He paused for a moment, feeling a warm rush of pleasure, watching them—his sister and his woman. When everyone else was wary of Kristen, he would have thought Meghan, who feared all strangers, would be even more so. Apparently not. It was obvious that they liked each other, and he was pleased by that.
He would have moved toward them, if Darrelle had not called him. Then he saw Corliss, and he stiffened. How could he have forgotten that she would be here? Lord Averill had come out to the practice field where Alfred had challenged his nobles to some impromptu contests of skill. And whenever Averill came to Wyndhurst, his daughters came too. It had been too much to hope that this time would be different. It was not.
He gritted his teeth and walked forward to greet his betrothed.
Kristen watched Royce and Corliss all evening, where they sat together at the long table. She could not seem to help herself, and simply ignored the painful lump constricting her chest. In spite of telling herself it did not matter, that Royce was not hers anyway, there was still that part of her that felt betrayed, that felt he
was
hers. Only she could not fight for him, could not rail at him, could do nothing to separate him from this other woman.
It hurt, and it made her realize her position here more fully than she had hitherto. She had been blithely getting through this ordeal with the assumption that in the end
she would get what she wanted. And so each setback had made her lose patience—and her temper, too—but not complete hope.
She was so naive! Just because her father had fallen in love with and married his slave, did not mean the same thing could happen here in Wessex. At home, her family was a law unto themselves because of their isolation from the rest of the land. Her uncle Hugh was a Jarl, as powerful in authority in Norway as King Alfred was here. But even so, her mother had had to be freed first before Garrick could wed her. Norway had its laws concerning slaves that love could not put aside. And here, there were so many lords, so many laws! And had not Royce called her mad when she mentioned marriage to him?
Seeing him with his betrothed made Kristen realize she had been mad to think she could ever have him for herself. Not once did she see things from Royce’s point of view. Once he had called her lower than the lowest serf—said in anger, true—but how close was that to how he really felt about her? She was a slave. He had many. She warmed his bed now, but soon he would have a wife to do so. The concern he showed for Kristen was no more than he would give any of his possessions.
“Woolgathering, are you?”
It took a moment for Kristen’s eyes to focus on Eda. “Aye, I suppose I was.”
Eda gave her a knowing look, hearing the misery in her tone. “You always did expect too much, wench.”
“I know.”
Eda shook her head. “You should be thankful for what you have. You are alive, when he could have killed you and those you call friends. He sees to your needs. God’s mercy, he even protects you from other men! Half the wenches here will be tumbled by these lordlings tonight, but not you.”
“You do not have to tell me how fortunate I am.”
“Oh, ho.” Eda chuckled, knowing sarcasm when she heard it. “If you do not like the way ’tis, you can always look now for another man. I have eyes and have seen the way these lordlings look at you. Mayhap if you ask milord nicely, he will sell you when he weds.”
“Aye, mayhap I will.”
“What! Nay, wench, I was but jesting. You do that, and we will all suffer for the storm you will start.”
“You make no sense, Eda.”
“I tell you true, he will never sell you. You are not stupid,” Eda told her impatiently. “You know that what you do has a direct effect on him.”
“Not so,” Kristen retorted.
“Oh? And that week when naught pleased him, that week you sent him away from your room—what would you call that, wench? Everyone here knew you were the cause of his black mood, though only I knew why.” Eda chuckled again. “But as soon as he had you in his bed, his humor returned.”
Kristen looked down and away, feeling heat stain her cheeks. “So he wants me now. ’Twill not last.”
“That man will want you always, wench. I see it in the way he deals with you. I could tell you other things that would convince you, but I do not want to fill your head with more vain ideas. Nay, he will never sell you, or let you have another. But he will marry his lady.”
Kristen stiffened. “Then why do you tell me all this, old woman?”
“Because he will keep you too. Because I do not like to see you so miserable. Because you must begin to accept what you have and cease to reach higher. If you are not happy, then he will be unhappy too, and that affects us all.”
“Enough, Eda. I do not believe I wield such power over him. If I did—”
“If you did, what? Aye, I know. You will ignore all I have said. You still reach too high, wench.”
“Nay, I understand you well. What you do not understand is that I can never accept things the way they are. My mother was made a slave once, captured same as I. She was the daughter of a great lord in her own land and full of pride. She would never admit that she was a slave to the man who owned her, nor to herself. I am not quite so stubborn. I know my position as ’tis now. Yet I am my mother’s daughter. I cannot remain a slave, Eda.”
“You have no choice.”
Kristen looked away, out over the hall, which was dark now except for a few remaining torches. While she had sat there with her dejected thoughts, nearly everyone had retired. Pallets were spread everywhere, for not only Royce’s retainers and servants slept here, but those of the guests as well. She had not seen Royce leave, or his lady.
“Does she stay the night?” Kristen asked Eda.
The old woman grunted, knowing exactly whom she meant. “Aye, they would not ride home in the dark. And I have talked enough to have my words fall on deaf ears. Come, you sleep with me tonight.”
A new rush of pain filled Kristen, but she hid behind a stoical expression. “She sleeps with him, then?”
“For shame, such thoughts!” Eda scolded. “You know we have only the six chambers above. The ladies have been put with Lady Darrelle and Meghan. Lord Alden gave up his own room for the King and is crowded in with the lordlings who have the other two chambers.”
“Then why—”
“Shush,” Eda hissed. “Milord did not like it, but with Lord Averill and his son come today, he could no longer keep his own chamber to himself. There was just no more room above.”
Kristen pictured Royce sharing his bed with his future in-laws, and she almost smiled. But not quite.
O
ne torch sputtered out, leaving only the one by the stairs still burning. The noises in the hall were sporadic: loud and soft snoring, a cough, a few grunts and groans. Eda was one of those snoring softly.
She had led Kristen to the spot that was hers by the cold hearth, a coveted place, as it was cool in summer but warm in winter. There was no pallet for Kristen, all the extra ones already in use by the guests. A thin blanket and the hard floor made her bed, the discomfort of it helping to keep her awake. But she would not have fallen asleep tonight anyway.
Kristen sat up slowly and looked around her. Only a few women slept nearby, but not close enough that she might disturb them. She had waited only until Eda fell asleep. She would have liked to wait a little longer on the chance that someone else could still be awake, but she could not afford to waste that much time.
She was leaving. The decision had been easy, for this was the only chance she was likely to have. She had asked Royce last eve how long his King would stay. It was the only thing she said to him after he made love to her, and he had been unable to give her an answer. It could be on the morrow, or a week from now, but when Alfred did leave, Kristen would be fettered again. She was also likely to be ensconced back in Royce’s chamber, and it would be harder and much more risky to try to leave his side, if he even left the door unlocked, than it would be to slip out of this crowded hall.
Here, the windows were left open, and there was only a slight jump to reach the ground outside. And she had plenty of time to get far away before the morn when she would be missed.
The decision had indeed been easy. Kristen just hadn’t counted on the heavy feeling of gloom that accompanied it. Even though she knew she had no hopes here, she still felt heartsick in thinking she would never see Royce again.
She glanced one last time at Eda, who lay on her back in weary slumber. She would miss this old woman, too, with her crankiness and her gruff concern. And little Meghan, whose curiosity and silent appeal for friendship had managed to make Kristen forget her troubles for a while today.
However, these thoughts did not stop Kristen from making her way toward the window next to the cooking area. No call rang out as she eased her legs over to sit on the ledge. But it was a mark of her dejection that she hesitated for several long moments. And at last it was pride that gave her the final push.
A nearly full moon bathed the yard on this side of the hall. Kristen landed on her feet and jumped back immediately to the shadows by the wall. Cautiously, she worked her way behind the hall and over to the side where the stable was, and the storehouse, and the hut that housed her cousin and the others.
She had not seen their shelter herself since it had been finished, but knew it was only a narrow, windowless room. How miserable it must be to sleep there after the stout door was locked at night. But no more miserable than sleeping out in the rain as they had done before that.
She wished it were raining tonight, to hinder visibility and help conceal the sound of her movements. But there were only a few clouds above, and these were not
even near the overly bright moon. This would not deter her, though. Everyone was indoors, sleeping. There was no one to see her.
From the back of the stable, she could hear the soft nicker of one of the horses, reminding her that horses would be needed. But none of these. The large wooden gate was closed and locked at night, and no doubt a guard set to watch. Even if there was no guard, taking any of the stabled horses would make too much noise. This was no problem, though, for she knew that most of Royce’s horses had been taken to pasture. She would just have to find the pasture.
The problem she did face was coming around the prisoners hut and seeing a guard sitting in front of the only door. She ducked back behind the side of the building, her heart racing. Had he heard her footsteps? Had he seen her? But she heard no movement from him, and after a short time more she found the courage to peek around the corner.
The man was still sitting there, his back against the door, his head leaning back, too, and bent to the side. She let out the breath she had been holding, realizing he was asleep. This was something she had not counted on, for the door was locked, a guard not needed. But this was minor in comparison to the problem she had known she would face: getting that locked door open. Then again, this would be a blessing if the guard held the key to the heavy lock.
Kristen moved back behind the building to look for a stone large enough to render the fellow unconscious. She could have swiped his dagger while he slept and killed him instead, but couldn’t bring herself to do that. Unfortunately, there were no stones about the yard that were big enough, and she finally had to work her way over to where the rock wall was being built. There, it took a while to find a stone that wasn’t too big. She did
find one eventually, and she did make her way back to the guard without incident.
Her pulse accelerated as she approached him. If he made a sound when she struck, she would be done for. If she struck too hard…God help her, she didn’t want to really hurt him, just put him into a deeper sleep.
The stone hit near his temple and the man sagged to the side. He breathed. That was enough to satisfy Kristen’s conscience for now, and she made fast work of searching his body for the key. Her luck did not extend that far. She would have to waste more time trying to pry the lock loose. But at least this unexpected guard provided the dagger to work with.
She went quickly to the task, calling in an urgent voice that did not carry far, “Ohthere. Thor—”
A large hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her, while another gripped the wrist that held the dagger. “Drop it. Do it now.”
She did, feeling a strange mixture of dread and joy as she recognized that voice. He let go of her wrist as soon as the dagger clattered to the ground, his hand then going round her waist. It was not a tight hold he had on her, but she knew it could be if she struggled.
And then she felt nothing but regret, hearing Thorolf on the other side of the still-locked door. He had heard her soft call. He thought she was there to help them escape.
“Kristen? Kristen, answer. Tell me I was not dreaming.”
“What does he say?” Royce whispered by her ear.
“He knows ’tis me.”
“Then tell him what has happened.”
She swallowed hard. What
had
happened? How? She had got this far. No cry of alarm was raised. Yet she was stopped, and by the one man here whom she would not
turn around and fight in earnest. If it were anyone else…
“Thorolf, I am sorry. I nearly succeeded, but the Saxon lord has found me out. He is here.”
There was a long silence from behind the door, and then: “You should not have come for us, Kristen. You should have flown while you were able.”
“That matters not now.”
“What will he do to you?”
How could she answer that? She said to Royce, “He wants to know what you will do to me.”
“What would have happened if you had succeeded in opening that door?”
His voice was so frightfully calm. God’s teeth! Why wasn’t he shouting at her? He had to be furious. She hadn’t looked at him yet to see for herself, but he must be. But if he could hide his fury, then she could hide her fear.
With equal calm, she said, “If I had opened the door, we would have run for yonder fence and been gone from here.”