The Cross and the Curse (Bernicia Chronicles Book 2) (23 page)

Edlyn's hand found Sunniva's. She gripped it tightly. The blaze had looked strong enough. What if the the flames did not come back? But she need not have worried. As she looked, the flames returned, burning away the bloody offering.

The gods would receive the tribute.

The people cheered. They were not many, but their voices were strong. Loud enough for the gods themselves to heed their call.

The menfolk moved to the animal and began to butcher it. They worked quickly with seaxes and axes, hacking the carcass into manageable hunks of meat and bone. Acennan used a large axe to sever the head of the beast. The horns were fine. They would make good drinking cups. They were removed from the skull before Acennan lifted the huge bovine head and carried it to the deep hole that had been dug near the fire.

Beobrand placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. Blood dripped black from the neck and nose of the beast. The tongue flopped and drooled.

"We offer this ox head to the ground," said Beobrand, "that it may please the Cofgodas who guard our soil from spirits of evil. May it feed them this winter."

Acennan placed the brawny head into the hole. He then used a shovel to push some of the embers from the bonfire on top of the offering. Sparks flickered into the night. Bright specks that could have been the very eyes of the Cofgodas spirits looking on from the dark. Acennan shovelled the freshly turned earth into the hole then, burying head and embers alike.

Beobrand came to Sunniva and took her right hand in his. She caressed gently the stump of his fingers. It was somehow reassuring to feel the evidence of his past battles. This was her man. He spoke well. He loved her and would kill for her. And he was a good lord.

"It is well-done," said Beobrand. "Now, let us go to Ubba's hall and feast."

They cheered again.

The air of tension had fled as quickly as the sparks vanished into the cold night air.

Beobrand sat at the head of the hall and smiled. The gift-stool was comfortable, worn smooth by years of use by Ubba and his father before him. Rowena had offered him the seat as was his due as her new hlaford. She was gracious indeed. She had been pleased when he had told her that she could keep Ubba's hall and that he would build a new hall. From that moment on, she had done her utmost to make the people accept Beobrand and his retainers. He could not have asked for a better ally.

The smell of cooking meat pervaded the hall. Cuts of the ox sizzled on spits that children turned near the fire.

All the inhabitants of Ubbanford were in the hall, except for two night wardens posted outside the doors. Acennan had insisted.

"You wouldn't want that Pict bastard to come in the night and burn the hall with us all inside, would you?" Beobrand thought for a moment of his father. The flames had taken his life and their home. It was not a death to sing of.

Later, the children and women folk would leave, and the men would have a symbel. Oaths would be sworn. Boasts would be made. The memory horn would be passed. And it would be a surprise to all if any mead or ale remained come morning.

But for now, everyone from the settlement was packed into the hall. It was as loud as the clash of shieldwalls. Yet this was the happy cacophony of community. Laughter. Chatter. Shouting. Bawdy jokes.

Not the battle clamour of death and pain. Beobrand closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself not to think such black thoughts.

"Are you well, my lord?" Sunniva was at his side. She offered him ale. He held out his drinking horn.

"I am all the better for having you at my side," he said. He stroked her leg as she leant forward to pour him drink. She bent and kissed his cheek.

"I can scarce believe that I am lord of these people."

"And my lord too," she said. "You spoke well tonight. The people are content."

"As am I. It is pleasing to see the people happy. Soon we will build a home for ourselves. Until then, I hope you are content too."

"I am." Sunniva pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Lady Rowena is very kind." She paused. Looked towards the hearth-fire.

"What is it? Does something ail you, Sunniva?"

She bit her lower lip. "It is nothing. You will think me silly."

"Nonsense. What is it? I would know what upsets my wife."

For a long while she did not respond. Just when Beobrand thought she would not speak, she said, "It is him."

Beobrand didn't understand. "Who?"

"Him," she said, signalling with her chin.

He followed her gaze.

"Anhaga?" he asked, a tinge of vexation entering his tone. "We have spoken of this."

"I know. I said you would think me silly. But he looks at me... with a hunger." She shuddered.

"Anhaga is a good man. I am certain of it. He is oath-bound to me. He wishes no harm to you."

"I know what he wants," she snapped. Lady Rowena looked at them quizzically for a moment before turning her attention back to Edlyn, who was speaking incessantly at her side.

"Sunniva, my love." Beobrand took her hand in his; touched her cheek so that she looked directly at him. "You are the most beautiful woman most men will ever see. Men will always look at you. But they will not touch you, for you are mine. And I would kill any man who did you wrong. Anhaga is a faithful man, I am sure, but if the cripple makes you uneasy, I will speak to him."

"No. I know you speak the way of it. Do not talk with Anhaga of this. It will make things more difficult for me. I will need to work with him if I am to run your hall."

Beobrand let out a sigh. Why was everything so complicated with women? He quashed his frustration and allowed himself to relax once more. "Good. He will be of use to you in many ways. He is quick-witted and honest. All who knew him in Bebbanburg vouched for his good character."

Sunniva nodded, but her lips were pressed into a thin line and her brow was furrowed. She was not convinced. He decided to move the conversation away and on to happier things.

He looked over at where Rowena was listening to her daughter, who was gesticulating wildly as she recounted a tale.

"How is the forge? Is there anything you need?"

"It is wonderful to be able to work metal again. There was a moment yesterday when I half expected him to be there. Just behind me where I could not see. I could feel his presence."

Beobrand squeezed her hand. It seemed more difficult than he'd thought to move her mind from sad thoughts.

"I am sure his spirit looks on with pride," he said. "And your young apprentice? How does she fare?"

"Edlyn is a sweet girl. And good company. She is a treasure."

Beobrand seized the opportunity. "Talking of treasure," he said quickly, "that reminds me. There is something I need to do. Please take your seat and I will address the folk."

Sunniva sat, smoothing her dress over her thighs nervously.

Beobrand stood. He held out his arms as if in supplication to the gods, as he had seen Oswald do. In battle, men turned to him naturally. He was taller than most. Hale and strong with great sword-skill. But here, in the mead hall, he was unsure of himself. He felt clumsy as he ever did speaking before others. He looked to Acennan. His friend saw him standing there and nodded. He turned to those around him on the benches and bade them be silent.

The fire burnt hot on the hearth. The faces of the feasters were made ruddy by ale, mead and heat. The chaos of dozens of voices washed over Beobrand as he stood there. For a moment he wondered if they would cease talking. Perhaps he would be left to sit back down. Ignored like a chastised child who sought attention from his elders.

Then, unnervingly rapidly, the hall grew quiet. One heartbeat the room was a confusion of noise, the next it was hushed.

Beobrand looked over them all. They were all his people now. From homeless to lord in a year. His wyrd was woven with bold threads, of that there could be no doubt. Amongst the upturned faces he saw his gesithas and their women. They wore expressions of expectation. Pride. They were keen to hear his words. In his dreams as a boy back in Hithe he had sometimes pictured himself as a thegn in a great hall. But he had never imagined this scene. To be standing before a throng who called him hlaford.

Lowering his arms to his side, Beobrand spoke in a clear voice. "Folk of Ubbanford. Good folk. My folk. We are reaching the end of a harsh year. We have lost loved ones." He glanced to either side. Sunniva, Rowena and Edlyn looked back at him, their eyes glistening.

"We have fought battles."

Acennan and the other warriors nodded.

He remembered Tata, her body broken on the altar of Engelmynster. Recalled the vision of Cathryn's corpse, cold and mutilated on the forest floor. His face clouded. "Innocents have been killed."

"Let us raise the horns to our fallen. Fill your cups and drink deeply. Let their names never be forgotten." He took his drinking horn and lifted it high. Around the hall, the action was repeated.

"To the fallen!" Beobrand said. He took a long draught from the horn, the cool liquid bitter on his tongue.

"To the fallen!" His folk echoed him. Silence fell on the room as they all drank. Then the clatter of horns and cups being slammed onto boards. People began to talk. Perhaps tales of those they had lost.

Beobrand held out his arms again. Silence returned quickly.

"We must never forget those we have lost, or the hardships we've faced. But I do not wish to dwell on these things tonight. Tonight must be a celebration. We celebrate the simple things. That we have food on the table. A roof above us. The gods have accepted our sacrifice. Yet there is more I wish us to celebrate."

He reached out to Sunniva. She stood and took his hand.

"It has been a hard year for Sunniva and I too. We have no living family." Her small hand was cool in his. "But we found each other. We are handfasted. Wed together as man and wife." She squeezed his hand. "Having no family means that there was nobody to agree the brýdgifu or the handgeld."

The women's faces in the gathering stared back at him, eager to hear what he would say.

"But in losing our families, we have found you. You, the folk of Ubbanford. And we would celebrate our handfasting with you."

His gesithas and some of the drunker ceorls cheered. Fists thumped the boards. Plates and cups rattled.

"I see you are hungry and wish to slake thirsts already dampened with more mead and ale, so I will not speak for much longer."

Acennan, red-faced and smiling, cheered and raised his horn in salute. Laughter rippled around the hall.

"Stop your crowing, Acennan," Beobrand raised an eyebrow in Acennan's direction. "If you are so keen for me to finish, perhaps the nightwards would like to be relieved of their duty and allowed to join the feast." Beobrand's smile took the sting from the rebuke.

Acennan returned the smile, lifting a hand in apology. "Sorry, lord. Please continue."

"We have been wed for some time now, and yet Sunniva is still without her morgengifu. So here, before you all, I wish to give her that which is hers by right. A morgengifu that is fit for a lord's lady."

He turned from the throng and lifted a small wooden box from under the gift-stool.

He faced Sunniva and said, "In this cask I give you half of the treasure handed to me by Oswald King. This gold and silver is yours from this day forth. You may use it as you see fit."

Sunniva's smile was wide. Her face seemed to glow in light of the hearth-flame.

"There is more I would give you. Silver and gold is not enough. It can be stolen or misspent. And it cannot fill an empty belly. So I gift to you also my lord's right to the fish from the river Tuidi that is within the hides of my land. This I will see is proclaimed to the king when next I go to Bebbanburg. Oswald King will know of our handfasting and the value of your morning-gift so that no man may refute these words."

"Thank you, Beobrand Lord," Sunniva replied, her voice slight, but carrying throughout the hall. "To be your wife is enough for me, but I accept this morgengifu from you gladly."

She kissed him softly on the lips. He breathed deep of the scent of her.

Then addressing the hall in his loudest tone he declaimed, "Now I truly have talked too long. My throat is dry and my stomach grumbles at the smell of the meat on the spit. Drink, eat and celebrate. Tonight is a good night."

The throng erupted in cheers and shouts. They all returned to conversations at their boards, and the sound was again like the waves washing over stones on a beach. Rowena nodded to him, as he sat. He watched Sunniva as she moved towards the hearth. She spoke to one of the thralls there who sliced meat from a joint and laid it on a trencher for her. What grace and beauty. To think he had believed himself cursed not six months hence.

Sunniva made her way back towards him. Beobrand watched her, entranced. Beyond her, his gaze was drawn to another's stare. Anhaga's eyes followed Sunniva's swaying hips as she walked. Beobrand and Anhaga's gazes met. For a brief moment a darkness seemed to fall over Anhaga's face, then he looked away. Could there be some substance to Sunniva's fears? No, it was madness. Whatever the man thought, surely he would not risk death.