The Deepening Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 3) (6 page)

“It seems you are resolute. Very well, marry her in
Rendlaesham if you must. However, I will send one of my men with your party to
ensure the handfasting actually takes place.”

Annan’s gaze narrowed. “Do you doubt my word?”

Penda’s mouth curved into a cold smile. “Naturally.”

Another uncomfortable silence stretched between them, before
Penda stepped back and gave another smile, this one considerably warmer.

“Enough with the formalities Annan. You are, after all, a
guest in my hall and welcome to enjoy my hospitality. If you insist on waiting
until you return to your kingdom before marrying Saewara, at least indulge me
by staying on in Tamworth another day. Tomorrow, I have organized games to take
place outside the walls: archery, axe-throwing, wrestling, sword-fighting. It
will be a fine contest. What say you?”

Annan hesitated a moment before he nodded curtly. “Very well,
I can wait a day.”

“Excellent.” Penda stepped back onto the high seat, his smile widening.
“Until then, let us break bread and drink together as brothers – for soon we
shall be family.”

Annan’s expression darkened at that, although he wisely held
his tongue.

Saewara watched her brother with growing concern. Knowing him
as she did, she did not trust his sudden friendliness toward the King of the
East Angles. The forced joviality in his tone, and the wolfish edge to his
smile, made her wary.

What was he plotting?

Chapter
Five

Penda’s Game

Saewara stepped out into bright sunlight and blinked rapidly
while her eyes adjusted. After a long, dark winter, she was unused to seeing
the sun’s friendly face. A warm breeze laced with many smells, some pleasant,
others less so, caressed her face. The wind brought with it the smell of grass,
wildflowers and warm earth; overlaid with the stench of human and animal waste
from the cesspit on the eastern outskirts of Tamworth. All it took was for the
breeze to blow from a certain direction and the air became foul; now, was one
such occasion.

Flanked by the two ealdormen’s wives, Saewara picked up her
skirts and made her way out of the yard that ringed the Great Tower, and into
the streets beyond. They followed the crowd of townsfolk toward the meadows
west of Tamworth, not far from where the barrows of the Mercian kings and nobility
formed a silhouette against the sky.

Leaving the stench of decomposing waste behind, Saewara
breathed deeply once more. She was dressed for the mild weather, in a long
linen sleeveless tunic with a green woolen over-dress, belted at the waist.

Enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin, Saewara stepped out
onto the meadow. Despite her unhappiness, she could not help but look about her
with interest. She always enjoyed the spring games. They were a celebration of
winter’s end, and the meadows around Tamworth were bright with spring flowers
and lush with new growth.

A festive air had brought smiles to the faces of the folk who
crowded around the perimeter of the cordoned off area. A wrestling and sword
fighting ring had been erected, and two bare-chested warriors were in the
middle of a wrestling match in the center of it. Saewara recognized the
dark-haired East Angle warrior with the broken nose, who had accompanied Annan,
as one of the contestants. Even from this distance, he was clearly winning. A
cheering crowd ringed the wrestlers, urging and heckling in turns. At the other
end of the area, burly warriors were lining up to throw axes, while archers
were taking their place in front of where lads were setting up a row of ten
targets. The targets were round, and stained in five rings: yellow at the
center, followed by red, blue, black and white.

Saewara recognized the targets. They were the same ones she
had spent many an afternoon practicing on as girl, back when life had been so
much simpler. Those days, it had not mattered that she was female; and with no
mother to keep her in check, Saewara had run wild. She had dressed like a boy,
and had followed her two elder brothers around like a lost puppy, much to Eafa
and Penda’s chagrin.

However, once childhood ended, so did her freedom. From that
point on, she had become a pawn to trade at will. Archery was not a sport for
high-born ladies to partake in.

A roar went up to Saewara’s left as the East Angle warrior bested
his wrestling opponent. The warrior grinned maniacally as he ground the loser
into the dirt. Saewara watched with interest, before spying Annan on the
opposite side of the wrestling ring.

Her betrothed had not yet seen her. Annan stood watching his
countryman beat his opponent. He was dressed simply, in a sleeveless tunic; a
heavy, iron-studded belt; and breeches that were cross-gartered to the knee.
His face was unreadable this morning. He watched the festivities
dispassionately and not once glanced in Saewara’s direction.

Out of the corner of her eye, Saewara saw a flash of white
blond hair and black fur and leather, as Penda of Mercia took his place amongst
the crowd. She hoped that he had not yet seen her, and was about to drift away,
with the intention of finding a spot to watch the archery competition, when the
Mercian King’s voice boomed out across the crowd.

“A fine display of East Angle prowess!” Penda stepped forward
and clapped his hands, applauding the dark-haired warrior for his victory,
although his gaze was mocking. The warrior in question straightened up, his
expression darkening.

Penda’s gaze, however, was not on the wrestler, but on the
King of the East Angles. Annan stared back at him, his face giving nothing
away.

“Come, Annan,” Penda continued with a smile that did not reach
his eyes. “Join your men in a bit friendly competition. I hear you are highly
skilled with a longbow. Why not accept a challenge against my champion in
archery?”

“Archery?” Annan frowned. Archery was not a ‘kingly’ sport.
While it was common for most warriors to learn how to wield a bow and arrow,
and use them while hunting, these weapons were not used by ealdormen and
nobility in other circumstances, especially in battle. Saewara’s gaze flicked
between her brother and Annan. She could see from Penda’s face that he had not
yet finished.

“Yes – we Mercians are fine bowmen,” Penda continued smoothly,
“although I’ve heard it said that the East Angles are better. Come now, prove your
skills against my champion.”

Penda’s words drew some sniggers from the crowd, although the faces
of the East Angle warriors present grew thunderous. To his credit, Annan had
managed to keep his expression impassive.

“So be it,” he replied, his voice quiet. “And who is your
champion?”

Penda grinned then, and swiveled round to face Saewara, his
gaze snaring hers. Saewara’s stomach twisted – she knew that smile.

“One of the finest archers in my family,” Penda drawled. “My
sister.”

***

Saewara took the ash longbow and quiver full of yew, feather-fletched
arrows that one of the lads assisting with the archery competition handed to
her. Despite her shock at being forced into a competition she had not prepared
for, she felt an unexpected rush of pleasure at the feel of the longbow in her
hands.

It had been a while, but some things were never forgotten.

At that moment, Annan strode by. He walked right by Saewara,
without acknowledging her, carrying his bow at his side and a quiver of arrows
over one shoulder. His face was thunderous.

Saewara watched him go, nonplussed. She had been about to
greet her betrothed, but seeing his deliberate refusal to acknowledge her, she felt
an unexpected, hot rush of anger.

It did not matter what she did, where she went, or what she
said – men were determined to treat her as if she was a
nithing
– a creature
not even worth greeting. The rage that coursed through her, now overcame the
misery and the self-absorption that had immobilized her for so long. The force
of it galvanized Saewara’s resolve. She watched the men, all individuals who
worked the fields around Tamworth, take their places.

I’ll show you all,
she thought bitterly
before her gaze settled upon Annan, who had taken his place at the far end.
I
will beat you this day
.

Saewara took her place at the end of the row; the position
nearest the noisy crowd – and the place all the other contestants had avoided.

Ignoring her surroundings, Saewara busied herself with checking
the tension of her hemp bow string, and selecting the six arrows she would use
for the first round.

The Range Master for the competition was a huge man, with
handsome, chiseled features and cruel eyes. His gaze settled on Saewara for a
moment, his mouth twisting in derision, before he began to shout out the rules
of the competitions.

“Archers – there will be three rounds,” he shouted. “After the
first round, your scores will be counted and the five top scoring archers will
pass to the next round. Only the top two scoring archers will go through to the
third, and final round. The points are as follows: one for the white, two for
the black, three for the blue, four for the red – and five for those who hit
the yellow.”

The rules were simple enough; Saewara had watched plenty of
archery competitions although she had never taken part in one. She could hear
the sniggers and ribald comments from the crowd, and could feel the hot stares
of the men. Ignoring them all, Saewara squared her shoulders and breathed
deeply, fixing her gaze on the target.

“Archers, ready your bows!” the Range Master ordered. “On the
count of three – loose your arrows! One, two, three!”

Saewara’s arrows flew straight and true. She hit the yellow
twice, the red once and the blue thrice. When she had loosed the sixth arrow,
the Range Master’s voice boomed across the meadow.

“Archers – lay down your bows. Your scores will be counted.”

Saewara did as she was told, resisting the urge to glance
along the line to see how the others had fared, especially Annan. She was
pleased with her score, although she knew she could do better. When her name
was called as one of the five to go ahead to the second round, she felt a thrill
surge through her. It did not matter that to the world she was worth nothing –
she was good at something at least.

“Archers, ready your bows!”

Saewara did even better in the second round: two in the
yellow, three in the red and one in the blue.

There was a tense wait while the Range Master had the
remaining five contestants’ scores counted. Saewara continued to stare at her
hands, blocking out the world. Her heart started to race when the Range Master
finally took his place with the names of the top two archers to go forward. She
looked up then and studied his expression. The man wore a sour look, as if he
had just taken a sip of vinegar.

Saewara knew then, the names he was about to call.

“Annan of the Wuffingas and Saewara of Tamworth – you are both
through to the final round.”

The crowd hooted and cheered. For the first time, Saewara
allowed her gaze to travel over to where Annan stood at the end of the row. His
face was carved of stone, his blue eyes glittering slits. It was the ultimate
insult. To face-off with a woman in the final round, under the jeers of the
crowd, was one of the biggest slights a man of noble birth could suffer.

Good
, Saewara thought bitterly.
May you
choke on this, Annan of the East Angles.

Saewara caught her brother’s eye on the edge of the crowd, and
Penda winked at her. Ignoring him, she turned back to the target and notched an
arrow into her longbow.

“Range Master,” Penda called out, “let’s raise the game a
little – these two have had it easy till now. Move the targets back!”

The warrior nodded and shouted orders at two lads who rushed
to obey. They moved the targets back to a ridiculous distance; farther than
Saewara had ever shot.

Bastard,
she threw a venomous look
at her brother.
You wish to humiliate us both.

“Archers, you each have six arrows. Ready your bows!” the
Range Master ordered. “On the count of three – loose your arrows! One, two,
three!”

The twang of the bow-strings releasing echoed through the
still crowd.

Saewara lowered her bow, and peered at the target.

“Red and red,” the Range Master boomed. “Ready your bows!”

Saewara slotted an arrow, lifted her bow and aimed. She felt
sweat bead on her forehead as she took a deep breath and held it. A moment
later, she released the arrow and heard it sing as it flew.

“Red and red,” the Range Master called out.

And so it continued. Saewara and Annan matched each other,
shot for shot; twice on the red, twice on the blue – and one more on the red.
Only one shot remained. Saewara’s hands were clammy and her heart raced as she
stole a glance in Annan’s direction. He stood, at the end of the row, as tall
and intimidating as Thor himself. He was slotting his last arrow into his bow
when Saewara glanced his way; and feeling her gaze upon him, he finally looked
up – acknowledging her for the first time.

Their gazes held for a moment, and Saewara felt the shock of
it ripple down from the base of her ribs into her belly. Then, she tore her
gaze away from his, took the sixth arrow from its quiver and slotted it.

“Ready your bows!” the Range Master barked. “One, two, three!”

The bow strings sang for the last time. The arrows flew and hit
the targets with a dull thud; first Saewara’s, and then Annan’s.

The lads rushed to the targets to inspect them.

“Red!” One of them shouted upon reaching Saewara’s target.
“Just inside the line between the red and the yellow – but it’s red!”

“Yellow!” shouted the second lad who stood before Annan’s
target. “On the line!”

“Annan of the East Angles wins!” the Range Master snarled the
words as if they were poison. Although he would have disliked seeing Saewara
best a man at archery, he had wanted to see Annan thoroughly humiliated even
more.

Bitter defeat made tears well in Saewara’s eyes. She hurriedly
blinked them away and clenched her jaw in an effort to compose herself. It had
been so close; she had only lost by a whisker. Yet, it was defeat all the same.

The crowd hooted and wolf-whistled.

“Congratulations, Annan,” Penda called from the sidelines.
“You bested my champion – well done.”