The Deepening Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 3) (16 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Hereswith

They left for Exning three days later.

The king and his entourage rode out of Rendlaesham on a
bright, breezy morning. Clouds scudded across a robin’s egg blue sky and the
trill of a skylark accompanied Annan’s departure from his hall. The folk of
Rendlaesham crowded at the roadside to watch Annan leave – and now that Saewara
was wedded to their king, they dared not spit insults at her as she rode past. Nonetheless,
many of their gazes were unfriendly, and Saewara kept her own gaze fixed firmly
on her horse’s ears as they made their way down the main thoroughfare to
Rendlaesham’s main gates.

She only began to relax with they were riding through the
fields south of Rendlaesham, with the town at their backs.

Saewara rode near the head of the column, on a spirited filly
that kept pace with Annan’s stallion, unlike the stubborn pony she had ridden
here from Tamworth. Behind her rode a column of warriors, and behind them trailed
Hereswith and Eldwyn. Another group of warriors and three wagons laden with
goods brought up the rear of the company. Hilda, and two other slaves who had
also been brought to serve the king at Exning, travelled with the wagons.

It was a relief to leave the ‘Golden Hall’ of the Wuffingas
behind. Saewara knew that she would have to contend with Hereswith and Eldwyn
at Exning, but at least the group of hangers-on – the ealdormen’s wives who had
followed Hereswith around in adoration – would be absent at their new hall.

The journey east would take them two full days and one night,
if the good weather held. Remembering the deluge on their way to Rendlaesham,
Saewara hoped it would. The sun on her face and the wind on her skin cheered
her up no end. There was a freedom in riding a horse, and to be away from the
daily domestic duties that slowly ground one down. She had discovered a certain
joy in cooking, but even that, under the sour gazes of the other noble women,
did not give her the lightness of spirit that riding out under an endless sky
and wide horizon provided.

Annan gradually drew ahead of Saewara as the morning passed,
and she found herself riding alone. She did not mind this in the least; despite
his slight thawing toward her over the last few days, relations between them
were still strained. They continued to keep their distance, both emotionally
and physically.

If only Egfrid had done the same during their marriage, she
reflected. Saewara had been married to him, just after her sixteenth winter, on
a warm spring day. She had spent little time with her betrothed before their
handfasting and had been unprepared for the trauma of their wedding night. Her
young husband had been drunk, and rough with her. Just four days after their
handfast ceremony, Egfrid hit Saewara for the first time. She had dared
disagree with him on a minor point and his fist had lashed out, nearly breaking
her jaw. Unlike
some
violent men, who were overcome with remorse after
striking their wives, the act had unleashed something brutal within Egfrid. He
was not remotely sorry, and after that looked for excuses to lash out at his
young wife.

Nine years of torture. Saewara preferred not to dwell on the
worst moments of the last decade; instead, she had blacked them out, taking
refuge in her faith and biding her time. When Egfrid died she had not been able
to believe her good fortune – finally
wyrd
had looked upon her
favorably, only to play a cruel trick on her once again.

Yet, with the sun beating down on her face and the smell of
grass and warm earth around her, Saewara reflected that she had fared better
than expected. She could not imagine the Kingdom of the East Angles ever
feeling like home, or of the people here ever accepting her, but she was far
from Tamworth and her brother’s cruelty.

Moments of happiness, even in the smallest of measures, had to
be savored when discovered. Even if they were fleeting.

At dusk, the king and his entourage camped by the banks of a
stream, near a copse of coppicing lime trees. The warm weather had put most of
the travelers in good humor, and Annan’s warriors ribbed each other and laughed
as they put up tents and started fires for cooking.

Tired after a day in the saddle, and knowing her muscles would
be screaming the next day, Saewara watered and rubbed down her horse before
walking stiffly toward the cluster of tents that now sat on the trampled grass.
The men were already spit roasting a brace of rabbits over the fire and the
smell of wood-smoke filled the balmy air.

The king’s tent, the biggest of the group, had been erected in
the center of the cluster, and Saewara made her way toward it. There would be
time to rest before the rabbits were ready. She longed to stretch out her
aching limbs on a bed of soft furs. However, Saewara was passing the first tent
– the one where Aethelhere and Hereswith would sleep – when the cracking sound
of a palm hitting flesh caught her by surprise.

The noise was followed by a whimper of pain.

“Stupid bitch!” Hereswith’s voice cut through the warm air,
causing all nearby who heard it to turn in surprise. “I told you to pack that
gown. Why did you not obey me?”

“I’m sorry, Milady,” Hilda’s voice, low and shaking slightly,
responded. “I packed all the gowns that you laid out. You did not tell me to
pack the green one.”

“Liar!”

The sound of Hereswith slapping Hilda across the face rang out
once more. Saewara stood, breathless. Anger rose in a hot wave up through her
body. Hilda had already endured much in her life. Hereswith had no right to
raise a hand to her.

It was strange how she could endure ill-treatment herself but
the thought of others being bullied or tormented made her blood boil.

Without thinking upon the consequences, and indeed not caring,
Saewara pushed aside the tent flap and strode inside.

Hereswith stood in the center of the tent with Hilda standing
before her. Tears streamed down the slave girl’s lean face and she was
clutching her cheek. Eldwyn stood nearby, where she was unpacking the items her
mistress would need for the evening. The smug look on Eldwyn’s face and the
vicious look on Hereswith’s both vanished as Saewara strode across to Hilda and
took her by the arm.

“You will not touch Hilda again,” she told Hereswith flatly
before pushing Hilda gently toward the tent’s exit.

“I will do as I please,” Hereswith recovered swiftly, her face
flushing. “Get out of my tent!”

“With pleasure,” Saewara countered. “However, you will not
command Hilda to do your bidding again. She serves me now. You will not speak
to, nor touch her, ever again.”

With that, Saewara turned and followed Hilda.

“How dare you!” Hereswith shrieked, rage turning her beautiful
face ugly. “You cannot command me.”

“I am the Queen of the East Angles.” Saewara turned in the
doorway, fixing Hereswith with an icy stare. “If you do not wish to obey me, I
suggest you take up the matter with my husband.”

That settled it. Hereswith stood, shaking with anger as
Saewara calmly turned and stepped out of the tent. Unspeaking, she gently took
hold of Hilda’s arm and led her toward the king’s tent.

Both Saba and Annan were still seeing to the horses, and had
not witnessed the altercation. Saewara knew that Saba would be enraged to
discover that Hereswith had been bullying Hilda. She wondered if Hereswith
would have the gumption to complain to Annan.

“Are you well?” she asked Hilda when they were out of earshot.
“Has she done that before?”

Hilda nodded, her pale blue eyes shining with tears. There was
an angry, red welt on her left cheek. “I am well, thanks to you. She’s slapped
me, and other servants, ever since she arrived at the king’s hall. However, her
temper has gotten nastier of late. I swear to you she didn’t ask me to pack
that dress. She hit me because she was in ill humor and for no other reason.”

“You don’t have defend yourself to me.” Saewara shook her
head. “Whatever the reason, she had no cause to hit you.”

“I thank you, Milady,” Hilda repeated, brushing away tears,
“but I take back what I said about you not standing up to her. Was that wise?
You have just made an enemy.”

Saewara smiled then. “I already had an enemy where Hereswith
is concerned. If it is war she wants then it is war she shall have.”

***

The flames from the fire pit danced against the inky depths of
the night, and devoured a moth that fluttered too close. Annan watched the
hapless insect dissolve in a shower of sparks before turning his attention back
to the conversation of the other men around the fire. After a simple but
delicious meal of roast rabbit, they were now sharing a cup of ale each before
taking to their beds.

A pleasurable weariness seeped over Annan’s body. He was
looking forward to sinking into a mound of furs in his own tent. Another long
day of travel lay before them tomorrow and apart from those assigned to keep
watch, most of the travelers would be in for an early night.

All the women, save Hereswith, had already retired for the
night.

She sat, a fur cloak around her shoulders, at Aethelhere’s
side, looking lovelier than Annan had ever seen her. The firelight accentuated
her flawless skin and the gold in her hair. To make things worse, she kept
glancing in Annan’s direction, and he had to force himself not to meet her
gaze. It was too risky to do so – what with Aethelhere sitting beside her.

The men were discussing the fortifications at Exning, and
Annan’s plans for the next stage of building. It was a subject that obviously was
of interest to him, but fatigue and Hereswith’s gaze kept distracting him. He
wished she would go to bed.

As if reading his brother’s mind, Aethelhere interrupted the
discussion he was having with Saba to turn to his wife.

“Hereswith, it’s late. Go to bed – I will join you soon
enough.”

She pouted in response before giving his arm a lingering
squeeze, her gaze brazenly fixed upon Annan as she did so. “I will wait for you
there then.”

Not seeing the direction of his wife’s gaze, Aethelhere puffed
himself up as Hereswith walked away toward their tent.

“See,” he grinned, throwing Annan a look of victory. “My wife
cannot have enough of me.”

Later, when the others had gone to bed and Aethelhere went off
to join his wife, Saba turned to Annan with a shake of his head.

“Your brother is a fool.”

“Why do you say that?” Annan replied, pretending he did not
know what his friend was speaking about.

“I saw the way she was looking at you – and I can’t believe
Aethelhere didn’t see it as well. He must be blind. It’s a dangerous game
you’re playing. Be careful.”

Annan frowned back at Saba and tipped the dregs of his ale
onto the ground.

“There’s no game,” he replied firmly. “More’s the pity.”

Saba regarded Annan quietly for a moment or two, considering his
next words, before he spoke; keeping his voice low so that they would not be
overheard.

“She may be beautiful but she is vain and selfish. Why can’t
you see it? Your pompous brother is welcome to her. You have a wife, a lovely
one. Why can’t you be satisfied with her? Most men would welcome a woman such
as Saewara.”

Their gazes locked and held, before a sudden understanding
crept across Saba’s face. Being a man, he had not realized what all the women
in the ‘Golden Hall’ had known within a day or two.

“
Woden
– you haven’t bedded her, have you?”

Annan glared back at Saba. “Why don’t you shut your mouth?
This is none of your business.”

“I don’t believe it.” Saba gave a low whistle and shook his
head. “Why ever not?”

“She is Penda’s sister – remember?” Annan ground out,
struggling to keep his voice low. “I will not touch that Mercian dog’s blood.”

Saba’s gaze did not leave Annan’s face as the ealdorman
absorbed his king’s words.

“Whether you would have it or not, you are married to her,” he
said finally. “Making a martyr out of you both will not change the way of
things. You seem intent on making yourself miserable. I do not understand it.”

With that, Saba turned and walked away in search of his bed.

Annan watched him go, feeling as if he had been drenched with
a bucket of icy water. For once, his friend’s frank approach to life had grated
on him.

Saba doesn’t understand,
he thought
bitterly, leaving the warmth of the fire behind and heading toward his tent.
How
can he?

Inside his tent, he found his wife in a deep sleep, curled up
like a kitten on her furs next to the glowing embers of a small fire. On the
other side of the hearth, Saewara had made up a bed for him, as she had taken
to doing ever since he had made it clear she would not be sharing his.

Annan sat down on his furs and took off his boots. His gaze
rested then on Saewara’s face; peaceful in sleep, her skin burnished by the
fire’s soft light.