The Deepening Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 3) (17 page)

Saba was wrong; it was not that he did not
want
Saewara. In one, very real, sense he did. If he’d had no desire for her
physically, it would have been easy to share a bed with her. Yet, after their
tryst at the river, he did not trust himself with her.

I won’t give in to this
, he told
himself before he lay down and turned his back on his wife’s sleeping form.
If
I do then Penda has won.

Chapter Seventeen

New Beginnings

Saba was enraged when he saw the welt on Hilda’s face the next
morning. She had been helping Saewara saddle her horse when the ealdorman
strode across to greet them both.

Saba stopped short when he saw her cheek, his gaze meeting
Hilda’s.

“Who did this?” he demanded, his face turning hard.

Saewara and Hilda exchanged nervous glances. They had both been
dreading this moment.

“Tell me!” Saba ordered, his tone brooking no refusal.

“Hereswith,” Hilda eventually admitted, “but Saewara dealt
with it, don’t worry. She has forbidden Hereswith from having any contact with
me. She won’t touch me again.”

Saba’s gaze swiveled to Saewara.

“I thank you for that, Milady – however, the matter does not
end there.”

With that, Saba marched off to find Aethelhere.

A short while later, angry voices echoed across the campsite.

Aethelhere, it seemed, did not know that his wife had a habit
of lashing out at those who displeased her. He defended Hereswith blindly, as
only a thoroughly infatuated man is able.

“Keep your wife in hand!” Saba roared.

“Calm down,” Aethelhere shouted back. “
Woden
, she only
hit a slave!”

That was the wrong thing to say.

It took Annan, and three other men, to pry Saba off Aethelhere
and haul him away before the situation deteriorated further.

It was under a cloud of simmering resentment between Saba and
Aethelhere that the journey east continued. The day was as bright and breezy as
the day before had been and Saewara managed to keep abreast with Annan for most
of the journey. Although the silence was companionable, Saewara felt the
increasing urge to speak with her husband; to know of his plans for the future.

“I think you show valor in your decision to fortify your
borders,” she said finally, after gathering her courage to speak for most of
the morning.

Annan gave her a sidewise look, surprise showing on his face.

“Really? I thought you would see it as an open act of defiance
against your kingdom.”

“Mercia is no longer my kingdom,” Saewara reminded him gently.
“Penda is no longer my king.”

Annan glanced at her again, his expression unsure, before he
spoke. “It’s not valor that made me do it, but rebellion. I can’t stay under
your brother’s yoke any more. If I don’t do something now, I will become his
puppet.”

Annan fell silent then, and Saewara could see from his face
that he was angry with himself. He had been much franker with her than either of
them had expected. Such openness could get a man killed.

“Your people don’t think less of you,” she replied gently,
pretending not to notice his discomfort.

“Yes, some do. They might not show it to my face, but ever
since I took the throne there has been growing discontent. The only thing that
keeps many from showing open resentment toward me is my bloodline. With
Raedwald, Eorpwald and Sigeberht all dead, my brothers and I are all that
remains of the Wuffinga dynasty. Many follow me for that reason alone.”

“So by building these fortifications you hope to earn back
their respect?”

Annan gave her a pained look before replying. “I would not put
it in such blunt words – but yes, I suppose that’s why I’m doing it.”

His face grew serious then and he looked away, his gaze
focusing far into the distance.

“You never met King Raedwald, or my father. They were the type
of men that folk sing of around the fire; men that have stories told about them
that will last for generations. They proved their valor again and again. Men
would fight for them, die for them. Will I ever inspire the same loyalty in my
fyrd
?”

Saewara stared at Annan in disbelief. He carried himself in
such a confident manner that she would never have guessed at the insecurity
that plagued him. That he had even revealed it to her impressed her even more.
She did not think less of him for it; in fact she found herself liking him for
his honesty.  

“I think you would be surprised at how readily your men would
follow you into battle,” she told him with a wry smile. “I’ve observed them
with you for a while now. They think more of you than you realize.”

Annan raised an eyebrow and glanced back in her direction.

“Perhaps… yet, I think it’s now time I acted like their king.
It’s time I earned their respect.”

The sun hung low in the sky, sinking toward the western
horizon, when the company approached Exning. Compared to Rendlaesham – a
bustling town that spread out around the base of the king’s hall – Exning appeared
little more than a hamlet. A tall paling fence surrounded the village,
enclosing a scattering of low-slung wattle and daub houses with thatched roofs.
The settlement sat a short distance from the shadowy boughs of the dense Exning
Woods that stretched southeast, guarding the narrow stretch of land between the
woodland and the treacherous marshes to the north-west. Like the landscape farther
north, the sky was enormous here, fringed by the strips of brown, gold and
green of a flat countryside. 

Riding alongside Annan, through the waving grass that had
turned golden with the setting sun, Saewara let her gaze do a wide sweep. South
of the settlement, she saw a patchwork of arable fields, sandwiched between
Exning and the woodland. It was indeed a strategic spot. Like the others
following behind, her gaze travelled to the high ridge of fresh earth in the
distance; the back of the enormous dyke and ditch defense. Her eyes followed it
north; in fact, Annan had told her that the earthwork ended only at the fens.
The tiny figures of men, finishing work on Devil’s Dyke for the day, were
visible on the top of the fortification; their silhouettes outlined by the last
rays of sun.

They rode into Exning to a crowd of excited villagers, who
clustered around the gates, eager to catch a glimpse of the king and his party.
Saewara felt inquisitive gazes upon her. Yet, they held none of the animosity
she had felt in Rendlaesham. Life was different here, on the fringes of the
kingdom. Politics did not play such a part in the lives of the folk of Exning –
and for that, Saewara was enormously grateful.

Although it was considerably smaller than Rendlaesham, Exning
had a prosperous, ‘cared for’ appearance. The houses, although small, were well
maintained and tidy. In addition to the fields of produce outside, the folk
also had small gardens inside the fence. Flowers bloomed, and the smell of
baking bread and roasting rabbit wafted from open doorways.

Annan seemed to know exactly where he was going, and led the
group of riders, with the laden carts bringing up the rear, to the far end of
Exning. There, a handsome, timbered hall sat near where the palings of the
perimeter fence stood highest. A collection of low buildings surrounded the
hall; stables and lodgings for those who served the king but who would not
reside inside the hall.

Saewara liked her new home on sight. It was much smaller than
the ‘Golden Hall’ and far less intimidating. Life here would be simpler. The
only shadow over it all was Hereswith and her sour-faced maid. Not for the
first time, Saewara wished that Annan had left his brother behind at
Rendlaesham. She watched Hereswith dismount, with her husband’s assistance, and
saw her face crease in displeasure as her gaze swept over the new hall.

“It’s tiny,” she hissed at Aethelhere, loud enough so that
everyone – including Annan – heard. “This is no ‘kingly hall’.”

“No, Hereswith,” Aethelhere replied, not bothering to hide the
irritation in his voice, “but it will be our home till the autumn at least. You
must get used to it.”

Saewara stepped inside the hall and let a smile creep across
her face.

It was simple, beautifully so, with just one enormous fire pit
in the center of a rush-matting floor, and walls covered with rabbit pelt
screens. Two long tables stretched from one end of the hall to the other,
either side of the fire pit. At one, three local women were kneading the last
of the griddle bread. A huge cauldron of venison stew bubbled over the hearth,
its scent permeating the whole hall.

Warriors carried in the supplies, while Saewara made her way
up the narrow wooden stairs of the low dais at the far end of the hall. At the
back of the platform, screened from view by a heavy fur hanging, she found her
lodgings. It was the only private space in the hall. All the other residents
would sleep on furs in the main area; the highest ranking nearest the fire, and
the slaves near the doors. Even Hereswith and Aethelhere would have to sleep in
the common space, shielded only by a makeshift stretched leather screen from
the others.

Saewara heard Hereswith complaining loudly as she stepped into
her bower and let the hanging fall closed behind her. The hanging muted the
sound beyond but, upon hearing Aethelhere tell his wife to stop carping,
Saewara’s smile widened. Perhaps Aethelhere’s irritation was a sign of things
to come – and she dared to hope that things would be different here at Exning.
Maybe she would no longer be an imposter in her own home.

Night had fallen and it was getting late by the time everyone
took their places at the two long tables either side of the fire pit. Saewara
felt at her most relaxed since leaving Tamworth. She took a seat next to her
husband, who was deep in a conversation about ditches with Saba, and favored
Hilda with a wide smile as the girl filled up her wooden bowl with thick
venison stew.

Saba broke off his conversation with the king a moment, to
look up at Hilda as she bent over him with the tureen and ladle. He murmured
something to her and Hilda’s eyes shone, her cheeks growing delightfully pink,
before she nodded.

Saewara watched them with an ache in her breast; the same she
had felt when she had seen them on the banks of the stream outside Rendlaesham.
It was heart-warming to see a couple so obviously smitten, gradually drawing
closer with each passing day in a slow and timeless dance.

She had never known what that felt like.

Watching Saba and Hilda, she felt a stab of jealousy. It was
unbidden and she denied it the moment the emotion surfaced. Yet, as Hilda moved
on, to serve the warrior next to Saba, the joy on her friend’s face made
Saewara feel hollow and sad.

I will never have a man look at me like that.

After a long day of travel, and the flurry of unpacking that
had followed, the king and his warriors did not stay up late. Once her meal had
started to digest, Saewara left Annan chatting with his brother and Saba by the
fire, and gratefully went to bed.

Her new bower reminded Saewara of a giant nest. The feel of
soft fur under her bare feet made her sigh with pleasure as she quickly
undressed and put on a light shift for bed. Clay cressets that burned oil,
lined one wall of the bower, casting a soft glow over the space. As always,
Saewara removed some of the furs from the huge bed in the corner and made up a
bed for Annan a short distance away from hers. It had become an evening ritual
for her now, and she thought nothing of it.

Saewara’s muscles ached from two days in the saddle and she
snuggled into the furs with another sigh of pleasure. She was still awake,
staring up at the rafters and reflecting over the day’s events, when Annan made
an appearance.

As was her habit, Saewara turned from him while he undressed,
smothered the guttering flames in the cressets and climbed into bed. She could
hear him tossing and turning for a bit, trying to get comfortable, before he
eventually spoke.

“Does your new hall please you, Saewara?”

His question, and the fact that he had actually spoken to her,
momentarily stunned Saewara into silence. Conversation was not part of their
nightly routine. They usually shared a bower as two strangers.

“Very much,” she replied when she had recovered. “It suits me
well.”

“I prefer it to my hall in Rendlaesham,” Annan said after a
few moments. “I know it is not ‘kingly’ but I feel more myself here. It reminds
me of my father’s hall in Snape, where I grew up.”

“I know what you mean – the ‘Golden Hall’ and the Great Tower
of Tamworth are both impressive but not a ‘home’ in the way a hall like this
is.”

“We won’t be able to stay here forever,” Annan replied, regret
lacing his voice, “as I will need to return to Rendlaesham at some point, but I
would like to spend summers here in the future. What do you think?”

Warmth seeped through Saewara at Annan’s words. He was
speaking of the future, and he was including her in it. She would never have
thought such an act could bring her such pleasure.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” she answered him gently.
“I would be happy to spend summers here.”

Silence fell between them once more, although Saewara sensed
that Annan had more to say. He was in a strange mood this evening; for the
first time losing that aloof mask he had worn ever since their handfasting.