The Deepening Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 3)

by Jayne Castel

  “A woman you are being forced to marry,” Saewara countered, her own anger rising. “You risked your life for someone you despise, I don’t understand it.”

  “I don’t despise you,” Annan replied, his voice gentling. “None of this is your fault.”

  Their gazes held again, and once more Saewara was aware of her rising hunger. Being close to this man had a disturbing effect upon her. The sensation clawed its way up from her belly and nearly made her gasp with its intensity.

  In Annan’s eyes, she saw her own hunger reflected back at her. They sat so close that all it took was for Annan to bend his head over hers, a groan escaping him as he did so. Instinctively, Saewara tilted her head back, her lips parting slightly. Their mouths came together.

  He was not gentle, and neither was she.

  The moment their lips met, a surge of need – a sensation Saewara did not even realize her body had been capable of – exploded within her. She let out a soft cry and reached for him.

  Annan pulled her roughly to him. One moment, they had been sitting side by side, the next she was on his lap, her mouth open under his, her hands tangling in his wet hair. They bit at each other’s lips, as their tongues warred for dominance. Annan’s hands slid down her wet back to the curve of her bottom before he pulled her hard against him.

  Her need for him was so intense that Saewara’s head swam. She groaned into Annan’s mouth. He kissed her as if she was air and he was a drowning man. She had never known that a man and woman could kiss like this. She had never known that she could want a man so badly that it could push all other thoughts from her head; that it could literally make her feel ill with need.

  He would have taken her there on the mossy bank, she was sure of it, and she would have begged him to, if a man’s call had not reached them. Neither heard his shout at first, although the voice eventually reached them through their haze of passion.

  “Annan! Saewara!”

  Saba was searching for them.

  Annan and Saewara broke apart as if they had just been doused with a pail of icy water. Annan stared at her, breathing heavily while he struggled to regain control of himself. Saewara watched him, and saw the haze of lust fade from his eyes. Her heart started to hammer against her ribs when she saw his gaze harden.

  “I’m sorry, Saewara.” His voice was cold and flat. “That was a mistake. It won’t happen again – ever.”

  Saewara gaped at him. What did he mean? They were about to be handfasted. Was he not intending to bed her once they were married?

  “Annan,” Saewara began, reaching a tentative hand toward him.

  “No,” he backed away from her and rose to his feet. “You are part of the bargain I made to save my people. I didn’t want this; I was to marry someone else when Penda forced you upon me. He sent you to bewitch me, to take his humiliation one step further, and he almost succeeded.”

  “No, that’s not true. I’ve never bewitched anyone.” Saewara felt hysteria rise inside her at the ridiculousness of the situation. Yet, the look on Annan’s face was anything but comical. “Not even my own husband. I don’t understand what you mean.”

  However, Annan was no longer listening to her. She watched, tears blurring her vision, as he strode away to find Saba.

  Chapter Eleven

  Homecoming

  They reached Rendlaesham on a warm, sunny morning that basked the town in golden light. Saewara rode at Annan’s side, her pony trotting to keep up with his stallion’s brisk walk. Together, they rode down the last incline toward the gates.

  Despite Saewara’s apprehension and low spirits, she still found herself taking in her surroundings with interest. They rode through fields full of cabbages, onions, carrots, turnips and spring greens; it was a verdant, lush landscape. Rendlaesham lay in the fold between two low hills, and high above the thatched roofs of the town itself, she spied the magnificent ‘Golden Hall’ itself. Saewara could see it was an idyllic spot. Arable fields, a spreading apple orchard and straw thatch lay under a wide cerulean sky. The horizon seemed wider here. In other circumstances, Saewara would have been pleased to arrive in Rendlaesham; it was a pity she would not be welcomed.

  The folk working the fields all stopped what they were doing and hailed the king and his entourage. Ahead, townsfolk poured out of the gates and lined the way in. All of them waiting to see the king and lay eyes on his Mercian betrothed. Rendlaesham was bustling, as folk from nearby villages had flooded the town to see the royal couple. Some children pushed their way to the front of the crowd, while others perched on their fathers’ shoulders. Street vendors selling hot pies and bread wove through the throng, taking advantage of the occasion to hawk their wares.

  Saewara kept her gaze fixed ahead, not daring to make eye contact with any of them. She remembered her own people’s heckling when she had ridden out of Tamworth. Although none of this was any of her fault, a discontented people would find it easy to lay the blame on her.

  She could feel their gazes, raking her from head to toe – some hostile, others merely curious. Many folk shouted out to the king, welcoming him home, although muttered insults about his choice of bride reached Saewara’s ears once they entered the town itself. However, none were bold enough to shout abuse – not with the king riding at her side.

  They rode through the town, up a wide dirt street to the high fence surrounding the Great Hall of the Wuffingas. Up close, the ‘Golden Hall’ appeared even more imposing than from a distance. Saewara could also see that a number of outbuildings spread around the base of the hall itself. Helmed warriors flanked the entrance, pulling the heavy gates apart to allow the king, his betrothed and warriors to enter a wide stable yard.

  Saewara brought her pony to a halt and let her gaze travel up the wooden steps to the terrace at the top. There, before the great oaken doors, stood a small group. Among them was a tall blond man, who bore a striking resemblance to Annan, and a tall slender woman with hair the color of creamed honey. Saewara saw both their gazes fix upon her and she looked away under the intensity of their stares.

  The trip here, despite its dangers and trials, had given Saewara respite from life in a king’s hall. Now, she would no longer be ignored. There would be no anonymity; nowhere to hide from hostile stares and whispered insults.

  Annan helped her down from her pony. It was a polite act, and Saewara was grateful for his steadying hand as she slid down to the ground. However, there was no warmth in his face when he looked at her.

  “Come,” he said, taking her arm as tradition dictated, and linking it through his. “Let me lead you into your new home.”

  To onlookers they must have appeared a genteel couple, Saewara thought, with Annan solicitously leading her up the steps to his hall. Yet, ever since their kiss on the banks of the river, under the canopy of willow branches, Annan had turned into a cold stranger.

  Part of her, the rational part, completely understood his behavior. They were enemies, after all. His revelation that he had been about to marry another made his anger toward her even more understandable. If she had not been enchanted by Annan, if even the sight of him had not made her pulse race, she too would have behaved coldly toward him. Because of him, she had not been able to retreat to a life of solitude in Bonehill. She had been forced to marry back into a world she despised; a world where women were bargained and traded like pieces of gold for power, land and titles.

  Yet, his rejection felt like a knife to the heart, and Saewara hated herself for caring. Yearning for something that was beyond her reach would only add to her unhappiness here. She needed to be strong. The vulnerability she had shown Annan needed to be forgotten; she had to build a wall around herself, re-immerse herself in her faith and put aside the desires of the flesh. Her body had betrayed her on the journey here; she had not been prepared for her reaction to the King of the East Angles. It had been an enchantment; one that stripped her of a lifetime’s defenses.

  Now that the surprise had passed, and Annan had made it clear how t
he land lay, Saewara had to focus on protecting herself. The ‘Golden Hall’ would be full of wolves in sheep’s clothing and soon she would be surrounded by those who wished to see her ruin.

  Courage Saewara. You’ve fought against worse than this. Penda is in Tamworth. Egfrid is dead. Neither of them can touch you here.

  Annan mounted the last set of steps to his hall and steeled himself for the meeting he had been dreading.

  Aethelhere and Hereswith. He had seen them waiting for him, the moment he had ridden into the stable yard. They would be married now. The thought made him feel ill.

  Saba was right, he thought bitterly. I should never have agreed to their marriage. I’ve now made myself a martyr.

  Saewara’s hand lay lightly on his arm; a constant reminder of the mess he was now in. He did not glance her way as they stepped up onto the terrace before the oaken doors.

  My life used to be so simple.

  The woman he wanted to marry stood before him, while the woman he would be forced to marry walked at his side. The situation was further complicated by the fact that, although his attention was focused on the slender blonde at his brother’s side, the sultry, dark haired woman beside him had succeeded in completely disarming him. Her touch was a brand on his naked skin. Even now, the memory of her lush body against his, and the hunger of their embrace, was enough to make his step falter.

  She is Mercian. You will not touch her again.

  With an effort, Annan banished the lingering memories and focused on the couple before him.

  “Brother!” Aethelhere greeted him with a warm smile. “We were starting to worry that you would never come back to us!”

  “The journey home took longer than expected,” Annan replied, his gaze resting on his brother’s face for a moment. “Outlaws and near drowning delayed us somewhat.”

  Aethelhere’s eyes widened at that.

  “I expect a full account over a cup of mead,” he announced, before his gaze swiveled down to the woman who stood silently at Annan’s side.

  “So this is your new bride?”

  “My betrothed,” Annan corrected him. “We are not yet wed. Saewara, meet my brother Aethelhere and his wife Hereswith.”

  “Greetings,” Saewara spoke for the first time since her arrival.

  Annan forced himself to look at Hereswith then; the woman who was now wedded to his brother.

  She was as lovely as he remembered; as pale and radiant as a new dawn, her eyes the color of a summer’s sky. She returned his gaze boldly, unsmiling before nodding curtly.

  “Milord.”

  “Hereswith.”

  “So when is your handfasting?” Aethelhere continued, a little of the friendliness and humor gone from his voice. Hereswith was his now, and it was evident he did not like his brother greeting her personally.

  “Tomorrow,” Annan replied, aware of how flat his voice sounded. It was as if he was announcing his own execution. “At noon.”

  ***

  The roar of voices inside the hall was deafening. Smoke from the cooking created a haze over the interior, although it could not dim the majesty of the cavernous space. The ‘Golden Hall’ of Rendlaesham may have been made of timber but Saewara decided it was no less impressive than the Great Tower of Tamworth for all that. The sheer height of the beamed ceiling above her made Saewara feel very small in comparison.

  Turning her attention back to the feast before her, Saewara helped herself to a piece of roast pork and some braised onions. The clamor around her was strangely soothing. For the moment, at least, everyone was too focused on the feast to pay attention to the imposter in their midst.

  Saewara sat at Annan’s side, so close that their elbows often brushed as they reached for their cups or helped themselves to food. However, the two of them could not have been farther apart.

  They did not look at each other during the feast.

  To Saewara’s left sat Aethelhere and his blonde wife. Next to the lovely Hereswith sat a brown-haired woman who would have been attractive if her face had not been creased in a permanent expression of disapproval.

  Saba sat to Annan’s right. The warrior was in good spirits this evening, and downed more than his fair share of mead. He flirted outrageously with the female slave who served them; a timid girl with long brown hair braided in a long plait down her slender back. In Saewara’s opinion, Saba appeared to be frightening the girl, rather than impressing her, and the slave fled to serve the other end of the table as soon as she was able.

  As the feast progressed, Saewara caught a snippet of conversation from Aethelhere and his wife.

  “I have instructed the servants to prepare a suitable feast for tomorrow afternoon, after the handfast ceremony,” the young woman told her husband.

  “Make sure they bake the honey-seed cakes,” he told her. “You can’t have a handfasting without them.”

  Hereswith nodded demurely before, seeing that Saewara was observing them, allowing herself a sly smile.

  “Of course, Aethelhere. They encourage fertility and I’d say that your brother’s betrothed will need all the help she can get.”

  “Really?” Aethelhere raised an eyebrow at his wife. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, she was married for years, was she not, and never produced an heir? I’d wager the poor creature is barren.”

  Saewara looked down at her plate, her cheeks burning.

  Poor creature.

  However, there had been no pity in Hereswith’s voice when she spoke those words, only a vindictive cruelty; the kind only a bitter, vengeful woman could manage.

  Saewara had seen the look that passed between Annan and Hereswith earlier outside the hall. She had witnessed Aethelhere’s jealousy and the sudden coolness between the two brothers. It appeared the situation was even more complicated than she had anticipated. If her instincts served her right, and they often did, Hereswith was the woman Annan was to marry before Penda’s summons.

  Instead of Annan, she had married his brother.

  God help me, I’ve walked into a hornets’ nest.

  Saewara was digesting this realization when the slave-girl appeared once more with a platter of piping hot mutton pies. After days of travel and simple food, Saewara had a ravenous appetite. Even her lack of welcome here could not take the edge of it. She took one of the pies and flashed the girl a grateful smile.

  The slave smiled back at her, her cheeks flushing in pleasure.

  “Lovely Hilda.” Saba leaned back and looked up at the slave as she made her way round to his side of the table. “How I missed your pretty face. Tell me, how fared you in my absence?”

  “Well, M’lord,” Hilda replied, refusing to meet his gaze.

  “Ah now, no need to be coy,” he grinned at her. “I know you missed me.”

  Saba was rewarded with a sharp, irritated look before the girl slapped a pie down in front of him and continued on her way down the table.

  The warrior watched her go with a shake of the head.

  “Well, at least Hilda doesn’t still cower in terror every time you speak to her,” Annan observed over the rim of his cup. “She must be warming to you.”

  “You should not encourage him, Milord,” the brown-haired woman who sat next to Hereswith exploded, obviously unable to hold her tongue any longer. “The girl is a slave and should be treated as such.”

  Annan gave the woman a slow, measured look.

  “Remind me of your name?” he asked her, his voice barely audible over the roar of drunken voices around them.

  “Eldwyn,” the woman replied, holding his gaze boldly.

  “Eldwyn,” Annan said her name slowly, as if considering his next words. “You are a newcomer to my hall, and welcome here, for you serve my brother and his wife. However, you will never tell me how I should or should not behave again. If you do so, I will have you packed off back to Bebbanburg before you have time to take your next breath. Do you understand me?”

  The woman stared back at him sullenly, alt
hough her pale blue eyes held a look of uncertainty.

  “Do you understand me?” Annan repeated, his voice still calm although, glancing at his face, Saewara could see the anger kindling in his eyes. “If you don’t, you shall be leaving this evening.”

  “Yes, Milord,” Eldwyn finally acquiesced, before staring down at her plate. “I am sorry.”

  Annan nodded before reaching for the jug of mead and refilling his cup. “While we’re on the subject, you should all know that Sabert has asked me if he may pursue Hilda, and even wed her if she is willing. I have said that he may.”

  This statement drew looks of surprise, shock and disapproval from those seated around the king, but after Annan’s reaction to Eldwyn, those who disagreed with Annan’s decision wisely held their tongues.

  Observing the scene, and seeing Saba’s obvious delight that Annan had publicly given his blessing, Saewara momentarily forgot her own troubles.

  Saba was an ealdorman. He could have had any woman and yet he was obviously smitten by that timid, waifish girl.

  Annan had done something that Penda would never have. At the far end of the table, Saewara spied her countryman, Yffi. He watched the scene incredulously; like Saewara, he was nonplussed by Annan’s behavior. Some kings and ealdormen gave slaves their freedom but to her brother they were just dogs; there to serve and to be whipped into submission when they defied him. Annan obviously saw the world differently.

  Saewara turned and regarded her betrothed frankly for the first time that evening. He would know she was looking at him but she did not care. The conversation resumed around them and the moment passed.

  Annan resisted her stare for a while longer before his gaze reluctantly met hers. As usual, the shock of it was like a punch to the belly, but this time she was ready for it. She pushed her body’s response to him aside and met his gaze squarely.

  “I suppose you want to upbraid me as well?” Annan said with a raised eyebrow. “Go ahead. I’ve dealt with one sharp tongue this evening, I can deal with another.”