Sunder (11 page)

“It’s strange,” she said softly.

“What is?” Thorstein asked as he caught up to her.

“I haven’t carried water since this morning, but I can still feel the yoke on my back.” There was no moon, so she could not clearly see his face, but somehow Isabella felt him smiling at her.

“That will pass. When you get used to it, walking up the hill without a bundle in your arms or on your back will be as easy as breathing. It will just take some time for you to grow stronger. Before I came here, I never had to do such work. But I adapted.”

“You were nobility, weren’t you?”

He sighed heavily. “My father was a minor nobleman. Though it hardly matters now.”

Intrigued, Isabella moved in closer to him.

“Why didn’t your people pay your ransom? Isn’t that what happens with nobility?”

“Well, my mother died giving birth to me, my father was killed when Garrick took me, and my family initially assumed that I was killed as well. If I was ransomed, then all that belonged to my father would pass to me. Assuming my remaining relations know I still live, they gain nothing from my release.”

“Then you were abandoned, just like me.”

He had drifted even closer to her during his brief explanation – so close that he did not even need to reach to wrap his fingers delicately around hers.

“Why did your husband throw you overboard?”

Isabella stopped walking but did not pull her cold hand away from Thorstein’s. It was the question on everyone’s mind, but no one had bothered to ask. They all merely leapt to their own conclusions: that she was an adulterer, perhaps even a murderer. She wore red, with her hair unbound and her arms and legs exposed. They all treated her like a whore, all of them – except Thorstein.  She couldn’t think of any suitable lies to tell, so she decided to simply adapt the truth.

“I married beneath my class – for love, oddly enough. But after several years, I found I didn’t love my husband anymore, and he was a shame to the family. My father found a more suitable man and we were working with the Church to annul my marriage. My husband was obviously not in favor of this proposal, as he had grown accustomed to our way of life.

“So on this voyage, he took advantage of my father’s absence by accusing me of adultery and throwing me over the side of the ship. No one saw him do it, and it will likely be assumed I fell prey to an accident. He will keep everything I brought to the marriage.”

Thorstein stepped closer to her, and she could finally see his face. His brow was furrowed in confusion if not outright disbelief.

“But why were you even on that ship? What would bring an Asturian noble to the shores of Wessex when all of Europe knows we’re under siege from the Danes? Was he involved in trade? Why did he bring you along?”

“I didn’t involve myself in my husband’s affairs, Thorstein,” she snapped at him. She still didn’t know what year this was, and had no idea what sort of story to come up with.

“You boarded a ship with a man you were trying to leave without even asking —”

“Do not ask me these questions!” Isabella took her hand out of his and marched briskly away from him in a huff.  She was at the top of the hill now, and approaching the darkened entryway to the Great Hall. She would cut through to the servant’s quarters. As Thorstein bedded down on the other side of the hall, she reasoned he would not follow. She was too tired to face this inquisition. As she stepped quietly into the hall, a call interrupted the silence.

“Deorca!”

It was not Thorstein’s voice booming from the shadows. She squinted into the dark to see Cædda walking lazily towards her. She had seen little of him in the last month, usually only at Mass. But here he came now, wearing a simple knee-length tunic and trousers – no cloak today despite the cold.  Isabella felt herself blush as he stopped in front of her, close enough for Isabella to feel the heat coming off his body.

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?” He wasn’t smiling, but still managed to look amused.

“I was with Thorstein at Father Sigbert’s,” she said in Saxon. She turned to look out the door, half expecting to see Thorstein still standing where she left him, but he was not.

“I see you’re a fast learner.” He still spoke Latin for her benefit. “What else have you learned?”

She smiled flirtatiously up at him and stretched her arms a bit. “I’ve learned the Saxon words for
idiot, faster,
and
shut up
.” She was encouraged when he laughed. “I also learned it is better to own a slave than to be one.”

“Father Sigbert has told me that I should give you to the sisters at the Abbey. Is that what you want? To take a vow of chastity?”

Isabella leaned her weight back against the doorframe and gave Cædda a cool smile. “Not at all, My Lord. Taking vows would simply be slavery to another master.”

He put his hand on the doorframe next to her face and leaned over her. “What am I going to do with you, my black princess?”

She tilted her head mockingly. “I would hate to think I’m causing my lord trouble. Perhaps you should make a gift of my father’s crucifix and send me on my way.”

“Perhaps I will send you away. But unfortunately, I’ve already made a gift of the medallion.” He moved away from her now, still looking amused. “I’m sure Hilde is expecting you back.”

Isabella stayed next to the doorframe as she watched him walk deeper into the darkened hall, presumably toward the room he shared with Annis. Normally, she could read men so well, but he remained a mystery to her. Was he attracted to her? In her own time, she was universally thought of as beautiful. But here, the men only took note of her as an object of ridicule. She was so much taller than nearly everyone, her olive skin perceived as ugly and unfeminine. But in her few encounters with Cædda, she had noticed him looking at her frequently. Considering his love child with Saoirse, he clearly had no objection to stepping out on his wife.

His willingness to release her seemed promising, but she could not leave without her beacon. If he had already given it away, there was little she could gain now from seducing him. Could he have given it to Garrick? That would be an unpleasant turn of events.

Willing her legs to move, Isabella walked alongside the outer wall, hoping Saoirse and her baby would be asleep when she reached the room. Her feet quickly grew numb in her thin leather booties. They barely had a sole and she imagined that falling arches were in her future – assuming frostbite didn’t get her first.

She was only a few steps away from her room when the sound of footsteps approaching speedily from behind rustled in her ears. Isabella whirled around to see Annis waddling toward her. Her awkward gait brought a laugh gurgling up in Isabella’s throat, but she stifled it quickly when she saw the livid face of Annis.

“You – disobey --- I won’t allow it – understand?” Annis was screaming rapidly at her in Saxon, undoubtedly waking up everyone sleeping in the vicinity of the Great Hall.

She was about to tell Annis she couldn’t understand her when a glint caught her eye. The emergency beacon was gleaming at Annis’ swollen bosom. Isabella stared at it, her heart sinking.
How long has she had that?
Her misery did not go unnoticed.

“A gift.” The lady of Shaftesbury smirked at Isabella, and stood on her tiptoes to get as close as possible to her slave’s face. “Tomorrow. You come see me.” She spat every word to ensure she was understood, then turned on her heel and left.

Defeated and numb, Isabella stood rooted to the spot, tears coming to her eyes. She was seized with the impulse to chase after Annis and rip the crucifix from her neck, but she was still a slave in a walled city with nowhere to go. How could she ever get the beacon back from Annis? No amount of good will from Cædda would ever convince that fat hag to give it back. She had probably been watching from some dark corner while Isabella was talking to Cædda. She stomped her foot in frustration and headed to her room, only giving a quick thought as to what Annis had planned for her in the morning.

***

“Get up Northman.”

The distant voice floated above Thorstein, pulling him ever so slowly from his fog of sleep. His eyes refused to obey the order to open, and his dazed thoughts mumbled to him that he had only dreamed of a voice.

“Northman!”

A sharp pain burst through his hip, jolting him awake. Thorstein sat up in bed and tried to clear the sleep from his eyes. Struggling to focus through the darkness, he could make out Annis’ round form bending over him.

“Yes, My Lady,” he croaked out. The faintest hints of sunlight were coming through the cracks in the doorway, meaning he had not overslept. Even if he had, there was no reason for the lady of the house to summon him. What was she doing there?

“I need you to translate for me,” she said. “Deorca will have new duties starting today and I need to know she understands them.”

The almost giddy expression on the lady’s face unnerved Thorstein.  The daily chores of the women of the household were fixed and constant.  What possible new tasks could Deorca be given?

“Yes, My Lady. Allow me to dress, and I’ll be out in a moment.”

Annis nodded smugly and left his small room.

Thorstein sighed heavily, emerging from his warm bed into the biting morning air. He threw on his clothes quickly and squinted through the dark, looking for his boots.  Thorstein hadn’t had much sleep; but he knew better than to show displeasure to Lady Annis as he walked outside to meet her.

Annis did not say anything to him, but simply motioned for him to follow her, and the two walked the short distance to the kitchen that adjoined the Great Hall.  Though normally warm and abuzz with life, this morning the kitchen was cold and only contained a few women. Sunday mornings, breakfast was not held until after Mass. Deorca was sitting at the small table off to the side with Æmma, the one-eyed kitchen girl, and Saoirse.

Deorca’s eyes shifted over to them and she saw Annis.  Thorstein’s breath caught in his throat when he saw her roll her eyes, completely unabashed.

Annis inhaled and Thorstein was sure he could feel her grow hot next to him.

“You tell that whore to get up and come with me.”

The girls at the table and the women at the stoves stopped completely, with the exception of Æmma, who bolted hastily from the room.

Unfazed by her fellow servant’s terrified flight, Deorca smoothed her skirts and stood up, stretching to her full height. She walked slowly over to Annis and then, looking down on her, said:

“How interesting she calls me whore. I’m the only one in this room who hasn’t screwed her husband.”

Her words were in Latin, which Lady Annis understood very little of. But it seemed she took the meaning of Deorca’s observation and the two women stared at each other. No one moved in the small kitchen.

“Shall we go, My Lady?” Thorstein squeaked out.

Annis carved out an icy smile, then turned and walked out of the room, flicking her wrist for the two of them to follow. Deorca stood rooted in her position, throwing a revolted glare at her retreating mistress. She seemed to have no intention of obeying the direction to follow Annis, so Thorstein closed his hand around her wrist and dragged her out of the kitchen.

“What could you possibly have done to so anger Lady Annis since last I saw you?” Thorstein hissed through his teeth as he led her down the backside of the hill. She lagged behind him as much as her arm length would allow, but she surprisingly did not struggle against him.

“I didn’t do anything.” Deorca’s voice took on a resigned tone now. “Cædda talked to me last night, that’s all. It was a two-minute conversation in an open doorway. When it’s over,
she
comes huffing out of the woodwork screaming at me. The woman’s unbalanced.”

He rolled his eyes upward and sighed, but did not slow his pace. He could only assume ‘unbalanced’ was an Asturian euphemism for crazy. Luckily, the lady of Shaftesbury was sufficiently far ahead that she couldn’t hear them.

For all her arrogance, Deorca was right about Annis’ lack of control over her emotions.  Given the lateness of her pregnancy, some moodiness was to be expected. But Annis’ fits of anger reached far beyond any reason.  Saoirse was, to Thorstein’s knowledge, Cædda’s only mistress.  But all of the women who served the house were subject to vengeance if they came too near their lord.  Saoirse herself was left alone.  For if Annis was to strike out at the Celtic slave, or worse, the child she bore from Cædda, no doubt she would have felt the wrath of her husband. So instead, she focused on safer targets. Previously, her fury had been spread equally among the women of the house. But now it seemed to have shifted squarely to Deorca.

They were descending further down the hill; there wasn’t much here except the well and the blacksmith. “Do you know where she’s leading us?” he asked.

“No. She just told me to come see her this morning. I had every intention of doing so after Mass and breakfast. I hope you’ll explain to Father why I’m not at services today.”

Her last sentence was tinged with sadness and Thorstein stopped walking. Still holding her wrist, he turned to look at her face.  For the first time, the hard lines around her mouth and the frown crease between her eyes had relaxed away, and she looked soulful, sincere.  Even beneath the darkness of her skin, Thorstein could see how truly beautiful she was. Perhaps Annis had seen it from the beginning.