by Jody Hedlund
With the darkness of the forest growing ever thicker and blacker, I bent and kissed Emmeline’s head. Content in the sling, Emmeline nestled against me, which filled me with a new sense of peace.
I might not be able to oust King Ethelwulf and change the entire direction of the rule he’d set in motion, but I could do my small part to take care of Emmeline. By pouring my life into her, maybe one day my dedication and efforts would lead her to do something greater. I could only pray so.
Whatever the case, God had given me this role as Emmeline’s caregiver. I would embrace the task and do my best to shape the princess into the kind of young woman the queen would have wanted.
In the meantime, I needed to relinquish my desire for Lance’s love. I had to accept that he, too, was fulfilling his God-given role in taking care of Emmeline. Without her, we’d have no reason to be married. He certainly wouldn’t have met me or spoken with me or spent time with me.
Emmeline was the only thing keeping us together. I couldn’t let myself forget that.
Chapter
15
LANCE
WE TRAVELED ALL evening and night, stopping only when necessary. My injured leg ached, but I refused to allow it to impede our flight into Inglewood Forest as far away from the woodcutters and the rest of civilization as we could go.
Sister Katherine had sketched a map of the deserted charcoal burner’s cottage. I’d committed the route to memory but hadn’t anticipated the path would be so overgrown and difficult to traverse. What should have taken only another day dragged much longer.
After the encounter with the woodcutters, I was more anxious than before to find our secluded home where we would have little chance of running into anyone. While Felicia’s intervention might have worked this time, I didn’t have faith that our charade would have the same results the next time we met someone. Too many others would also suspect I was a former king’s guard. Upon closer examination, they’d also discover Felicia was no peasant woman.
We would have to remain anonymous and secluded for as long as we could. Perhaps for years. Thankfully, I’d been trained to survive under the most rudimentary of circumstances. But life would be harsher than I’d anticipated, and with each step deeper into the untamed forest, I regretted I’d agreed to bring Felicia into such an existence.
We said little to each other as we traveled. I told myself I needed to stay focused on the trail and prevent us from getting lost. Felicia, too, was quieter than usual, her attention fixed upon Emmeline. Although she regarded me with kindness and respect, I could sense a new reserve that hadn’t been there before. It was for the best, I tried to tell myself, as was the hurt I’d caused her the day we’d kissed. Even if I hated that I’d brought her pain, it had served to rebuild the boundaries between us.
I love you. Felicia’s words came back unbidden all too often, as did the memory of our kisses. But each time I reminded myself of the danger in feeling things for her. My commanders had been right when they’d said such emotions made soldiers weak. That’s what had happened when I’d allowed myself to kiss Felicia and luxuriate in her nearness. I’d dozed and put her and Emmeline at great risk. The children playing nearby could have discovered us. Moreover, we most certainly would have been hidden before meeting the woodcutters. Even now, I feared the men had figured out my true identity and alerted Ethelwulf.
Aye, we’d all be better off if I put all thoughts of loving Felicia from my mind and if she did likewise.
By mid-morning of our second day of pushing deeper into the forestland, I finally found the steep ravine Sister Katherine had mentioned. The rocks lengthened in both directions and seemed impassable. I had to examine every crevice before I found the cavern hidden behind hanging ivy. Following the nun’s careful instructions, we made our way through the cave and its narrow passageway, which eventually led uphill and opened onto the opposite side of the gorge.
I realized then that the rocky area would serve as a natural barrier for anyone who might search for us. At the very least, it would shield us from most wanderers and keep us secluded.
After several more hours, we stumbled upon an overgrown clearing. At the sight of an abandoned—though severely dilapidated—cottage I nearly fell to my knees in relief. It was concealed by blackthorn and covered by ivy so that it blended in with the woodland, making it the perfect hiding place.
“We’re here.” I led the mule and goat past a well that appeared to contain water.
Felicia’s shoulders were slumped and her head bent, and she’d tied herself to the pommel to keep from slipping off. With one arm cradling Emmeline in the sling and the other tangled in the mule’s mane, she slowly lifted her head. She blinked but couldn’t seem to focus. Her head drooped again, and this time she started to slide sideways off the mule. The rope around her arm caught her and dug into her sleeve, keeping her astride.
Something wasn’t right, and my pulse began to knock a dreadful beat. I rushed to her side, and the moment I touched her, I realized she was burning up with fever.
I worked frantically day and night in my attempts to save Felicia, but she remained feverish. My only guess was that she’d eaten or drunk something her delicate body hadn’t been able to handle. I’d seen roughened soldiers waste away under the same conditions, nothing to be done for them except pray.
I rebuked myself for not having noticed Felicia’s malady sooner, but I’d been so focused on trying to get us out of harm’s way that I’d once again neglected her well-being, not that I could have done much to prevent the illness from spreading into her body. At least I could have made her more comfortable.
Thankfully, the cottage provided basic accommodations. Although the structure needed many repairs, Sister Katherine had been correct in saying it was well built and sturdy. The upper level was a dormer loft filled with nothing more than cobwebs and raccoon nests, as well as an abandoned loom.
The main floor consisted of two rooms—a bed chamber and a larger living area with a spacious hearth, trestle table with benches, several rickety stools, and a cabinet that was falling apart but that I would easily be able to fix.
With the chinking between the stones crumbling away, the interior wall gave up its secret too easily, and I discovered a hidden cupboard. After cutting open the lock, I’d been surprised to find a wealth of books and scrolls. Except for yellowing and brittle pages, they’d withstood the passing of time and would hopefully keep us company in the days and years to come.
Unfortunately, the linens and other woven items hadn’t fared as well. Mice and moth had chewed through many of the rugs, towels, and blankets that appeared to have once been of solid construction. Tableware and crocks were chipped. Pots and pans were rusted.
With some scrubbing, I was able to clean one pot enough to heat water to boiling. More than anything, I was thankful for the wild, overgrown remains of an herb garden with medicinal plants at full growth, some of which I recognized and could use in teas and decoctions.
Between caring for Emmeline and Felicia, I slept and ate little. As Felicia thrashed in her delirium and began to fade, desperation took residence in my heart. I sat long hours by her side, holding her in one arm and Emmeline in the other. Though I had done everything I could to save Felicia and everything I’d ever learned about caring for the sick, I could do no more.
My helplessness galled me. I was accustomed to success—to being the strong one, always protecting, always saving, always knowing what to do. Yet I now found myself in a strange new situation where all my efforts were for naught. Neither my soldier’s training nor my strength could save Felicia.
She shuddered in my arms, her body convulsing with chills.
I gently placed Emmeline into a nearby crate I’d lined with fresh leaves and grass. Then I pulled Felicia against me on my pallet in front of the hearth, cradling her, wanting to soothe her. I brushed a kiss against her hot forehead, wishing I could take her fever into my own body, wanting to suffer for her.
“God,” I
whispered as I stared unseeingly at the glowing coals. “I haven’t wanted to rely upon anyone, have only leaned upon my own strength and determination. But I have nothing left. I can do no more.”
The admission brought the sting of heat to the back of my eyes. I’d tried to be strong enough for all of us, but in my own strength I’d failed.
My thoughts returned to my father, to something he’d said after one particularly hard day at the smelter. We’d had to stand helplessly by while another worker was blasted by an exploding furnace, covered in hot slag, and roasted alive beneath the bright-orange coating.
I’d been young and angry and questioned how my father could endure his own suffering in addition to watching others suffer day after day. “How can you stand it?” I’d asked.
“I can’t stand in my own strength,” he’d replied. “We were never meant to live in our own strength alone.”
I knew now as I’d known then that my father depended upon God for strength and guidance in a way I never had. Was this what it took? Coming to the end of my own strength before I’d finally learn I needed more than what I had?
I buried my face in Felicia’s long hair.
Not only did I need God’s power to help me stand strong in the face of adversity, but I needed others too. I needed Felicia.
You have made apparent enough the fact that you need no one but yourself. Her words came back to taunt me.
“I was wrong,” I said against her ear. “I do need you.”
If she would but awaken and live, I vowed I’d show her my need for her.
“Please.” I wrapped her in my arms, praying my strength would flow through her. “Return to me.”
The ache in my chest had been swelling with each passing day, and now it pressed hard against my lungs and rib cage. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Felicia, of not having her in my life, of living here alone with only Emmeline.
I could no longer deny the truth. I loved Felicia. And I should have told her so the day she’d made her declaration to me. In fact, I should have told her the day I’d married her. Even more, I should have said the words when she’d awakened me with her kiss when I’d been fighting off death’s hold.
Sister Agnes had called it “true love’s kiss.” I didn’t know if such a kiss was somehow enchanted. More likely the kiss was a summoning, a beckoning, a pleading that resonated deep within the soul of the dying, urging that person to fight back and return to the arms of the one giving the kiss.
I leaned away from Felicia so I could see her face. Her dark lashes rested against pale cheeks. I’d do anything to see her beautiful green eyes one more time. If for no other reason, I needed to awaken her for a last moment to tell her I loved her. She deserved at least that.
With the swell of emotion rising into my throat, I bent and pressed my lips against hers. She didn’t move, and I didn’t expect her to. Nevertheless, I kissed her with the love I’d harbored but had been too afraid to acknowledge because I’d been too cowardly to admit my need for her.
At some point, the kiss deepened. I wasn’t sure when I realized she was responding, that her lips had melded to mine and that she was kissing me back with a fervor almost as desperate as mine.
As the awareness of her consciousness penetrated my haze, I broke the kiss. My breathing labored as I examined her.
“Do not stop,” she whispered before her lashes slowly rose. Though tired, her eyes were clear and tender. And utterly beautiful.
I ran my fingers over her face. Although she was flushed, I could sense a change in her body. Even if she was still listless, her shivering had ceased. I dropped my fingers to the pulse in her neck. Though it was weak, it was thudding steadier.
My throat constricted. She’d listened to me and had come back. I forced out the words I could no longer contain. “I love you.”
Her eyes widened. “You do not have to say it—”
“I have loved you since the first time you kissed me,” I admitted. “I was wrong not to tell you. And I was wrong not to act upon it. But if you stay with me, I’ll never again make that mistake.”
“But Emmeline, she’s our priority—”
“And she still will be,” I assured her.
“I understand that you don’t want to be distracted from your task.”
“God’s shown me I was never meant to do this by myself, in my own strength.”
Felicia examined my face as though she needed to test the sincerity of what I was saying. I could only pray she’d find what she was looking for there. I’d pushed her away, and I didn’t deserve to have her again, but I was determined to win her and this time keep her.
“What if our love for each other makes us stronger together?” I asked, voicing a question even though I already knew the answer. “And what if our love for each other will only make Emmeline all the stronger and happier?”
She hesitated. “If Emmeline left us today, would you still want to be with me?”
“Aye. Always.”
“Truly?”
I nodded. “God brought us together for her sake. If the day comes when she no longer needs us, then He’ll have something different for us to do. Together.”
She smiled. Though it was weak, it was the most beautiful sight in the world. She studied me a moment before glancing around the darkened room, illuminated only by the soft glow of the dying fire. The cottage was still dusty and full of cobwebs and falling apart in many places.
Anxiety pinched my lungs. With this first glimpse of our new home, would she regret coming with me to be a charcoal burner’s wife? Now faced with the reality of our poverty, deprivation, and isolation, would she resent me and this new life?
“Our new home,” she said softly.
“It’s in disarray. But it’s bigger and has more than I thought it would. I’ll be able to repair and make most things workable in time.”
She pushed up to one elbow and scanned the room until her gaze came to rest upon Emmeline in her crate next to us. She watched the little girl’s sleeping face before dropping back to the pallet and closing her eyes.
My airways constricted even further. What else could I say to reassure Felicia? “I promise I’ll do everything I can to make you and Emmeline happy.”
Her eyes opened and met mine. “I am already happy.”
“But this place . . .”
“As long as we are together, I shall not need anything else. You are all I need.”
Relief and joy welled up deep inside, and I whispered a silent prayer of gratitude that God had granted me another chance to do things right. “Aye. And I need you. I don’t want to live without you.” The words didn’t come easily, but I knew them to be true. I not only wanted her, but I needed her.
At my confession, her lips curved into a smile. “I must be dreaming.”
“Nay.” I caressed her cheek. “This is no dream.”
“You are right. This is no dream,” she teased softly. “Rather, I believe I have died and gone to heaven.”
I grinned, my chest expanding with love. “Are you saying that lying in my arms is heavenly?”
“Perhaps,” she bantered.
“You don’t sound confident.”
“If you would like my confidence to grow, there is one thing to help it along.”
“And what is that?” I caressed her other cheek.
“You must kiss me again. And again.”
I bent in and brushed my nose against hers. “I can do that, my lady,” I whispered. And then I met her lips and showed her that I could. And that I would. Always.
Chapter
16
KING ETHELWULF
I SAT ON the throne. My throne. Right where I belonged. I fingered the cool gold overlay and imagined my great-grandfather, King Alfred the Peacemaker, smiling down on me from heaven. He would be satisfied a rightful heir had taken the throne after decades of usurpers.
The great hall of Delsworth, the old capital city of the once united kingdom of Bryttania, was not any
thing special. The tall walls were washed in dull white lime, and the tapestries that hung throughout the hall were too plain. The rushes on the floor were old. The hounds too skinny. And the food bland.
Soon a ship bringing my wife and infant sons would arrive. And the new and rightful queen would decorate the royal residence befitting my status as ruler of Mercia and Warwick.
I’d call myself King Ethelwulf the Great since I had been the one to reunite the country and would return it to the world leader and power it had once been, especially after I located the ancient Solomon’s treasure. Not only would I be the strongest leader, but with the treasure, I would become the wisest, wealthiest, and healthiest in the world.
The problem was I couldn’t find the keys to the treasure anywhere. I’d had every royal residence meticulously searched, and I still couldn’t locate the keys. I’d begun to fear the usurper king had destroyed them when he’d realized he was conquered.
The line of Mercia’s nobility waiting to pay me homage stretched down the length of the hall and out the doors. They were a quiet lot and feared me, as they rightly should. As with any new ruler, I had to command order and loyalty from the highest in the land down to the lowliest. If my measures were strict and at times deadly, it was only to ensure my great-grandfather’s kingdom would thrive and grow even more powerful.
I nodded, the indication my guard should usher the next nobleman up the dais into my presence. My scribe would read me the information he’d collected about the noble family and I’d listen to the nobleman defend himself as well as share how he planned to contribute to the newly united kingdom. Then I’d make my decision on whether to allow the nobleman and his family to live.
My executioners had been busy over the past weeks. Though I’d heard whispers the streets of Delsworth ran red with the blood of the people I’d condemned, such pruning was necessary for the stability of the kingdom. Besides, most of the convicted had been captured soldiers and the king’s elite guard. There was no question such warriors had to be eliminated. I couldn’t chance keeping a single one alive. Nor could I allow anyone who defended or sheltered a soldier to go unpunished.
