Dark Under the Cover of Night (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 1) (19 page)

“Lord
Eafa!” A man’s voice hailed them from behind.

Eafa
cursed under his breath and turned, still holding Raedwyn fast at his side.
Raedwyn’s cousin, Annan, approached. As usual, Annan was in good spirits. He
walked with a jaunty stride, seemingly oblivious to Raedwyn’s terror or Eafa’s
irritation at his interruption.

“What is
it?” Eafa growled. “Why do you disturb us?”

“A
messenger has arrived from Tamworth with urgent news for you, Milord.”

Eafa
dropped Raedwyn’s arm. “Where is the messenger?”

“He awaits
you in the hall with the king,” Annan replied.

Raedwyn
forgotten, Eafa pushed past Annan and stalked back up the street between rows
of thatched huts. Annan watched him go before turning to Raedwyn.

“Is all
well with you Raedwyn?” Annan’s face clouded. “You are deathly pale.”

Raedwyn
forced a smile. “I’m just a bit tired after being inside all day. I think I’ll
take a stroll around the walls.”

“I’ll see
you back at the hall then,” Annan replied. “You’d better hurry that walk or
you’ll get drenched. A rain squall’s on its way.”

Raedwyn
watched Annan turn and follow Eafa back up the street, before she took a slow,
shuddering breath.

Her
marriage to Eafa would only end in death – but would it be his or hers? Her
hand trembled as she felt beneath her tunic, her fingers clasping around the
blade she had secreted.

Would she
have the stomach to use it? Raedwyn’s grip tightened on the knife.
Courage
Raedwyn
, she told herself,
you are of Wuffinga blood. None of your
male kin would allow themselves to be brutalized, and neither will you. You
will fight him, even if he kills you for it. 

***

Night fell
over Rendlaesham in a thick rain-swept shroud. The storm had cut short the
slaves’ work in the fields, and so Caelin, Alchfrid, Immin and Sebbi had
returned before dusk. Muddy and shivering, they had seen to the horses and
cleaned the plough, before retreating inside the stable to dry off.

They had
depleted their stock of half-rotten and rancid food – left-overs from
Raedwald’s hall – and their bellies were hollow and aching. Hunched over a
pitiful fire, Sebbi’s thin face was a picture of misery.

“How do
they expect us to work,” he growled, “if they don’t feed us!”

“It’s the
boon of having slaves,” Alchfrid replied through chattering teeth. “If one
drops dead while polishing his lord’s arse, there are plenty more to put to
work.”

“Sebbi’s
right,” Caelin spoke up. “We must eat. Yesterday I saw Eafa’s men cooking a
stew in the western wing of the stables. I’d wager they have supplies there
still. Even if its stale bread and moldy onions, we need something to fill our
stomachs. Shall I go and see?”

Alchfrid
gave a low whistle at that, while the other two merely gazed at Caelin, their
eyes huge on their drawn faces.

“You’ve got
bollocks, I’ll give you that.” Alchfrid shook his head. “But if Eafa or his men
find you there, you’ll be given much worse than a whipping.”

Caelin
grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dimly lit stable. “It just makes the
challenge all the sweeter!” He replied recklessly.

Alchfrid,
Sebbi and Immin watched Caelin slip away into the shadows before they exchanged
glances.

“I can’t
decide whether he’s brave or mad.” Immin shook his head. “You wouldn’t catch me
going anywhere near the west wing tonight.”

Alchfrid’s
gaze flicked back at where Caelin had disappeared before he replied, “A bit of
both I’d say. Have you not noticed? Since the king announced Raedwyn’s marriage
to Eafa, Caelin has changed. He’s careless, angry and bitter.”

His
companions’ eyes widened at that. Obviously they had not observed any change in
him.

“You
mean...” Sebbi began, as the full implication of Alchfrid’s words hit him, “that
the fool is lovesick?”

“The man
is miserable with longing for her. Can’t you see it?” Alchfrid replied.

Immin
nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it... he always goes quiet and serious
whenever anyone mentions Raedwyn.”

“He has
hidden it well though,” Sebbi added, “and I’d wager he wouldn’t thank any of us
for mentioning it. I’ve never met such a proud fool.”

Alchfrid
nodded, his face thoughtful. He warmed his hands over the embers of their fire
and decided to let the matter drop. “Let us hope that our proud fool comes back
from his forage,” he replied, “or it will be a hungry night for us all.”

***

Thunder
boomed overhead and the thick veil of rain aided Caelin as he moved around the
edge of the stable complex, towards the western wing where Eafa’s men stabled
their horses. His boots squelched in the mud but there was no one about to hear
him. Water sluiced down his face and ran into his eyes. Caelin blinked it away
and slowly edged his way around the building. The first entrance he came to was
too busy to risk entering. Behind the wattle door, Caelin could hear the rumble
of men’s voices and the smell of cooking meat. His mouth filled with saliva; he
had not eaten since his stale bread at breakfast and his stomach growled in
protest.

Passing
the door, Caelin edged farther up the building and came to a narrow door at the
far end. Carefully, Caelin pulled the door ajar. Beyond he could see nothing
but darkness. The smell of horse filled his nostrils. Slipping inside, Caelin
pulled the door closed and crouched low, letting his eyes adjust to the
darkness.

Eventually,
Caelin could make out the edges of the stalls and the outlines of the horses.
Some munched on hay, while others fidgeted in their stalls. Caelin was sure
they smelled him but, fortunately, his presence did not startle any of them.
Moving quietly, Caelin crept down the aisle between the horses. He reached a
partition between the horses and the men, and it was here that Caelin
discovered the food store.

He could
hear men’s voices just beyond the thin partition and firelight shone through
the thin wall in fine shafts, illuminating the shadowy corner where Eafa’s men
kept their food supplies. Caelin felt around inside the store, discovering
sacks of onions, carrots and cabbages. He moved quickly, filling a small sack
that he had brought with him, before he discovered a side of salted pork.
Grinning at his stroke of luck, Caelin took out a small knife that he used for
boning fish, to cut a thick slice off. He now had the ingredients for a half-decent
stew.

Caelin was
about to continue searching through the store, just to see if he had missed any
other delicacies, when he heard someone approaching on the other side of the
partition. He had just enough time to fling himself into the next stall and crouch
down next to its occupant, when the door opened and light flooded into the
stables. The horse snorted nervously and shifted away from Caelin as the
silhouette of a tall man appeared in the doorway.

“Where did
you put the onions?” the man called back over his shoulder.

“At the
front,” came the answer, “and find us some carrots for this stew while you’re
at it.”

Caelin
held his breath as the man foraged around in the store, and the odor of mead
reached him. The men had been drinking – and Caelin hoped that in the man’s
inebriated state, he would fail to notice the horse pawing and snorting next
door.

“Milord!”
the voice that had asked for the carrots, rang out across the stable, followed
by the respectful chorus of “good evening Milord!” from the other men present.

Caelin
froze, his hands clutched around his sack of food. There was only one man that
made others that nervous.

Eafa the
Merciful had paid his men a visit.

The man
searching for onions and carrots, hurriedly exited the store with a handful of
vegetables, and pulled the thin wattle door closed behind him.

“My Lord
Eafa,” he greeted the newcomer, “will you join us for boiled mutton and
pottage?”

“I have
already eaten,” came Eafa’s cool reply. “I did not come here to break bread
with you Yffi – instead, I bring news that will affect you all. My uncle, the
King of Mercia is dead.”

Silence
followed Eafa’s words. They had all been expecting this, for King Cearl had
been ailing for a long while. His twenty-year rule, a time of relative peace
for Mercia, was now at an end. They now stood before their new leader – for it
was Eafa who was in line to succeed him.

“My father
died while I and my brother Penda were babes,” Eafa continued, “and Cearl
stepped in, taking the throne for himself. He should have handed it over to me
when I came of age but no, the old goat hung on to it like it was his
birthright. Now he is dead and I finally have the lands I was born to rule.
Kneel before your king!”

Caelin
heard shuffling as the men hurried to do their lord’s bidding. Even from behind
the partition, he could taste their fear of this man. Just his voice made
Caelin’s blood run cold.

“That’s
better.” Eafa’s voice was quieter now. “Rise and listen to me now. There is no
time to waste. The greatness of Mercia depends on the actions of us all now.
Tomorrow, I will wed Raedwyn the Fair, daughter of Raedwald, King of the East
Angles – and after the ceremony, while Raedwald feasts and drinks to my health,
I will kill him in his own hall.”

Caelin
heard the sucked-in breaths of Eafa’s men, and a shocked silence followed
before Eafa continued speaking.

“It is
time that Mercia took her rightful place, as Britannia’s leader. We cannot lead
if we are mice. I have brought fifty spears with me; enough men to justify my
protection on the road to Rendlaesham, but not enough to arouse suspicion. If
we take the Great Hall and kill Raedwald and all his male heirs, and take the
women as hostages – the Kingdom of the East Angles will be ours!”

“My Lord,”
Yffi ventured, his voice brittle. “The hall will be full of Raedwald’s
ealdormen, thegns and those loyal to him.”

“Then we
will have to kill them all,” Eafa replied decisively. “My spears will encircle
the hall. Nobody will be let out alive, unless they swear their allegiance to
me, and forswear all loyalty to Raedwald.”

The
silence in the stables lay heavily after Eafa the Merciful had spoken.
Eventually, Yffi, obviously the leader here for the others had lost their
voices, answered his king.

“My Lord
Eafa, we have little time to prepare. Have you planned the deed? If we are to
do this, nothing can go ill or Raedwald will have us all butchered like pigs.”

“I knew
there was a reason I brought you with me Yffi.” Eafa’s dry wit did not elicit
any laughter among his men – for he had not meant it to. “Of course I have a
plan. Once the handfast ceremony is completed, we will sit down to a feast.
There will be honey seed cakes served for the bride and groom, as is customary,
at the end of the meal. At that point, I will rise from my seat and go to
Raedwald with my cup raised, as if to toast him. Instead, I will slit his
throat and I expect all my men in position to act the instant I kill Raedwald.
Eorpwald, Eni, and his whelps – all must die.”

“Yes My
Lord,” Yffi replied. “I will gather your spears now and explain your orders to
them.”

“Just one
more thing Yffi,” Eafa said, his voice dispassionate, as if he were arranging a
hunting expedition rather than a massacre. “Raedwyn must not be touched. Spread
the word that all male Wuffingas must die but I will disembowel any man who
lays a finger on my bride.”

***

Caelin
slipped out of the stables, back into the wet night, clutching his sack with
numb hands. The rain fell heavier than before, and Caelin was soaked within
moments. Moving quickly, for Eafa’s men were now moving about, passing word of
their new orders, Caelin made his way back to his fellow slaves.

Sebbi’s
face split into a delighted grin when he saw Caelin emerge, dripping, from the
darkness carrying a sackful of food.

“Woden,
you did it!” He rushed forward and took the sack from Caelin, emptying the
contents onto the pitted wooden board that he used for preparing food.

“Salted
pork!” he exclaimed. “Caelin found us salted pork boys!”

“Well
done!” The fatigue lifted from Immin’s face. “Let’s get started on a stew then,
I’m so hungry I could eat it raw!”

Only
Alchfrid saw the drawn expression on Caelin’s face.

“What is
it?” he asked as Caelin stepped up next to him in front of the fire and warmed
his chilled hands. “You look like you’ve just seen your father’s ghost!”

“Worse
than that,” Caelin replied quietly, “I have just overheard Eafa the Merciful
planning to kill Raedwald after the handfast ceremony tomorrow.”

Caelin
looked up from the dancing fire into the shocked faces of his friends. Sebbi
and Immin had abandoned their preparations for the stew. Their faces had gone
slack as they struggled to comprehend what Caelin had just told them.