Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy

by Jo Beverley

  Oh no. Would the Blessed Virgin expect her to fight a Viking for it?

  "A well made piece," he said, assessing it with a pirate's eye. "And worth a bagful of money. What is it doing here?"

  "Hera brought it for me," Alfrida said, not seeming to mind his taking it. Besotted fool! "A gift."

  When he looked at Hera, Magnus's blue eyes were somewhat suspicious. "So, Wulfhera of Froxton, why such a hazardous journey to bring your sister a Yule gift?"

  Hera quickly thought up a lie. "It's a tradition of ours. The older sister gives it to the younger on the eldest's twentieth birthday." Surely there'd be no reason for Alfrida to deny the story, or to tell Magnus that Hera's birthday was in March.

  Alfrida held her tongue, but the Dane still looked suspicious. And why not? It was a foolish tale. He put the pendant over Alfrida's head, however, so the Star shone brightly against her red gown.

  Hera said a short prayer of thanks. She should have trusted heaven. Now all should be well.

  "Happy birthday, Hera," Alfrida said, with a private, disbelieving look.

  Hera decided she might as well play her part of concerned sister to the full. "Do you wish to stay here, Alfrida? I'm sure if you wanted to return to Froxton, Lord Magnus would not stop you."

  "A Viking give up the spoils of war?" the Dane remarked.

  Hera suddenly turned to him. "Did you tell the truth? About Edith?"

  "You shouldn't question a man's word, woman."

  "Very well. I believe you. So tell the truth about this. What did happen to Edith?"

  He bellowed for ale, and it was rushed to him in a huge, ornate drinking horn which he half drained in one gulp.

  "That weeping, wingeing, whiffle of a woman. I never expected to take Acklingham. Raid a few of the outlying places. Perhaps squeeze a bit of tribute to go away. But no. At the first burning building, she orders the gates flung open and greets me on her knees, pleading that no one be hurt. What kind of behavior is that?"

  Hera and Alfrida shared a glance. Hera wondered if Raef knew this story, or believed it. Surely he'd have to believe it. It was so typical of Edith. Not complete cowardice—it doubtless had taken courage to face Magnus and plead for peace—but stupidity. A weakness of mind that quailed over little sufferings and thus walked into greater ones.

  She also noted a distinct complaint in Magnus's voice. Was it possible that he didn't really want Acklingham and the trouble it brought him?

  "But who raped her?" Hera asked, surprised to find herself talking to the Dane as if he were a reasonable man. Astonished to find that perhaps she might like him.

  "None of my men. For my own honor's sake, I kept to her terms. No one here has been hurt. Some of us, it is true, have found sweet bed companions," he said, with a smile at Alfrida, "but not by force."

  Hera wanted to scold her sister for accepting such a description, and she wondered when the Star would start working and push him into love. "Who, then?" she asked.

  "She ran away," he said, finishing the ale and wiping his hairy mouth with his big hand. "I admit I didn't stop her. I'd planned to keep her as a useful hostage against the time Raefnoth came to attack so we'd get extra gold before retreat. But by Woden, the woman wearied me. Not only did she not want rape here, she didn't want any unblessed unions. She was constantly at my feet, weeping and wailing and begging me to enforce Christian rules. As if this was a monastery, and we all monks!"

  He looked not so much angry as bewildered. "And she couldn't bear to see food that looked like an animal. No leg or rib, even. She screamed when offered a fish with the head still on, and fainted right into her dish when the cooks brought out a boar's head. Since the day she came to be lady here, or so they tell me, no one had eaten anything but sliced meats or stews. Mad. And her husband was mad not to have beaten it out of her."

  Hera had never realized Edith's squeamishness had gone that far, though she did remember once finding her throwing up because of the pigs roasting on spits for a feast.

  Clearly Raef's love had been strong enough to overlook all her faults.

  "You're saying that she ran away because of this and was attacked somewhere between here and Froxton?"

  "That's all I can say. She should have been in little danger. You made the trip without harm, as did Alfrida. It's typical of that woman that she couldn't even walk a league safely. Even so, I gather she didn't die of it."

  "She did. It drove her to kill herself."

  "Women's talk. Her body recovered and her man was ready to take her back. What cause to hasten death? Enough of this. The thought of her sours my stomach."

  Hera could argue with him about the effects of rape, but what was the point? She believed his story, but she doubted Raef would. Was there any chance of ending this without bloodshed?

  She'd try the direct way first.

  "Thank you for telling me," she said. "Now I have done what I came here to do, you can let me and Thegn Raefnoth go."

  He laughed. "You think me as big a fool as Edith? You're two big fat bags of gold if nothing else, and you'll both spend the night here while I consider your price. But to show good will, Little Sister,"—he reached out and tweaked one of her long plaits—"I'll let you join our Yule feast."

  "Yule?" she said, trying to think of a way to change things. "I thought you were Christian, Lord Magnus."

  "Even for Christians, the wheel turns. It's nature's way, and there's no sin in celebrating nature."

  "But for Christians, it's still Advent. I'm fasting."

  He smiled, but it no longer held a twinkle. "It is not for you to choose whether to feast or fast here, Wulfhera of Froxton."

  "I'm a true Christian, Magnus Ravenbringer. I will keep the Advent fast until Christmas Day."

  "I'm a true Christian too, Wulfhera of Froxton, and we celebrate Yule. And you will feast with us."

  "You cannot make me eat more than I choose!"

  "I can make you eat your toes," he roared, "if I wish to!"

  Hera gulped and stepped back, making the sign of the Cross. How could she have forgotten what he was? She could well imagine him chopping off her toes and forcing them into her mouth.

  "Magnus," Alfrida said, taking hold of his big, tense arm, and cooing at him. "Don't let Hera anger you. She's a postulant to the convent at Herndon, and takes these religious matters very seriously. And you know," she said, placing a hand on his big chest, "I'd be very unhappy if you mistreated her."

  Hera watched, expecting rage at this blatant manipulation, perhaps even a blow. But the big man melted. That was the only way to describe it. His bunched muscles relaxed, and the smile came back, making his thick moustache twitch and ripple as he looked dotingly down at Alfrida.

  The Star, Hera thought. Now shining on Alfrida's breast, it was working. Blessed Mary be thanked.

  But then another thought poked her mind. Would the Star have worked for her if she'd worn it openly? Would Raef have looked so dotingly…

  "A nun, eh?" Magnus's voice broke into her wistful thoughts, and for all his sweetness to Alfrida, he didn't sound mellow about Hera. "A nun and yet so fond of a man? What is Thegn Raefnoth to you, Lady Wulfhera?"

  Hera knew her face was red. "A dear friend."

  "You're a fool or a liar, woman. And you will not feast?"

  She thought of giving in, tempted by pure weariness, but it would be a sin of cowardice. Like Edith. "I will not."

  He snorted with displeasure, but it didn't sound vicious. "I'll have no long faces at my feasting table, Little Nun. Ho!" At his bellow, two burly men rushed up. "Seize her!"

  Even Alfrida cried a protest, but he ignored them both.

  "Advent is a time for penance, eh, Sister? Yule, the turning of the sun, is good time to find out where your calling truly lies. Go spend time with the dear friend you overruled and betrayed. If he beats you, it will save me the trouble."

  "What? No!" But Hera's screamed protests did no good as she was forced toward the hall door, feet scrabbling to run in the ot
her direction. She threw a pleading look toward her sister, but knew Alfrida couldn't change this.

  Her sister did run over, however, pulling off the Star. She flung it over Hera's head. "Pray Mary it protect you!"

  "No, Alfrida!" Hera cried, terrified for her sister without the Star's powers, but she was already being virtually carried across the muddy yard toward a shed.

  She looked at it with horror, heart thundering with panic. They couldn't lock her in with Raef! He truly might kill her for what she'd done!

  One big man easily confined her, while the other lifted the iron bar that sealed the door. There was already a third man standing guard, so when her captor shoved her into the dark shed, she had no chance to do anything except try to keep to her feet. The door thumped shut behind her, and the bar rattled solidly into place.

  Chapter Seven

  "Well, well." It was Raef's bitter voice. "The traitorous wolf."

  The walls were split-logs, well caulked, but narrow vents had been left up near the eaves. They let in a glimmer of the evening light, showing an empty room, and his shape, sitting against one wall. Watching him as if he were a dangerous animal, she edged toward the opposite wall, as far away as possible, and sank down to sit on the earthen floor, quivering with fear.

  "I had to get the Star to Alfrida, Raef. I told you that."

  "And now you've done it, is the world a better place?"

  "It's working. Magnus dotes on her." She put her hand, however, to the jewel now hanging around her own neck. Was Alfrida safe?

  "Then why are you here?"

  "I refused to join in the Yule feast. This is his punishment." She rubbed the smooth stone between fingers and thumb, worrying about her sister. In the story, however, Miriam had let the stone go once all was right with her world. Did it only need to work once?

  "With the help of the Star," she said, almost to herself, "perhaps Alfrida can persuade him to let us go. In the morning."

  She hardly saw Raef move before he slammed into her, hands biting into her shoulders. Her head bashed against the wall as he drove her to the floor.

  "Raef!" she choked out.

  "Persuade!" he snarled, shaking her so her teeth clashed. "Let us go! If not for you, he'd be dead, or I would. Honorably!"

  "Stop it! You'll live to fight again. To-"

  "I'm a prisoner in my own home!" But he flung himself away to crouch nearby, hands over head. "Brought here bound and gagged. I'd rather be dead."

  "Raef, I'm sorry...." Hera sat up, wincing, rubbing her bruised shoulders, but with no solace for a heart in pieces. What had she done to him?

  "But I can't wish you dead," she whispered, thinking perhaps she was as silly as Edith at heart. "I can never wish that. And...." She hesitated about saying it, but perhaps it would help. "I was told to bring the Star of the Magi here to Alfrida. I think it was the Holy Mother speaking."

  He slowly pushed to his feet, but facing away. "That's just an old story you put into a song."

  "The stone does look as if a star is trapped inside." She lifted the stone and looked down, but the light had faded almost to nothing by now, and even the Star of the Magi showed no fire. She let it drop to hang against her chest. "And I found it in a fish."

  He turned to her, and as best she could tell the fury had burned down. "Women's folly. If it was that magical Star of the Magi why wouldn't it be intended for you?"

  "I went to pray about it in the chapel, and Blessed Mary spoke, telling me to bring it here to Alfrida. That's why I had to come, why I couldn't let you stop me."

  He slid down so he was sitting, but at least he hadn't put the full room between them. "I'd never have believed that you'd betray me."

  She bit her lip and swallowed tears. "I had my mission." She knew she mustn't say that she'd wanted to protect him, too. "Your head must hurt." She rubbed hers, still sore from bashing against the wall.

  He didn't even respond to that. "So, what does the Dane plan now?"

  "Ransom, I think."

  "I suppose your family will pay for you. Without Acklingham I have little and I'll not give the Danes a penny more."

  "Then we'd better escape."

  Though the room was almost completely dark now, she saw him look up, saw a hint of the shine of his eyes. "If you tell me there's no guard outside, I'll know the world truly has gone mad."

  "There's a guard," she admitted.

  "Who wouldn't notice us prizing off the boards with our fingernails?"

  His sarcasm made her grit her teeth, but she tried to speak calmly and reasonably. "They're feasting tonight. For Yule. Perhaps they'll be less vigilant."

  "Hera, I'd really hate to think that Acklingham was taken by a weak leader and a fool."

  "It wasn't taken," she snapped, irritation breaking free. "It was given to them by Edith!"

  She braced for another attack, but after a moment, he wearily said, "I know."

  She longed to go to him then and offer comfort, but that would be folly for a great many reasons. Instead, she asked the awkward question that itched her. "Is that why she killed herself? Because you berated her?"

  But he said, "I never mentioned it. What point?"

  Then why? Why would a woman with Raef for husband, with her health returning and her husband forgiving and cherishing her, why would she throw herself into the river?

  "I shouldn't have left her alone in Acklingham," he said, so quietly she could hardly hear.

  The shed was pitch dark now. Distantly, she could hear music, and perhaps singing voices. The feast. A clink reminded her that a guard still sat by their door.

  "I should have sent her back to Tildwold, to her family, before leaving to fight."

  "You didn't expect Acklingham to be so vulnerable. In fact, it wasn't. It could have held Magnus off with little damage."

  "But I knew what Edith was like. I should have thought what would happen if it was attacked."

  "She was trying to save your people from hurt." Why was she defending Edith? "She made Magnus promise not to harm anyone and he claims to have kept his word."

  "By heaven, Hera, there's more to life than avoiding hurt!"

  "I know," she said soothingly. "I'm just trying to see it from her point of view."

  "You couldn't. Never in another millennium. She made no sense to me." She thought maybe he was shaking his head. "She even wept over a rat caught by a dog."

  Questions frothed in Hera's mind, mainly the crucial one—why, then? Why marry her? She fought them back.

  He suddenly said, "You must wonder why I married her."

  Hera made some vague sound, not sure now if she wanted to know.

  "I don't know. Strange not to know such an important thing. She was pretty, of course. Her nervousness made me feel like a mighty god, and when I was tender with her, I felt like a saint. She adored me. I think that's the truth. Do all men secretly long to be gods?"

  "I don't think women want to be goddesses."

  "I think women like you are goddesses. Hard for a man to match."

  She wished she could see his face, but if ever there was a time of honesty, it was now, as the world turned from dark to light, as the thousand years approached, and their lives hung in the balance.

  "Are you saying you're afraid of me, Raef?" she teased.

  Clearly she'd misjudged, for only silence replied. But then, he said softly, "Afraid of not being a god in your eyes. You know me too well, Hera. All my faults."

  "And all I know is good." Oh, by the ancient gods, she was tired of living a lie. "I love you, Raef. I've loved you for years. Isn't that as good as being worshipped?"

  He didn't say anything, and she'd have given her right arm for light then. What was his reaction? Surprise? Shock? Dismay? Embarrassment to equal her own?

  "But," he said at last, slowly, "you went to the convent."

  "Oh Raef, you can't be such a fool! I went to Herndon because you married Edith, and for no other reason!"

  "Oh, God..." Then he was by her side, t
ouching her. "Hera, I'm a fool. Are all men fools? I didn't know until you left. I didn't know about Edith until we married..." His fingers found her cheek and traced there. "I didn't know."

  It seemed incredible to her, too. "Didn't you ever feel anything physical for me, Raef? I lusted after you sinfully and often."

  His forehead touched hers. "It felt wrong. You were almost a sister. You were young. I thought you'd kill me if I touched you in the ways I wanted to touch you...."

  Still scarce daring to hope, she asked, "What ways?"

  His hand slid to cover her breast. "This way." His thumb began to rub over her nipple.

  "Oh." Her heart was pounding. "Any other ways?"

  But then, abruptly, he was gone. Gone somewhere in the dark room, not touching her at all.

  "Raef? What's the matter?"

  "By heaven, Hera, this is no time for this! Did you think I would dishonor you here in this dank, dark shed, with my home in enemy hands?"

  Sheer relief made her grin. "The thought did cross my mind, yes."

  And he laughed, though he choked it off. "Stop it."

  "Stop what?"

  "Driving me mad."

  "'Tis the season for madness, I think." She stood and moved forward, groping around for him. "Raef?"

  He went silent so as not to give his location away. Was it a serious attempt to avoid her, or a game? For Hera, this was no game, and she'd find him whether he wanted to avoid her or not.

  "I love you, Raef," she said, sweeping the silent space with her hands, and hunting him with her words. "I trust you to marry me if it becomes necessary, and whatever happens tomorrow, I want you, here, tonight." Her fingers brushed cloth, but he escaped before she could grasp him.

  In about the center of the shed, she stopped still. She'd never catch him this way.

  There were other ways.

  "I'm taking off my belt," she said, unbuckling it, and letting it fall to the floor. It was leather and held her pouch and knife. It made a dull thump.

  She waited, listening, but if she didn't know better, she could believe she was alone.

  "Now I'm taking off my tunic." She pulled it off over her head. "I have my long gown underneath, and my shift beneath that. That's all except my stockings." She kicked off her shoes.