The Deepening Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 3) (10 page)

Chapter
Nine

A Gentle
Moment

Annan and Saewara emerged from the tent to find Saba waiting
for them.

“Did you find them all?” Annan asked.

Saba nodded curtly in response. “We killed all the outlaws we
found. If any survived they’ve run off into the woods.”

Saba glanced at Saewara then; even in the misty shadows the
concern was evident on his face.

“Are you well, Milady?”

“Yes, thank you,” Saewara replied, her voice subdued,
“although a few minutes more and I wouldn’t have been.”

Annan sheathed his sword,
Night Bringer,
and turned to
Saewara. He looked down at her feet, which were bare. In his voluminous cloak
she looked small and vulnerable. Her eyes were huge and dark on her pale face.
“We have a long walk ahead of us,” he told her. “Climb on my back and I’ll
carry you.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?” Her voice was husky from
strain. “I can walk.”

“I know you can,” he replied, irritated, “but there’s no need.
Climb on my back.”

Annan turned around and knelt so that she could wrap her arms
around his neck. When he straightened up, she clamped her legs around his
chest. He could feel the warmth of her body against his back, despite that they
were both soaked. Annan did his best to clamp off his mind to it; frankly the
events of this night had put him in a foul mood.

They set off, following the others through the rain shrouded
woods.

“How did you find us so easily?” Saewara asked, her breath
feathering his ear as she spoke. “They were sure you wouldn’t.”

“That was their mistake then. Both Saba and I can track
anything,” Annan replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “We learnt as soon as we
could walk. They tried to mask their trail but they were in too much of a hurry
to do a good job of it. It was like tracking a pack of stampeding boar through
the woods – easy.”

“The man you killed – he was one of my brother’s thegns,
banished just over a year ago.”

Annan stiffened at this news. “Really?”

“He heard of my impending marriage and thought to wreak
vengeance on Penda by ruining his sister.”

Annan remained silent at this admission. The no-nonsense
manner in which Saewara proclaimed this news shocked him. The lack of emotion
in his betrothed’s voice when she spoke of her brother spoke volumes about her
rapport with him. She had been ill-treated; it was clear in the way she
interacted with men. And after what he had witnessed in that outlaw’s tent,
Annan was not surprised.

Yet, the image that had burnt into his memory like a brand,
was not that of the outlaw, readying himself to rape his captive, or of the
abject terror on Saewara’s face, but of her loveliness. Even now he could
visualize the lush globe of her milk-white breast and the dusky nipple.

Annan shook his head to clear it. The woman had been cringing
in terror and all he could think about was her naked breast. Frankly, he
sickened himself.

Although Saewara was a small woman, and easy to carry, it was
a long, tiring journey through the woods back to camp. If anything, the rain
had grown heavier, and by the time they spotted the glow of the tents through
the trees, Annan felt as if there was not a part of him that was not soaked
through.

Ignoring Penda’s servant, who strode out to meet them, Annan
carried Saewara to his own tent. He felt the man’s gaze track him across the
clearing but left Saba to explain what had happened.

Inside Annan’s tent, a fire still burned. The air was warm and
dry.

“Bring us some ale to warm,” Annan instructed one of the
warriors, “and some more wood for the fire.”

He sighed in relief when Saewara slid off his shoulders onto
the ground before he straightened his aching back.

“I’m sorry if I was heavy, Milord,” Saewara murmured from
behind him, her voice abashed. “You should have let me walk.”

“You weren’t heavy.” Annan shook his head and gave a rueful
smile. “I’m just getting old, it seems.”

A warrior brought a jug of ale, which Annan put to warm over
the fire. Annan then sent him out to retrieve Saewara’s clothes from her tent.
Almost immediately, their wet clothes started to steam. They would both need to
change into dry clothes but, for the moment, they needed to warm themselves,
from the inside out.

“Here.” Annan passed Saewara a mug of hot ale. “This will warm
you.”

Saewara nodded and took the mug wordlessly, wrapping her
fingers around it. She sat on a stool in front of the fire pit, still swathed
in Annan’s cloak; although it had slipped down on one shoulder, revealing the
thin linen tunic beneath. Annan took a deep draught of warm ale, feeling it
burn into his belly. A moment later, his gaze returned to Saewara.

“Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?” he asked.

Saewara gave him a tight smile in return. “Nothing that can’t
be fixed.”

Annan took another gulp of ale before stepping up to Saewara.
He then hunkered down so that their gazes were eye level.  

“You have a huge welt on your forehead. How did you get it?
Let me have a look.”

“Coenwal head-butted me,” Saewara replied, wincing as Annan
gently probed the inflamed skin with his fingertips.

“Coenwal, is that the bastard’s name?”

Saewara nodded.

“You’re right, no lasting damage,” he finished checking her
forehead.

“It all happened so quickly,” Saewara replied, the words
rushing out as if a dam had just burst inside her. “I woke up and they were
inside the tent. Oswyn tried to raise the alarm but they cut her down.”

Tears filled her eyes then, and she hurriedly brushed them
away. “I tried to shout but they were too fast. I was sure they were going to
kill me.”

“You’re a brave woman, Saewara,” Annan replied gently. “I saw
how you fought that outlaw.”

Suddenly, Annan was aware of how close they were. His face was
just inches from hers, and the warmth of the fire enveloped them. Saewara had
closed her eyes; her lashes were long and dark against her pale skin. Her
cheeks were flushed from the ale, and Annan could also feel his senses
heightened. His gaze then travelled down Saewara’s face, observing her delicate
features and her full, sensual lips. Then, suddenly, his breath stilled in his
chest.

The cloak shrouding her, had slipped open.

Her breast, in its soft glory, was visible. Annan closed his
eyes. A strange ache took up residence in his chest. He longed to reach out and
touch her. It would be easy to lower his lips to hers and kiss that soft mouth.

What is wrong with you?

Annan swiftly rose to his feet and took a rapid step back.
“Saewara, cover yourself up,” he said, his voice strangely hoarse, turning so
that she would have a moment of privacy; so she would not see his face.

Saewara made a soft sound of mortification as she realized
that the cloak had slipped, and when Annan turned back toward her, she was
covered up once more. A moment later, the warrior that Annan had sent to
retrieve Saewara’s possessions entered the tent.

“I will leave you to change,” Annan told her brusquely, before
draining the remnants of his ale and ducking outside into the rainy night.

Saewara watched Annan go; her forehead still tingling from
where his fingertips had touched. She felt oddly light-headed but imagined it
was a combination of the warm ale and shock from her ordeal.

Putting aside her empty cup, she rose to her feet and quickly
stripped off her ruined tunic. She pulled a clean tunic from her bag and a
woolen
wealca
to go over it and dressed as rapidly as she was able. Her
hands trembled slightly as she fastened the over-dress’s straps with two simple
broaches.

When Annan returned to the tent a short while later, she was
dressed and warming her feet in front of the fire.

He nodded at her and, without warning stripped off his sodden
tunic before reaching for a dry one. Saewara hurriedly averted her gaze,
staring into the dancing flames. However, one glance had been enough for her to
appreciate his broad shoulders, finely muscled chest and back, and the masculine
spray of crisp blond hair across his chest.  Unaware of his betrothed’s flushing
cheeks, Annan shrugged the dry tunic over his head and began to unlace the
garters around his calves. He then kicked off his sodden boots and stripped off
his breeches. Annan moved with a complete lack of self-consciousness; a man who
was completely comfortable with nakedness.

Saewara kept her eyes firmly downcast until he was clothed
once more.

“It is only a short while till daybreak,” he told her curtly.
“I suggest you try and get some sleep or the next day of travel will exhaust
you.”

Saewara nodded, noticing that the coldness he had exhibited toward
her before her abduction had returned. She had caught a glimpse of a different
man for a short while after he had saved her – for the ordeal had momentarily
bonded them – but now, it was as if that man had never existed. Instead, a cold
stranger; the man who looked at her with resentment in his eyes, stood before
her once more.

Bone-weary, Saewara climbed into the furs without a word. She
snuggled into their warmth and closed her eyes, hearing Annan leave the tent.

I won’t sleep
, she told herself.
After
tonight I shall never sleep again.
Yet, moments after curling up in the
furs, she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

***

They buried Oswyn in the clearing, as a wet dawn crept across
the world.

Saewara stood at the edge of the grave, watching as Annan’s
warriors shoveled dirt over the girl’s body.

“Her name was Oswyn and she might have found hope in her new
life,” Saewara murmured, catching the attention of both Annan and Saba who
watched the burial beside her. “For there was no hope in her old one. We
murdered her kin and stripped away her identity. She had every right to hate
us, but I sense that she and I might have been friends. In a different life we
would have been friends.”

“Milady?” Saba spoke up, frowning. “Her death was not your
fault.”

Saewara looked up and met the warrior’s gaze. She saw that he
had kind eyes. Smiling sadly, Saewara shook her head.

“Death is the easy part,” she looked back at the small, lonely
grave. “In many ways I envy her.”

“So you would trade places with her then?” Annan asked.
Saewara met his dark blue-eyed gaze and held it. “You wish it was your throat
they had cut last night?”

The words were brutal – he had meant them to be. Yet, Saewara
merely smiled.

“Yes, I would trade places with her,” she replied simply. “At
least she is now in peace.”

With that, Saewara turned her back on the men and walked away
from the grave, toward where a knot of warriors were readying the horses and
finishing packing away the last of the camp. She had left Annan and Saba before
she said more; before she said too much. Words, sharp, angry and bitter, made
her throat ache from the effort it was taking not to shout them. However, she
knew what men were like. Penda would have knocked her to the ground for even
saying what she had. Although Annan did not appear to be brutal, she knew he
would not appreciate her telling him that she would rather be in that grave
than travelling to Rendlaesham to become his bride.

Annan watched her now with a slightly perplexed expression, as
if he was trying to decide what to make of her. Saewara ignored him, busying
herself with making sure her pony’s saddle and bridle were adjusted properly,
before tightening its saddle’s girth.

Keep your mouth closed from now on
, she warned
herself. Men hated women with opinions.
Shrew, harpy, and fishwife
– she
had been called all these things, and worse, by Penda and her late husband.
Annan already resented her deeply; she did not want to give him even more
reasons to do so.

Chapter
Ten

The River
Crossing

The moment they crossed the border from Mercia to the Kingdom
of the East Angles, Saewara felt a sense of finality; a certainty she would
never return to her homeland. It was an odd sensation – a mix of melancholy and
longing for a place she had wanted to love but had never been accepted in,
blended with a very real dread of what lay before her.

Mingled with all of this was relief; with each passing league
they were drawing ever farther away from her brother.

Stepping from one world to another was easy. One moment they
were riding through woodland with the rain beating down on their heads, the
next the trees gave way and they rode out onto flat heathland under leaden
skies.

The weather worsened as the day wore on. The ground squelched
underfoot and the going became ever slower. Often, they would have to stop to
dig the wagon out of the mud, or detour around areas that had become flooded.

Soon, Saewara forgot what it felt like to be dry. The only
saving grace was that it was not overly cold, although the damp seemed to
penetrate to the bone. The company rode in silence; after the events of the
night before they were all exhausted and irritable from lack of sleep. Like the
day before, Saewara fell back to the end of the group, riding alongside the
wagon while Annan led the column.

The farther east they rode, the flatter the landscape became
and the bigger the sky loomed overhead. Despite the foul weather, Saewara found
herself looking about with interest. She had thought the whole world resembled
the rolling, lush-green hills and wooded thickets of Mercia. She had not
expected her new home to be so different – so flat.

That night they made camp on the only higher ground they could
find. Saewara now shared a tent with Annan. The rain drummed on the roof of the
tent while Saewara sat eating a light supper of stale bread, cheese and small,
sweet onions.

She was alone. Annan ate with his men, which was a relief for
Saewara. After the events of the last few days, relations were strained between
them. For herself, Saewara was keenly aware of Annan’s presence whenever he was
near her. The night before, when he had touched the welt on her forehead, she experienced
the same hunger she had felt during that fateful dance in Tamworth. She was not
sure if he had also felt it, although judging from his swift departure from the
tent and his refusal to come anywhere near her ever since, Annan was aware of
the pull between them and did not want to encourage it.

She hardly blamed him – she was Penda of Mercia’s sister,
after all.

That night, Saewara slept on a pile of furs on one side of the
fire pit, while Annan slept on the other. Saewara fell into an exhausted sleep
as soon as she stretched out on the furs, and awoke to the dripping of water on
her face from the slit at the top of the tent.

It was still raining.

Huddled under a heavy fur cloak, Saewara emerged from the tent
to find Annan and his warriors breaking their fast with stale bread and broth.
Annan wordlessly handed Saewara a cup of hot broth and a heel of bread before
going to help the others ready themselves to move on.

The broth, although a bit insipid, revived Saewara somewhat
and she helped the warriors load the provisions into the wagon.

“You don’t have to help us, Milady,” Saba told her with a grin
as Saewara struggled over to the wagon with armloads of furs. “The king’s
betrothed should enjoy being waited upon.”

Saewara shook her head and found herself returning Saba’s
grin. Smiling felt odd, and she realized that it was the first time she had
done so in a long while. “The king’s betrothed will get fat and lazy if she
doesn’t do anything for herself.”

Saba laughed at that before going to dismantle the tents.
Meanwhile, Saewara busied herself with packing away the food provisions and covering
them with oiled cloth; packing the ends in tightly so that they did not get
wet.

A short while later, the company set off for another long, wet
day of travel. According to Saba, they still had another three days journey
east before arriving in Rendlaesham. As in previous days, Saewara and her
shaggy, bad-tempered pony brought up the rear of the group. She rode alongside
the emissary that Penda had sent to ensure the handfasting actually took place.
The young man was ill-tempered and did not invite conversation. She only
learned that his name was Yffi, and that he bridled at being given this task;
something none of the warriors had volunteered for. Eventually, Saewara tired
of trying to draw Yffi into conversation, and they both rode in silence.

Despite the rain, Saewara found herself enjoying the monotony
of the journey. It left her alone with her own thoughts. Unlike her brother’s
hall in Tamworth, where she had constantly felt observed and judged, no one
paid her any mind here. Even Yffi was content to ignore her. She reveled in the
peace and wished that it would never end.

Mid-morning the journey came to an abrupt end.

A river, swollen and muddy from the rains boiled before them.
The bridge, which the East Angles had used to cross the river on their way west,
had been washed out, making crossing the divide a risky and laborious process.

“Is there no way we can go around it? Another bridge up river maybe?”
Saewara heard Saba ask Annan. Both men had dismounted near the riverbank and
were looking despondently upon the obstacle in their path.

Annan shook his head. “The nearest bridges, both up and
downriver, are at least three days’ ride from here – and what’s to say they
haven’t been washed out as well?”

Saba grunted, his brow furrowing as he gazed upon the swollen river.

“We could cross it, if we tie the horses together with rope
and cross in a line. It will be difficult, and we’ll have to leave the wagon
behind, but if we’re careful we’ll manage it.”

“We could be swept away,” one of the other warriors piped up.
“And I can’t swim.”

“Why don’t we just wait out the rain?” another warrior, an
older man, asked. “It can’t continue like this for much longer. As soon as the
rain stops the river will go down quick enough.”

“That could be days,” Saba replied before his gaze returned to
the king. “What say you, Annan?”

“I don’t like your plan much,” Annan admitted with a scowl,
“but since no one has a better solution, we should try to cross.”

There were a few grumbles and dark looks, for it seemed that
few of the warriors could swim. Only Annan, Saba and Saewara had ever learnt,
and even they were nervous about crossing.

“In good weather children could cross this river,” Saba said
with a shake of his head as he dug out a long coil of rope from one of their
packs. “Now it rages like a beast.”

It took them a while to prepare themselves for the crossing. As
much as possible was removed from the wagon and strapped to the horses’ backs.
Tying all the rope they carried into one length, they were able to link it
through the horses’ girths to form one chain. Saba complained that he would
have preferred to have been able to wrap the rope around the waist of each
person, but they did not have enough rope to do so – as such, each warrior
would have to grab on to his horse’s saddle as he waded beside it.

“I’ll put you up on my stallion.” Annan turned to Saewara,
addressing her for the first time all day. “You should be safe there.”

Saewara nodded, before casting an eye over the river. If
anything it was flowing even more swiftly than when they had arrived at its
banks. Although she had not said so to Annan, she was relieved to be carried
across on horseback, unlike everyone else who would have to wade. That water
looked freezing.

They began the crossing carefully. Annan helped Saewara up
onto his horse’s back before taking his place at the stallion’s shoulder.
Saewara’s pony was tied up behind. They were in the middle of the chain; which
gave Saewara some comfort. However, the stallion, sensing her nervousness sidestepped
and bucked as they approached the water.

“Relax, Saewara,” Annan said while he soothed the horse by
stroking its quivering neck. “He can feel your fear.”

Saewara tried to take Annan’s advice, relaxing the grip her
thighs had on the saddle and talking to the stallion in a gentle voice. The
horse’s ears flicked back and forth and Saewara felt the animal calm under her.

“That’s right.” Annan nodded in approval, his gaze meeting
Saewara’s briefly. “Hold on, here we go.”

The first horses and warriors entered the raging river. Saba
took the lead, with his huge, heavy-set bay stallion; a fierce creature that
Saba had difficulty controlling as it surged into the water. The river was
deep, reaching Saba’s breastbone and halfway up his horse’s chest. As her horse
entered the river, Saewara glanced over her shoulder at her pony. Once they
entered the river, the water rose up over the pony’s back so only its head,
neck and withers were above the water. She could see the whites of the pony’s
eyes and heard its shrill neigh of fear. Poor creature.

At first, they made good progress across the river. Saba had
nearly reached the far bank and although the chill water lapped at Saewara’s
feet, she felt hopeful that she would get to the other side without getting
drenched.

Then, disaster struck.

Annan’s horse stumbled, suddenly floundering in the swirling
water. For one moment, Saewara held on, believing that the stallion would find
its footing once more. However, one misstep was all it took. The horse went
under and Saewara pitched forward and fell into the river.

Cold water embraced her and Saewara came up gasping. She was
already a few feet down river and struggled to stand up in the water. However,
the current yanked her feet from under her, and she went under once more.

“Saewara!” Annan shouted, reaching for her. “Grab my hand!”

He was stretching toward her, struggling with his other hand
to control the stallion. The horse was now squealing in terror and trying to
lurch forward out of the line.

Annan’s fingers brushed hers.

Saewara resurfaced, coughing. Then, she saw Annan let go of
the rope as he threw himself forward and grabbed her hand.

A moment later, the river swept them both away.

“Annan!” The last thing Saewara heard, before the current sucked
her beneath the river’s surface, was Saba’s shout. After that, the water
blocked her ears.

Annan’s hand was the only thing she had to cling on to.

When she resurfaced once more, lungs burning, it was Annan who
had pulled her up. Gasping and spluttering, Saewara clung to him. He pulled her
against him, while he lay on his back and lifted his head up in an attempt to
get his bearings. Together they hurtled through the foaming water.

Their salvation came a short while later, when the river
narrowed.

Willows draped over the river here. They both managed to grab
hold of an overhanging branch, as they passed under it, and hoist themselves up.
After catching their breath, Annan and Saewara inched their way along the
branch’s length, to safety.

Saewara dropped from the branch, on to the mossy bank, before
collapsing onto her back. The grey sky wheeled above through the bright green
growth of the willow trees and her pulse beat in her ears. Annan lay beside
her, his breathing coming in ragged gasps.

“That,” he gasped when he finally regained his breath “was
Saba’s stupidest idea yet. Remind me to punch him in the mouth when he catches
up with us.”

His unexpected attempt at humor caught Saewara off guard;
especially so soon after they had avoided a watery death. She tried to laugh but
hiccupped instead, before being seized by a coughing fit.

Eventually, she sat up and, pushing her wet hair off her face,
turned to meet the gaze of her savior. Annan had pushed himself up into a
sitting position. Their gazes met and held.

“You saved me – again,” she croaked. “Twice in two days.”

“A woman like you certainly keeps a man on his toes,” he
admitted. “
Woden
, I thought the river had swallowed you.”

Saewara looked away from him, the laughter of moments ago
draining from her; a chill that went right to her core replaced it.

“You should have let it,” she said quietly, meaning every
word. “It would have made both our lives easier.”

“Enough, Saewara.” Annan gently but firmly took hold of her
chin and turned her face to him, forcing her to meet his gaze once more. She
could see that her words had angered him. “Do you think me a monster, capable
of letting a woman drown?”

“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.