‘From now on you will sit with me at table.’
‘As you wish, my lord.’
‘I do wish it, and my name is Wulfrum.’
‘As you wish, Wulfrum.’
He nodded and, taking up a platter, served her meat and bread himself. For a while they ate in silence, Elgiva paying close attention to the food and trying to appear unconcerned by her husband’s scrutiny. Then he called for more ale, waiting while a serf hastened to fill his cup.
‘About your proposed excursion tomorrow,’ he said.
‘Yes?’ She felt her heart leap. Was he about to change his mind?
‘Olaf will accompany you.’ He threw his companion a meaningful look.
Although relieved that he had not reneged on his promise, she couldn’t hide an ironic smile.
‘I will make no attempt to escape.’
‘No, for I would find you soon enough and you know it,’ he replied. ‘But the forest may hold unseen dangers, for the times are uncertain. It is like to be so until the Danes have consolidated their rule in Northumbria.’
Elgiva said nothing, feeling a familiar surge of resentment. He spoke as if it was but a foregone conclusion. The trouble was, she suspected he was right. The Danes wanted this land, so much better than their own, and, having won it, intended to keep it. Looking round the hall at the assembled men, she knew it for truth. All of them were warriors, armed and trained, living for the thrill of battle and the taking of plunder. These owed their allegiance to Wulfrum as he owed his to Halfdan, and they would serve him well. Already she could see the respect in which they held him. Wulfrum wore his power lightly, but his word was law with them. They would give short shrift to any man who crossed that line, or any woman if it came to it. They treated her with due deference because she was his wife, but they watched her too, as Olaf Ironfist would watch her tomorrow. What Wulfrum had said about possible danger was true, but he was taking no chances on her slipping away into the forest, either. Not that she had intended to. To run would be to leave her people to the mercy of the Vikings.
Her thoughts were distracted by a shriek of protest and she looked up to see Hilda struggling in the hold of one of Wulfrum’s men. It was Ceolnoth. The young man seemed intent she should sit on his knee and she equally intent that she should not. A loud slap rang out as her hand met his cheek, a gesture greeted by a roar of laughter from his companions. Elgiva looked at Wulfrum, but he did not seem minded to interfere. Ceolnoth got up with a glint in his eye and, before Hilda could flee, swung her into his arms and strode to the door with her. Her yells and protests were drowned in laughter.
Elgiva turned to her husband. ‘Will you do nothing?’
‘What would you have me do?’
‘Stop your men molesting helpless women.’
‘Helpless? Now that is not how I would describe you.’
‘You know what I mean. Hilda is not a whore. Nor does she deserve to be treated as one.’
‘She is comely and it is plain that Ceolnoth warms to her. Shall I forbid him what I mean to enjoy with my own wife?’ He noted with satisfaction the hot colour that flooded her face, the spark of anger in her eyes, and knew she read the message aright.
Elgiva refused the bait. ‘She is not his wife,’ she retorted.
‘No, but she soon will be. Evidently his passion for the wench has grown. He spoke to me this morning, seeking my permission to take her to wife, and I have nothing to say against it. He will wed her as soon as may be.’
‘And what of Hilda’s views on the matter? Did you seek to discover those too?’
He raised an eyebrow, for her tone was hot though the words were quietly spoken.
‘I do not consult the wishes of servants,’ he replied. ‘Hilda will wed Ceolnoth and there’s an end. He is a good man and will make her a fine husband.’ He cast a comprehensive glance around the hall. ‘Would that matters might be so simply arranged for all my men. However, there are not enough women to go around.’
That was undeniably true. Ceolnoth had made his interest in Hilda plain from the first. It seemed his desire had not abated and now the girl’s fate was sealed, like her own. Sensing something of her mood, Wulfrum eyed her shrewdly.
‘Is it not better for a woman to be a wife and hold a respected position thus?’ he demanded. ‘Would you prefer that I handed her over to my men to have her in common?’
‘I would not wish that on any woman,’ she replied. ‘Nor would I wish any woman to be compelled to wed a man she does not—’
Elgiva broke off, blushing and inwardly cursed her hot temper. Again, Wulfrum raised an eyebrow.
‘Does not love?’ he finished.
‘Care for, I was going to say.’
‘You did not care for me, but you are my wife.’
‘I had no choice.’
‘True. But tell me, Elgiva, have you not grown to love me since?’ The tone was mocking and her cheeks coloured a deeper shade.
‘No.’
Wulfrum laughed out loud, causing several interested looks to come their way.
‘You will.’
‘You delude yourself, lord.’
‘Do I?’
He let his gaze dwell on the lovely profile now turned towards him, drinking in every flawless line, and then move on to her neck and the swelling bosom beneath her gown. Mentally he stripped the cloth away. Aware of that penetrating gaze, Elgiva felt her face grow warm. Wulfrum saw it and grinned, enjoying her discomfiture. Presently she turned towards him, the amber eyes bright with anger.
‘Must you stare at me like that?’
‘What man would not stare?’ He traced a hand down her sleeve. Elgiva forced herself to sit still, though it seemed that her skin burned beneath the cloth.
‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘I think it does not displease you as much as you pretend.’
She fought the urge to hit him, as much for the accuracy of the comment as for its confounded self-assurance.
‘Belief is free, my lord. If you choose to delude yourself, I cannot prevent it.’
‘I think it is you who delude yourself, Elgiva.’ The blue eyes were no longer smiling, and before she could think up a fitting retort he had leaned across his chair and kissed her full on the mouth. Taken thus by surprise and unable to move, she was forced to endure it, incensed alike by the treatment and the dawning knowledge that he was right. Wulfrum released her then, meeting her gaze with an expression that revealed not a shred of remorse. Crimson with embarrassment, Elgiva strove to regain her composure, keenly aware of the sudden heat in her blood and the amused stares they were receiving from all quarters of the room. She kept her voice low, though the tone throbbed with anger and indignation.
‘This is mere sport to you, isn’t it?’
His brow creased. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘I don’t know what to think.’
‘Then know that I do not sport with you, nor ever have.’
‘Then what was that?’
‘Don’t you know? Didn’t Aylwin kiss you like that?’
Elgiva stared at him, wondering what Aylwin had to do with it. ‘Well, didn’t he?’ he demanded.
Her blush deepened. ‘Certainly not. He always showed respect.’
Wulfrum let out a guffaw of delighted laughter. More heads turned their way. Elgiva rose from her seat and surveyed her husband with rage.
‘You’re impossible!’
Far from being grieved by the accusation, he only laughed the louder and made no move to stop her as she flung away from him and marched off towards the stairs.
Elgiva woke with the early light next morning and eased herself from the bed, throwing a baleful glare at Wulfrum as she did so. However, he slumbered on unaware. He must have retired very late for she had not heard him at all. Unwilling to disturb him in case it provoked another conversation like the last, she gathered up her clothes and dressed in haste before slipping away. Osgifu was waiting for her with a basket and with few words the two of them made thei
r way to the gate where stood Ironfist, armed with sword and axe. Instructing the guard to let them through, he followed the two women to the forest.
The sun was high when they returned with laden baskets. The rest of the morning was devoted to tying bundles of herbs for drying, or steeping them in hot water, or grinding them to mix with goose grease to make salves. The room was filled with the smell of their potions, a scent that Elgiva associated with healing and well-being. Part of a woman’s role in the household was to know what nostrums to use in the treatment of all ailments from a fever to a cut, from a boil to the toothache. It was a role that Elgiva enjoyed. Each season brought its own flowers for harvest. She knew them all and the places where they grew.
As she worked, it occurred to her that she wielded considerable power—not all plants possessed solely healing properties. Three or four grains of digitalis would provide relief from heart pain; eleven grains would kill. A few nightshade berries mixed in a stew would achieve the same end, as would the leaf or pounded root of monk’s hood. She banished the thought, smiling in self-mockery. The chances of killing all the invaders were remote and those who survived would soon discover what had befallen their comrades and would exact a terrible revenge. If Halfdan thought one of his favoured earls had been a prey to treachery, he would be merciless. Besides, she knew it was one thing to think about taking life and quite another to do it. The Danes might hold life cheap, but she could not. Poison was a coward’s weapon in any case. She might detest the invaders, but she could not murder in cold blood. Her part was to save life, not destroy it.
She was interrupted in these thoughts by Hilda, who burst through the door, wild-eyed and breathless.
‘Help me, my lady! I beg you.’
‘What is it?’ Elgiva turned, and wiping her hands on her apron, went to comfort the girl. Hilda threw herself into her mistress’s arms and clung to her, sobbing. Osgifu frowned, lowering the pestle she had been using.
‘What ails thee, child? Are you hurt?’
Hilda shook her head, but before she could say any more half a dozen men appeared in the doorway, led by Ceolnoth. He spied Hilda and grinned.
‘Come, my bird.’
He stepped forwards and took hold of Hilda’s wrist, drawing her away from Elgiva. Hilda shrieked and struggled, but he held her without effort.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded Elgiva. ‘You have no right to hurt one of my servants.’
‘’Tis not hurt I intend, my lady,’ replied Ceolnoth. ‘I would have her to wife.’
Osgifu glared at him. ‘You cannot wed without Lord Wulfrum’s permission.’
‘He has given it. The girl is mine.’
‘Yours, Viking?’
Brandishing the pestle again, she took a step closer, but Elgiva laid a restraining hand on her arm.
‘He speaks true, Gifu. Lord Wulfrum has given his consent.’
Osgifu stared as outrage gave way to shock. ‘Is this so?’
‘Yes.’
‘My lady speaks the truth,’ said Ceolnoth with a grin.
Hilda burst into tears.
‘Can you do nothing, my lady?’ demanded Osgifu.
‘I tried, Gifu, but Wulfrum’s mind is made up. If there were women enough to go around, he would marry them all to his warriors.’ Elgiva turned to Ceolnoth. ‘Go, wait outside. Hilda will be out directly, but first I would speak with her.’
He frowned and, for a moment, she thought he would refuse. However, one glance round the room assured him that the girl wasn’t going anywhere since there was but one door and a small window.
‘Very well, my lady. But don’t keep her too long. I grow impatient for my bride.’
With loud laughter the warriors left the room and Osgifu closed the door behind them. Elgiva turned to Hilda.
‘You know there is nought I can do to change this, Hilda.’
‘I do not wish to wed him.’
Elgiva looked to Osgifu and the older woman stepped forwards.
‘Hilda, listen to me. You have no choice but to wed Ceolnoth, unless to become the plaything of all the rest.’
Hilda drew in a ragged breath and stared at her in horror.
‘Gifu is right,’ said Elgiva. ‘We are none of us free to choose, unless it is to take the lesser of two evils. As the wife of Ceolnoth, his companions will not touch you.’
‘He has already forced the girl,’ replied Osgifu. ‘’Tis no wonder she is not minded to have him.’
Hilda drew a deep breath, and dashed away her tears with the back of her hand. ‘He has taken me against my will and mayhap I already carry his child in my belly. Must I breed a bastard too, and let it suffer the world’s scorn?’ She paused. ‘I know you can do nothing, my lady, for you are in as sore case yourself. ’Tis just that I am so afraid.’
She began to cry again and Elgiva held her close to comfort her.
‘I was too, Hilda.’
‘You were never afraid, my lady. I was watching the day you wed Lord Wulfrum, the way you looked about with such calm, facing down all those men. All their eyes could not make you quail.’
‘Not so, Hilda. I wanted to run away so far and so fast they would never find me. If I did not, it was because I knew I would never succeed, and I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear. And so I am Earl Wulfrum’s wife for good or for ill. There is naught to be done but make the best of it.’
Hilda heard her in wondering silence and then took another ragged breath. ‘As I must do with Ceolnoth.’
At that moment a heavy fist pounded on the door.
‘Will you come out, wench, or must I come in?’
Osgifu strode across the room, pestle in hand, and put her face close to the wood. ‘She’ll come when she’s ready, Viking.’
‘She’ll come out now, old woman, or I’ll know the reason why.’
‘You come in here and I’ll brain you, you charmless oaf!’
Further heavy pounding shook the door. Osgifu started back. Elgiva bade Hilda bathe her eyes in cool water from the bowl on the table and then went to the door and opened it. Ceolnoth, startled, lowered a clenched fist.
‘Lady?’
‘Hilda is coming. Be patient a few moments more.’
The quiet tone was courteous enough, but it bore a command too, and Ceolnoth hesitated. Though he would have liked to push her aside and drag Hilda out by main force, he dared not; he knew well that Lord Wulfrum would not take kindly to any man laying violent hands on his wife. Therefore he swallowed his anger and let his hands fall to his sides. Elgiva remained in the doorway, blocking his path. A few moments later Hilda joined her on the threshold.
‘I am ready,’ she said.
Elgiva stood aside and let her pass. The girl had regained her composure now, though her eyes bore signs of weeping still. For a moment she and Ceolnoth faced each other in silence. Then he smiled and offered his arm. After a brief hesitation Hilda took it and they walked together through the gathered group of warriors to the waiting priest. Elgiva removed her apron and tossed it aside and then, with Osgifu beside her, followed on.
The ceremony was brief enough and through it she recalled her own wedding day and the terror in her heart. For all she might have fooled the onlookers, she knew it would have taken only a small thing to make her run. Suddenly she became aware of someone beside her, and she looked up to see Wulfrum. He put an arm round her shoulders and drew her close. Still smarting, Elgiva tensed and tried to pull away. The arm tightened. Together they stood thus in uneasy proximity until the brief ceremony was over. Ceolnoth’s friends clapped him on the back and gathered round the pair. However, seeing Wulfrum, they fell back a little. He moved among them, his arm still round his wife, drawing her with him to congratulate the newly-wed couple.
‘Live long, Ceolnoth. Live long, Hilda.’ He took off one of his silver arm rings and gave it to Ceolnoth. ‘Wear this in recognition of your service to me. In addition, I will give you one hide of good land. There you may build a home
and raise fine sons.’
A rousing cheer greeted his words.
‘You are generous, lord,’ replied Ceolnoth. ‘My wife and I thank you.’
A shocked Hilda stammered out her thanks. Clearly she had not been expecting anything like this. Neither had Elgiva and she looked at her husband in surprise.
‘This night we shall feast to celebrate your union,’ said Wulfrum. ‘Mayhap in future we shall celebrate many more.’
Another cheer followed this and then conversation broke out in different groups. Elgiva looked at Ceolnoth and Hilda and then threw a quizzical glance at Wulfrum.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It was a generous gift.’
‘It is fitting I should reward those who serve me well,’ he replied. ‘Besides, land gives a man a stake in the place and ties him to it, ensuring his loyalty and that of his kin.’
‘And providing for his wife.’
‘Yes, that too. One day many of these men will have wives and when they wed they shall have land to farm. There is plenty for all and it is good land, rich and fertile.’
Saxon land, thought Elgiva, but she kept the thought to herself. With this gift he had ensured a good future for Hilda, as well as for her husband. It might yet turn out well. Certainly the matter had been settled more advantageously than she could have hoped yesterday.
Wulfrum sensed a slight softening of her mood. Her body no longer tensed against his arm and, though they regarded him appraisingly, the angry spark was missing from the amber eyes. Now that he was close he could detect the sweet smell of herbs and beneath it the warm scent of her flesh, subtle and arousing. He bent his head and let his lips brush hers. Taken by surprise, Elgiva did not fight. The kiss grew more insistent and her heartbeat quickened as pleasurable warmth swept through her. When he straightened she was pink-cheeked with confusion. Casting a swift glance around her, she could see their embrace had not gone unnoticed.
The Viking's Defiant Bride Page 15
