“You’re welcome. So do you want to head to Dor tomorrow? I would like to see you and Alden reunited. I think it could be quite entertaining. Well, maybe not for you…” Merton stated with a grin.
“It beats drowning in the cave I suppose,” Garren replied with a scowl.
28
Castle Dor, The Kingdom of Cerniw. The next day.
Alden stood on the battlements and looked out across the raging river and the moor beyond. The sun was just beginning to rise, and everything had a lavender hue to it. In particular, Alden paid attention to the road, which weaved its way in a labyrinth of curves around the boggy marsh and the tall, windswept trees. No Roman roads for Cerniw. The roads followed ancient tracks that cared not for straight lines or order, but instead complemented the land in which they ran through. The early morning air was fresh, and he was glad of the extra layer Annis had insisted he wore. He thought back to earlier this morning, and he smiled the secret contented smile of a man who had loved his wife well.
Annis had missed her monthly flow, and she hadn’t suffered from the usual bout of grumpiness that indicated her time of the month was coming upon her. Alden had a suspicion that she was with child again. He hoped so. It gave him a sense of wellbeing and a sense of continuation — the du Lac bloodline was assured. And he liked being a father. He adored his children.
Alden had heard an old wives tale of pregnant women craving certain foods, but Annis didn’t crave food, she craved him. The last time Annis was pregnant she had put his back out for a week. The thought of it made him want to seek her out and take her back to bed.
It was said, by wiser men than him, that as the years roll by, the passion between a man and his wife fades, becomes less important. Friendship, companionship, takes first place to the pleasures of the flesh, but his and Annis’ relationship wasn’t like that. She was so much more than a friend or a companion — she was his world. He knew for a fact that he couldn’t live without her and he selfishly hoped that he would die first, so he never had to. He never wanted to find himself in Merton’s position.
He was distracted briefly from his muses when a regiment of soldiers, who had been out on a night patrol, clattered back into the courtyard. He watched as the exhausted men made their way to the barracks.
Alden had put the army on high alert. An attack was imminent. Alden just wished he knew where that attack would come from. His greatest fear was to have to fight a war on all fronts. His army was well trained — he just wished it were bigger. This time he would not be able to call on the Breton army for help if he so needed it. They were on their own. But most of all he wished Merton was around to lead his men. No one could plan a battle like Merton could. Even James bowed down to Merton’s superior knowledge. Merton had a knack of turning the odds, no matter how stacked up they were against him, to his favour. Alden knew he was wrong to let Merton go. He should have known better.
“Where are you?” he whispered into the morning air as he looked back out at the moor. He had heard nothing further from Sampson and nothing at all from Yrre. He knew Yrre wouldn’t return until he had found Merton, but this waiting for news was killing him. What if Merton was lying injured, or worse still, dead in a ditch? He shook off such a notion. Merton wasn’t one to die in a ditch, on a battlefield perhaps, but not in a ditch. He closed his eyes and fancied he saw a muddy terrain and row upon row of unmarked graves. This image had haunted him for many years. It was one of his greatest fears that Merton would die in battle and he would be buried in some foreign land that Alden would never visit. Alden opened his eyes, determined to let the image go. Merton wasn’t dead. He would know in his heart if he were.
Merton was resourceful. Alden told himself this over and over again in a bid to block out the image of death that came all too easily to his troubled mind. These three words had become like a mantra. They were something to chant. Something to hold on to when he felt like he was losing hope of ever seeing his brother again. He would also reassure himself — Merton was known to go into hiding when the world got too much for him. He would turn up again when he was ready. Alden wished he could shake off the worry, but it was impossible. He should be out there searching, not stuck here, waiting. Waiting. That is all he seemed to do now. He was waiting for Merton. Waiting for war. He was sick of waiting. He was sick of putting on a pretence and pretending to the people that the extra security measures and the stocking of food were a precaution and that none of the rumours flying around the kingdom would come to anything. That was another reason why Annis being pregnant again was a good thing. It showed that he was confident. For what fool would get their wife with child before the onslaught of a battle that they could not hope to win? Only a du Lac. Alden grunted at the thought, who else would be so stupid?
“Merton,” he said his brother’s name again as if by saying his name it would somehow conjure him up. A horse and rider came into view, and he felt his hopes rise as he strained to see who the rider was. But as the horse came closer, he recognised the beast and its rider. It was James, back from patrol. Alden felt the now familiar sensation of disappointment. And he wondered how long it would take for him not to get his hopes up every time someone came riding down the road. Alden knew, deep down, that watching the road was as productive as waiting for a pot of water to come to the boil, and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop.
“Sire,” his wife’s voice called up from the courtyard, and Alden turned to look down at her. She held her hand out to him, and with a gentle smile he descended the steps and crossed towards her.
“It is too cold out here,” Annis complained as Alden took her into his arms and kissed the tip of her nose.
“We could go back to bed if you want?” Alden asked with hope in his eyes and a grin on his lips. He bent down and captured her lips in a quick but hard kiss.
“Is that all you ever think about?” Annis chastised, slapping him softly on the chest.
“Yes,” Alden stated honestly, catching her small hand in his and bringing it to his mouth. He kissed her palm and then closed her fingers over his kiss. If only his life were that simple. He didn’t want to think about the future, for it was too evasive and unpredictable. He wanted to hold on to this lighter moment with the woman he loved. “It is not my fault if you are so desirable.”
“I am fat,” Annis moaned, for she had never been given a chance to get rid of any of her baby fat because as soon as she birthed a child, it seemed she was carrying another.
“Mmm…” Alden said as he kissed her forehead. “It gives me something to hold on to when I make love to you.”
She stamped none too gently on his foot, and he laughed.
“Did I get that wrong?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he looked into her disapproving face. “You are not fat,” he stated, trying to win himself back into her favour. “Far from it. Apart from your knees — they are a little chubby,” he laughed at her expression, for the size of her knees had been an on-going joke that had not lost any of its appeal in the years they had been married. “Oh come on, Annis,” Alden said when he saw her pout. “You know I am joking. You are gorgeous, and I love you, warts and all.”
“I do not have warts,” Annis snapped, an angry blush appearing on her cheeks.
“Don’t you?” Alden asked with an air of innocence. “Why don’t we go back to your chamber, you can take off your clothes, and I’ll check, just to make sure.”
“Shh,” Annis said, mortified, as she pulled away from him in mock disapproval. “My knights are watching us.”
Alden looked to where Annis’ guards were. She never went anywhere without an armed escort — even after all these years as Queen. There were many inside the kingdom who wanted to be rid of the Saxon princess that their King had married. Alden didn’t take any chances with her life, or the lives of his children. They were too precious to him.
“Do you mind turning around?” Alden raised his voice and addressed the Knights. “I want to kiss my wife, and she doesn’t want you watching
.”
The Knights joked and chuckled with each other as they obeyed their King’s order.
Annis’ blush now rose to the roots of her hair. “I can’t believe you said that,” she said, clutching his tunic tightly with her fingers. “You are meant to be a king. You are supposed to set the example—”
“Oh shut up and kiss me,” Alden stated, slanting his mouth over hers before she could voice another complaint. It was here and only here, with Annis’ arms around him, her willing lips under his, that he could cast away his troubles and live for the moment. He would give up everything, if it were possible, to spend a lifetime lost in her kiss. By the time he released her, she was breathless and a little unsteady on her feet. Looking down at her, soft and compliant in his arms, he felt a terrible sense of foreboding. He feared there would come a time when he wouldn’t be able to hold her this close.
“Are you coming back to my Hall to eat?” Alden asked, saying nothing of the dark thoughts in his mind. He leant down and stole another kiss. “Or would you rather we take this back to your chamber?” his eyes sparkled at the suggestion.
“The children,” Annis gasped, as Alden found a very sensitive spot on the side of her neck with his lips, which he tried his best to exploit to his advantage.
“What about them?” Alden asked as he followed the line of her cheek with his lips.
“The baby needs feeding,” Annis sighed as she reluctantly pulled away from him.
“So does this one,” Alden said, placing his hand on her stomach.
Annis laughed softly. “Can you, for once, let me tell you when I am pregnant?” she complained.
“Sorry,” Alden said with a grin, he knew he had been right in his suspicion. “Do you have something you want to tell me, Lady Wife?”
“I think I might be pregnant,” Annis said with a soft smile.
“I know you are,” Alden said, hugging her close.
“I am scared, Alden,” Annis admitted, as she laid her head against his chest. “I have a terrible feeling that I can’t seem to shake off. Something bad is going to happen. I know it.”
Alden reached up and ran his hand through her hair, his finger caught in a curl, and he tugged.
She winced and glowered briefly up at him before settling her head back onto his chest. Her confession heightened his own sense of doom. “I will not let anything happened to you or our children,” he promised, instead of giving her reassurances that everything was going to be all right.
“Promise me you won’t go to war. Every time we are apart something bad happens to one of us.”
“I will never leave your side,” Alden promised. “Even if we are forced apart, for whatever reason, I will always remain close. I will never truly leave you because our hearts are one. I promised forever, sweetheart, and I meant it. No matter what life throws at us, never forget that.”
She raised her head so she could look in his face. “I love you,” she whispered desperately as if this was to be the last time she would ever be able to say it.
“I know you do,” Alden answered, and he forced himself to smile. “Go and get some food. You have to look after yourself. You are feeding two babies now. Unless I can convince you to have a wet nurse—”
“My baby has my milk,” Annis said firmly. “And that is final. I have fed a baby and carried another before, and none of us came to any harm. I’ll see you later, husband.”
“Food and rest,” Alden ordered as she began to walk away.
“Yes, Sire,” Annis said with a grin and a wicked wink that made him want to take her back into his arms again. He watched as she made her way back to her Hall, which was far smaller and a lot more homely than the Great Hall, which was where he was now destined to go.
Alden pinched a warm pastry from a tray one of the servants was carrying into the Hall as he too, made his way inside. The Hall smelt of sweaty, sleepy bodies and the air was stale. Alden ordered the doors to be thrown open. That would freshen the air and wake those who were still asleep. Alden pulled out a bench and sat down at the table as if he were a member of the court and not the king. For a while, he was content to watch his Hall come to life. Some of his courtiers slept on the Hall floor, others had beds elsewhere, but this was the place to gather in the morning. For everyone wanted to be in the presence of the king.
But Alden’s mind did not stay content for long. There was too much to think of and too much to worry about, and yet, he had to remain the picture of calm and act like a king without any concerns. He had to pretend that he had full control of a situation that he knew nothing about. What would Mordred do next? And how would he do it?
An elderly servant approached him with a plate full of pastries.
“Did you make these?” he asked the servant.
“No, Sire,” she answered, with a warm smile.
“Shame, I prefer yours.”
The servant rolled her eyes at his teasing, for she was long used to his ways. She curtseyed clumsily before hurrying off, for there were others to tend to this morning.
Alden chuckled to himself. He picked up another pastry and bit deep into it. Chewing slowly, he acknowledged several members of his court. He frowned when he realised that James had yet to show his face. He should have been back by now, and it was unusual for James to be late for anything that centred around food.
Think of the Devil and you shall see him, for that moment James entered the Hall and immediately made his way towards Alden. Several people tried to apprehend him on the way, but James would not be waylaid, and Alden felt a cold, fearful lump settle in his chest. He reached for the weak ale and took a hasty sip, hoping that perhaps it wasn’t fear, just indigestion.
James approached the table and sat down next to him. “He is here,” James whispered for his words were for Alden’s ears only.
“Who is here?” Alden asked, fearing that James was going to say that Mordred and boats full of armed men were anchored off the coast.
“The one you are seeking,” James said with a wink.
“He is here?” Alden asked loudly, dropping his ale onto the table with a clatter and a splash. Silence followed as a servant raced towards the table to clear up the mess and all eyes fell upon the king and the general.
“Him and a few others,” James said with a grin as Alden rose to his feet.
“Is he well?” Alden almost choked on the words, and his throat suddenly felt very dry. What would Merton be like? How would these long months have changed him? He recalled how Merton was before he left, he hoped that Merton’s time away would have helped him come to terms with his grief.
“Best you go outside and see for yourself, Sire.”
Alden couldn’t get out of the Hall fast enough. James made sure that no one else followed him. Some things were better kept private.
Alden saw Annis run towards the travel-weary group.
“Galahad!” she called Merton’s name and threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely and kissing him quite passionately on his battered cheek. Alden stopped, and for a moment he simply looked at Merton and his wife. Merton raised his head from Annis’ shoulder and their eyes connected. Merton gave him a very tired smile. But the expression in Merton’s eyes was the same as when he left — there was bleakness, a loss of hope.
Alden sighed out sharply and made himself return the welcome with a relieved smile. He forced his suddenly reluctant feet to move forward. He didn’t know how to act around Merton, not anymore. He didn’t know what to say.
“Where the hell have you been?” That wasn’t what he was planning to say, but the words were out now. Annis stepped aside and then without further words, Alden crushed his brother to him and held him as tightly as he could, fearing to let go in case Merton would vanish again.
“Christ!” Merton swore softly. “Watch my back,” he groaned in pain.
Alden loosened his hold, but he held on tight to his brother’s tunic. “I am in my right to shake the living daylights out of you. I have been worried sick
. I thought you were dead.”
“No you didn’t,” Merton contradicted with a grin that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “I am like a bad coin. I always turn up. You know that.”
“Don’t you ever do that again,” Alden ordered, pulling Merton back into his embrace. “Where have you been?”
“Some old hag fostered me,” Merton said with a grimace. “Alden, I am pleased to see you too, but you are hurting me.”
“Sorry,” Alden mumbled apologetically and released his brother from the embrace.
“This old woman, she looked after you?” Alden wanted to know all the details. He wanted to know everything.
“Yes. My horse ran off, and before you say anything, please, don’t ask. She found me on the moor and took me back to her house. She was a little strange, had a damn odd cat, but by God, she could cook,” Merton said with a grin.
“I can see you have put on weight. You look a darn sight better than when I last saw you,” Alden lied. If anything Merton looked worse. “Where is this saviour of yours?”
“Back at her house. She didn’t want to come with me although I did offer.”
“I will make sure she is compensated for her troubles.”
“No, you won’t. I will,” Merton said with determination and Alden knew better than to argue with him.
“Have you heard any news from Brittany?” Merton asked quietly.
“Nothing of consequence,” Alden replied, stepping away from his brother. This wasn’t the day to talk of Brittany. This was a day to celebrate Merton’s return. It was then he noticed that Merton carried a stick, and he recalled that Merton had complained about his back. He wondered if something else had befallen Merton since they were last together. “Let’s get you inside. You need to rest.”
“I do, and then we need to talk. I am going back to Brittany—”
“No,” Alden resolutely disagreed. There was absolutely no way he was going to allow his brother to go anywhere near the place. “Over my dead body.”
The Du Lac Princess: (Book 3 of The Du Lac Chronicles) Page 33
