by Jody Hedlund
My fingers fumbled to fit another arrow, needing to stop the injured knight before he could alert others to my presence. But I wasn’t quick enough. He called out a warning to his companions, nodding in my direction.
One started toward me, but I quickly brought him down. From the corner of my eye, I could see that Tall John was in trouble, and so I took aim at the knight he was fighting. My arrow punctured the open spot in the chain mail at his armpit and his heart.
“Extinguish the torches,” one of the assassins shouted to the squires, finally realizing I had an advantage in my high location and would continue to pick them off.
I studied the position of the remaining opponents. Before the squires could douse their torches, I took out one more soldier. As the blackness of the night fell upon the battle, I visualized my next target and took aim. Through the scant starlight, I did it twice more until the commander of Ethelwulf’s band shouted a call to retreat.
Only then, did I whistle for my steed. At her snort, I sprang upon her and started after the few remaining soldiers. I rode low and fast, drawing my horse closer and at the same time unsheathing my sword and dagger. One by one, I eliminated the danger until finally only a lone squire was left. With my blade at his throat, I pierced the first layer of his skin.
He shuddered against my brutal hold, his rasping breath matching mine.
“Return to your king with the news that the true queen of Mercia will not rest until she has ascended to her rightful place on the throne.”
I didn’t give him the opportunity to answer but instead booted his horse to send him on his way. He wasted no time in riding off.
To my right flank in the dark came the crackle of brush and the snort of a horse.
“Christopher?” Adelaide called my name in a half whisper.
“Here.” I shifted in my saddle, assessing the area. We were safe. At least for now. Once Ethelwulf realized we’d decimated his small army, he’d soon be after us again.
“How do you fare?” she asked, drawing nearer.
I dismounted at the same time she did. Except for a few minor cuts and scrapes, I was fine. “I am unharmed. And you?” I found myself holding my breath until she stood next to me and answered.
“I fare well. And so do the others. They are checking the deceased.” I could sense the forced bravado in her tone. Had she been hurt after all?
I reached for her hand, needing to assure myself she was well. She didn’t resist but allowed me to enfold her hand in mine. I tried to examine her in the dark, but her cloak and the shadows of night veiled her too much for me to assess her true condition.
“You were not hurt, were you?” I asked.
She was silent, giving way to the clatter of the branches overhead swaying with the wind, filling the air around us with the strong fragrance of freshly bloomed meadowsweet. My muscles tightened in sudden fear of her answer, and my mind flashed with the image of a mortal wound, of blood pouring forth, of her life ebbing away at this very moment.
“No, my lord,” she whispered, as though sensing my anxiety. “But I would have certainly perished if not for your quick thinking and your skill with the bow.”
“True. You were reckless to ride into battle with no heed for the size or strength of your enemy. You let pride in your skills cloud your judgment.”
She stiffened and tried to release her hand from mine, my words apparently not what she’d wanted to hear. Surely, she knew I’d tell her the truth whether she liked what I had to say or not. I’d always been honest with her, and I would not change who I was because I’d learned she was royalty. In fact, perhaps now more than ever she’d need someone who remained candid.
“You think me a fool?” she asked almost angrily.
“You are brave and determined,” I answered. “But also inexperienced in the ways of warfare.”
She didn’t respond right away, but she’d at least stopped fighting my hold on her hand.
“You are a decent fighter, Adelaide,” I said. “There are no other women—or many men—who can fight even half so well as you. But Ethelwulf’s knights are superior warriors, experts, and vicious. We must not underestimate them.”
At my chastisement, I thought she’d attempt to wrest free again. Instead, she released her breath in a slow exhale. “You are right. As usual.”
I wanted to jest with her as we used to do when we were children. But the gravity of all that had just happened lay heavy upon me. I’d killed almost a dozen men. Even though they were Ethelwulf’s soldiers who would have slain me if given the slightest chance, I never relished taking the life of another human.
“I have fought in melees in many tournaments and have jousted and won,” she spoke again, this time her voice small like that of the girl she’d been when I’d seen her last. “I did not realize—did not expect—did not know this kind of combat would be so different, so difficult.”
Her hand in mine trembled just a little, enough for me to realize how sheltered she’d been all these years.
“Killing, even in war, is never easy,” I replied. “But when we are battling against evil for the greater good of many, there will always be a cost.”
Her soft breathing filled the space between us.
“We are fighting for a better Mercia,” I continued, “a place where fair laws are upheld, where justice prevails, and where people can reside peacefully and raise families in safety. No, life will not always be easy. But the citizens should be able to live with hope and not fear.”
“You are wise and experienced and strong in ways that I am not. Perchance you should become the next ruler of Mercia.”
I shook my head. “No—”
“What is so important about me that I should become queen? A royal signet ring and an ancient key are not enough to transform a person into a good ruler.”
“You have more than that,” I insisted. “You are a part of a royal line, a family who has ruled wisely and mercifully for centuries. You have royal blood running through you—”
“Why does royal blood matter? I should think strengths such as yours would be coveted.”
“No, Adelaide. With your heritage and bloodline, you are set apart from the rest of us. God has chosen and sanctioned your family’s leadership. And that is what the people want—a king or queen who is different from them, someone they can look up to and revere, someone set apart. Not someone ordinary like me.”
“You do not know for certain—”
“I do know. I have tried to rally Mercia’s outcasts into a rebellion. While they have respected my leadership, they need a ruler who represents everything they love and have lost, a special person they would be willing to die for.”
“Therein you think I am that person?”
I couldn’t see her features clearly, but I glimpsed enough to acknowledge how commanding her presence was. She had the bearing and appearance of a queen. And she would soon learn how to lead like one.
I lowered myself onto one knee, tossed back my mail coif, and bowed my bare head before her. “Yes, Your Majesty. You are that person. And I pledge you my fealty in both life and death.”
Was this then my purpose? I’d floundered in recent years, trying to understand what I needed to do and how I could truly help my country. Mayhap this was what God had been preparing me for all along.
Of the many loyalists in Mercia, Sister Katherine had chosen my family for Adelaide. If my parents had been willing to risk their lives for her, surely God wanted me to do the same. Why else would He have orchestrated my return to Mercia to coincide with Adelaide’s twentieth birthday and Sister Katherine’s visit? God wanted me at her side to guide and protect her.
Who better than me? A nobleman in the thick of the rebellion? A nobleman with connections to the king of Norland? A nobleman who’d already fought in many battles and was seasoned in strategy and warfare?
She removed her glove and placed her hand upon my head. “Oh, Christopher,” she whispered. “I thank you. You are a good man, a
nd I pray I shall be found worthy of your fealty.”
Her hand rested lightly upon my hair, but even so slight a touch burned into me. I had the sudden wish she would stroke my head in the tenderness of affection. How might it feel for her to comb back my hair?
The unspoken question took me off guard, and to end the distraction, I gently captured her hand. As any nobleman would do to a lady, I brought her fingers to my lips and placed a kiss there.
If I thought having her fingers upon my head was distracting, having them against my lips was even more so, reminding me of earlier in the evening when I’d closed my mouth around those fingers as she fed me the piece of gingerbread. I knew I ought to drop her hand. But the softness of her skin against my lips was tantalizing. The slenderness of her fingers was mesmerizing. The gentle curves of her knuckles were enticing.
I tightened my grip and pressed my lips more firmly against her hand, breathing her in. She made no move to break the contact. Almost imperceptibly, her fingers tightened within mine, as though she welcomed my touch—though I could not think why she would.
“Adelaide!” Mitchell’s anxious call penetrated our moment alone.
Adelaide stepped away from me, rapidly withdrawing her hand and tucking it behind her back as if to hide evidence of our closeness from Mitchell.
“I am here and safe,” she replied in a slightly breathless voice that made me wonder if my kiss had affected her as much as it had me.
The crunch of brush signaled Mitchell’s arrival along with Tall John. A moment later as I stood, I glimpsed their approaching outlines.
“You should not have rushed off without me,” Mitchell said rebuking Adelaide as he slid from his mount.
“I only thought to aid Christopher in vanquishing the remainder of our foe.”
“From now on, I would like you to stay with one of us at all times.” Mitchell’s request came out sounding more like a plea. While I agreed with him regarding Adelaide’s proximity, I would have commanded Adelaide and not begged.
“Thanks to Christopher, we are saved,” she said.
Mitchell sniffed derisively, tension radiating from his muscles. “Thanks to Christopher’s slaughter of the entire regiment, we will face severe repercussions.”
“We will face severe repercussions no matter what we do,” I said.
“You could have allowed a remnant to live,” Mitchell replied. “Now not only will the king be angry at losing Adelaide, but he will be sorely embarrassed at the defeat and will find a way to punish us most severely.”
“He needed to know Adelaide is strong and not easily conquered.”
“And he will show us in return that he will not tolerate our rebellion.”
“So be it.”
We had declared war against Ethelwulf. And I, for one, was more than ready for it.
Chapter
9
Adelaide
I leaned wearily back against the cave wall, not caring my hair had come loose and now hung in messy tangles over my shoulders.
“I’ll take the first watch.” Christopher knelt outside the narrow opening. His gaze swept over Tall John, who’d fallen into an exhausted slumber the moment he’d sprawled out on the cave floor. Then his sights moved to me. “Try to sleep.”
“I shall take the second watch.” I tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.
“Before Mitchell left to hunt for game, he said he would take the next watch.”
I nodded, too tired to protest. We’d ridden all night as fast as we could. By dawn, we’d had to stop and rest our mounts. Besides, Christopher had insisted we would be safer if we traveled under the cover of darkness rather than by daylight.
Closing my eyes, I breathed in the damp mustiness of the cave and hugged my cloak tighter about me to ward off the chill that permeated the craggy walls. Though still in the rocky heathland south of Langley, we were several days of riding from the wild woods of Inglewood Forest. Permeated with oak, beech, pine, and birch, the thickly forested land spread across the southern region of Mercia.
The rising crags and dense woods provided not only a rich resource of timber and charcoal for Mercia but had also been a shield to protect against King Ethelwulf’s Warwick, which lay directly south of Mercia. Many years ago, King Ethelwulf had wisely chosen to invade Mercia from the East Sea with the help of the Danes, who’d perfected sea warfare. He’d attacked several coastal cities, the most important of which had been Delsworth, the capital and royal residence of King Francis and Queen Dierdal.
My parents.
I still couldn’t reconcile the idea that the former king and queen were truly my parents. Although King Ethelwulf forbade speaking and teaching about the previous leaders, our tutor had educated us about the royal lineage anyway. Since Aunt Susanna’s death, I’d been attempting to recall all the details the wise old scholar had shared.
Mostly, I remembered his tales of how the king and queen had died. When King Ethelwulf and his army had surrounded Delsworth, King Francis had participated in the defense of the city and had fought bravely alongside his elite guard of trained warriors. He’d been gravely wounded in the fighting but had clung to life.
Due to the stress of the siege and war, the queen had gone into labor and had delivered twin daughters. Shortly after the birth, she’d died, but not before asking one of her ladies-in-waiting to escape from the castle and take the newborn babes to safety.
When King Francis had learned of his wife’s death, he’d succumbed to his injury and given up his tenuous grip on life. With both the king and queen dead and King Ethelwulf surrounding the city and royal residence, Mercia’s army had surrendered.
Apparently, King Ethelwulf had ordered the execution of all the king’s elite guards. He’d also put to death King Francis’s closest advisors. Most shocking of all, he’d hung the dead bodies of King Francis and Queen Dierdal on the castle wall, swiftly punishing any citizen who protested.
In the dark of night, one small band of rebels had overpowered the gatekeepers and had stolen the bodies in order to give them a proper burial. The rebels and the bodies had never been located, though it was rumored King Ethelwulf had spent a great deal of time hunting them down.
I’d always been curious regarding the band who had so bravely defied King Ethelwulf and stolen the queen and king off the castle wall. I’d also admired their loyalty to the deceased couple—which had told me more about the previous king and queen than anything my tutor had taught me. The king and queen had been well loved and revered by the people of Mercia, so much that people had been willing to risk their lives for the couple even after they were dead.
Princess Constance had been only three years old at the time King Ethelwulf had taken the throne. Apparently, at the threat of attack on Delsworth, the princess had been evacuated along with most of the court to the city of Everly, which was situated among the foothills of the Iron Hills.
When King Ethelwulf’s troops arrived in Everly, the nobility had already fled, Princess Constance was gone, and her old crippled nursemaid had been found dead in the nursery—stabbed in the chest with what had appeared to be a self-inflicted wound. She’d killed herself and had taken to the grave the whereabouts of Princess Constance. Since then, no one had known what had become of the princess.
Until now . . .
Now King Ethelwulf knew I was still alive. And after word reached him of the slaughter of his guard, he’d also know I would not be easily subdued. That, in fact, I planned to reclaim the throne. At least I tentatively planned that, though I knew not how I’d manage such a feat.
I shifted against the rocky wall, trying to find a more comfortable position. As tired as I was, sleep eluded me, bullied away by my ever-growing anxiety regarding the future, especially whether I’d made the right decision on where to go next.
Christopher wanted to take me to Norland, to King Draybane, assuring me the king would support my cause. It was doubtful he would lend his soldiers to our fight, but at the very least, he would gi
ve me refuge while we strategized. Christopher believed there were enough Mercians living in exile in Norland who were ready to rise up against King Ethelwulf.
Mitchell, on the other hand, insisted we go south and follow Sister Katherine’s instructions to locate my sisters. He was determined to look for the illusive hidden treasure with the hope it would bring success to our campaign. After more heated debate last night, I’d come to the conclusion we’d fare best if we adhered to Sister Katherine’s directive. I took to heart her cryptic, almost prophetic words: You are not alone. You must find your sisters. Together you will discover the treasure that will enable you to destroy the evil that has blighted this land.
If all went as planned, by the end of the week I’d meet one of my sisters—Emmeline of Inglewood Forest. Once we explained her identity, would she embrace me? I couldn’t deny I hoped so.
Yet my misgivings unsettled my stomach. What if she didn’t like me? Even worse, what if we couldn’t find her? How would we know where to begin our search among the vast miles and miles of woodland? Sister Katherine had said Emmeline was in the forest being raised by a charcoal burner and his wife. But how did we know that was still true, that they had remained in the woods, that they hadn’t moved elsewhere over the years?
In addition, there were probably several dozen charcoal burners with official licenses living in the forests, but many more who operated independently and illegally. How would we narrow our search? And how would we evade Ethelwulf’s soldiers? Though we were attempting to mask our tracks and scent, surely his best knights would continue to hunt me.
I moved again, trying to get comfortable, but to no avail. At the scuffle of footsteps outside the cave, I opened my eyes.
“Are you still awake?” Mitchell whispered as he crawled through the cave entrance, hidden by roots and moss from several of the trees growing above.
“I wish I could so easily forget the worries of the day like Tall John,” I whispered with a glance to our faithful manservant, whose soft snores drifted in the quiet of the cave.
