Naked (5 page)

“Why, there was one of your own countrywomen. Don’t you know the tales of the brave and the true? There’s a legend of a great lady of Mercia who was a warrior, too. Didn’t your ancestress Aethelflaed build great fortresses, and do battle herself against the Danes?”

“Who told you of Aethelflaed?” he demanded.

“My mother. She raised me on stories of such noblewomen, that in turn I should become one of them.”

“Aethelflaed was my kinswoman, though it was a hundred years ago that lady of Mercia lived.”

“The spirit of such women doesn’t die.” I gulped. “Nor will my mother’s spirit as long as I can fight and defend my lands.”

“Have you fought before?”

“Not yet.” I pushed down the bile of panic.

“You could be lost in battle. What then of Coventry, of the land of your father and the spirit of your mother? Have you thought of that?”

I traced the carved hilt of my sword. “My lands and my people are as dear to me as my life.”

My heart thumped as he studied me. “I don’t believe I can sway you.”

I remained silent.

Finally he bowed. “So be it. It’s not my resolve to weaken yours.”

The hilt loosened in my perspiring hand. Sudden exhaustion sapped my bones.

He frowned. “The hour is late. Will you bid me leave?”

At my nod of consent Leofric of Mercia grabbed his cloak and stalked from the bower.

My fingers shook as I laid down my sword.

5

So the Powers, who wait

On noble deeds …

—Tennyson (1842):
Godiva

“You’re making a mistake, Godiva!” Edmund thumped his fist down on the high table.

He’d found me alone in the hall, poring feverishly over a parchment map, trying to work out the best plan of defense.

Think.
I’d told myself feverishly. What would my father do? Finger on map I’d traced the town of Coventry. It had grown so big. Surely it would be a tempting prize for Thurkill the Tall. I would focus on the town, I’d decided, trying to ignore the nausea that roiled my stomach at the thought of the Danes, already brutalizing our outlying villages. Burning homes, killing livestock, looting churches.

No matter how my heart ached it would be impossible to defend them all.

Thurkill mustn’t reach the fertile farming land that circled Coventry, painted verdant green on the map. We would need food, to hold out against the Danes. If it came to the worst, I would fight him to the edge of the shire, into the wildwoods. Into Arden.

Rolling up the parchment, I stayed calm as I faced Edmund. “A mistake? What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean? You can’t trust the Earl of Mercia!” His skin had reddened, right up to the roots of his pale hair. I’d never seen him so angry.

“Why not? I don’t understand. He’s a Saxon like us, at the Witan with my father. We must accept Lord Leofric’s offer. If Coventry falls, the Middle Lands are lost.”

Edmund shook his head. “There are things you don’t know.”

“Then tell me.”

“We don’t need Mercian men. That’s all you need to know. We can fight the Danes without them.”

“How can you say that? You know it’s not true. If we’re to defeat Thurkill once and for all, we need to take the earl’s aid.”

“You mustn’t join forces with Leofric of Mercia. I won’t let you!”

“What do you mean, let me?” I snapped. Edmund had no right to tell me what to do.

“You should have consulted me. I should be acting as Sheriff of Coventry, of the whole shire. It’s what your father always promised as well as…”

“My father made you no promises!” I knew what he was going to say. It had been implied what would come if Edmund and I …

He swirled me into his arms.

“Godiva.” His lips on my hair, my forehead, my cheeks. “Don’t try to do this without me. I know how you’re feeling. I’m the only one who understands you.”

Comfort. Relief. Familiar. I leaned into him.

“With your parents gone, it’s even more urgent. We have to talk. What I asked you before I went to the Witan…”

Out of his arms. I yanked away.

My chest heaved. “Not now, Edmund.”

He deserved an answer, but there was no time. Not with Thurkill at our borders.

His elbows. Sharp wings. “You used to confide in me. Why are you shutting me out?”

“I’m not shutting you out. But these are my lands to defend. This is my decision and mine alone.” I grabbed a jagged breath. “We mustn’t fight between ourselves. We must fight alongside Mercia if we’re to save the Middle Lands.”

“Godiva, you’ve got to listen to me! This is a mistake.”

A tremor of doubt. Edmund wouldn’t be the only person to question my decision to take Mercia’s offer of aid.

My feet planted in my boots.

“Please, Edmund,” I whispered as the hall door opened. “Don’t be angry. I need you.”

His grey eyes narrowed. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

*   *   *

The Earl of Mercia joined us on the dais. For a moment he paused, surveying Edmund and me where we stood together in front of my parents’ chairs.

Edmund moved closer to my side until we were touching. His energy sparked through me.

Lord Leofric halted on the other side of the table.

As they entered the hall, I studied the half a dozen men coming in behind him, the warriors of his personal bodyguard. Almost as tall and strong as he, with the same rough-hewn features, yet none of them had the burnished metal of his hair. Some of my guardsmen came, too. But they were not the best fighting men. They had been lost.

When Lord Leofric spoke, his deep rumble seemed to gather the group. “We are warriors of different lands: men of Coventry and men of Mercia, but we come together as Saxons. To win this fight against the Danes, there must be no nay sayers among us. Are all here agreed to join together on this?” His gaze roved over each man at the table.

“It is agreed by us, the warriors of Mercia, Lord Leofric.” A huge man named Acwell put his closed fist to his chest.

“By all of us.” Another Mercian warrior made the same gesture.

“And by the
cnihts
of the Middle Lands.” Edmund sounded reluctant.

Leofric darted him a glance. “We can have no slow sword.”

Edmund’s hand rushed to his hilt. “You insult me, Mercian.”

Concealed by the table-edge my hand stayed his. “My warriors are with me, Lord Leofric.”

“No men will fight as bravely as the men of Coventry will fight for the honor of our dead lord and for Godiva,” Edmund said tightly, but beneath my fingers his fist uncurled.

“That’s as well, for we have no time to waste.” Leofric’s tone was abrupt as he leaned toward me. “Thurkill must not reach the town of Coventry.”

I nodded.

Leofric rubbed his jaw. Clean-shaven now. The night-stubble gone. “It’s my aim to ensure we bring Thurkill out on to open ground, where he’s weakest. What I know of the Dane is that he prefers to avoid open battle. Lying in ambush, as he did for your father, is his preference. In Mercia, we spent one full summer trying to draw him out, like a fox from a hole. But when we met him, in full combat, we won the day.”

“Thurkill is a coward at heart,” I said bitterly.

“You speak the truth,” Leofric replied. “He prefers to come by stealth and gain advantage that way. But we won’t give him that opportunity, not this time.”

“We don’t have to force him out. We could beat him at his own game. We could hide and lie in wait,” Edmund objected.

Leofric swung on him. “That’s how you would fight?”

“It’s how Thurkill beat Lord Radulf.”

Leofric exhaled with disgust. “It’s not the Saxon way.”

It was hard to ignore the tension between the two men, staring at each other with increasing dislike.

“Tell us more of your plan, Lord Leofric,” I requested hastily.

“Thurkill will be expecting us to stay and defend the town, not to emerge from it. To succeed, there must be no skulking or hiding. We shall have an advantage ourselves if we find a place to meet him. An open plain, flat and wide.”

In my mind, I scanned the area that surrounded Coventry. “There is such a place, not far from the town. It’s to the east. You know the place, don’t you, Edmund?” I smiled at him as I unrolled the parchment and found the position on the map.

“Yes.” Edmund gave me no answering grin.

His expression inscrutable, Leofric glanced again from me to Edmund, before turning to study the point I marked with my finger. For a second his finger brushed mine.

His life force blasted. A different vigor from Edmund’s but just as powerful. Strong. Earthed. Grounded.

A connection kindled between us. I snatched my fingers from the table.

If he noticed he made no sign.

“This is a good place,” he said, studying the map. “We must choose the ground carefully.”

“And then make our battle plan?” I asked.

He showed a glimmer of surprise. “You know of battle plans as well as knowing how to fight?”

Once again he’d underestimated me. “I studied battle craft in full with my father. He didn’t think it useful to wield a sword if I didn’t know tactic and strategy.”

Trying to imagine what my father would have planned, I pondered. “We lost so many warriors in the ambush. But we still have enough strong men for a shield wall.”

“The youngest and strongest men must go at the front,” Leofric agreed. “You don’t need only to use your men, warriors of Mercia will stand shield, too.”

“We’ll be grateful. The stronger our wall, the better it will be for those behind, who will be more lightly armed.” Names. Faces. Axes. As I considered my forces I frowned anew. “Many men have come to fight. They’re willing but they’re not trained, and their weapons vary. Some will only have stones and catapults.”

“Then we must certainly strengthen your wall. Do you still intend to fight?”

Why did he ask again? There was no way I would revoke my sword. “I do.”

“I’ll defend you, Godiva.” From Edmund hostility speared toward Leofric. “Only
cnihts
of the Middle Lands should be your bodyguard.”

“Only you remain,” Lord Leofric said quietly.

Edmund’s jaw clenched. “I’m enough.”

“My own sword will defend me,” I broke in. “This is my battle. I’ve sworn Thurkill won’t take my lands and if I die defending them I won’t have died in vain.”

“No Saxon blood will be spilt in vain if the Danes are stopped. The whole way of Saxon life is at risk if we don’t face our foe,” Leofric said. “Are we agreed, then?”

Running my fingers up and down my plait I sensed the earl’s awareness of my habitual gesture. “Agreed.”

“Then Coventry will be safe,” he said.

As if I had drunk the heated cow’s milk Aine used to pour me as a child before I went to sleep, a sense of reassurance spread through my limbs.

Yet I knew the chance of victory.

Slight.

*   *   *

Night had fallen like a black mantle. I glanced around the quiet hall. The trestle tables had been unfolded, laid flat against the walls, and only the high table on the dais remained. Both warriors of Mercia and Coventry had spread out their cloaks on hides and blankets to rest before the battle that would come at daybreak. Some were talking quietly. Others were playing tic-tac-toe, but most were already sleeping, their weapons lying beside them. Leofric’s men appeared to be a powerful force, strong, tested. All his warriors had the same toughness.

The flames of the central fire were burning low. I knew I should go to the bower, and try to sleep, too. Instead, I wrapped my cloak even more tightly and drew myself closer to the flames.

A guard crept over. “All is prepared for the morning, Lady Godiva. The men will be ready at dawn. There are scouts watching in case Thurkill tries to take the town tonight, but all is quiet so far.”

“Thank you. Get some sleep now.”

“Yes, my lady.” He found a space not too far from the fire near some of the other Coventry warriors. Edmund wasn’t among them. I’d searched for him.

The Earl of Mercia was seated to one side of the fire. Like me, he’d not yet sought sleep. His expression was in shadow, but I could make out his strong profile.

Was I right to trust him?

“You should sleep, Lady.” He spoke low, but his deep tone reached me across the flames. “We ride out at dawn. There’s nothing more to be done tonight. Why do you not go to your bower?”

“I’d prefer to be here with the men for a while. And I’m not sure that I could sleep.”

“It’s often that way the night before battle.”

Restless, I got to my feet. “Will you have some ale with me?”

At his nod I moved to the high table, where I’d ordered bread, cheese, and ale to be left out for the men. I could sense the earl’s surmise all the while. Unsteadily, I poured ale into two tankards and returned to the fireplace to offer one.

Avoided touching him.

“How old are you?” he asked, as I took a frothy sip of ale.

“I will be twenty years of age this autumn.” My birthday was just before All Hallows. It had always been celebrated in the town.

“You’re not yet twenty? That’s young to fight.”

Edmund was a few years older than me and he’d been fighting for years. Again I peered around the dim-lit hall, wondering where he could be. I wanted him beside me on this battle eve.

“How old were you, my lord, when you first fought in battle?” I asked Lord Leofric.

“Younger than you,” he conceded. “But not as small.”

I bristled. I wasn’t small for a woman. “When my father taught me to fight he showed me how to move my body to defend myself, how to wait and spot the best opportunity to attack my opponents. It’s not about brute force, he believed. ‘Don’t let your smaller size deter you from victory. Skill and intelligence can be just as powerful.’ That’s what he said.”

The memory was now bittersweet.

Leofric nodded. “There’s something in that. Are you an archer as well?”

“Sword-craft is what I prefer. Edmund always won in bow-craft. He’s the finest shot in the Middle Lands. But I once bested him in a sword fight.” I grinned. “He didn’t like that much.”