Lady of the Lake (20 page)

She straightened, holding the crucifix in her palm.

“You have good eyes, lady. Come.” Maynard offered her his arm. “I will return you to the keep.”

Tala slipped her fingers under his strong arm, grateful for it. She did not look back toward that dark house. She did not want to look into the evil it contained. If Venn had half the sense she thought he did, he would not linger there, either.

T
he king joined the hunting party that went out at first light to bring in game for the feast of Lammas. There was much to be done in preparation for the celebration of the first fruits of harvest, a day set apart since time immemorial.

Inside and outside Warwick work began early. Vikings, Mercians and Leamurians went to the fields and meadows to cull the first harvest. Tala and the jarl of Warwick lay abed behind their closed door. Venn ap Griffin ate his fill of the lean pickings at the jarl’s morning table.

The Christians fasted on this day in preparation for the morrow’s holy day.

Venn did not understand this required fast any more than he understood the symbolism behind the rituals. Blood was the most sacred sacrifice a people could offer the gods. The Christians substituted wine for blood and called that sacrifice.

The atheling of Leam made do with the mead in kegs kept for the guards. The honeyed beer tasted better with each tankard Venn pulled. It made him swagger, pleased with all he’d accomplished in the night.

Unlike the rest of the baptized populace, Venn’s newly gained state of grace did not make him revel in joy. He
sank deeper and deeper into righteous anger. King Alfred had gone too far. Edon of Warwick had also gone too far. The compounded insults against his elder sister had been tripled by the king’s autocratic abduction of Venn’s three little sisters.

He was only a boy in size and strength, but Venn ap Griffin had long begun to think the thoughts of a man. He knew only one way to address the harm done his family. That was to strike back at the injustice swiftly and exact his own retribution.

He held no fear of consequence, certain that King Alfred’s laws could not affect him. Venn’s fate was sealed. Tomorrow night, when the shadow of the earth obliterated the full moon of Lughnasa, his spirit would soar into the otherworld, free to come again in whatever form pleased him.

He had made up his mind he would come back as a roe deer. As a stag bearing twelve points on his antlers, he would rule the forests completely.

Unlike his sister, Venn enjoyed his freedom within and without the walls of Warwick. No guards were set to keep watch upon him, to follow his movements or keep track of what he did. He had to account for his whereabouts only to the bishop.

He went downhill to the beech wood, where he knew Selwyn and Stafford kept watch a safe distance away. Their cloaks made the two warriors invisible in the early shadows, but Venn had no trouble locating them.

“What is it you wish us to do, lord?” Selwyn asked after they exchanged greetings.

“Take Embla Silver Throat captive. Hold her in the dungeon at the lake until King Guthrum arrives. He will be here by noon on the morrow, Lughnasa. That is when Tala will wed the Viking…after the celebration of the High Mass.

“I will parley with this Guthrum of the Danelaw and
offer to exchange my prisoner, Embla Silver Throat, provided Guthrum can convince King Alfred to return my sisters immediately to Learn. Believe me, the Vikings‘ king will want Embla back. What she has done to Harald Jorgensson is grounds for revenge.”

“You have been to the oubliette?” Selwyn gasped, astounded.

“Aye,” Venn said. “After the kings agree to my terms, I will show Lord Edon where his nephew has been imprisoned lo these many months.”

“You will be showing him Harald’s bones.” Selwyn did not warm to any plan that put the atheling at risk. “The jarl will not thank you for that.”

“Nay, he is not dead yet. Only nearly so.”

“Then why do we not rescue him and take
him
captive?” Stafford, the cautious warrior, asked. “Harald Jorgensson would bring a better ransom than Embla Silver Throat.”

Venn frowned at the man. The questions did not challenge him, only troubled him. “He is in a cave directly under Silver Throat’s longhouse. It would take more than the three of us to bring him into the light alive. He is far gone, delirious.”

“All the more reason to give such dreadful news to the jarl himself. His gratitude will know no bounds.”

“I don’t want the Viking’s thanks,” Venn said resolutely. “I want his pain. He has dishonored Tala. For that, Wessex and Warwick must pay. They force her to wed against our customs.”

At that news, Selwyn and Stafford burst forth with angry words. Venn shrugged his shoulders, accepting what he could not change. “Tala has no choice except to stay with the jarl now that she is no longer a virgin. Else when I am gone, she would become a witch of the wood. The Wolf will protect her with his life and no harm will come to her. One of the little ones can take Tala’s place. Gwynnth is
of age and knows most of Tala’s duties. Alfred will return my sisters, as that will become a condition for his peace to continue. He has based all of his aspirations on maintaining this uneasy peace of his. I am certain of that.”

“I saw y ou and the princess go willingly into the river,” Stafford said solemnly.

“It meant nothing.”

“Then why do it?”

“They took my sword and my knife.” Venn raised his hands from his sides, displaying the fact that he was weap-onless. “What choice did any of us have when the king and his bishop came to the river wearing their weapons? The jarl’s guards made it clear we would be baptized or die. I was not born to die at the end of a Viking sword.”

“Nay, you are the last son of Leam and you will be remembered through the years.” Stafford nodded his white head gravely. “These Saxons will pass from the Earth, washed away by the coming flood.”

Venn vigorously agreed. “Their God cannot bring the rain or fill their wells. Only Lugh and I can do that. Little did Alfred know that he appeased our gods with the sacrificed torques of my sisters that preceded his Christians rite. As for Tala and I, we merely had an extra bath. The Mercians had much need of it.”

The old soldiers laughed at the rude joke. Then Venn continued outlining his plan. He was just a boy but he knew how to be crafty.

Edon slept late. He awoke flat on his back and brought his hand to his eyes to rub them, wincing when he curled his fingers. Yawning, he opened his eyes and looked at his palm. A dark, painful blister formed an imprint of his scabbard buckle. The wound reminded him of all that had happened the day before.

He jerked to the side, fearing his bed empty, certain that
the princess of Leam had somehow fled during the night while he slept.

Tala ap Griffin lay beside him, sound asleep. That both reassured and disturbed him. No sheet covered either of them, for the night had been muggy throughout. Tala was unclothed, but Edon felt no urge to pull her to him, to taste the pleasures of the flesh with her.

Too many barriers impeded intimacy between them. When he’d come to bed last night, he’d lain beside her silently, not touching her in any way. He could no longer deny the obvious. Her gods could still protect her. The pleasure she stirred in him could destroy him.

Edon got up to relieve himself, then took the lid off a jar of salve and applied it to his wounded palm. He was winding a bandage around his hand when Tala awoke. She groaned as she sat up, sleepily staring out the window at the day.

“Oh my, ‘tis late,” she said. She turned her head to Edon and looked at him as he clumsily tucked the end of the long bandage into a fold at his wrist. “Do you need help?”

“Nay, I’ve managed.” Edon dismissed her brusquely. He caught up his breeks, stepping into them. As he fastened the ties at his waist, he said over his shoulder, “Get up, lazy bones, it’s a long walk to the lake.”

Tala yawned and stretched before she rose to her feet. “‘Tis not that far, and we can ride.”

Edon watched her pour water from the pitcher.

“We walk,” he said, ending that discussion. Best she learn he meant what he said. He rubbed the bruises in the center of his chest as he selected a jerkin from his trunk. Then he sat on the edge of the bed to lace his crossquarters and fasten them. He was much slower than usual, hampered by his hand. Hampered by a strange lethargy that affected all his movements.

One image remained very strong in his mind—that of
leaving his body and looking down at the floor of his chamber, the way a bird might look down on the people inside when it flew in through a window. It spooked Edon to have seen himself lying there lifeless, as Tala bent over his body, rocking him back and forth. He’d watched her kiss him and plead with him, and had heard her vow over and over that she loved him.

She’d been hysterical, distraught, he told himself, and distressed women were liable to say anything. In the trying moments that followed the lightning strike, she hadn’t been herself.

In his trunk, Tala found her own leggings and garters and those well-fitted breeks she favored for riding. Over that she donned a sleeveless tunic that she belted at her narrow waist with a colorful sash. Her small white purse with the two stones and twist of bluebells hung from the red sash. Last she took his wooden comb and wet it, then pulled it through the fall of hair topping her braids, smoothing the fraying that had come about while she slept.

She came to Edon as he stood, putting on the jerkin. “I’ll do that.” She took the laces from his hand and threaded them through embroidered grommets in the soft leather, drawing the vest closed across his chest.

Edon studied the top of her bent head while she finished the task. Then he caught her chin with his bandaged hand and lifted her face. Her cheeks were pale and there were smudges under her eyes. Neither spoke; they simply stood close, looking into the other’s face.

“What do you?” Tala asked hesitantly.

“I am looking for your measure,” Edon replied gravely.

“And what is that?” she said in a voice that was not as self-assured as the first question had been.

“Your measure. I would know if you will push me to the limits of my control again, lady. Are we done with the tests of whose will is the stronger between us?”

Tala tried to duck her head and remove her chin from
his grasp. Edon detained her, making her keep eye contact with him. “Warwick is yours,” she said at last. “I will defer to you in the future.”

Edon wasn’t convinced. “You as much as granted that when you bargained for your brother’s life. I learned to my cost what a grievous mistake it was not to place you in his chains at the whipping post.”

“I mean it this time,” Tala said.

“So your tears were false then? You were playing on my emotions.”

“I was afraid for Venn.”

“Answer the question I asked, Tala. Were your tears false?”

“No.”

“Then your promise was.”

“No.” Her chin wagged back and forth against the restraint of his thumb and curled forefinger. He could see the anguish in her soulful amber eyes. She compressed her lips. “You were right. I gave my promise without thinking how I would react when Venn was no longer in danger. I have been his only protector too long, my lord.”

“And what way is it that you go now, lady?”

She lowered her amber gaze to look at his mouth and his chin. Her tongue appeared in a quick motion, dampening her lips. It was a very sensual movement, but Edon hardened his heart against temptation. “I would like to try it your way, Edon.”

“My way is Christian now, Tala. I am committed, because I gave my solemn word to this Almighty God of King Alfred’s. I don’t pledge myself lightly. Tomorrow when I take the vows that bind me to you as a husband, those will be as solemnly given as any oath I have sworn in my life. I have much to learn about these new ways and I don’t know that I will be a good Christian. God will judge me someday. One thing I know for certain is that he will not find me a man who fell back on his word.”

Tala’s eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. Her teeth caught a corner of her lip and worried it. The gesture was a habit that Edon found endearing. He wanted to kiss that ragged corner, but it was better that he did not.

“I have heard Christians pledge to take no other mate for life,” she said. “What of your concubines? What will you do with them if I am to be the only woman in your bed?”

“What concubines? Do you think I sleep with the wives of my soldiers and advisors? I have told you before that Rebecca is wife to Theo the Greek. Lady Eloya, who serves as my housekeeper and chatelaine, is most definitely married to Rashid, and theirs is a commitment until death do them part. The other women are her servants. You are the only woman I have bedded in Warwick. When you become my wedded wife, you will be the only woman I bed until the day I die. What more can you ask of me?”

“I don’t know,” Tala said. She could ask for love, but she didn’t dare. “It is not the way of my people. Marriage contracts are made and often dissolved freely. We Celts can be shallow and self-serving, but we are not hypocrites like the Christians, who swear falsely when they pledge to be faithful all the days of their lives. Were I to make a pledge of fidelity, I would hold to it.”

“And so will I,” Edon said solemnly.

He dropped his head and briefly touched her lips with his. It was a chaste kiss, passionless but tender. Then he let go of her chin and stepped back from her, motioning to the door. “Shall we go out now?”

Tala deferred to him. “As you command, lord.”

As they ate a small morning repast, Edon filled a knapsack with provisions to be eaten when they reached the lake. His recent experience in Arden Wood told him they would not come to water until well after midday. The arduous
hike would not bring them back to Warwick until evening.

Food was a requirement. He had no measure for Tala’s stamina. Nor did he want to be saddled with a weak or fainting woman on a lengthy, hot march. They set out immediately, walking at a brisk pace. A good hour passed before they left the fields behind, where laborers paced the furrows, selectively searching out ripened heads of grain.

Moments after crossing the dusty Leam riverbed, Tala and he were in deep woods. The canopy became a high, thick roof blocking out the intense sunlight. The floor of the forest was thick with ferns and small flowering plants that thrived in dense shade.

For all the shadows, the forest was miserably hot. Ferns crackled under Edon’s feet, almost as dry as the grasses that grew in the open meadows under the broiling sun. The drought made a difference in the woods, too.