Perhaps there could be something almost like peace between them ….
Yet even as the sun rose shimmeringly high on the new day and they approached the walls of their home, all thoughts of peace vanished. From the cliffs they could see that the gates were open and that horses and men bearing Alfred’s colors were back upon them already.
“What is it?” Rhiannon murmured.
Eric reined in Alexander and stared down at the scene of milling horses and men.
“More Danes,” he said wearily. Then he added wryly, “Alas, my love, you may yet find reprieve. I think that I must ride back to war already, and that a Danish battle-ax shall ever be waiting!”
He nudged the white back to a full gallop.
She never had a chance to tell him that she did not really wish for a battle-ax to catch him.
Indeed she would pray for his safe return.
13
There was a great assembly gathered in the hall as Rhiannon followed Eric quickly through the doorway. Among them were many of Alfred’s top men: serious, grim Allen of Kent; Edward of Sussex; Jon of Winchester; and William of Northumbria. William had been engaged in some heavy discussion with Rollo by the north wall; he leaned there, twirling his fine dark mustache. As soon as Rhiannon entered the room, she felt his eyes upon her, brooding and dark, shielded behind the droop of his eyelids and his thick lashes. This is a dangerous man, she thought uneasily. Then she tried to dispel the idea because he was so trusted by the king. All the same, he made her uncomfortable, she realized. He had never liked the power that she held. But he was important to Alfred, and Rhiannon knew that she must grit her teeth and accept him into her home.
She had no choice. Eric would do so.
Still, it was obvious that Alfred’s men had not come to stay—they had come to collect warriors again for some new battle.
“Eric!” It was Jon, headstrong, passionate, always first into the fray, who approached Eric even as he entered the hall. “Gunthrum has heard of the rout at Rochester and plots retaliation! Even now there are plans for an attack from the sea! We need ships to be sent to the king’s command. And we have been warned by a captive that a host of the bloody invaders will arrive just north of here. The king requests that you take your men and stop this group from joining with Gunthrum’s host!”
“My fleet is at the king’s command,” Eric assured Jon.
“And we’ll bloody best any Dane who dares step foot ashore upon this coast!” Rollo boasted.
A wild cheer went up, and drinking horns were raised. Rhiannon determined that Englishmen could behave as barbarically as any pagans when it came to war.
“We need the ships immediately,” Allen warned, stepping forward.
Eric nodded, hardly needing to glance Rollo’s way as he spoke to his second in command. “Rollo, see to it that the captains are ready to sail.”
The huge Viking nodded and walked swiftly from the room.
William of Northumbria left his place by the wall at last. He came forward, offering his hand in a strong clasp to Eric. “Viking ships against a Viking invader! It will surely bring us victory.” He laughed, clapping Eric hard upon the shoulder. Eric did not reply, and for a fleeting moment Rhiannon wondered if her husband shared her uneasiness about the man. But then Rowan stepped into the breech.
“There are none so fleet, so fine, at the craft of shipbuilding as the Vikings. We must thank God that the great Ard-ri of Ireland accepted the prince from Norway as a son-in-law, and that the Ard-ri’s grandson has now brought us the great craft of his ships.”
“And the great craft of his sword arm!” William added.
“Well, I do thank you for the welcome,” Eric replied wryly. “Let’s see if our Viking ships bring assistance to this new conquest.”
“How long until they can sail to meet the king?” Jon asked anxiously.
Eric’s lip curled in a subtle, sardonic smile. “A Viking ship, my friends, can sail at a moment’s notice.” He turned to William. “And a Viking host can ride at a moment’s notice. We’ll leave within the hour.” He swirled around and found Rhiannon behind him. “See to the comforts of your Englishmen, will you, my love?” he said. His voice carried a soft taunt, yet she wondered suddenly if he were angry at her, or at something said within the room. He shouted to Rowan to join him, and for a moment her heart seemed to grow cold as she remembered the events of the morning. He had seemed willing to exculpate Rowan readily enough—indeed, he appeared genuinely fond of the lad, but might he not yet reflect that he’d breathe easier without such a rival in proximity to his wife? Eric would be giving Rowan his orders in battle …. But no, her husband would never do anything so underhanded, Rhiannon realized. Whatever faults her Viking had, even she must concede that deviousness was not among them. Eric was an honorable man. But he was angry with her, if not with Rowan. He blamed her for the morning’s encounter; he mistrusted and even disliked her. And she had told him, albeit falsely, that she still loved Rowan. Might he not try to hurt her through the lad, though he bore Rowan himself no grudge?
She hadn’t the time to say a word, nor would she have begun to do so with men like William and Allen in the room. She swept by her husband even as he hurried to the yard to call forth his grooms. She greeted Jon and Edward.
William stepped before her as she neared the kitchen. “My dear Rhiannon! We have all worried so for you. How do you fare?”
She didn’t like the question from him at all. There was a light about his eyes that glistened like grease. He had been the one entirely eager to throw her to the wolf.
“I fare very well, very well indeed, William. Thank you and excuse me, I’ll see what we have to feed this host.”
He reached out a hand to stop her, but she evaded him and hurried into the kitchen. Adela was already there, and it seemed she and the steward had things well in hand. “Ah, there you are, dear! Well, we’ve ordered out numerous kegs of ale and mead, and we’ve just brought in scores of fresh fish and the boars they killed out hunting the other day. We haven’t the time to roast huge haunches, so we’ve sliced and skewered much of the meat, and the table is to be set right now. Have I missed anything?”
“Not a thing. It’s quite the best anyone can do on such notice. Adela, you are a godsend.”
Adela smiled, plump and complacent. She patted Rhiannon’s hair. “Did you have a nice swim, then, this morning?”
“What? Oh, yes, lovely, thank you,” Rhiannon muttered. She noticed that Mergwin was by the cook fire, stirring something that simmered in a pot over the flames. He turned to her, and his ancient eyes studied her, then he gazed again at the pot. Rhiannon smiled briefly to Adela and found herself hurrying over to the magician.
“What is it?” she hissed at him.
He looked up with some surprise. With his free hand he stroked his beard, taking his time to reply. He looked back to the pot. “Did you tell him?” he inquired.
“Tell him what?” she whispered tensely.
He studied her again. “About the child.”
Instinctively she touched her stomach. He couldn’t have known! This fascinating, frightening man couldn’t have known the truth she was just beginning to suspect herself. As the days passed, so did the time when she should have had her monthly flow. And there were other, oh so subtle changes too. Mergwin was right, and she knew it. But she could not tell Eric. She argued that she was not sure—despite Mergwin’s words. The truth was that her pride would not allow her, not when her husband treated her as a possession—to be taken and discarded at his will, according to his own word!
“There is nothing to tell him!” she insisted. Then she felt a chill, for the way his eyes touched her, she knew instantly that he was aware of her lies, that he saw all the way into the depth of her soul. Defensive, she softly and accusingly cross-queried him. “Did you tell him?”
“It is not my place but yours, my lady,” he told her, bowing with a humility that was certainly mocking.
She started to turn away, but he
caught her arm. “I don’t like this.”
She pulled free, not understanding him. “What do you mean? I did not ask for this, any of this—”
“I’m talking about this new summons. I do not like it. Something is wrong.”
She tossed back her drying hair. “Something is always wrong with battle,” she said softly. “Men die.”
She liked the way that he looked at her then, with thought and a certain new respect. He made a move as if he would touch her, but just then long, heavy strides brought Eric thundering into the room. “My God, I’ve raised an army already—can’t we feed a few men in the same amount of time?”
“The meal comes, my lord, at this very moment!” the steward hastily assured him. The kitchen came to life with lads and lasses hurrying about with plates and knives and tapered spoons for the stew and great skewers for the meat. Mergwin slipped quietly out the back entrance, Rhiannon saw. She was about to follow him when she felt Eric’s hand upon her arm, stopping her.
“Come, my lady, take your place at my side.”
She had little choice, for his fingers were like steel, and his will seemed akin to God’s. She nodded but pulled back, trying to caution herself to take care but desperate to say something with so little time remaining to them. Rowan would ride with him again. She had to know that the two men, at least, were at peace.
“My lord, have you spoken with Ro—”
“Aye, lady, I have.” His fingers tightened so that she nearly cried out, but she swallowed back the sound. From the doorway that the servants hurried through she could hear the laughter and the booming voices of the men. And still Eric nearly whispered as he continued, “By God, madam, how many times must I assure you that I do not blame the lad?”
“You blame me!” she choked out.
“Aye, that I do. Now, milady—”
“It’s just that you leave for battle again—”
“And though you would gladly have a Danish ax cleave my skull, you fear that I would, through malice, cast away the boy’s life?”
She paled, sensing the rise of his anger. “It’s just that—”
“I assure you,” he hissed, very close to her, “that your honor or lack thereof is not worth the life of one warrior, be he Irish, Norse, or English. Now, lady, I do suggest you follow me quickly, before I forget that I am supposed to be among civilized English company and take you yonder to redden that flesh you do seem so determined still to expose to others.”
She jerked free and swore, heading for the hall with her head high. She was brought back swiftly, swallowing down a cry, as his fingers knotted into her hair. He released her quickly enough, caught her arm, and proceeded out with her once again.
Eric led her to the head of his table, while the others grouped around them, according to their rank. That left William at Rhiannon’s side; Jon by him; Allen and Edward to Eric’s left; and Rollo, courteously giving up his own seat, down the plank with Rowan and others of Eric’s own host. Because of the seating, Rhiannon should have shared a chalice with William that day, yet despite the anger still emanating from her husband, he came to her rescue when William offered the chalice to her first.
Eric caught her hand when protocol would have demanded that she accept the proffered cup, and he apologized to William with a pleasant ease. “William, you will excuse us, I beg, and indulge us. My wife and I have had so little time to explore the wonders of matrimony—it seems that war must always intrude. My lady will share this cup with me, as it is still a fascination just to have my lips wander where hers have touched before them.”
He spoke loudly enough for all to hear. Edward laughed and applauded, and Jon stood up with his chalice raised high. “My lords—English and other!—we have gained not just an able warrior but truly a man of wisdom and wit, a prince and a poet. My dear lady Rhiannon, I admit—if you’ll excuse me, Prince of Eire”—he bowed quickly to Eric, then looked to Rhiannon again—“we who watched you grow with courage and beauty were honor-bound to see to this match, yet in our hearts we bled. And now we discover that you are wed to a man who has gained more than our deepest respect and admiration, and who, by his very words, cherishes you deeply as well. Lady, to you, and to your Lord of Wolves!”
There was thunderous applause. Rhiannon found her husband’s eyes upon her with their mocking light. He lifted his chalice to her and drank from it deeply. She stood swiftly. “Aye, my lords, I thank you one and all for your care. What can I say? This marriage is indeed fantastic! I wonder what new fantasy each day shall bring. And I am astounded. Cherish! Why, trust me, my friends. His every word and his every motion contain tenderness and care. He is most certainly a prince among princes”—she paused just briefly, staring into his eyes as she continued with dripping sarcasm—“unique among all men.”
She sat as more cheers arose. Eric lifted the chalice to her once again, and she nearly snatched it from him to swallow down a great quantity of the mead. But then the laughter and the cheers died down, and the talk turned swiftly to war. Rhiannon glanced to the side and realized that William was gone.
She turned and found Eric watching her once again. “Why did you start that?” she hissed to him. “What lies, what mockery, what—”
“That man covets you,” he said curtly, interrupting her. She fell silent, and he inclined his head, indicating William’s empty seat. “And I think that you even prefer me to him, so I suggest that you take grave care in his presence.”
The color drained from her face. There was so much about her that he read with appalling ease. She did despise William. No matter what she had ever thought of Eric, his touch had never dismayed her, it was true. While the very feel of William’s eyes upon her …
Long, powerful fingers closed over hers. Eric’s gaze held hers once again, startling, deep. “He’ll never touch you, I swear it.”
She shuddered despite herself. Then Eric’s words both warmed and chilled her, for he added, “Rest easy, for I swear I should kill him if he ever stepped too close.”
He released her hand then, rising quickly, and asked Allen casually where William had gone.
“I sent a messenger ahead to find the king and assure him that you had sent the ships and would lead your men against the menace just north of here. William has just gone to make sure that the lad has got off all right.”
“It is time that we were all gone,” Eric said, and it was a signal. About the table, men rose. They shifted outward until Rhiannon realized that she sat alone at the table.
She jumped up and hurried out. The grooms and stable lads had brought the horses, and the warriors were being assisted into their mail and helmets.
Eric was already clad in his mail and shimmering helmet and seated atop the white stallion. He turned, sensing that she had come from the house. Across the sea of men, his eyes, blue as the fjords of Norway, fell upon hers. She shivered anew and watched him from the step. He nudged the stallion, and the animal broke its way through the others and then Eric loomed high above her on his steed.
“Lady, you may yet have your wish. If I am slain, you must immediately make your way to the king, do you understand?”
She tried to swallow. “No Danish ax would dare to slay you. You would simply command it not to do so.”
“Take heed of what I say. You will go to the king.”
He was angry. She answered again, her words barely finding voice. “I will go to the king.”
“There is scarcely an army of defense left to you here. If there were to be an attack, you’d have to run into the forest. No heroics, lady. None of your flying arrows. The house and the walls I can rebuild. The land will remain mine no matter who seeks to wrest it from me. But you, lady, you are to seek shelter in the forest, do you understand? Leave the men to try to hold the walls and to protect those serfs and tenants who remain to us. Do you understand me?”
“I—”
“Do you, lady?”
She nodded again.
Suddenly he was off the horse. H
e cast back the face shield of his visor and swept her into his arms. His kiss was so savage and bruising that her lips tingled with the pressure, and yet she realized dimly that she was clinging to him.
And that she was afraid.
He released her and mounted the white stallion once again. He cried out to the men. She stood upon the step until the dust from the horses and the foot soldiers had died away, and then she wearily reentered the house.
She bent down before the fire upon the balls of her feet and studied the flame. Why did it feel so very empty to have him leave? She could still feel her lips tingling from his kiss.
And she could still remember the passion deep within her soul.
“Come, dear, come upstairs.” Adela said, touching her shoulders. “Perhaps you should sleep awhile. It’s been quite an eventful day.”
How recently she had loathed his presence. Eric was gone and the house was empty. What did the hours change? He had certainly grown no more tender!
But then, that was not his way, despite his flowery words at the table. Yet he had known that she despised William—aye, even feared him—and he had offered his protection—no, he had sworn it.
Ah, but she was his, like the white stallion. He let no man ride the stallion, and surely, ironically, he would let no man ride her.
Only a fool would love him. She did not love him, would not love him ….
She was losing her mind! And, aye, but she was weary!
She stood quickly. “Adela,” she said, hugging the woman fiercely, “I do love you. And I will rest.”
“Yes, dear, I know,” Adela said cheerfully.
Lying down felt wonderful. But she did not sleep. She remembered Mergwin’s words in the kitchen, and she felt the subtle changes in her body. Mergwin had been right all along; she could not deny it. And perhaps she should have told Eric. Perhaps he would meet with death and never know.
And perhaps, despite their wedding night, he would disclaim the child. Maybe he would allow himself to wonder if the child was his. Other men might wonder as well ….