Eada smiled back at him. “You are kind, Eric Longsword. I know we take you greatly out of your way.”
“My friends and I have been away from home so long that another two or three days will not matter.” He smiled toothily at her. “We are in England, and that is what is important to us. Had you been able to tell your son precisely when and where you would arrive he could have come with his own men to escort you. I cannot leave three women alone with only a single man to guard them. We will dispatch one of the Mercians to ride ahead of us to inform your son of your safe arrival, and of by what road we come.”
“I feel safer knowing that you will be with us, Eric Longsword,” said Eada. She was always more comfortable knowing that someone was in charge.
“Oh, mother, we need not ask Eric Longsword to accompany us,” said Mairin. “We have over a dozen Mercians to travel with us. The weather is good so the roads will be clear. We will be following well-traveled roads almost the entire way, and can probably join with a merchant’s party going to Gloucester from Dover. I am certain that Brand will meet us somewhere along the road. Surely Eric Longsword desires to reach his home so that he might comfort his parents over the loss of his elder brother, Randwulf. I am certain that his mother is particularly eager to see him.”
Eada looked indecisive. Poor Eric’s mother to have lost her elder son. Mairin was absolutely right when she said the lady must be anxiously anticipating the safe arrival of her surviving son. A dozen Mercians would be more than enough protection. Particularly when Dagda was with them for he was as good as another six men.
He could see her wavering. Eric Longsword quickly drew a breath and said, “I will send a messenger to my own family when I dispatch one to your son at Aelfleah, my lady, but I insist upon escorting you. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to your party.”
“Let it be,” Dagda said softly to Mairin, who was preparing to speak once again.
She compressed her lips tightly together in annoyance, but she remained silent. When Eric smiled triumphantly at her she longed to slap his smug face. “Do not leave my side,” she replied quietly to Dagda. “I was forced to fight off that pompous fool last night. I do not want to have to do so again.”
“He dared to accost you?” Dagda was outraged.
“He is bold. Obviously the blood of his Viking ancestors runs thick and fast in his veins. He would make me his wife,” she finished.
“He is not your equal,” said Dagda bluntly.
“I do not want him,” said Mairin, “but it is hard to convince him of that fact. He does not understand why I would refuse the offer of the heir to five hides of land. After all, I am a widow, and ripe for the taking.”
“Have you told your mother?” The horses had now been unloaded. Dagda checked Thunderer’s saddle girth as he spoke.
“I have not had the opportunity yet, but I would not distress her, Dagda. Perhaps once we reach Aelfleah I will be able to say farewell to Eric Longsword forever.”
“Not if he really wants you,” replied Dagda grimly. He boosted her into her saddle. “I may have to kill him.”
She gathered the reins into her hands. “It will not come to that. Father will not force me into marriage with Eric Longsword. He seeks a far better match which he assures me my widow’s wealth will guarantee.”
They stayed in Dover long enough to celebrate morning mass at the church of St. Mary in Castro. Eada insisted that having come safely the great distance from Constantinople and across the waters from Europe that they should all give thanks, and receive the sacrament. The poor parish priest faced with so many confessions heard those of Eada, Mairin, and Nara. Then looking at the men before him asked, “Do you repent of the sins you have committed?” When they cried with one voice, “Aye, father!” he absolved them making the sign of the cross over them. Then he began the mass.
They journeyed west, keeping south of London. To Mairin’s surprise the weather held as they crossed the North Downs with its low hills and lonely heaths. They passed through Guildford with its castle belonging to Earl Harold, and onward across Lambourne Downs through great stretches of countryside broken but infrequently by small villages or an occasional manor house.
It was necessary that several of their party ride ahead to find lodgings each night for the few inns along their route were not fit for ladies. They were forced to rely upon the hospitality of distant relations where they could find them, monastery or convent guest houses, or strangers who were of their own class.
Then one afternoon as they were crossing the Cotswolds Brand and a band of Aelfleah retainers met them. It was Mairin who seeing her brother and his men spurred Thunderer forward racing to be the first to greet him. Reining her mount in before him she laughed at the look of total surprise upon his face.
“You’re a beautiful woman!” he exclaimed.
“You needn’t sound so surprised, brother,” she answered him. “Remember I shall be fifteen at Samhein.” Her glance swept over him. “You have grown handsome,” she noted. Then lest he grow overproud she added, “Your beard hides your spots.”
“The girls don’t seem to mind,” he teased her back.
“The part they’re interested in doesn’t have spots I hope,” she laughed.
Brand chuckled. “Don’t let mother hear you speaking so boldly, little sister,” he cautioned.
“I am a widow, Brand. It is only natural I know such things.”
“I am sorry about your husband, Mairin, but I am glad you have returned to England. I should not like to have lived the rest of my life without you. I have missed you, troublesome creature though you are.”
She felt the sting of tears. It was the closest Brand had ever come in his life to saying he loved her. Her own features softened showing her deep love for him. Reaching out she caressed his cheek with her hand. “Oh, dear brother, I missed you too. I am very glad to be home with you!”
Catching her hand before she might withdraw it he kissed it lovingly, his warm gaze locking onto hers. Then he said, “I had best find mother.”
Before they could turn their horses about, however, Eric Longsword rode up. His look was black as he said, “Who is this man with whom you behave in such shamelessly familiar fashion, Mairin? Remember, you are to be my wife!”
“What is this?” Brand demanded.
“This is a fool,” replied Mairin furiously, “who presumes much! How dare you remonstrate with me over my behavior, Eric Longsword? We are not promised. I have already told you I will not marry you!”
“I am Brand Aldwineson,” said Brand to his sister’s antagonist. He successfully fought back his urge to laugh, for the young man before him was surely in love with Mairin, who could not countenance it.
“You are her brother? Of course!” The anger left his handsome face. “I am Eric Longsword, late of the Emperor Constantine X’s Varangian Guards.”
“You are not Mercian,” said Brand.
“No, my home is near York. My men and I felt it best to escort the lady Eada and her daughter home. There were but a dozen Mercians among us.”
“I am most grateful to you, Eric Longsword,” said Brand. Then catching his sister’s black look he continued, “But now that my men and I are here to see my mother and sister’s safe passage, you will be able to go on your own way home. How long have you been away?”
“Seven years. I left England when I was fifteen.”
“Then you will certainly be anxious to be on your way,” said Brand smoothly. “Now you will excuse me, as I see my mother. Come, Mairin!” They moved away from Eric Longsword.
Eric smiled, but felt a deep-seated anger burning within him. The young puppy had dismissed him as if he had been a servant, and not an equal. An excess of pride obviously ran in the blood of Aldwine Athelsbeorn’s children.
“Brand!” Eada had dismounted from her horse, and held out her arms to her beloved son.
“Mother!” He slid from his own beast, hugging her. As he did he felt again like
a small boy, for smelling her familiar lavender fragrance seemed to bring back so many memories. He had not realized until this very moment how much he had missed her.
Her eyes searched his face anxiously, but then she smiled warmly at him. “You have become a man,” she said. “I am so proud of you!”
“Father?”
“He will not come until the treaty is totally agreed upon, but it was best Mairin return home, and so here we are.”
“Now don’t go blaming our return all on me, mother,” laughed Mairin. “You have been longing to return to Aelfleah since the moment we rode through its gates last!”
“I cannot deny it!” came the heartfelt reply. Both of her children laughed at Eada’s obvious relief. At that moment Eric joined them, and Eada said to her son, “You have met Eric Longsword, Brand? I do not know what we would have done had he not been kind enough to escort us from Dover. He has managed to find us decent lodging in the most desolate of places. I hope you will offer him our hospitality at Aelfleah, my son.”
“Eric Longsword is always welcome at Aelfleah, mother, but surely he will want to leave us now to return to his own home.”
Eric smiled with false joviality. “Your home is but another day away while mine is several days’ ride. I have released my men, for I would not impose upon your generosity too greatly. As for myself I shall be glad to partake of your kindness. As anxious as I am to see my own parents, another day or two will not matter after seven years. By now my messenger will have reached them at Denholm. They will know at least of my safe arrival.”
Mairin almost shrieked with her frustration. She had hoped to be rid of Eric Longsword today. There was nothing she could do now that would not have been rude, and so she was forced to bear his company further. Strangely he did not trouble her for the next few days, being far too busy with Brand.
They arrived at Aelfleah, and Eada wept with happiness at the joy of seeing her home again. Within a day it was as if she had never left. She immediately became involved with the running of her household, shaking her head and clucking about all the things that had not been done properly since her departure.
Mairin quickly realized that she had nothing to do. Aelfleah was Eada’s, and would one day belong to Brand’s wife. Slipping from the house she hurried off to refamiliarize herself with The Forest. In all the months in Byzantium she had never once thought of it, but now suddenly all the memories of her childhood were rising up to assault her.
Within The Forest nothing seemed to have changed, and she felt comforted for a time. To her delight the dainty fox vixen was still alive, and although skittish of her, seemed to recall Mairin. When she had left Aelfleah she had been an innocent child. Now she was a woman. Well perhaps not a real woman, but no one knew that but herself and her mother. To all intents and purposes she was indeed a woman. A woman without her own home. Her parents were correct. It irritated her slightly to have to admit it. She would never be respected in England unless she had a husband, and her own home.
Mairin sighed. It seemed so unfair that in order to have a proper place in the world she needed a husband. Why couldn’t a woman have her own place? No one, she knew, would have an answer to that question. She wasn’t even certain she could think of an answer. So, she thought, I must remarry, but to whom? Not Eric Longsword! That much she knew. He was arrogant, ill educated, and she suspected had a mean streak within him. No, she couldn’t. Nay, wouldn’t marry Eric.
That evening it rained, a steady gentle rain that gave every indication of continuing all night. The excitement of being home had finally caught up with Eada. Exhausted, she had taken to her bed almost immediately after supper. Brand had without warning slipped away also. Mairin suddenly found herself alone in the Hall with their guest. Before she might excuse herself from her place by the fire he came to stand next to her, saying, “Your brother has given me his permission to court you.”
“Brand does not have that right,” she answered.
“As long as your father is away he is the head of this household, Mairin.”
She looked up at him, her eyes devoid of emotion as she said, “Why do you wish to court a woman who cannot stand the sight of you? Have I not made myself clear, Eric Longsword? Do you think, perhaps, that I play the coy maiden with you? You waste your time with me. I will not accept your suit! Surely you understand that?”
“You must marry again,” he said obdurately.
“I know that, but I will not marry you. I loved Prince Basil, and he loved me. I do not love you.”
“The prince loved Bellisarius,” he replied cruelly. “Even a woman’s intelligence can understand that, and you, I am told, are more intelligent than most women. The prince and his lover chose to enter death’s kingdom together leaving you behind. How can you still offer your loyalty to a man who so betrayed you? It matters not to me whether you love me or not. I will wager, however, I can teach you to love me if you must have love to be content.” He pulled her to her feet, and holding her tightly against him looked down into her face as he said, “You fill my senses, and you intoxicate me, Mairin. Indeed I believe you have cast an enchantment upon me. I desire you as I have never before desired a woman. I will have you, or no man will! You are mine!” His mouth then descended fiercely upon hers, and he kissed her soft lips with a bruising passion.
She was stunned by the suddenness of his attack. When she tried to struggle against him she realized he had learned from their last encounter, and pinioned her in such a way that it was impossible to defend herself from him. She shuddered with revulsion as his lips moved slowly over her lips. He called himself a man, yet Basil’s kisses had been far sweeter. Unable to bear another moment of this insult Mairin resorted to the only weapon left available to her. Forcing her arms from his iron grip she quickly reached up, and with all ten fingernails raked his face deeply.
With a surprised yelp he released her, his blue eyes glittering. For a moment they stood staring at each other. She could see that he was bleeding. Then turning from him she forced herself to walk slowly from the Hall. The look she had seen within those blue eyes bespoke murder, and she was hard pressed not to show fear.
“Hellcat,” he called after her, “you have marked me as your own by that impetuous act!”
Stopping she turned to face him. “When you ride from Aelfleah tomorrow, Eric Longsword, do not return. There will never be a warm welcome awaiting you here from me. I will kill myself before I ever become your bride! No! I will kill you!”
His dark laughter echoed about the room. “Woman,” he said, “you but whet my appetite!”
Part Three
THE HEIRESS OF AELFLEAH
England, 1065–106 8
Chapter 8
While Mairin and her family had been in Byzantium Earl Harold had conquered Wales in the name of King Edward. Gryffydd, the King of Cymru, as the people of Wales called their land, was murdered. Technically Harold’s hands were clean of the deed for Gryffydd’s own men had lured him into ambush to brutally slaughter him. It was whispered, however, that the earl had made it known he would reward those who saw to Gryffydd’s death. Harold had then forced Gryffydd’s queen, Edyth, into marriage. Edyth’s father had been Aelfgar, Earl of Mercia. Brand had seen that his father knew all of this.
Several weeks after their return to Aelfleah, they learned that Harold had arranged to have built a hunting lodge at Portskewet in Wales in the hope of entertaining the king. When it was ready, Caradoc, the son of the dead Gryffydd, brought a force of men to Portskewet on August 25th, St. Bartholomew’s Day. They totally destroyed the lodge, killed the retainers there, and made off with all the wealth meant to impress the king.
As if Harold did not have enough trouble grasping at the slippery succession, all the thegnes in Yorkshire and Northumberland met in hastily called session. With one voice they outlawed Earl Tostig, Earl Harold’s youngest brother, choosing in his place to be their earl the younger of Earl Aelfgar’s sons, Morkar, whose loyalty was to Harold. The
n they killed all of Tostig’s retainers that they could find, both Danish and English, seizing all of Tostig’s weapons, gold and silver.
Again there were the soft voices suggesting Earl Harold did not care that his brother, and his brother’s family were forced to flee England to take refuge in Flanders with William of Normandy’s father-in-law. Tostig had been a great favorite with King Edward and now that he was gone, the ailing king had no diversions from his wife and her retainers, all of whom lobbied for Harold Godwinson to be named England’s heir.
“He has no royal blood,” the dying king maintained, and refused to make any public preference.
Just before Mairin’s birthday, on October 27th, the eve of St. Simon and St. Jude’s Day, the king granted Harold’s request that his brother-in-law, Morkar of Mercia, be granted Tostig’s earldom. The northerners had anticipated Morkar’s confirmation while waiting for the king’s decision. At Northampton they pillaged the area, indulging themselves in a bout of burning, killing, and cattle stealing before returning to their own homes.
One afternoon a messenger arrived at Aelfleah in the form of a traveling monk. He brought word that Eric Longsword’s family, loyal to Tostig, had suffered in the uprising. Both his parents had been killed and his lands confiscated. Eric had gone with Earl Tostig to Flanders. He would, however, eventually return to England when his earl did. As Thegn of Denholm, he was offering for Mairin’s hand in marriage.
Brand laughed. “The man is bold,” he noted, “but he is also a fool to think I would allow my sister to wed with one of Tostig’s outlaws. Thegn of Denholm, indeed! The lands are no longer his nor, I doubt, will they ever be again. He would be wise to return to service with the emperor in Byzantium.”
“Poor man,” said Eada sympathetically. “I will pray for his parents.”
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