Dream of Me/Believe in Me

by Josie Litton

  Krysta bit back the impulse to tell him she saw no betters and instead tried again to twist free. She had not thought he would lay hands on her and was shocked that he had done so. Although there were rooms nearby and people in them, she felt acutely vulnerable alone with him in the courtyard. He loomed very large over her, not so large as Hawk to be sure but threatening nonetheless. His grip on her arm hurt and she suspected he was bruising her.

  Yet she was not so foolish as to let him see her alarm. Calmly, she said, “Why do this, Lord Udell? There is nothing for you to gain.”

  He stared at her in surprise for a moment, then laughed sharply. “Do you always think that way, in terms of gain or loss?”

  She did not, but she kept that to herself. “It is a sensible enough way to think and by all reports you are a sensible man.”

  In fact, she had no idea whether anyone thought Lord Udell even remotely sensible but the notion seemed to please him. He eased his hold on her yet did not let go. “You have been speaking of me?”

  “Your sister speaks of you. She praises your power. And of course it is impossible to be at court even a short time without being aware of your stature.”

  This flattered him greatly. “Perhaps you are not as foolish as I thought if you have wit to perceive that.”

  Deliberately, she looked at his hand still fastened to her arm. “I also have wit to wonder why you do this. Why give the Hawk any excuse to come against you?”

  “Are you so certain that he would? You were not his choice, but rather chosen for him.”

  “It matters not. Would you allow another to take your property simply because you had not selected it for yourself?”

  “No, of course not, but—” He shook his head. “What a hardheaded creature you are, quite unlike most women. I wonder if Hawk has the sense to appreciate that.” Udell moved closer to her, his fingers caressing the skin he had bruised. “You have a wild look to you, that mass of hair I suppose, and those eyes. Is that deceptive? Or is there truly passion in you?” He bent his head, his lips brushing the curve of her cheek.

  Krysta suppressed a shiver of pure revulsion. She turned away, schooling her features to utter calm. To her dismay, Udell chuckled. “A valiant try, my lady.” He laid his hand just below her breast. “But I can feel how frantically your heart beats.”

  That he was so vain as to believe it beat with desire for him astounded Krysta but she took some comfort in knowing he did not sense her fear. That comfort fled in the next instant as Udell said huskily, “You are wasted in Essex. Hawk will never be anything but a mere retainer to the king. Surely, one so practical as yourself”—He lowered his head again and put his mouth to the slender column of her throat—“and so tempting can aspire to something higher.”

  The nausea she had experienced earlier in the day was returning with a vengeance. Krysta fought to contain it and to keep herself safe at the same time. “What is higher than a marriage to bring peace between two peoples?”

  Udell leaned back and looked at her. His eyes shone as though the two of them were sharing a joke. “Oh, to be sure, peace is to be sought above all else.” He caught a handful of her curls and crushed them in his fist. “But think, my lady, why should the Norse only make peace with Alfred, an aging king whose victories are in the past? Why should they not seek alliance with younger, more vigorous leaders?”

  “What leaders are equal in stature to Alfred who is king and whose son will be king after him? I hear of no others.”

  “Then you must learn to listen more carefully.” He dropped her hair but did not move away from her. Almost to himself, he said, “You really are oddly interesting. There's something about you….”

  Krysta had a very good sense that the “something” Udell found so intriguing was simply that she belonged to the Hawk, a man so far above him as to be the inevitable target of his bitter resentment and envy. But she was also vividly aware that whatever the cause, he was becoming aroused. Repugnance clawed at her and she made an instinctive effort to put distance between them.

  Udell caught her chin, twisting her face so that she had no choice but to look at him. “Don't be coy. It doesn't become you. Peace with the Norse has much to recommend it to any king, including of Mercia.”

  Through stiffened lips, Krysta said, “There is no king of Mercia.”

  He flushed slightly, his eyes gleaming. “Today there is not. Tomorrow—” He shoved her hard against the wall and put his hands to her gown, pulling up her skirts to bare her legs.

  “Wouldn't you rather be a queen than a mere lady?” he murmured as he ground himself against her.

  Her stomach truly was going to rebel, and wouldn't that be a surprise for the despicable Lord Udell? Tempted though she was to let it happen, Krysta remembered suddenly what Thorgold had told her.

  “There's men with black hearts, girl,” he had said in his gruff but loving way, “who care the earth for their own wants and pig spit for anyone else's. Do you meet one like that, ye keep yer wits about ye good, an' when they least expect it, ye—”

  Krysta took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and followed Thorgold's instructions precisely. The howl that erupted from Udell made the starlings nesting in the eaves flee into the sky.

  Doubled over, his face turning purple, he gasped, “You bitch! How dare you! I'll—” Belatedly, she realized that he was, for all his posturing, a warrior and as such well accustomed to pain. He lunged after her and she only just managed to elude his grip, but the door back into the corridor stuck as she tried to open it and for a horrible moment she thought she was undone.

  Until a blur of shining black and a raucous caw made her hope otherwise. A raven swooped into the courtyard, followed by another and another. Within moments, the air seemed filled with them as they dived and darted about Udell, pecking at him mercilessly. He screamed and tried to cover his head but to no avail. Rivulets of blood ran down his face and still the attack continued.

  Krysta stood frozen in horror for a moment before her own peril drove her on. This time, the door yielded and she tumbled into the corridor even as Udell fell to the ground in the courtyard, writhing desperately in his efforts to keep the ravens from his eyes. His screams disturbed the hushed sanctity of the royal school. Doors began to open up and down the corridor as students and masters alike emerged to see what was happening.

  Krysta did not wait to be seen by them but lifted her skirts and ran swift as the wind. She kept going until she came skittering around a corner and into the great hall. There she stopped abruptly for although it was not yet time to dine, there were people present. As curious eyes turned in her direction, she struggled to appear calm and composed.

  To her immense relief, Hawk was there. She almost sobbed to see him and hurried to his side without thought, only to be shocked when he took a step back and stared at her coldly. “I was looking for you,” he said. “Come with me.”

  He strode from the hall and into the well of the stairs leading to the guest quarters. Krysta trailed after him. Glad though she was to be away from the scrutiny of others, she found no comfort in the harsh gaze he turned on her the moment they were alone.

  “You went to the queen.”

  There was no mistaking that as anything other than an accusation. Still dazed by Udell's attack, she scrambled to defend herself. “I did not go to her. I was ill and Eahlswith kindly cared for me. It was the impulse of the moment to tell her what was in my heart, that is all.”

  “I am to believe you did not think she would tell the king and he tell me?”

  “Believe as you will, but no, I did not consider what she would do. Perhaps I should have.”

  “Without doubt you should have. Does it please you, lady, to know that now Alfred thinks you may be better suited to an abbey than to marriage with me? Does your heart rejoice at news that he has spoken to me of finding another bride?”

  In truth, her heart felt near to breaking but she tried valiantly to shore it up. This was what she had known must be.
Why then did it shock so deeply that her very soul cried out in protest?

  “There is no joy in this, my lord. If you believe otherwise, you are sorely mistaken.” She turned away, determined he would not see her anguish. Hawk reached out to stop her and gripped the same arm Udell had bruised. Krysta cried out and an instant later found herself free.

  “Is my touch now so repugnant to you?” he demanded, his face hard with anger and something else that looked very much like grief.

  She truly had not thought of the consequences when she spilled her thoughts to Eahlswith and that was not a mistake Krysta would make again. If she told what had happened with Udell, she had no doubt that Hawk would go after him, his anger at her notwithstanding. Could she prevent it, she would not be the cause of any such confrontation.

  “I am merely tired,” she said and knew it for the weak response it was.

  He looked at her for a long moment, his features taut and his eyes so shadowed she could not see into them. When the silence had drawn bow-tight between them, he turned and without another word walked away from her.

  THREE DAYS PASSED. DAYS OF SILENT MISERY FOR Krysta in which each moment seemed to hang endlessly before sinking, one more drop, into the ever-widening pool of her unhappiness. The door between her room and Hawk's remained closed. Though they sat near each other at the high table each evening, they retired separately and without a word to each other.

  Udell did not approach her again although several times she caught him looking at her with such deadly intent as to make the fine hairs at the nape of her neck rise in warning. She had made an enemy there and knew she might well live to regret it.

  Eahlswith, however, remained a friend. Each morning, the queen sent a tray with a dry husk of bread and an infusion of chamomile, which soothed Krysta's troubled stomach due, no doubt, to her anguish over Hawk. She was quite certain he was the cause but she did not blame him for it. Indeed, she could blame him for nothing, for it was her own relentless conscience that had plunged them into such conflict.

  Raven and Thorgold were about, and she caught glimpses of them from time to time, but neither came near. How dearly she would have welcomed their company for never in her life had Krysta felt so alone. In the midst of the crowded court, always with the queen and her ladies, she felt as though she existed in a hollowed-out world that held only herself.

  And perhaps also Esa, who could not contain her good cheer and who seemed to be everywhere at once. She was a figure of such relentless gaiety that people began to look at her with some wonderment as they speculated about the cause. By the third day, Krysta realized that such discussions broke off whenever she approached. She was the recipient of quick, sympathetic looks that set her teeth on edge.

  To her disgust, she began to look for times when Esa and Hawk were together and quickly wished she had not, for such occurrences were all too frequent. When the court rode out to hunt, Esa maneuvered her mount next to Hawk's. Later, when Hawk and his men joined some of Alfred's on the training field beyond the town, Esa took her ladies and went to picnic nearby. Krysta caught sight of them from the queen's solar and rolled her eyes at the thought of fighting men being the object of such frivolous attention. But perhaps they liked it, for did not all men have a soft spot for flattery? Miserable at the thought that Hawk might actually enjoy Esa's simpering presence, Krysta withdrew and spent the rest of the afternoon sunk in sorry thoughts. That evening, in the great hall before they took their seats, Esa approached Hawk and engaged him in conversation. It seemed one-sided to be sure, for he appeared to respond in monosyllables, but she laughed gaily nonetheless, as though they were of one lighthearted mind.

  Krysta put on a brave face until the meal was winding down and she gratefully took her leave. She slept poorly that night and woke the next morning determined to speak with Hawk. That he believed she had in some way betrayed him was no longer to be borne.

  Finding him proved difficult as she was unwilling to go about asking if anyone knew his whereabouts. There was already far too much fodder for the gossip mill. She was walking toward the stables, thinking to see if his favorite stallion was there, when the frantic yelping of a dog brought her up short. As the animal's cries of pain increased, she turned in the direction of the sound and quickly found its cause.

  One of the hunting dogs had been taken out of its pen and was being severely beaten with a stick. The sight shocked her, for she had never permitted any mistreatment of the animals on her lands. The very thought that a helpless creature would be so abused horrified her. The pitiful animal crouched low, whimpering for mercy in between blows. Krysta started forward without thought, anxious to stop the cruelty, only to realize suddenly that the enraged man wielding the stick was none other than Lord Udell. His face shone dark red and a twisted sneer distorted his features. He seemed completely out of control as he struck the dog furiously, again and again.

  “Stop!” Heedless of her own safety, Krysta darted forward. She was convinced he would beat the animal to death.

  “Stop it! You're going to kill him!”

  Taken by surprise, Udell made to shove her aside. When he recognized her, his eyes dilated wildly. “Bitch! Get the hell away from me or—”

  The threat was never uttered, for the dog, no longer cringing beneath blows, sank his teeth into his tormentor's ankle. As Udell howled and tried to kick the animal away, the stick came loose in his hands. Krysta was wrenching it from him when it slipped between her fingers and slashed across Udell's face.

  At that, everything seemed to happen at once. Udell screamed, trying to stem the flow of blood from the wound that ran from his forehead down his left cheek and just missed his eye, while hopping about on his one uninjured ankle. The dog disappeared around a corner of the stable. Several grooms ran out to see what was happening. Hard on their heels, a group of nobles returned from a ride, among them Lady Esa. She took one look at the scene and commenced shrieking.

  “Murderers! Someone has tried to kill Lord Udell! Merciful God, what infamy! In the very house of the king! Help! Help!”

  She flung herself off her horse and at her brother, knocking him to the ground where he lay, groaning and bleeding. Others clustered around, the ladies adding to the cacophony with their own shrieks as the lords drew their daggers and shouted orders to one another to defend against the imagined assailant.

  Krysta observed all this with blank astonishment. Granted, Udell had been injured but he was hardly in threat of his life. Moreover, although she'd had no intention of hurting him, she rather thought he deserved it for his treatment of the dog. Assuming that eventually someone among the dozen or so people clustered about him would decide to stop shouting and render him aid, she turned to go. But just as she did, Udell surged to his feet, a blood-drenched hand still clutching his face, and yelled, “She did it! That's the bitch! Stop her!”

  At once, several of the lords advanced on Krysta, not touching her for they were yet mindful that she was the betrothed of the Hawk, but preventing her from escaping. One reached over and yanked the stick from her hand, grinning with satisfaction as he brandished it. “She is caught with the very weapon she used still in her hand!”

  “She attacked me!” Udell declared with an air of astounded affront. “I had trouble with my dog and while I was seeing to him, she leaped upon me with that stick. It is true what they say, all Vikings are savages.”

  “You were beating your dog!” Krysta exclaimed. “I merely tried to stop you and you were struck by the same stick you were wielding against that poor animal.”

  Udell straightened, letting his hand fall to reveal the jagged wound on his face. He looked around at the assembled lords and ladies, all hanging eagerly on his every word. “A man has not the right to chastise his own dog? What a strange tale she weaves to try to excuse herself.”

  Remembering what had passed between her and Udell four days before, and well aware that he held more against her than the wound to his face, Krysta belatedly recognized her peril.
Lords and ladies of Mercia, all no doubt loyal to Udell, surrounded her. No one else was about save for the grooms clustered off to one side and she did not expect they would risk the rage of such powerful nobles for her sake.

  “It is a crime to strike a lord,” Udell said. He advanced on Krysta with an ugly smile. “You will find my wergild is among the highest in the land. I do hope your dowry is large enough to cover it. Of course, if it isn't, Hawk will have to pay the difference.” The thought made him laugh with relish and the others quickly joined in, all save Esa, who pushed her way to the front of the group. She glared at Krysta with gloating malice.

  “But, my brother, what is this you say? Only the nobility can pay the prescribed fine for such an offense. Servants and slaves pay an altogether different kind of penalty.”

  Udell looked genuinely surprised, as did everyone else save Krysta, who knew in a horrified heartbeat that somehow Esa already had news of what Sven had said at Hawkforte. A moment later, the lady confirmed it.

  Pointing to Krysta, she said, “This one's own half-brother came all the way from Vestfold to denounce her.”

  She paused dramatically. “He proclaimed her the unnatural child of his poor benighted father and a creature of the sea.” Before the shocked gasps died away, Esa continued. “Oh, yes, I know, it is too horrible to contemplate, but he swore it was true. He disowned her, declaring she has no family and no dowry. Indeed, he refused to let her return to his lands and instead gave her to Lord Hawk as servant or slave! This he did declare before all the folk of Hawkforte.”

  Far from pleased with this news, Udell appeared dumbfounded. “How do you know this?” he demanded suspiciously.

  Esa shrugged as though the answer should be obvious. “Would news like this stay in Hawkforte? Just this morning I heard it from a merchant who has my custom. But I warrant before nightfall it will be known through all of Winchester and by tomorrow there will not be a mewling babe in Wessex who does not know it.”

  “That won't mean the knowing is worth anything,” Udell said. He turned on Krysta, his face dark and hate-filled. “Is this true, woman? Are you not lady but servant, say even slave?”