The Tarnished Lady

  That caused his face to contort even more as he made a disastrous attempt to smile wider. For some reason, Eadyth felt absolutely no inclination to laugh. Instead, tears clouded her eyes.

  "Do not cry for me, silly bird," Eirik said softly. "Weep for Elizabeth. Steven planted his seed in her, as well, but she chose not to carry it to fruition. Unfortunately, she waited too long to seek the midwife's cure, and she died along with Steven's unborn son."

  Eadyth stared at Eirik in horror. No wonder he hated Steven so much. And mistrusted all women. Without thinking, she muttered, "Good Lord, the man may have bastards from one end of the country to the other. Why would he persist in seeking my son?"

  "I think I know the answer. 'Tis rumored that he suffered from a massive bout of St. Anthony's Fire'seven years past which has rendered him incapable of fathering any more children."

  "Serves him right. 'Tis unfortunate the devil's disease did not bum off his very manhood."

  "My thoughts exactly."

  They sat in easy silence for several long moments, both lost in their own thoughts.

  " 'Twas a foul thing you did to me, Eirik," Eadyth finally said.

  "Yea, 'twas. I do not offer this explanation to justify myself. I just wanted you to understand why I went berserk when I saw the letter from Steven. I thought... well, I thought it was happening all over again. Like Elizabeth."

  Eadyth knew that the perfect time had come to confess her masquerade, to lay all secrets out in the open between.them. "Eirik, I have many faults, but dishonesty is not one of them. When I hesitated at your question about deceiving you, 'twas not because of adultery. Actually, 'tis just a tiny little secret I have. Of no real import."

  Eirik laughed. "If 'tis naught to do with adultery, or with Steven, I do not want to know. Leastways, not now. Let us save that confession for later, my lady, especially since you say it is of no real import. Have you not heard that a man savors a bit of mystery in a woman?"

  "But—"

  "Besides, I find myself in need of a long draught of your good mead—the best in all Northumbria, did you not proclaim it on our first meeting?" Eirik teased. "Go now and play with your bloody bees."

  She started to protest.

  "Just one last thing, Eadyth. Do you accept my apology? Can we put this... incident... behind us?"

  Eadyth nodded as they both stood. "But, Eirik, we must come up with a plan to safeguard Ravenshire. Do you not think it alarming that Steven, or one of his fiendish retainers, was able to enter the keep so easily and place that lying letter under my mattress? Is it possible one of your own people works against you?"

  Eirik nodded gravely. "I go to meet with Wilfrid now. Ravenshire will be made secure against Steven, of that I assure you."

  "What can I do to help with—"

  " 'Tis no longer your responsibility, wife. A man protects those under his shield."

  Eadyth did not care for the condescending tone of his words; they sounded too much like an order. "When I proposed marriage to you, I never asked for a knight in shining armor. All I wanted was to share your shield."

  Eirik patted her hand as if she were a child. "You are not to worry, wife. I will handle everything."

  Eadyth gritted her teeth. Later, she would have to explain to her husband that she did not intend to be a docile wife. But she let him think she was acceding to his superiority. For now.

  * * *

  The next day, Eirik discovered that he could not go to Jorvik, and Asa, as he had wished. He had to implement safeguards against Steven, as Eadyth had suggested. The castle wall needed completion. Utters were sent off to lowly knights in other keeps asking if they would like to serve the Lord of Ravenshire. More and more of his grandfather's people—cotters, craftsmen, servants—were returning daily as news spread of Ravenshire's new life.

  With dismay, Eirik realized that, without ever having made a real decision to stay at Ravenshire, he was digging himself deeper and deeper into a commitment to the land and the people.

  And he was not sure it was what he wanted.

  Besides taking extra measures to safeguard the keep, Eirik also tried hard to make amends to Eadyth for his despicable behavior. Over the next three days, while he slept in the hall in consideration of Eadyth's monthly flux, he allowed her to impose her silly rules: forcing the servants to bathe once a sennight; delousing all the mattresses, pallets and bed linens; decreeing that his men could no longer throw their bones and other refuse in the rushes of the hall after eating.

  God's Blood! She even wanted to make a rule against belching and breaking wind in public, stating that his men had the manners of swine. "You have been raised in the king's court. You have a responsibility to teach those beneath you the polite ways of society," she had chided him.

  That was where he had put a stop to her domineering ways. "Have you lost your senses? There are some things beyond my control," he balked. "My men would laugh me out of Britain. I refuse to discuss such piddling subjects with them. Nay, do not lift your stubborn nose to the roof. My word is final."

  She had backed down on that demand, but then made many others. Plow new fields. Buy sheep. Clean garderobes. Dig wells. Repair weaving sheds. Erect new cottages. On and on she went in her shrewish, grating voice until she came to him with a new request.

  "Wouldst you do me a tiny favor?"

  "Bloody Hell! I think I hear those words in my sleep now."

  "Could you please climb up on a ladder and dust some of the cobwebs in the upper beams of the great hall?"

  "The servants can do that. Call Lambert."

  "He has refused. They all have. 'Twould seem they are afraid of the height."

  Eirik's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Just where is this ladder?"

  Eadyth pretended nonchalance, waving a hand airily. "Over there."

  Eirik looked toward the end of the hall where she had placed a specially made ladder, one that extended up two stories to the highest beams in the ceiling. No wonder none of his servants wanted to climb the rickety thing.

  "Holy hell, Eadyth!" he exclaimed, squinting upward. "How could you even see that far to tell whether there are cobwebs or gold dust?"

  She sniffed haughtily. "Does that mean you will not do me the favor?"

  "It means you are out of your mind. Hell's flames, this keep is so clean now it squeaks. Furthermore, you have bled my guilt dry these past three days. I consider our account paid in full. If you want favors from me, you had best start giving a few of your own. But, for now, go find some other lackwit to break his neck for you because I will not."

  He stormed off to the practice fields to work out his frustrations in military exercises with his men, thinking once again that it was time to go to Jorvik and spend some time with his mistress. He needed the comfort of Asa's body and the peace of her undemanding silence.

  Unfortunately, Eadyth soon intruded even into this all-male domain.

  "M'lord, come quick," Bertha called out from the edge of the field.

  "What is it? Are we being attacked?" Eirik shouted, rushing to her side. "Why did the sentries not sound the alarm?"

  "Nay, 'tis yer wife, Lady Eadyth."

  Eirik groaned.

  "She be up a tree tryin' ter ketch bees and Godric sez she be stuck."

  "Up a tree?"

  Girta pushed her way through the crowd that was gathering. "I told Bertha not to bother you, m'lord. 'Tis naught to concern you. My lady has done this many a time in the past. She knows what she is about, I tell you."

  "Is she stuck or not?"

  "Yea," said Bertha.

  "Nay," said Girta.

  Girta explained with exaggerated patience, "Some bees left their hives and formed a new swarm in a nearby tree. My lady merely climbed the tree above the swarm. She is shaking the limb, and her beekeeper assistants will trap the swarm in a beecatcher box below her on the ground." Girta folded her arms across her chest and clamped her mouth shut, shooting Bertha an I-told-you-so look.

  Eirik heard th
e people around him snickering. Actually, he had noticed a great deal of nudging, rolling eyes and odd whispers from his men the last few days, especially when he was in Eadyth's presence. No doubt, they considered him weak for allowing his new wife to order him about. Well, he had more than enough of her mannish ways. He would put her in her proper place this time.

  Eirik pushed his way angrily through the crowd, stomping toward the orchard just beyond the 'outer bailey, then turned abruptly to the muttering mob which was following closely on his heels. "God's Bones! Have you naught else to do but mind my business? Go back to work. All of you."

  When he reached the orchard, Eirik stopped abruptly in stunned disbelief.

  Eadyth, wearing her beekeeping veil, was straddling a limb high above the ground, shaking it vigorously. The cluster of bees clung tenaciously to the end of the limb while two of her veil-clad assistants stood on the ground, holding a large screened box.

  "Eadyth, come down from that damn tree at once."

  Eadyth looked down, seeing him for the first time. "Eirik, I did not see you arrive. But do step back. You are only just recovering from your last encounter with my bees. We do not want a repeat performance."

  "How nice of you to be concerned," he muttered, but moved away a short distance before informing her, "Eadyth, your behavior is unseemly beyond belief. I insist that you come down."

  "Do not be ridiculous. I just need to shake the bees loose."

  Her defiance angered Eirik. "Then I will bring you down." He stepped toward the base of the tree, preparing to climb up and rescue his wife, and give her a tongue-lashing she would not soon forget when they got back to the keep.

  In the midst of trying to shake the limb and answer him and move a little farther out onto the branch, Eadyth lost her balance and began to fall. Reflexively, Eirik jumped onto the divided tree trunk and began to climb in hopes of rescuing the foolish woman. Eadyth managed to regain her balance, but in the process the hem of her robe and full-length veil got caught on a branch and pulled upward over one leg. At the same time, her head rail fell off, and a cascade of curly blonde hair escaped its confinement.

  Curly!

  Blonde!

  His mouth dropped open in amazement as he gaped at his wife's exceedingly long leg exposed from trim, bare ankle, to slender calf to dimpled knee, all the way up to the top of her marvelously shaped thigh. And one fact became clear in that moment before Eadyth adjusted her clothing.

  His wife was not old, or uncomely.

  Bloody Hell! In one explosive instant, all the pieces of the puzzle came together in Eirik's mind.

  He noted the smoothness of his wife's leg, unpuckered with age. Gentle curves and lean, youthful muscles molded her calves and thighs into a beautiful sculpture of visual delight. No bones protruded as he would have expected in an aging crone. Aging crone? Hah! The deceitful witch was younger than he, certainly no more than twenty-five.

  Quickly, Eirik backed down from the tree and stepped away a short distance, unwilling just then to let Eadyth realize that her masquerade was over. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his upper lip, forgetting that he had shaved his mustache the day before to alleviate the itching bee stings. His disoriented mind tried to assimilate the implications of his discovery.

  "Eirik, are you still there?" she asked in a nervous voice.

  "Yea, but I stepped away some distance to avoid your bloody bees," he lied.

  He heard a rustling noise and knew she was arranging her garments. To continue her disguise. Damn her!

  He smacked himself on the side of the head, suddenly understanding so many things: how she could have a child so young, why Steven would have been attracted to her in the first place. He squinted up at Eadyth, who had finally loosened the bees and was shouting instructions to her assistants on the ground. The Silver Jewel of Northumbria! The title referred to her hair, of course—not an aging gray under all that grease, as he had assumed, but that rare shade of silver blonde.

  Eirik was not amused.

  In fact, when he recalled his brother Tykir's words to him at the wedding banquet about a secret he and Eadyth shared, he realized that his brother had known of Eadyth's deceit. Yea, deceit. And Tykir had laughingly said he might have a skald put this secret into a saga. Eirik's temper rose another notch. If his brother dared, he might just wring his frivolous neck and save King Edmund the trouble.

  And worse, Eirik suspected that the snickers and soft whispers he had overheard the last few days amongst his men meant they knew about Eadyth, as well. No doubt, they all laughed behind his back at Eadyth's grand jest, and his dim vision. He gritted his teeth angrily.

  Eadyth dropped lithely to the ground and closed the lid on the damned bee box. Eirik started forward, but then he stopped himself. Nay, he needed more time to understand Eadyth's motives. And to think of the best possible punishment for this deceitful witch of a wife.

  One thing was certain. She would regret the day she ever entered Ravenshire. But not before he peeled away the layers of her disguise and discovered exactly what he had in this mysterious wife of his. And not before he brought her to heel.

  Eirik smiled with grim anticipation.

  Chapter Ten

  "Bloody Hell! Would you look at the way she walks," Eirik commented to Wilfrid as they watched Eadyth deliberately stoop her shoulders and limp a bit as she made her way through the hall toward the dais that evening.

  Eirik had to restrain himself from leaping over the table and strangling her bony neck. No, not bony, more like gracefully slender, he reminded himself with self-derision.

  "Damn her deceit! By the time I am done with her, she will hobble all right and with good cause."

  Eirik had already discussed his discovery of Eadyth's charade with Wilfrid. While his good friend had suspected Eadyth was not as old or uncomely as they had originally thought, Wilfrid told him he had not been certain and, therefore, had hesitated to mention his seemingly farfetched impressions.

  "My vision must be growing worse for the wily wench to have footed me so," Eirik complained to his good friend. "Even though I was never sharp-sighted as a child, I never saw it as a real problem. Now I am not so sure."

  "Nay, do not think such. Your lady wife fooled us all with her masquerade."

  "I must admit my discovery of her charade today rattled me badly. What kind of future would I have as a blind soldier? Without eyes, a knight is but a shell, less than a man."

  "Put it from your mind, Eirik. I truly believe you wanted to believe her old and, therefore, never recognized the signs of youth. Remember that first night when she blew into the hall like a winter storm and practically kicked the dog. Those were not the actions of a young, beautiful woman."

  Eirik scrutinized Eadyth closely as she moved nearer, his lips curling with disgust as he saw how obvious her disguise was. He wondered just how big a hole she would dig for herself before confessing the truth.

  "Do you still think she conspires with Steven?"

  "I think not," Eirik answered, stroking his upper lip distractedly, missing his mustache sorely. That was her fault, too, he decided unreasonably. He wouldn't have had to shave it off if not for her bees. "I suspect she harbors a loathing for the lustful attentions of men and took advantage of the circumstances to keep me at bay."

  "With all due respect, my lord, I have yet to meet the maid who could keep you at bay, or even wanted to."

  Eirik shrugged. "Some women are born that way and ne'er change—always hating a man's touch." And just my luck to wed one of the man haters!

  Wilfrid seemed to give the idea considerable thought, then nodded. "Will you confront Lady Eadyth about her deception now?"

  "Nay."

  "What will you do?"

  "I will give her enough rope to hang herself."

  Wilfrid laughed, no doubt anticipating an evening of entertainment at Eadyth's expense. Eirik did not intend to disappoint him. He, too, looked forward to making his lady wife squirm, but first he must bank his raging anger and
force a bland expression to his tense face.

  " 'Twill be interesting to see how far she will go in her foolery," Eirik continued, "and despite my doubts, I cannot be certain she has no devious intent. So, yea, I think 'tis best to watch her closely for a time. But you can be sure I will make her pay—both now, in my own special way, and later when I confront her with her deceit."

  Wilfrid just grinned.

  Now that Eadyth had solved the smoke problem in the great hall with her new chimneys, Eirik could see the care she took with her disguise, pulling her head-rail forward slightly to cover her forehead and cheeks, frowning so hard her face muscles must ache, and cackling until her voice grew hoarse. She had even ashed her face a bit.

  Lord, I must be a lackwit to have been so duped.

  Throughout the meal, Eirik continued to study her with feral intensity as he downed cup after cup of her mead. It probably was the best in all Northumbria, as she had boasted. Mayhap he would drown her in a tun of her own brew.

  Wanting to lull Eadyth into trapping herself, he reminded himself to squint occasionally and peer closely at objects on the table. Let her think I am blind to her disguise. The witch!

  He played a mental game with himself, devising new, exotic methods he would use to torture her. Strangulation was too clean and quick, he decided. And he wanted to delay her punishment until he was sure of her motives. But what could he do now to prick her haughty countenance without betraying his knowledge of her game?

  Aaah! "Is that a bristly hair I see sprouting from your' wart?" he asked suddenly, looking at the enticing mole near her lips. "I could pluck it out for you, if you wish. My grandmother used to get them on occasion after she had reached a certain... age." He watched with smug delight as Eadyth's hand shot to her mole, searching, even though she must know she had no such thing.