Dark Under the Cover of Night

  “Butchers!” she hissed. Anger rose up in her as she surveyed the carnage. Cynric’s men had fought back, but in the end the outlaws outnumbered and overwhelmed them. Raedwyn took a good look at the crowd of men around her. They were dirty and unkempt but well armed. They had used the element of surprise well, for trees surrounded this part of the riverbank. The men gawked at her and Raedwyn stared back, her eyes narrowing into sapphire slits.

  Had she the means, she would have slaughtered them all.

  “I see you have some of your father’s fire m’lady.” A rough voice caught Raedwyn’s attention. She struggled to her feet and stood to face the tall bear of a man who limped onto the path. He was a giant, with a long black beard and hair streaked with white. He fixed her with a cold, obsidian gaze. “It’s a pity you had not been born a man.”

  This man scared Raedwyn. Shivering and in shock, the desire to crumble before him was overwhelming but she stood her ground.

  “If I had been, you and your toadies would be groveling at my feet now,” she ground out between chattering teeth.

  To her surprise and indignation, the giant laughed. Around him, his men sniggered, including Hengist, who looked upon Raedwyn with a malicious leer. Only the cloaked man stood silent, like a wraith, at the edge of the group.

  “That mother of yours is a hard, shrew of a woman. It appears you are no different.”

  The giant recovered from his laughter and took a menacing step towards her.

  “I see no grief in your eyes for your departed husband. You do not have the guile to feign sadness.”

  “We knew each other but two days,” Raedwyn replied. “I see no point in putting on a show so you and your men can jeer at a woman’s tears.”

  The giant cocked his head to one side and grimaced. “A forked tongue, just like your mother.”

  “You know nothing of my mother!” Raedwyn spat, stepping back from his menacing presence.

  “Don’t I?” he was clearly enjoying tormenting Raedwyn. “You are too young to have memories of me but I remember your family well. I was once your father’s most trusted ealdormen. I was more of a brother to him than one of his own kin.”

  Raedwyn stared back at him, disbelieving. Only the fierce expression on his dark face stopped her from declaring him a liar.

  “Seaxwyn was a fire-haired Saxon beauty in those days and you were but a young child. However, behind her fairness your mother was devious and sly. She poisoned the king against me. She fed him with lies until Raedwald banished me from his kingdom on pain of death.”

  The giant reached forward and placed his hands on Raedwyn’s shoulders, pinning her to the spot.

  “Ceolwulf the Exiled am I – and exiled I was – for many long winters. I have lived in Gaul, awaiting the day I would take revenge on the Wuffingas. That day has now come.”

  Raedwyn’s stomach churned and bile rose into the back of her throat. She thought then of her half-brother whom she had never met, Sigeberht, who Raedwald had also exiled to Gaul. However, her father had never told her of this man.

  Ceolwulf was obviously a lunatic; she did not believe a word he uttered but she would not dare contradict him. Her mind scampered about, frantically searching for a way to escape, but there was none. Her false bravado dissolved and she stood there, too frightened to move.

  Ceolwulf stepped back from Raedwyn before glancing over to where the cloaked man stood watching.

  “Caelin,” he said softly, “come.”

  The man crossed the path, stepping over bodies as he did so, before he stood next to Raedwyn.

  “This is my son.” Ceolwulf’s voice lightened for the first time since their meeting. “He was but a boy when I was exiled, but he remembers your family’s treachery well.”

  Raedwyn turned to the cloaked man. He pushed back his hood and looked directly into Raedwyn’s eyes.

  “Milady.” His voice was low, soothing like the drumming rain.

  The impact of their gazes meeting was like a hard punch to the stomach. Raedwyn smothered a gasp and tore her gaze away from his. Gathering control of herself, she looked back at him and tried to fathom what it was about this man that affected her so.

  Caelin was dark like his father but the similarity ended there. He was tall, long-limbed but without Ceolwulf’s heaviness of stature. Long wavy black hair surrounded a sharply featured face and aquiline nose. He, like a few of the men surrounding them, was clean-shaven. He had piercing dark eyes that were unusual in these parts; more reminiscent of a Roman than a Celt or Saxon. He was a handsome man but there was a quiet, brooding power in him; a sensuality that made Raedwyn’s skin prickle. Her reaction to this stranger appalled her. Here she was, her husband not yet cold at her feet, and she was lusting after one of his killers.

  Caelin stared back at her, his face giving no hint as to his thoughts.

  Raedwyn looked down at the ground and squeezed her eyes shut. It seemed so long ago now since her world had been innocent and light-hearted – just two days and yet a lifetime ago.

  She wanted her mother. She wanted to open her eyes and find herself in her father’s hall, watching the flames dance in the fire pit while Raedwald and his men sat around drinking mead and swapping stories.

  Raedwyn opened her eyes to find the outlaws all staring at her. The rain enveloped them all like a great curtain. Tears leaked down Raedwyn’s already wet cheeks. Rendlaesham was lost to her.

 

  ***

  The outlaws took her into a dense, dark wood where the trees swallowed all trace of the band. They had bound her wrists, for it was clear Raedwyn would try to escape the moment they turned their backs on her. The ragged group led their horses through the densely packed trees, on and on until the oaks, beeches and elms gave way to a wide clearing. A shabby hamlet filled the glade. A collection of low, thatch roofed timber dwellings; it was a makeshift settlement and there were no women in sight, just lean-faced, hungry-eyed men.

  They welcomed Ceolwulf back into the fold like a king. Raedwyn bristled at the sight of them fawning over the gigantic, wild-haired man. The East Angles already had a king – and it was not this bloodthirsty brute. Raedwyn smiled inwardly at the thought of her father’s rage when he heard of this treachery. There would be no wood large enough for Ceolwulf and his minions to hide in when Raedwald learned of this.

  Ceolwulf’s son led Raedwyn through the center of the hamlet, towards the largest of the thatched huts. Ever since she had locked eyes with him back by the river, Raedwyn had avoided looking in Caelin’s direction. Even so, she could feel his presence next to her, his hand on her back, steering her through the leering crowd. His hand burned through her sodden clothing and warmed her chilled skin.

  Raedwyn’s mouth went dry and she walked a little faster. She had to distance herself from this man. She ducked under the low doorway, entering a narrow hall with a small fire pit in the center. Two curtains made of rabbit pelts sewn together, hung either side of the doorway that led through into separate anterooms. Caelin pulled the right hand curtain aside and steered her into a small, sparsely furnished bower. A pile of furs lay in the center of the room and there was a clay washbasin and a privy in the corner. The tiny window was bolted shut. Hanging from the exterior wall, a torch burned steadily. Flickering shadows played across the walls.

  “We brought your belongings,” Caelin said, dumping four sodden leather bags next to the pile of furs, “so you can change out of your wet clothes.”

  Raedwyn pushed back her hood and wiped the rain out of her eyes. She looked at Caelin properly then. He met her gaze boldly. Raedwyn scowled at him.

  “Leave me,” she said coldly.

  “When you have made yourself presentable, my father wants you to join us,” he replied, his tone equally cold.

  Raedwyn watched him turn and duck around the fur partition. In the hall beyond she could hear Ceolwulf laughing and his men congratulating each other. Raedwyn’s fists balled in fury. It had been a planned,
well-executed attack. They had known King Raedwald’s daughter was to wed Cynric the Bold and they had known Cynric had docked his long ship below the Great Barrows of Kings. They had lain in wait and finally the prey had come to them.

  Shaking with cold and rage, Raedwyn peeled off her wet clothes and put on a plain woolen tunic. She wrung the water out of her hair and shook her curls out like a dog. Then, she coiled her hair severely at the nape of her neck. Finally, she hung her wet clothes to dry on the wall of her bower before unfastening Cynric’s morning gifts from her sodden cloak. She held the amber brooches in the palm of her hand. The amber glowed gold in the torch light. Poor Cynric, she thought. Yet, she could not feel true grief for him. Her only emotion towards him was a vague relief that she would never have to suffer his attentions again.

  However, with a shudder Raedwyn realized her husband’s unwelcome attentions were preferable to what awaited her.

  When Raedwyn finally emerged from behind the curtain, Ceolwulf and his men sat around the fire pit downing jugs of mead. They ogled her as she stood before them, stone-faced. A rabbit stew simmered over the fire pit and the aroma made Raedwyn’s stomach rumble, reminding her she had not eaten since the morning.

  “Ah, Raedwyn the Fair.” Ceolwulf took a swig of mead and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Such a luscious wench you are as well. Cynric must have enjoyed his wedding night.”

  “One fine memory before death m’lord,” one of his men chortled, causing the entire assembly to break into raucous laughter.

  Raedwyn stood there with her head down, loathing them. Her father would make them pay for their insolence.

  “Come girl, sit next to me.” Ceolwulf patted the ground next to him. Raedwyn walked stiffly over and sat down between Ceolwulf and his son. Caelin was the only warrior not laughing and smiling. He drank his mead quietly, listening to the chatter around him with still indifference. He glanced across at Raedwyn, watching her under veiled lids.

  Raedwyn sat, feigning submission, hands folded meekly in her lap while the men poured mead down their throats and waited for the stew to cook. Eventually, a trencher bread bowl was passed to her and she ate hungrily. Ignoring the lecherous looks from some of Ceolwulf’s warriors, including the vile Hengist, who sat directly opposite her, Raedwyn kept her gaze downcast.

  “You don’t fool anyone milady.” Caelin’s voice, low and teasing, intruded on her reverie. “The role of meek maid does not sit well with you.”

  Raedwyn looked up sharply and found Caelin watching her.

  “I have little choice but to sit here quietly,” Raedwyn replied frostily, “since I am not here by my own will.”

  “Then you can drop the act,” Caelin replied. “My father despises simpering women.”

  “I care not whether I please him,” Raedwyn shot back, her spine straightening with indignation, “or you!”

  A slow smile crept across Caelin’s face, before he spoke again.

  “That’s better.”

  Raedwyn glared at him upon realizing he had goaded her deliberately.

  To Raedwyn’s right, Ceolwulf let out a loud belch and wiped his meaty forearm across his mouth. He turned to Raedwyn, his face flushed with mead.

  “It was a stroke of good fortune the day I discovered Raedwald’s daughter was to finally wed.” He winked at her. “Long have I waited for a chance to take my revenge.”

  Raedwyn stared at him as he continued.

  “I knew he would refuse to meet me in battle. After your brother perished, Raedwald no longer enjoyed fighting his enemies. He has grown soft, unmanned by grief and that shrew he married.”

  Raedwyn ground her teeth at his insults but managed to hold her tongue.

  “I also knew if he did meet me in battle, he could summon a huge fyrd, a king’s army, with too many swords and spears for my men to fight fairly. In order for Raedwald to obey me, I would have to possess something dear and precious to him.”

  “My father will not let you use me against him.” Raedwyn was so angry her voice came out as a hiss.

  Ceolwulf was unmoved. “You underestimate your father’s affection for you my dear,” he rumbled. “With you to bargain with he will do exactly as I ask. He will meet me in battle on Uffid Heath at dawn of the next full moon with no more than two-hundred men. I will return you to him before we do battle but if he breaches our agreement, I slit your throat. Tomorrow a rider goes to Rendlaesham with my terms.”

  Raedwyn gave a bitter laugh. Silence fell around the fire pit. The men’s looks were no longer lecherous, but hostile.

  Anger made Raedwyn momentarily fearless.

  “It matters not how much my father loves me,” Raedwyn spat at Ceolwulf. “You are a fool to think he will be manipulated by the likes of you. You and your filthy rabble will be cut down like the dogs you are and I will spit on your corpse!”

  “Insolent wench!”

  Ceolwulf’s meaty fist sliced through the air and caught Raedwyn across the face. Her head snapped back and she fell against Caelin. Ceolwulf’s face was a mask of black rage as he raised his fist to strike her again.

  “Father!” Caelin’s arm moved in front of Raedwyn’s face to protect her. “It won’t help our cause if you bring the girl before her father bloodied and bruised!”

  Raedwyn sagged against Caelin. Her ears were ringing and her vision swam. He had hit her hard – any harder and he would have dislocated her jaw.

  Ceolwulf lowered his arm, breathing heavily as the madness of his rage subsided.

  “Insult me again girl and I will give you to my men for sport,” he growled, turning away from her and taking the mug of mead one of his men had handed him. “Get her out of my sight.”

  Caelin got to his feet and pulled Raedwyn up after him. He dragged her back to her bower and pushed her inside before pulling the curtain tightly shut behind them.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “Leave me!” Fighting tears, Raedwyn turned her back on him and stumbled over to the far side of the bower. Caelin followed her, taking hold of her shoulders and turning her back to face him.

  He took hold of her chin and gently touched her jaw where Ceolwulf had hit her. Raedwyn winced and tried to pull away but his grip on her shoulder held her fast. Once again, the sensation of his nearness was overwhelming. His fingers lightly traced the side of her throbbing face and she closed her eyes to escape the intensity of his gaze.

  “When I said my father didn’t like simpering women, I didn’t mean you should insult him.” Caelin admonished her quietly. “Do you realize the danger you put yourself in?”

  Raedwyn opened her eyes and stared at him, pulling her face away from his touch.

  “I care not,” she snapped. “He insults my father and expects me to listen to his lies.”

  “My father has reason to be so angry,” Caelin replied, stepping back from Raedwyn. “You are blinded by love for your father and do not know the injustice mine has had to suffer.”

  Raedwyn’s lip curled. “It appears to me that it is you who is blinded by love for your father. I know Raedwald is a great man, a fair man. I see none of these qualities in Ceolwulf.”

  Raedwyn watched Caelin’s handsome face stiffen and his eyes narrow. He turned from her and walked over to the curtain.

  “I am not as easy to anger as my father Raedwyn,” his voice was hard, “but I warn you to curb that tongue of yours in future. It will only bring you trouble.”

  ***

  Caelin, son of Ceolwulf the Exiled, returned to his place at the fire pit and stared moodily into the flames.

  “Here Caelin.” Ceolwulf passed his son a cup of mead. “Drink up, there is plenty to celebrate this eve!”

  Wordlessly, Caelin took the cup from his father and took a sip.

  “The first stage of your plan has certainly run smoothly father,” he admitted. “Now, all we need is Raedwald to agree to your terms.”

  “Which he will,” Ceolwulf replied, his tone supremely confiden
t. “After all, we hold his jewel – his precious daughter.”

  Caelin glanced at his father’s face. All sign of the rage that had caused him to lash out at Raedwyn earlier had disappeared and the Exiled was now in good spirits. In truth, his father’s reaction to the girl’s anger had surprised Caelin. Women did not usually elicit such a response from Ceolwulf; he treated most of them as if they were beneath his notice.

  Not for the first time, Caelin wondered at the deep-seeded hatred behind Ceolwulf’s quest for gnyrnwracu, revenge. He had always thought that there was more to this whole story than what his father had divulged – but for a long time it had been enough that Raedwald had wronged Ceolwulf, and would have to pay for it.

  Now though, the whole affair was making Caelin uneasy.

  Caelin took another sip of mead and shifted his gaze back to the dancing flames in the fire pit. Truthfully, he had not enjoyed today. The ambush had been bloodier than he had anticipated and they had treated Lady Raedwyn roughly. Caelin’s thoughts focused then on Raedwyn the Fair.

  She was a goddess – the kind of woman that men started wars over. He itched to tangle his fingers in her mane of blonde curls. A man could drown in her deep-blue eyes, and her full, sensual lips begged to be kissed. He wondered if she had any idea of the stir she had created amongst his father’s men – the camp was alive with talk about their fair captive.

  Woden and Thor save me, she’s delicious. The soft swell of her breasts, that narrow waist and those curving hips were a man’s dream. She had stood tall and proud before him after the ambush, staring at him with a boldness that had taken Caelin’s breath away. Men dreamed of bedding such a fiery beauty – although she had not yet spent a night under his father’s roof, Ceolwulf had already lost his temper with her.

  She was as dangerous as a siren, Caelin mused. His father would do well to keep her out of sight so that she did not distract his men.