Avelynn: The Edge of Faith (15 page)

Nest motioned to the great hall, and I followed. She looked to be about twelve years of age, not much older than Edward. Unlike Edward, who had the height and promise of a warrior’s physique, Nest was a delicate bird of a thing. Her smile, however, was robust and friendly and softened the hard angles of her face.

She bustled ahead and held the door open for me to enter. The large timber space bustled with elegant ladies and gentlemen, gold and silver broaches and rings gleaming. I felt awkward and out of place in my dusty-hemmed dress. It had been cut in the latest fashion, but since it was one of only two dresses I owned suitable for these types of gatherings, it showed signs of strain.

Nest left me to my own devices and scurried out of the hall. I’d not seen much of Marared or Sigy during our travels. They had a litter and full retinue and plodded along well back of the main group. I caught sight of mother and daughter now, gossiping and laughing with the other ladies at court. I studied Marared out of the corner of my eye. I wondered if Alrik’s message had gotten through. She looked my way and bowed her head in my direction. I followed suit. Perhaps there was hope for this conflict yet.

“Avelynn?” A whoop of greeting sallied forth from across the room, and I turned in time to be enveloped in a bear hug.

I laughed. “It’s good to see you again, Eadfrith.”

“You look as winsome and lovely as an English rose.”

“And you, Eadfrith, do not look like a priest.” He wore a fine, deep-green tunic, his cloak held on his shoulder by a large gold broach. “Playing dress-up?”

“One last kick at the pebble. It will be nothing but traveling cloaks from here on. Once in a while, a man enjoys the finer things in life, like soft linen against the skin.”

A beautiful young woman with high cheek bones and a genuine smile took Eadfrith’s hands in hers. “And who do we have here, cousin?”

“Angharad, may I present Avelynn, of England. Avelynn, my cousin and the lady of the house, Angharad ap Meurig, sister to King Gwgon.”

“Angharad?” I studied her. Light brown hair fell in soft curls down her back, framing a full mouth and a delicately dimpled chin.

Her fine eyebrows creased, and her lichen-green eyes widened and sparkled with wonder. “Avelynn?” She hugged me fiercely. “It is you!”

I returned the hug with ardor. “It’s been a long time!” I had to mentally add the years. I had last seen her before she returned home. She was twelve, the same age as Ealhswith. I was a year their junior. Was it really only seven years ago?

She turned to Eadfrith. “Avelynn is dear friends to my foster sister, Ealhswith. The three of us were as thick as thieves, growing up.” She held my arms, her smile ebullient. “This is cause for great celebration. A reunion of friends.” Angharad summoned a page, who brought a cask of wine. “Please.” She motioned to one of the tables where bone horns lay beside bread trenchers. Each place setting waited for the king to call the masses to feast.

Eadfrith and I both grabbed a horn, and a servant topped them to the brim.

“To old friends.” Angharad raised her cup.

“And new beginnings.” Eadfrith inclined his head in my direction.

I took a large swig. The drink and company infused my body with warmth, until I remembered the reason for being in Wales at Gwgon’s court in the first place. “When was the last time you spoke with Ealhswith?” Trepidation replaced the tepid effects of the reunion.

“I haven’t seen Ealhswith in a few years—not since her wedding—but we correspond frequently. It has been several months since her last missive.”

I watched Angharad for any signs of shock or disdain. When nothing out of the ordinary passed over her features, I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Come, let me introduce you to everyone at court.”

My heart raced. “Perhaps we can save the pleasantries until later. I’d like a chance to rest before the feast.” I couldn’t have her introduce me as Avelynn from Wedmore. I needed to hold onto my anonymity a little while longer.

I could feel the weight of her assessment. “Of course.” She wrapped one arm in mine, the other in Eadfrith’s, and led us to a room at the far end of the hall. “As my most honored guest, I will arrange a cottage for your personal use. In the meantime, you are welcome to use my private rooms. I will have Nest collect your things.”

“Thank you.”

She summoned a page. “Find the lady Avelynn’s possessions and have Nest prepare a cottage for her.”

He bowed and ran off.

Angharad smiled, her dimples winking. “It will take them some time to fetch your belongings. Until then, Eadfrith and I are going to steal you for ourselves. We are starved of news here. You must tell us the latest word from England.”

Angharad’s chamber was beautifully appointed. Exquisite wall clothing covered the walls. A bed, hidden by a wattle screen, lay tucked in the back corner. Cushioned chairs circled tiled and painted tables, and oil lamps and candle trees filled the room with warm light.

“Do you still play tafl? The game tables have been set up for after the feast,” Angharad asked.

I smiled. “I do.”

Eadfrith reclined on one of the chairs. “Dreadfully dull game.”

Angharad chuckled. “Not nearly as exciting as some of the other games Avelynn and I used to play. If I recall correctly, your exploits always involved someone crying and getting hurt.”

I locked my arms across my chest. “I never cried.”

She smirked. “Well, you were always getting hurt. What was that game we played? The one where Ealhswith and I ran away screaming like murder, caterwauling to the boys that the heathens were coming.”

I couldn’t hide my grin. “Those were the ones where I chased after you with my sword.” Just a stick, it served its purpose well. Sometimes Ealhswith and Angharad would join me, and we would fight Vikings, dragons, or elves together. More often than not, they would start out fighting against me, but just as quick, they’d turn into damsels in distress, fleeing to one of Ealhswith’s many brothers for protection.

I sat on a chair beside Eadfrith. He nudged my shoulder. “Your exploits sound delightful, like the lady herself.”

I blushed.

“Fierce, beautiful, and battle ready, Avelynn is, but also accident prone.” Angharad winked.

Eadfrith laughed. “How so?”

“How about the time she fell from a tree?” Angharad eyed me over the rim of her cup, shaking her head. “We told her not to climb the damned thing, but as usual, if she saw the boys do it, she wanted to prove she could, too.”

I frowned. “I would have made it.”

Angharad nearly spit her mead into the rushes. “You leapt off a branch over sixty hands high—at least three times your height. You scared us to death.”

“I only sprained it.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t split your leg asunder, never mind strain your ankle.” She sat off to the side of one of the game tables.

I stuck out my leg and gave the foot a good wiggle. “No worse the wear.”

“May I?” Eadfrith held out his hand.

“Suit yourself.”

He knelt in the rushes and placed my foot on his thigh. He cocked his head. “It looks healed well enough.”

I shrugged, smug. “No lasting damage.”

He lifted my leg, drawing the hem of my kirtle up a few inches. The room became stifling. I caught the slight rise to one side of his mouth, and he lifted his eyes to mine, holding my gaze steady. He braced my calf in one hand while the other tested the dexterity of my foot, circling it around gently. “It appears the ankle is fine; what of the leg?” He sat poised at the raised hem of my kirtle, his hand still, my breath forgotten.

“Who is your friend?” Alrik appeared in the doorway as if by magic.

I jumped. Eadfrith set my foot down and stood. Angharad, who had been watching our riveting exchange with an amused lift to her eyebrow, extended a hand to Alrik.

“You must be Jarl Alrik. I’ve heard a great deal about you from my brother, Gwgon.”

Etiquette demanded a formal and cordial response, and Alrik bowed. “Lady.”

I felt as if I’d been caught stealing eggs from the chickens. “This is Eadfrith.”

Alrik stepped between us. “You know the lady, how?”

Eadfrith assessed the Viking in front of him. Of almost the same height and build, they could have presented each other with a worthy opponent. “A fellow Englishman, I met her in Dyfed. And you are, sir?”

Alrik scowled. “You’re the priest.”

Eadfrith raised both eyebrows. “She has mentioned me, then?” He smiled.

“No.”

Eadfrith smirked. He drained his horn and turned to Angharad. “Thank you for the refreshment and delightful company, cousin, but I must get back to my brethren. Avelynn.” He nodded to us both and slipped out the door.

Alrik scowled at me and then shadowed Eadfrith out.

Angharad called over her shoulder. “You boys have fun. Play nice.” She shut the door behind her.

I didn’t know what had come over me. “I should go speak with him.”

“Nonsense. A little jealousy never hurt anyone. Good for the blood.”

“I’m not sure Alrik will see it that way.”

“Eadfrith is no stranger to a brawl, or swords for that matter, but he’s no fool. Stepping on the toes of a jealous Viking leader is a dance he’ll not likely entertain. I suspect he’ll lay low with the other priests and wait for matters to blow over.”

I hoped she was right. In any event, I wasn’t sure I wanted to face Alrik’s displeasure at the moment, either. I slumped into the chair and placed my head in my hands, groaning.

Angharad laughed. “Your Viking is … impressive and rather fetching.”

I smiled, despite myself. “You are very much like your foster sister.”

“I miss her.”

“You saw her last at her wedding?”

“Yes, and before that, we spent several months together at Leicester, but it’s been too long.”

As a form of punishment, Ealhswith had been sent away to live with the nuns in an attempt to help reform and refine her behavior. Instead, it had provided an opportunity for her to get into a great deal of mischief away from the eyes and ears of her parents. “I’ve heard a lot of Leicester.”

Angharad raised her eyebrow. “Have you?”

I smirked.

Angharad giggled and answered a knock at the door. “Of course, show them in.” She addressed me over her shoulder. “The ladies are being shooed from the hall until the feast is ready, and we are to entertain them.”

I stood. “When you introduce me, please give only my name.”

Angharad’s eyebrow lifted almost to the top of her forehead, but she didn’t have time to answer or question my urgency before women started streaming into the room. Servants and maids followed.

She honored my wishes and told her guests I was a close childhood friend. She left out all reference to England or Wedmore, but her gaze bore through me, her meaning clear: I was not escaping without an explanation.

When the women were settled and satisfactorily watered with drink, Angharad steered me to an empty table nearest the hearth. “Come. I’m feeling lucky.”

We sat down, a servant quickly offering us wine and small pastries.

Each table strewn about the room displayed a wooden game board. On most, the quadrants were simply squares etched into the wood. The figures were a mixture of bone, stone, and clay—even horse’s teeth stood in. Angharad’s board was inlaid with walrus ivory; the game pieces were of ivory and jet.

Tafl was a game of strategy. The center piece, the king, tried to make it to a corner, while his men tried to protect him and clear the path. The opponent’s job was to try to stop the advance and capture the king.

Seeing the pieces set on the table reminded me of the hall in Reading and an enraged Halfdan losing at such a game. Rather than abide the defeat, he had lifted the game table, which was a thick and heavy slab of rock, and brought it down squarely on his opponent’s head. The man crumpled and fell, his head crushed, the contents of which splattered on those standing closest.

Halfdan, one of Alrik’s half-brothers, was vicious and cruel. I hoped to meet him again under more favorable circumstances, at least for me—I wanted him dead at the end of my sword.

I took a large swig of wine and pushed the rotting scum from my mind.

Angharad raised her horn in a toast, clinking it against mine. “Now, tell me: What has brought you to Wales?”

Angharad knew my real identity, and her penetrating stare broke no illusions that I’d be able to hide the truth. I downed the contents of my cup, motioned for more, and set my shoulders. “Alrik ran into some trouble in England, and we had to leave.”

“So you just left everything—your home, your family?”

The truth twisted like a knife in my side. “I had little left to stay for.”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed. “Alrik wasn’t the only one who encountered trouble. My father was murdered, my brother lost and unaccounted for during the battle against the Vikings, and my grandmother was found tortured and hung.”

Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I’ve learned to accept what I’ve lost, but I will never forgive how it was taken.”

She opened her mouth as if to say more, but Marared and Sigy whirled into the room, ushered by one of Angharad’s chambermaids. Angharad pointed her finger at me. “We’re not finished.”