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“Nor is Endredi a scold,” Dagfinn continued.
Adelar could not breathe. He couldn’t think. Surely his heart had stopped beating, the sun no longer moved across the sky, the fire had died. He saw nothing except sea green eyes regarding him steadily, containing neither condemnation nor pity, but understanding and complete acceptance, because Adelar had not meant to bring harm to Betha, only to get back home to his village. As they fled, his sister had fallen ill, and when they were taken back to the Viking settlement, she had died. Endredi had said little, but her eyes...her eyes had said everything. How much her silent comfort had meant to his lonely heart!
And then his father had come with his warriors. He had destroyed the Viking village when the men were away trading, taken the women and children captive and slaughtered the rest. His father had even dragged Endredi to his hall, intending to rape the girl barely on the brink of womanhood.
The remembered sights and feelings rose in Adelar’s mind, strong and terrible, for Adelar had followed them there, prepared to do what he must to save Endredi. She had escaped his father on her own, but he had killed a guard who would have sounded the alarm.
His father was worse than a traitor. Vicious, cruel, lustful...and ever since that night, Adelar had been tortured by the notion that he might someday grow to be like his sire. So he had left his home and traveled here to Bayard’s burh.
He pushed away the memory and told himself that this woman could not be the Endredi he had known. It was merely a coincidence. Two women with the same name.
“Ask him if the woman is a virgin,” Bayard said.
Adelar managed to get the words out.
“No. She is my brother’s widow.”
Endredi lived in the northern land of the Vikings across the sea, not in the Danelaw. Adelar took another deep breath as some of the tension fled from his body.
“Does she have children?”
“No.”
Bayard’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Is she barren?”
“She was married for less than a month before Fenris died. In bed.”
No wonder Dagfinn wanted to be rid of this widow, Adelar thought. Viking men wanted to die in battle, with a sword in their hands. Otherwise they could not enter Valhalla to spend eternity feasting with Odin. The widow was probably regarded as a woman who would bring misfortune.
Bayard rose and drew Adelar away from the others.
“Tell me honestly,” he said quietly. “Do you trust Dagfinn? Will he abide by this agreement?”
At once an almost overpowering temptation to urge Bayard to refuse filled Adelar. He didn’t trust any Danes. He didn’t want his cousin to have a Viking wife.
But more importantly, he didn’t want to find out that this woman was the Endredi of his youth, the Endredi he had been too ashamed to seek again. The Endredi he was constantly trying to forget.
He regarded Bayard steadily, looking into his cousin’s eyes. He did not doubt that Bayard had already made his decision, for it was not Bayard’s way to rely on any man’s advice. This was likely a delaying tactic, or meant to annoy Ranulf, something Bayard seemed to delight in. Nonetheless, Adelar answered Bayard with his true opinion. “Dagfinn wants this marriage, or he would never agree to reduce the Danegeld.” He hesitated for a brief moment, then went on firmly. “I do not trust any of them, as you know, so of course I would refuse. However, it would be wise to delay your decision. If Dagfinn speaks sincerely, he will wait. And what of Cynath? He has great faith and trust in you. I would not want him to question your loyalty.”
“I know you say what is truly in your heart, Adelar,” his cousin replied. “So I will tell you what is in mine. I think this is a sign from God. I am going to take the woman for my wife.”
Adelar nodded. Bayard was wise and respected. If he saw nothing wrong with this marriage and he honestly believed it was a sign to make peace, then Adelar could not question it. And yet...and yet Adelar had seen that love could change a man or a woman. Had not his nursemaid married the Viking who had taken her captive and remained there when Adelar had gone home? Perhaps this woman would be able to sway Bayard and weaken his resolve to regard the Danes with suspicion.
It was already too late. Bayard had decided. As he returned to his place, Adelar silently vowed that he would watch this woman and protect his cousin to the best of his ability.
Bayard sat in his chair. “Adelar, tell Dagfinn of my decision, provided the woman is truly comely. I will not let him give me an old hag, even if it means peace.”
The Saxons looked at each other with undisguised surprise as Adelar did as he was told. Ranulf tried to appear both distressed and certain that Bayard was acting wisely. That way, Adelar knew, he could later say he agreed with both those who welcomed the alliance and those who were against it. As for Father Derrick, he was like a marble effigy, expressionless except for his disapproving eyes.
“She is as lovely as Freya, as wise as Baldur, and Endredi speaks the Saxon tongue,” Dagfinn said eagerly.
Again Adelar had to struggle to keep his face expressionless. Surely, surely there were other Viking women who had learned the Saxon tongue and who were wise in healing arts.
“What did he say?” Bayard demanded.
“He says the woman is wise, beautiful and speaks our language.”
Suddenly Father Derrick stepped forward. “Is she Christian?” he asked sternly.
“She has had the ceremony of the water,” Dagfinn answered.
His Endredi was not a Christian, and she had never been baptised. But years had passed and everything could have changed.
Father Derrick, apparently satisfied, returned to his place in the shadows.
The men haggled for a short time over the bride price, and again over the gifts to Endredi, but all knew it was only because it was expected. The true goal had already been achieved when Bayard had agreed to the marriage.
“We are finished, then,” Dagfinn said, heaving himself to his feet when they decided on the sums. “We will bring her in a fortnight when the roads are clear.”
Bayard rose, too. “I will have the wedding feast prepared.”
The Dane nodded as Adelar finished speaking. Then he turned and strode to the entrance of the hall, followed by his men. The Saxons watched silently while the Danes collected their weapons and left.
“You are making a mistake, Uncle,” Ranulf declared immediately. “Cynath will not be pleased.”
Not for the first time, Adelar was disgusted by Ranulf’s lack of discernment. He had been one of Bayard’s men for longer than Adelar, yet he could not seem to comprehend that there was no point to question one of Bayard’s decisions after it had already been made.
Bayard faced his nephew. “Unless I have lost my wits,” he said with deceptive calm, “it was you who first suggested making an alliance, Ranulf. There is no cause for second thoughts now. Cynath knows that he has my complete loyalty, and so does the king.”
“By king you mean Edward?”
Bayard’s expression was hard as flint. “He is the Britwalda, King of the Britons, and anyone who says otherwise has no place in my hall.”
“Of course, my lord,” Ranulf replied hastily. “I meant nothing else. But what of the woman’s loyalty?”
Adelar darted a condemning look at Ranulf’s lean, anxious face. “Are you saying you doubt that Bayard can control his own wife? That he will be influenced by a bright eye or soft cheek?” he asked, inwardly hoping it would not be so, and that perhaps Bayard would hear his words as a warning.
“Not at all,” Ranulf answered, reddening under the scrutiny of the two men whose haughty, stern eyes were so alike. “Naturally I wish that this marriage may be a happy one.”
“Women are evil creatures, full of sin and temptation,” Father Derrick said, his stern, deep voice commanding silence. “Men should beware their traps and snares.”
“Yes, Father,” Bayard replied peaceably. “I regret that I cannot be as strong as you in denying the desires of the flesh, but I shall be very careful. And this is merely a marriage of necessity.”
“That is good, my son.”
“Now you must all join me in a pledge of loyalty to any future children this marriage will bring.”
Ranulf struggled to look pleased. “Yes, my lord. To your children.”
Bayard lifted his goblet. “To my heir.” For only a moment, Adelar thought he saw a look of pain in Bayard’s eyes, but it passed before he could be sure it was pain and not mere annoyance with Ranulf. “This alliance should ensure that my land will be safe for someone to inherit when I am dead. The woman’s dowry will also enrich my estate.”
“My lord, surely you know I hope you will live a long and happy life and leave many sons to follow you,” Ranulf said.
“I know precisely what you hope, Ranulf,” Bayard replied.
“Beware the yearning for earthly wealth,” Father Derrick intoned. “A camel can pass through the eye of a needle sooner than a rich man enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
“Thank you, Father, for your timely reminder,” Bayard responded with his usual good humor. “Someone find Godwin. We need music—oh, there you are, Godwin. No time for hanging about in the shadows, gleeman. Sing something suitable for the occasion. Adelar, where is your ale? Are you not going to drink to my impending marriage and my future bride? What was her name?”
“Endredi,” Adelar replied, looking about for that timid female slave. “Ale!” he shouted impatiently. He wanted to get very drunk very quickly.
But not for celebration. He wanted to forget.
* * *
Ranulf’s wife shoved his wandering hand away. “I’m talking to you about serious matters, dolt!” Ordella said sharply, her pale blue eyes seeming to glow in the dim building.
Ranulf, lying beside her in bed, gave her a peevish look. “And I’m acting like a husband.”
“Speak quietly, you lustful beast. A husband would have his family’s interest in mind, and that is what I am trying to discuss.”
“Oh, very well.” Ranulf shifted to a sitting position in his bed. In the other part of the building, which was only half the size of Bayard’s hall, slaves and servants slumbered. His wife, however, had the amazing ability to sound as if she was almost shouting without waking anyone. “What is it?”
“I want to know what you are going to do about this marriage.”
“Do about it? Nothing. An agreement has been made.”
“Because of your stupidity.”
“Mine? I am not marrying some Viking widow. And you yourself said we should make peace with the Vikings. If the betrothal is broken now, who knows what those savages might do?”
“I didn’t mean a marriage alliance.”
“And I tell you again, I did not suggest it. Dagfinn did, and Bayard agreed.”
“Yes—and for that reason alone you should have stopped it.”
“I should have stepped into the middle of the discussion and ordered Bayard to refuse?” Ranulf asked scornfully. “He would have had me tossed from the hall.”
“If you had been witless about it, of course he would,” she snapped. “You merely needed to find a way to delay the negotiations. Then you could have dissuaded him.”
“I did protest his decision, after the Danes had gone.”
Ordella fought the urge to scream. “After was much too late. You should know that about Bayard by now. The time was already past to influence him! He will never alter his course now—never!”
“How was I to even guess he would consider a marriage?” Ranulf whined. “All I knew was that he was prepared to argue over the amount of the Danegeld. It’s taken me many days to convince him to go that far. Nor has he ever so much as hinted at a marriage.”
“Bertilde has been dead these three years,” Ordella reminded him, all the while wishing she had waited a little longer before agreeing to marry Ranulf. Then she might have had a chance for Bayard, rather than this clod.
“So I thought he had no interest in marriage.”
“That is the stupidest thing you have said yet. He is a wealthy thane with no children. You should never have dismissed a possible marriage.”
“As you have just pointed out, Ordella, it is done. I cannot undo it.”
“But now he might have children, too.”
“He hasn’t yet, and he’s had many women.”
“That is no guarantee. He so rarely stays in one place for long, it could be that he is gone before a woman knows. Or perhaps he has never acknowledged any children, if they were born out of wedlock. If you had the sense of a donkey, you would have considered these possibilities.”
Ordella was almost weeping with frustration. Her only reason for marrying Ranulf had been to become part of Bayard’s wealthy, important family. Unfortunately, she had come to realize she had chosen the least promising member of the clan. “She is young, too. She could give him many children.”
“Or maybe he will hate her and never go near her. This is a political match, Ordella. Don’t forget that.”
“I hope for your sake it is so. Or you can forget any hope of inheriting anything from him.”
“You said the same thing when Adelar arrived.”
“That was before I knew the kind of man Adelar is—and for that you should thank God. If he was more ambitious, he could have you living in some hovel at the edge of the wood. It is clear Bayard favors him, and their mothers were sisters.”
“You are forgetting the stories about his father.”
“That old tale? No one believed that Viking. Imagine trying to imply that a Saxon thane would betray his own people.”
“Yet Kendric has never tried to be in the Witan, and any other man of his stature would have.”
“The main thing to consider now is how to increase your importance to Bayard.”
“I am his nephew. What more reason should Bayard need to listen to me?”
“If that’s the only cause he has to suffer your presence, he can easily discard you, fool!”
Ranulf started to climb out of the bed. Ordella grabbed his arm and held on. “Forgive me,” she said in wheedling voice. “I am upset to think that Bayard did not take you into his confidence. After all, you deserve to be. You are his closest relative. Adelar is but a cousin.”
Ranulf relaxed a little. She crawled closer and encircled him with her thin arms. “I simply fear you may not get what is your due, Ranulf, and then I get angry. Forgive me for taking out my indignation on you.” He sighed softly as she caressed him. “You do forgive my harsh words, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He twisted and his mouth swooped feverishly over hers. His hands groped her breasts.
Ordella made all the appropriate noises. But her mind was not on Ranulf, or his clumsy attempts at lovemaking. She was wondering how to proceed when Bayard’s bride arrived.
* * *
“The hour grows late, and I think I have done enough celebrating,” Bayard proclaimed as he rose clumsily to his feet. Around him, his men raised their drinking horns in yet another salute.
Except for Adelar. He had left the hall some time ago, his arm draped over a serving wench with a high-pitched voice and a constant giggle.
Bayard made his way past his men and past the servants who were already asleep. Once outside, he walked casually around the outer wall of the hall and into the shadows.
