry. “I am on a pilgrimage to Rome and have been traveling for several weeks. How fares Wedmore?”

  I had almost managed to get him out of earshot, but like a magnet, his words turned the ears of the last people I wanted to overhear them. Marared studied me, her mother’s hawk-like eyes boring into mine, stripping away my alibis.

  I drew him closer to the door.

  “And what is this about your husband?”

  I couldn’t get the man out of the hall fast enough. I practically dragged him from the room. “There have been terrible happenings.”

  He shuffled quickly, his robes bunching around his feet. “Go on.”

  I shook my head. “Not here. Let us speak in private.”

  Two ruddy eyebrows drew together. “Of course.”

  We grabbed cloaks and stepped outside, walking past the stables, weaving sheds, kitchens, and roasting pits. We left the courtyard, passing through the gates, and traipsed down the steep incline. I stopped halfway down the hill when I spied a fallen tree. Its bole would serve as an impromptu bench. “Please.” I motioned for him to sit down.

  It was early evening. The sun, a gilded flame emanating through banks of tarnished clouds, appeared like a faceted jewel as it dipped toward the horizon. The soft hue bathed Plegmund’s face in a warm light.

  “What has happened?” he asked.

  I sat beside him. “Have you heard nothing?”

  “I left shortly after you took up your father’s cause in the war. I tried to keep abreast of the conflict, but only bits and pieces filtered through by messenger. I knew the army had lost at a terrible cost during the battle of Meretun. King Aethelred received a terrible wound. They called the Witan and named Alfred successor to the throne.”

  “Angharad received word of the council’s decision only yesterday. Do you know nothing then of what befell me?”

  “Last I heard, the Vikings captured you, but Demas paid your ransom, and you were set free. I assumed you returned home with your new husband to govern your estates.”

  “My new husband killed my father, and bought my compliance to gain my hand in marriage. I left him and England, but not before my uncle spread vicious lies about me. I am wanted on charges of treason, murder, and witchcraft. I thought it best you heard it from my lips first.” I waited with my hands in my lap, letting him absorb the news, and kept my eyes trained straight ahead. I could feel his scrutiny. “I pray you know me for the righteous and just person that I am. My friends have sought to protect me, but I fear it will all be for naught.”

  “I warned you before you left of factions at work.”

  “Demas and Osric have lined the Vikings’ pockets with Wedmore’s gold.”

  He sighed. “So they have moved one step closer to the crown.”

  I turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know if they have seized your estate?”

  “Yes. Bertram told me before I left England. They rounded up all the men who fought under my banner and executed them. The women and children …”

  He hung his head. “Dearest Jesu, protect them.”

  “So you believe my innocence?” It seemed impossible.

  “I knew your uncle vied for an advantage. I am not surprised to hear it was by his command that your father met his death.” He crossed himself.

  “You said they have moved one step closer to the crown. What do you mean?”

  “Northumbria and East Anglia have fallen to the sons of Ragnar. All without a pitched battle. How is that?”

  “Political unrest.”

  “Yes, but Wessex was once strong, united.”

  Clarity hit like the peal of a bell. “Until now.” I thought of the factions undermining the Witan at Christmastide, when I had accused Demas of sodomy. The hall was divided by those that supported my father and those that supported Demas and Osric. With the defamation of my name and through it, my father’s reputation, people would be more willing to listen to Osric and support his plans. “At my wedding there were handshakes and whispers.” I looked to the east. Wessex was in trouble. I recalled the vision I’d had of Alfred and Ealhswith running for their lives.

  “Your father spoke often of the lengths of Osric’s ambition. He charged me with keeping my eyes and ears open for any hint of betrayal. I read many charters and intercepted many missives, all in the hopes of finding that proof.”

  “Did you discover anything?”

  “A bizarre theme ran through many of the letters. Several passages ended in gibberish. I could not begin to guess at their meaning.”

  “Do you have them?” If there was one thing I was good at, after deciphering Muirgen’s book, it was solving puzzles.

  “Yes. After your father’s death and your campaign, I didn’t feel safe leaving my possessions at Wedmore. There was no way to know if the Vikings would succeed in their efforts.”

  “Would you mind if I tried to interpret them?” Hope blossomed. If I could find proof of Osric’s and Demas’s deceptions, those letters might help form a case to present to the Witan to try to clear my name.

  “Of course.”

  I hugged him. “Thank you. I’m to travel at first light tomorrow into the wilds of Wales. Can I obtain them before I go?”

  “I will bring them to you. But you cannot stay in Wales. Surely you can see that.”

  “I know the danger I’m in, but I’ve agreed to abide here a bit longer. The conflict with Rhodri should end shortly, and once my betrothed—”

  “Your betrothed?”

  “It’s a long story. Alrik, the man I’m traveling with, saved my life. He rescued me from Demas, and we fled here together. He’s also a Viking.”

  Two ruddy eyebrows crested his forehead. “But you’re married.”

  “The nuptials were never consummated. There is also the matter of coercion and Demas forcing the union against my will.”

  “It is for God to judge whether the sacrament stands. But if it was not, if there was no—”

  “There wasn’t.”

  “Then I agree. The marriage is not valid.”

  Inspiration struck me. “Would you b
e willing to write a letter to that effect? Send a copy to Ealhswith, Alfred’s wife?” On its own it may not mean anything, but with enough supplementary evidence, perhaps …

  “I will pen it this night. But why stay in Wales?”

  “Alrik has agreed to aid Hyffaid and Gwgon in this coming conflict. Once they settle the matter, we can journey overseas. I hope to request an audience with Judith of Flanders. She was a friend to my mother. I pray she will help aid my cause.”

  “Your mother was very wise. Because of her advice, your father bade me search for Osric’s deceptions.”

  Wise, indeed. I suspected her prophetic insight had persuaded my father to dig into his brother’s dealings. Why had he never discussed these things with me?

  Alrik strode down the hill, strong legs converging on our hiding place. “Our time is almost up.” I waved at the figure barreling toward us.

  “I will get you the letters before you leave.” He stood.

  “I have told Eadfrith that, should things become desperate, I may yet join your party.”

  “I will pray for a positive outcome, for all our sakes.”

  I clasped his hands. “Thank you.”

  “I only wish I could do more.”

  “There is perhaps one thing, if you are willing.” I let my hands fall to my sides.

  He waited.

  “If the question of my identity should arise, Angharad has presented me as her cousin from East Anglia. She is determined to distance me from the traitorous villain with the same name from Wessex. I would never expect you to lie for me, but perhaps when people mention my name, you could look the other way?”

  “Of course.”

  “Avelynn.” Alrik caught up to us.

  “Father, this is Alrik, my promised. Alrik, this is Father Plegmund, a friend of my family.”

  “I have known the lady since she was a small child. It is good to meet the man who has promised his life to protect her.” Plegmund smiled in polite greeting, but a warning flashed clear in his eyes.

  “Plegmund and I discussed news of home, and he assured me of his silence on the matter of my identity.”

  Plegmund laid a hand on my shoulder. “God watch over you, Avelynn, and God speed.”

  I watched him amble back up the incline.

  “Is everything all right?” Alrik said.

  “Do you really think we can outrun the news coming from England? I’m not sure how many Avelynns there are in this world, but it’s not a common name. The likelihood that there are two of us traveling with a boatload of Norsemen is rather remote. Marared and Sigy overheard Plegmund mention Wedmore. Once they connect me to that place, no amount of sleight of hand, however well intentioned, will be able to hide the truth. It’s only a matter of time before Osric learns I’m here and sends someone to collect me.”

  “We have time on our sides. Even if word has reached the farthest corners of Wales, a messenger must return to England with your whereabouts. Osric must assign men to collect you. Your uncle is aware you are traveling with sixty Viking warriors.”

  Gods, I hoped so. I didn’t want to think what would happen if they found me. Halfdan’s torture would seem like a warm breeze on a fine spring day in comparison. Demas would never rest until he’d paid me back in kind. In retrospect, dismembering him and leaving half of his cock twitching without its tip might have been an unwise action, but it was a deeply rewarding one.

  Alrik drew me into an embrace. My cheek rested on the soft wool of his tunic. Though my voice held conviction, its volume barely rose above a whisper. “If it comes to it and you’re not there, please understand. They will not take me alive.”

  March 30

  The morning yawned and stretched bright and clear as the army made ready to march. Outside the hall ranged a great deal of commotion: men gathering, pages shouting, servants running, wagons loading. Grooms and pages outfitted horses and affixed carts to yokes and yokes to stubborn oxen.

  I wandered through the masses, vaguely aware of my surroundings. The precariousness of my position was taking its toll. Combined with Marared’s threats, Ealhswith’s letter weighed heavy on my mind. Part of me wondered if I should leave Wales. Another part wanted to trust that Alrik was right, that there was time—that we could still salvage this mess and leave together. Muirgen’s warning of a darkness driving Alrik and me apart never strayed far from my thoughts. If I left Wales, would it circumvent the danger or make it worse? Staying the course brought danger straight into my path. I couldn’t deny that. Was I being foolish fighting the premonition, or could I change my fate if I held out a little bit longer? Running was easy, and fleeing England left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was stronger than this. I thought of Plegmund’s letters. He’d handed the bundle to me with the rise of the dawn. An impressive stack of parchment—I couldn’t wait to delve into their hidden meanings.

  “Avelynn.” Gil interrupted my reverie. A broad smile crinkled the corner of his eyes.

  “Good morning.”

  “I wondered if I might walk with you a moment.”

  “Of course.”

  He moved in step with me, and we strolled farther away from the general chaos of the morning.

  “I wanted to apologize for my sister’s behavior. Her devotion to Alrik has caused her to act poorly.”

  “Poorly? I consider poisoning and threatening me with mounting violence a tad more than poorly.” A stray dog scrambled across the path ahead of us. Its scrawny body bent in caution as it edged closer to a deserted fire pit littered with crumbs.

  “I don’t mean to make light of her actions. Threatening you was deplorable, but she had nothing to do with your illness. Both Alrik and I have spoken to her, and I can assure you, the matter is resolved.”

  “What is she to Alrik?” I thought it time I got some answers.

  He motioned to take a path leading from the main camp as it veered alongside the River Tywi. I nodded and followed his lead.

  “Marared met Alrik for the first time when she was sixteen winters. Dyfed struggled under the constant threat of attack from Alrik’s brother. During one of Ivar’s raids, Marared was captured and brought to the slave markets in Dublin.

  “When Alrik stumbled upon her, the trader was about to rape her in front of a crowd. Why Alrik took pity on her, I’ll never know. She was not the first woman to be used in such a manner, but he bargained for her release. She was devoted to him. In time, he took her to his bed. At the end of that summer, he set her back on Welsh soil. Our family owes him a debt of gratitude, but Marared owes him her life.”

  “A debt of gratitude to be sure, but not one that need involve me.”

  “Marared assumed Alrik would return one day to marry her. A child’s fantasy, I know, but she has built her entire life waiting for that outcome. Every year he comes, every year she warms his bed and waits for the day when he asks for her hand. Your relationship with Alrik has been a staggering blow.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “She can be rash and selfish, but she has never harmed anyone.”

  “I appreciate you telling me her story. I know what it’s like to suffer at the hands of a captor, but her hostility is palpable. You’ll understand if your words to the contrary do not soothe me.”

  “Will you sail with the priests, then?”

  How did he know of Eadfrith’s offer? “Alrik wants me to wait.”

  “Alrik has sworn an oath, but you owe no loyalty to me or my family. It would be easiest for everyone if you left.”

  I didn’t doubt it, and studied him from the corner of my eye. I thought of Sigy’s words to Marared that night behind the hall, warning her not to jeopardize Sigy’s grand scheme. I wondered what she had in store for her son. “Alrik refuses to leave, and I will stay by his side.”

  Gil nodded and led the way back to the camp, stopping just shy of the crowd. “Whether you take me at my word or not, I am happy for the two of you. I have never seen him so devoted to someone. I do worry, however, th
at you will lead him astray from war and plunder and make him soft, so he will be content to sit about and grow a fat belly.”

  “Alrik would rather die than lay down his sword. I am little threat to that.”

  “That’s good to hear.” He drew close and enveloped me in a hug. The gesture caught me off guard.

  He straightened. “We have quite a statement to make to Rhodri of Gwynedd. I look forward to fighting at his side.”

  He disappeared in the oscillating throng of bodies as they wove and assembled on the plain at the base of Dinefwr. A gnawing suspicion scratched just beneath the surface. I didn’t trust anyone in that family.

  “Avelynn?”

  I spun to find Eadfrith sauntering in my direction. On impulse, I scanned the crowd for Alrik.

  He embraced me, warmly, and I returned the gesture, if not the enthusiasm.

  “I worried Sister Frances scared you away.”

  “She assured me you were harmless.”

  He chuckled and held his arm aloft for me. I entwined mine with his, and we strode together away from the camp. We struck out along a route that cut out at a deep angle from the river.

  “I wish you would agree to sail with us. I fear for your safety here. Angharad can keep those rumors tamped down for only so long.”

  “I know.”

  Forest, lush and moist, closed in on either side of us as we followed the worn path.

  “Your tractability to the Viking surprises me.”

  Anger flushed to my cheeks. “I’m not being tractable. I’m compromising. We both are.”

  “It looks more to me like he’s being selfish. He wants you to stay, but he’s putting you in harm’s way. Why don’t you leave? This is not your battle. There is little for you to gain in staying. It would only be a temporary parting. Let him have his fight. You can meet once more upon the shores of a distant land where you will be safe from your uncle’s clutches.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  He spun me to face him. “It is that simple. Let me help you. Let me take you away from here. Let me keep you safe.”