Dark Under the Cover of Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 1) (13 page)

Raedwyn
jerked her arm from Caelin’s grip and stood up.

“No, I
have not,” she replied, meeting Caelin’s gaze with difficulty. “I thought he
would use it against you.”

Caelin
laughed softly and shook his head. “I think you’re more concerned he could use
it against you.”

Anger
erupted in Raedwyn then, and it was a strain to keep her voice hushed, lest the
sleeping hall hear her.

“Why do
you deliberately assume the worst of me?”

“No,
Raedwyn,” Caelin replied softly. “I am just reminding you that despite knowing
what is ‘right’ you have chosen to look after yourself first. And that is how
it should be if you wish to survive.”

Raedwyn
clenched her fists at her sides, and suppressed the urge to hit his
sanctimonious face. He was behaving like one of those pious Christian martyrs
she had heard about from the priest who had baptized her father. She knew that
wyrd
determined the course of their lives, but she could not believe that even fate
was not to be argued with when life had dealt you unfairly.

“So you
will be my father’s toadying theow for the rest of your days and just accept
life isn’t meant to be fair?” she snapped.

 Caelin
stared back at her, his eyes dark and bleak.

“The rest
of my days?” he replied slowly. “Raedwyn, I should have perished on Uffid Heath,
as fate wished. As far as I’m concerned, I died there, alongside my father and
all those who fought with me. The man who gave you your freedom and
disappointed his father is dead.”

“So you
regret letting me go free?” Raedwyn’s whisper was almost inaudible.

“Regret
would mean I feel something. I feel nothing.”

Raedwyn
stared at him for a moment, searching his face for a sign he was lying, but the
face that returned her stare was a cold mask. Caelin’s eyes were that of a
stranger’s.

Raedwyn
opened her mouth to apologize – but the words would not come. Even in her head,
they sounded hollow. She could not change events. An apology could not even
begin to heal the wounds that festered within the man before her.

Saying no
more, Raedwyn turned and made her way to the door. She felt Caelin’s eyes upon
her as she slipped beyond the curtain and left him alone with the void that
filled him.

Caelin
watched Raedwyn disappear behind the curtain. He lay still on the bed and
listened to the gentle sounds of the sleeping hall outside. His arm still
burned where she had touched him and there was still an indentation on the bed
next to him, where she had sat.

Caelin
took a deep breath and relaxed his hands. He had balled them up into fists so
tight his nails had bitten into his palms. He had lied when he told Raedwyn he
felt nothing – the truth of it was that he felt too much. A squall of rain hit
the hall then; icy fingers drumming against the shutters. Caelin closed his
eyes. The life of a free man was lost to him.

Chapter Ten

Some
Rendlaesham winters could be mild, with only light frosts carpeting the ground
in the mornings, brief snowfalls, and enough clear days to allow the sun to
show its face. Other winters were bitter from the first to the last, with
vicious hoar frosts, days of snow that froze on the ground, and day after day
of impenetrable gray skies. This winter was the latter. Raedwyn remembered such
icy weather when she had been around twelve winters old. A number of elderly
and infants had perished and she, like all at Rendlaesham, had forgotten what
warmth felt like. This winter brought back memories of that experience:
constantly numb toes and fingers, cramped muscles from the chill, and being
wrapped up to the nose in furs. 

The snows
came early, before winter solstice, and a pristine, white crust covered the
world. Unable to bear being cooped up inside the hall mindlessly working at her
distaff or weaving, Raedwyn took to riding often. Her father had never
encouraged his daughter to ride, as women did not go hunting or ride with men
to war, but Raedwyn had always enjoyed the freedom of it. Now it offered her
respite from the cramped confines of her father’s hall. She rode Blackberry; a
shaggy, bay mare of advancing years. The mare was not an attractive beast, but
a safe ride and not a horse her father’s servants worried about her taking out.

One
morning, wrapped up warmly in leggings and furs, Raedwyn rode Blackberry out of
the stables and down through the township. She passed low-slung wattle and daub
houses, and saw smoke rising from holes in their roofs, staining the pallid
sky. She rode by a group of children playing in the snow and lopping snowballs
at each other. They called out to her and she waved as she passed them. Raedwyn
had become a common sight of late, riding alone around Rendlaesham. A little
farther out from the town, she passed peasants collecting firewood, before she
rode into a copse of skeleton trees and urged her mare into a slow canter.

The snow
lay a foot deep, but deeper in places where the land dipped, and Raedwyn was
careful to keep to the terrain she knew so Blackberry would not stumble.
Despite her heavy clothing and the rabbit-skin gloves covering her hands, the
chill bit into her skin and burned her face. Even with the cold, Raedwyn felt
peace settle over her as she rode alone through the silent countryside. She
never had a moment to herself cooped up inside the Great Hall, and as much as
Raedwyn enjoyed the company of her brother and cousins, there were times when
she needed freedom.

Raedwyn
looked forward at where the mare’s furry ears pricked forward as she plodded
through the snow, and her thoughts returned to her conversation with Eanfled
that morning. She had visited early with a small batch of hot apple pies, to
find her friend wan and sickly. A moon-cycle after her wedding, Eanfled had
discovered that she was with child. She was finding the early stage of her
pregnancy a trial but managed to nibble at one of the pies that Raedwyn had
brought, before pouring her friend a cup of hot milk with honey.

“I saw
Ceolwulf the Exiled’s son yesterday for the first time,” Eanfled had announced.
“You did not tell me he was so handsome! Even with his hair cropped and that
awful iron collar, he’s striking!”

Raedwyn
had felt her face heat up at Eanfled’s frank appraisal. Mention of Caelin was
off-limits under the king’s roof but in the safety of her own home, Eanfled
spoke openly. Although Raedwyn had known Eanfled would keep her secret, she now
wished she had not been so frank with her.

“I can see
why you were taken with him,” Eanfled continued. “If I were not with Alric he’d
be just the man to tempt me!”

“Eanfled!”
Raedwyn glared at her friend. “You’re a married woman!”

Eanfled
had given her a sly look before taking another small bite of her pie.

“Don’t
play the prude. I’m still able to appreciate a good-looking man am I not?” she
replied. “He might be a theow but he doesn’t carry himself like one.”

“He’s a
warrior,” Raedwyn admitted, “although nothing like his father.”

“I imagine
he’s a good kisser.” Eanfled gave Raedwyn a wicked look. “No need to say
anything, you’ve gone as red as the sun!”

“For the
love of Freya,” Raedwyn had thrown up her hands. “You’re really not helping –
now pass me one of those pies and let’s change the subject!”

Deep in
thought about her conversation with Eanfled, Raedwyn pushed her horse into a
faster canter. Eanfled’s pragmatism was refreshing, but then she had been born
into a more straightforward world than Raedwyn.

Blackberry
suddenly stumbled and went down on her knees, tearing Raedwyn from her
introspection. Her attempt to cling on was futile. She sailed over the mare’s
neck and landed on her stomach in the snow with a crunch.

For a
moment, Raedwyn could not breathe. Luckily, the powdered snow had broken her
fall. Gasping for breath, Raedwyn rolled onto her back and wiped the snow off
her face. Blackberry stood nearby, watching her reproachfully. Raedwyn was
relieved to see the horse was not favoring a foot. Such a stumble could have
broken Blackberry’s leg. Berating herself, Raedwyn attempted to get to her
feet, only to gasp in pain and sink back down onto her haunches. She had
twisted her ankle badly, despite the fur ankle boots she wore.

“Raedwyn
the Stupid,” she muttered as she reached down and gingerly touched her ankle.
It felt hot, although she was able to move it a little. Raedwyn hissed through
her teeth when she flexed it too far. She hoped it was just a bad sprain, and
not broken.

Raedwyn
finally managed to get to her feet by rolling onto her knees and using her good
ankle to lever herself up. She hopped over to where Blackberry still stood,
eyeing her patiently. Raedwyn reached out and stroked the velvety muzzle.

“You’re a
loyal one, aren’t you?” She ruffled the horse’s fluffy forelock and looked into
its kind eyes. “That was my fault, not yours.”

She tried
to mount but the pain in her ankle was excruciating. After clinging to
Blackberry’s furry neck until the pain subsided, Raedwyn limped back the way
they had come, using her horse as a crutch. As if sensing her rider needed
assistance, the mare plodded sedately alongside Raedwyn, allowing Raedwyn to
clutch onto her mane to keep her balance. Raedwyn had ridden quite a distance
from Rendlaesham and her progress back was slow. It was bitterly cold and soon
Raedwyn’s fingers and toes were numb. The air stung her lungs as she breathed.

She was
still some way from Rendlaesham when it began to snow. One moment the sky had
been clear; the next, a soft white shroud settled around Raedwyn, obliterating
her surroundings. The snow fell silently, gently, but its innocuous appearance
did not deceive Raedwyn. She knew how quickly someone could die in a blizzard.
Almost immediately, she lost her sense of direction. The snow covered the
tracks she had made earlier and she could not see more than a yard in front of
her. Certain that Rendlaesham must be ahead if she continued in the same
direction, Raedwyn hobbled on while the snow fell ever thicker.

A while
later, Raedwyn stopped and wiped snow from her numb face. Blackberry halted
next to her. Snow frosted the mare’s mane, forelock and eyelashes. Blackberry’s
thick winter coat protected her from the weather but Raedwyn could feel herself
weakening. For the first time she felt a tickle of fear but she pushed it aside
angrily.

Rendlaesham
must be close by. She had the disconcerting sensation she was hobbling round in
circles with the town just out of reach. She cursed her poor sense of
direction. Memories of getting lost in the forest after her escape from
Ceolwulf’s encampment flooded back – a deranged bat could navigate better than
her!

Deciding
that her current path was not leading her home, Raedwyn turned Blackberry left
and they continued their sluggish journey.

Time
passed slowly in a silent, white world and Raedwyn could feel tears of panic
pricking at her burning eyelids when the figure of a man appeared in the
distance. He materialized like a shade from a cloud of swirling snowflakes. He
was shabbily, if warmly, dressed and dragging an enormous basket of firewood. A
fur-lined hood was pulled up over his head and it was only when he was close by
that Raedwyn recognized him.

She
abruptly brought Blackberry to a slithering halt.

Caelin
stopped a few feet from her and pushed his hood back, looking upon her with surprise.

“Raedwyn?”

When she
did not reply he came closer, frowning in concern. “What are you doing out
here?”

“I went
out for a ride, fell off, hurt my ankle and now I’m lost,” Raedwyn replied
stonily, hating herself with a passion at that moment.

Raedwyn
looked into Caelin’s face and saw he looked considerably healthier than the
last time she had spoken to him. She had not sought his company after their
conversation in his sickroom. After his first, relatively slow, period of
convalescence, Caelin’s body had healed itself quickly. As soon as he had been
able to walk, Raedwald had set him to work. Raedwyn had rarely glimpsed Caelin
inside the Great Hall after that, for Raedwald grew vile tempered whenever
Ceolwulf’s son crossed his path. A theow could own property, such as a cow or a
couple of sheep and had some rights, but the king gave Caelin nothing. He spent
his days doing the chores everyone else despised: shoveling muck, cleaning
privies, collecting wood, washing clothes, dying wool and tanning leather. They
fed him the leftover food that was usually thrown to the dogs and he slept with
the horses in the stables.

Despite
his ragged, dirty appearance, Caelin’s face had filled out and lost the
haggardness of near death. Still, his eyes were tired and haunted.

“What are
you doing out in this weather?” she asked, immediately regretting asking such a
foolish question –  as he was towing a bag of firewood behind him it was
obvious what he had been doing.

“There
isn’t enough wood for the Yule bonfire,” Caelin explained, “so I’ve been sent
to collect some pine cones and oak branches.”

“In a
blizzard?” Raedwyn arched an eyebrow.

“Well they
don’t want to make things too easy for me do they?” Caelin replied, and Raedwyn
saw a glimmer of his wry sense of humor return for an instant.

“Come,”
Caelin said, stroking Blackberry’s neck. “We’ll both freeze if we stay out here
much longer. Let me help you up into the saddle.”

He cupped
his hands under Raedwyn’s knee and boosted her up onto Blackberry’s back. When
she had mounted, Caelin took hold of the mare’s reins and turned her left.

“How far
are we from Rendlaesham?” Raedwyn asked.

“We’re
closer than you’d think,” Caelin replied. “Your father’s hall lies just through
that copse of trees and over the next rise.”

“But your
firewood?”

“I’ll come
back for it,” Caelin answered, unbothered by the basket he was leaving behind,
“I think your father would judge your safety more important that a load of dead
wood.”

Raedwyn’s
response was out before she could censor it. “I don’t know about that. I think
he might prefer it if I were dead.”

Caelin
turned to her frowning. “Why would you say such a thing?”

Raedwyn
stared at him, wishing she had not spoken, but knowing that, now the words were
out she would have to tell him the truth.

“Ceolwulf
and Hengist both told my father that I offered myself to your father, and that
you and his men all took great sport with me.”

Caelin’s
face darkened further. “What?”

“You were
not the only survivor – Hengist also lived and tried to escape the battle
before they caught him. After he called me a lying slut in front of my family,
my father slew him.”

“You told
them it was a lie?”

Raedwyn
nodded. “Most of my kin believed me, except for my father. Since that moment,
he no longer bothers himself with me.” Although Raedwyn tried to keep her voice
matter-of-fact, she felt tears sting her eyes at her admission.

Caelin
shut his eyes for a moment and rested his forehead against Blackberry’s neck.

“I can go
to him,” he said finally. “I can tell him you were not touched.”

“It will
make no difference,” Raedwyn replied, panic rising inside her, “and my father
will believe I have seduced you into defending me. He will only think worse of
us both and you’ll be whipped. It’s better to let it lie.”

Caelin
straightened up and his eyes met Raedwyn’s for a moment. He opened his mouth as
if to argue with her, but then thought better of it. His shoulders rigid, he
turned and led Blackberry through a thick copse of young skeleton oaks. They
emerged the far side and climbed up an incline. The snow was falling so heavily
now, they could hardly see a yard ahead. They struggled down a slope and
suddenly squat wattle and daub huts appeared. They had reached the outskirts of
Rendlaesham.

Raedwyn’s
face burned with embarrassment at how close she had been to home – she had
indeed been riding around in circles.