Hearts Aflame

  Not a few minutes later, Eda's churlishness returned to the fore. "Would you not know it! Not a wench back yet to serve those three with a smile of welcome. Tis left to an old woman to do, as if I do not have enough else." Kristen followed her frown to the door, where three young men had just entered. "The ones who brought news of the King's arrival?" "Aye, and young lordlings from the look of them." The three men were laughing among themselves over some jest the tallest of them had made. They removed their short mantles, but not their weapons, as they made straight for the large barrel of ale across the room. Eda hurriedly swiped up tankards to take to the men, returning with an even deeper frown crossing her brow. "I thought I had recognized that smooth-faced stripling. 'Tis Lord Eldred. Nay, wench, do not look!" Eda warned sharply. "You do not want his attention." Kristen already had his attention, and that of the other two as well. With the hall so empty, it was only natural that they would glance toward the only two women about. And once she was seen, it was difficult to ignore Kristen. She was just too different from what Saxons were accustomed to: too tall, too striking in appearance, and certainly too noble of bearing for an ordinary serf.

  Kristen kept her eyes lowered as warned, but wanted to know "Which is he?" "The yellow-haired one. 'Twas known he might be with the King's party, but I wonder at his audacity to come here in advance, without the King's protection. I wonder if Lord Royce knows he is here. Nay, he must not," she answered her own question, "for he would not trust that one alone in his hall." Kristen wondered herself as Eda pushed her to the end of the table so she gave only her back to the hall. It was too soon for her to have forgotten what Eda had told her about Lord Eldred. He was Royce's enemy. Why indeed would he ride into his enemy's stronghold nearly alone? To show he did not fear Royce? Or was he counting on the King's coming to prevent any altercations from arising? Eda had said they were at a truce, these two, because of the Danes' threat. But how secure could that truce be if animosities ran deep? She pictured Lord Eldred in her mind's eye as she had seen him from across the hall. She imagined that if he came close, she would find him to be as tall as herself. That made him not a small man, except in comparison with Royce.

  He was mayhap a year or two older than his adversary, but not nearly as powerful in build. Yet he was still a man in fine condition from the rigorous training for war. And he was by far the most handsome man of face she had ever seen, save for her own brothers. But it was men with bodies like Royce's that pulled the string of attraction in Kristen, so she felt nothing but a mild curiosity toward Eldred and his companions. "You have lost the wager, Randwulf. 'Tis not a man in woman's garb, but a woman indeed." Kristen gasped at the first word and swung around. Eda would have warned her of their approach, but she had so hoped the three men would change their minds. They did not. '"Tis a wager I do not so much nrind losing," the dark-haired Randwulf replied. He flipped a gold piece to Eldred, but did not take his eyes from Kristen. The coin fell to the floor, for Eldred too was fascinated by their find. "Tell us, wench, why do they chain you?" Eldred asked her pleasantly enough. "Is your crime so great?" It was the wrong thing for him to mention, for instead of making Kristen wary of them, it made her ire rise. "I am a dangerous woman. Do I not look it?" "Oh, aye," one of them replied, then all three began to laugh. "Tell us true, wench," Eldred persisted. "I am a Norsewoman," she said stiffly. "What more explanation need there be?" "God's breath, a Viking!" the third man exclaimed. "I can well see the need for chains." "Too bad she is not a Dane," Randwulf lamented. "Then I would know how to treat her." Eldred grinned. "You are a fool, Randwulf. What matters who she was? She is a slave now." His hand rose to touch Kristen's cheek as he spoke. Kristen turned her face away. She was feeling a definite nervousness now. They were crowded round her, too close, and she had the table at her back, preventing any retreat. But how far could she retreat with the long chain binding her to the wall? "Have done, milords," she said tersely. "I have work to do." It was a bold move, turning her back on them and hoping they would accept her dismissal. It was the wrong move. A hard body pressed into her back, and two hands came round to fasten on her breasts.

  Kristen's reaction was swift. She only had to turn partially to shove the man away from her. It was Randwulf, and he stumbled back with an expression of amazement that was almost comical. "You dare, wench?" he blustered once he got his balance. "You truly dare!" Kristen looked at each one of them. Eldred was amused; the other two were not. God help her, if only she had a weapon to ward them off. But not even a small cutting knife had she ever been allowed to use while she worked. The other women did all the cutting. "I am not here for your pleasure, milords. I am used as hostage, to assure the behavior of the men I came here with. Royce would not like me to be ill used." She was bluffing, for she had no way of knowing what Royce would do if these men raped her. He might not care if they did, but he might also use that excuse to challenge Eldred and be glad for it.

  Eldred took particular interest in her words. "'Royce'? You call your lord by his name? I wonder why." "Because she shares his bed, no doubt," Randwulf sneered. "And if he can have her, so then can we." "Nay!" Kristen shouted, but it was at Eldred she glared. "Do you risk what he will do to you? He will kill you!" "You think so, wench?" Eldred smiled. "Then let me correct you. Your Royce will do naught, because Alfred does not like his nobles fighting amongst themselves, and Royce never displeases Alfred." He had moved closer as he spoke, and so did the others. Because she had all three to watch at once, she was caught off guard by Eldred. His hands clamped on her wrists and shoved them both up behind her back, forcing her breasts hard against his chest. He tried to kiss her, but he could not keep her face still when he held both hands. He thought to remedy that by holding both her hands together with only one of his. It was his mistake, her strength underestimated.

  It was no measly slap she gave him when she broke one hand loose, but a solid blow with her fist that struck the side of his head and staggered him with dizziness. But the other two immediately laid hands on her to subdue her own. Eldred was now furious, a dark rage contorting his handsome features, turning them ugly. "You will pay for that, wench," he promised her. "I will demand your life—after I am done with you." "Enough!" They all turned to see Alden coming toward them, with Eda close on his heels. Kristen could have kissed the old woman for bringing someone, even him. "Stay out of this, Alden," Eldred warned. "The wench struck me." "Did she? Well, 'tis no surprise, for she is no common wench." Alden moved around them to the stake in the wall that held Kristen's long chain, pointing at it with his sword tip. "Why think you she is chained?" The question was ignored by Eldred. "I warn you, Alden, I mean to have her." "Aye," Randwulf agreed. "So do I." "Do you fight us three?" Eldred grinned now. "Me?" Alden feigned surprise. "I will not have to. The wench fights her own battles, and she does it very well. And in all fairness, she must be allowed to." Before they knew what he was about, Alden broke the chain from the wall with his sword point. His action brought no concern to the three men. They still watched Alden, sword drawn and only a few feet away, so Randwulf was again taken by surprise as Kristen jerked her arm away from him and bent to pick up the length of chain.

  The third man could not release her other arm fast enough, now that she had this weapon in her hands. She twirled the loose end of the chain round her head, fore-ing the circle of men back. They could not get near her now without gaining some hurt.

  Randwulf was bold enough to try, though, thinking that if he could get the chain to wrap about his arm, he could yank her off her feet with it, since it was still connected there. He was prepared to endure the pain, sure the chain would strike on the fleshy part of his arm and be no worse than a stinging blow. He was not prepared to have it slip below his raised arm and strike his rib cage.

  One rib cracked. The sound of it was lost to Randwulf in the horrid sting of iron meeting flesh. His skin felt torn away, the pain shooting instantly to his brain. It was so bad he nearly fainted and was unaware he rolled on the floor screaming.
>
  Kristen felt not an ounce of remorse for what she had done. She was fully prepared to do it again. Eldred was the first to realize this and motioned the other man back. But he was not done himself, and turned on Alden. "Make no mistake, the King will hear of this. He sent us here—" 'To ill use one of my cousin's slaves? I think not. And if I were you, Eldred, I would concern myself with what Royce will do, not what Alfred might do." "She has injured a man. She must pay for that." "My cousin will pay the fine." Eldred snarled at that and stalked away to cool off outside. It was left to the other man to help Randwulf away. Kristen did not relax until they had all left the hall. Then she turned on Alden. The chain lay at ease in her hand now, but it was still in her hand. He looked into her eyes, divining her thoughts. "Would you really, wench?" His question was soft. "Even after I just sided you?" "I did not ask for your help." "But you needed it." She fought a battle inside herself, then finally nodded. "Very well. For that—" She dropped the chain to the floor, indicating she would not attack him with it. "But what you did before—I can never forget." Alden sighed. "I know, and I am sorry for it." Kristen turned her back on him.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  When the women began returning to the hall, no one made mention of Kristen's partial freedom. But then, few had time even to notice, they were kept so busy in preparation for the planned feast. Kristen herself barely had a free moment to think about what had happened. After tucking the long chain through her rope girdle so she wouldn't drag it noisily about, she had resumed her work.

  Not more than an hour later, however, she was embraced again, taken completely by surprise when arms slipped around her from behind to lock about her waist, squeezing gently. She felt a moment's panic, but it was nothing compared with the chagrin that followed, that they would dare accost her again. This time all the servants were about, as well as Darrelle, who looked on with a curious frown. "Are you all right?" Kristen seemed to turn hot and cold at the same time. And then confusion set in. It was Royce who was holding her, Royce, with unmistakable concern in his voice. The very man who had taken such pains to make it appear he did not notice her, who had even pretended to be doing something else when he spoke to her yestereve in this very spot, now held her close for all to see. She could not fathom it. "Have you lost your senses, milord?" She twisted around to see if he was besotted with drink. He did not appear to be. He was frowning at her, seeming as confused as she was. "I ask you a perfectly pertinent question, and you reply with a flippant one. Of course I have not lost my senses. Have you?" "I am beginning to wonder," she replied in annoyance. "You seek me out, here and now, when you have never done so before. Do you not realize everyone is watching you?" Royce looked over her head to scan the hall. His eyes even locked with Darrelle's for a moment, noting her dismay over his behavior, but not letting it affect him. He looked back at Kristen. His arms remained locked around her.

  "I am done with ignoring you for the sake of preventing gossip," he said simply. "If Eda had not been with you this morn. .. No one else would have done as she did. Tis time they all know what you mean to me. If I could I would put my seal on you. If Alfred's nobles could read, I would put a sign about your neck. No one else will mistake that you have my protection. If I must show it in actions, so be it." She could not believe he was saying this. "Why? I am only another of your slaves." "Do not be coy, wench," he snapped. "You know you are special to me." "For a time?" "For a time." If they were alone, she would have pushed him away from her for answering that without the slightest hesitation. But Kristen was too cognizant of the many eyes on them. It would not do to show such impertinence to a man considered to be her "lord"—not for her sake, but for his. Though why she should consider his pride she did not know.

  Stiffly she said, "I am sure you have much to do, milord, as do I." He recognized the dismissal, but ignored it, though he did drop his hands from her. "I swear I will never understand you. Any other woman would have cried and screamed to me of the indignities visited on her and demanded retribution. You do not even mention the assault. You even accuse me of being daft for asking if you are all right." Kristen started to smile, but helplessly, it turned into a laugh instead. "Is that what this is about? What happened this morn?" "You are not even a little upset by it?" "But why? I was not harmed." Her attitude was so different from what he had expected, he became irritated with her. He had rushed inside to console her, to swear he would avenge her, only to have her treat the matter with indifference. He had wanted to skewer Eldred to a wall when Alden told him what the cur had attempted to do, and probably would have if Eldred had been within his sight at the telling. But fast on top of his rage had been concern for Kristen, concern she scorned. "Mayhap you do not realize a crime was committed," he said harshly now. "Against a slave?" she scoffed, remembering his telling her she had no rights. "Against the man you injured." She stiffened, the aqua brightness of her eyes fading to a frigid hue. "What crime? Defending myself? You dare to call that a crime?" "Not I. Tis the law. A slave cannot bear weapons except at his owner's behest, nor attack anyone, especially a noble. To attack a noble carries a high fine even of a freeman, but for a slave ..." "Is that why you expected me to be upset?" she sneered. "Am I to be hung for protecting myself?" "Do not be absurd, wench. As your lord, it falls to me to pay your fine, and there is no question that I will. I just wanted you to see the seriousness of what you have shrugged off as being of no consequence." "I will not thank you," she replied churlishly. "I do not like the idea that a payment must be made at all to that swine. Were I home, those men would be dead for what they attempted to do to me." "You cannot expect things here to be as they were for you at home, Kristen." His voice was softer now, his anger having diminished with the reminder that she had not always been a slave, that she was accustomed to more worthy treatment. "I do not like seeing that lout Randwulf rewarded, either, and will ensure that he suffers a bit more for his wergild." Wergild was the man-price assessed to every free man, the amount of shillings at which each man's value or importance to society in terms of wealth was registered for the purpose of laws. This was the amount payable in compensation for hurt done to a man, or hurt done by him. There were only three levels of distinction in Wessex: twelve hundred shillings, being the King and his family; six hundred shillings, being the King's nobles; and two hundred shillings, the churls. Slaves had no wergild at all, but were valued at eight oxen.

  Kristen knew all of this, thanks to Eda. She knew that a man's full wergild was demanded for a death, with lesser amounts required for an injury, even exact amounts for specific injuries according to law. She imagined that a cracked rib, which would limit a man's abilities for a while, would indeed be a high fine, as Royce had said, especially for a noble whose full wergild was six hundred shillings, a staggering amount for most men.

  It dawned on Kristen that Royce was not at all annoyed that he would have to pay this fine for her. He had been annoyed that she had scoffed at his concern. And here he was now saying that he would personally see to it that Randwulf was punished even more. He was saying he would avenge her. Whom did she know, even of her own people, who would avenge a slave? God's teeth! Why couldn't this man be consistent? Why did he make her feel like the lowest of the low one moment, then like a cherished loved one the next? Kristen lowered her eyes, feeling contrite now over her churlishness of the last few minutes. "I appreciate what you would do, milord, but 'tis unnecessary. As I said before, no harm—" She didn't get to finish. Two of the younger, more exuberant serfs burst into the hall, shouting that the King was here. Royce started away, seeming to have dismissed her completely from his mind with that news. He had not. He turned back, calling Eda to him. "Remove her fetters, Eda." Then to Kristen, his eyes fixing her with a fierce look, he added softly, "We needs make a bargain, you and I, but I have not the time now to speak of it. For God's mercy, wench, be good." Kristen watched him move swiftly toward the entrance of the hall. She saw the Lady Darrelle hurry to join him and try to speak to him, but he waved a hand
to silence her and did not slow his pace so she could keep up with him. The others in the hall all rushed to crowd about the windows to watch King Alfred's arrival.

  Kristen did not move herself, not even when the hated iron slipped off her ankles and Eda tugged the longer chain out of her girdle. Slowly her lips turned up until a brilliant smile sat there. Royce was going to deal with her, to accept her word for whatever the bargain would be. He was finally going to trust her. She felt euphoric. She felt like shouting her joy and would have, if Eda was not still watching her. The old woman had been right all along. She had only needed to bide her time. "Aye, I can see how pleased you be." Eda did not smile herself. "Just remember his warning, wench. Do naught that will put you back into these." And she tossed the chains into the corner.

  Kristen nodded, but absently. Her mind was too full of Royce and what his trust could mean. There was hope again that she had not been wrong after all to choose Royce of Wyndhurst for her man. He still thought of her as his enemy, but Garrick and Brenna had once been enemies, too, and their lives had been joined together despite it. Strangers began crowding into the hall. In high spirits now, Kristen was open to feeling some of the excitement of the others in being allowed to see this great King of the Saxons. But she was the only one surprised, the others having seen him before. He was so young, surely younger than Royce! She thought at first she must be mistaken. This could not be the man who had led Saxon against fierce Dane, who had won a temporary peace for his people. After all, there was naught to distinguish him from the nobles who crowded round him. They were all dressed in fine clothes, some more splendid than he. Others there, older men with fiercer looks, might be more readily thought King.