Avelynn (38 page)

Demas had spent lavishly on the feast. Exotic wine, imported from the Continent, was poured into bottomless horns ornamented with sheet gold. Ale and mead flowed like the River Frome, which flanked the southern boundaries of the manor. Trays of food issued forth in a never-ending display of delicacies. Ten oxen alone had been roasting for days in pits strewn about the grounds to sate the guests' considerable hunger. For three days, their appetites were surfeited. For three days, their every thirst was quenched. Even the royal weddings of the past paled in comparison.

Servants dressed in fine clothes catered to every whim. Hunts were arranged. Horses were given as gifts. Gold and jewels were tossed about as tokens of appreciation. Demas dazzled the nobility of Wessex with finery.

I watched all this in detached fascination. The politics in play here were carefully calculated. Secret words, darting eyes, curt nods, and strong handshakes weaved amongst the pleasantries like snakes in the grass. Demas and Osric were forming powerful allegiances, beguiling their audience with forked tongue and sleight of hand. But to what purpose?

On the third night after the feast, a procession of half-awake drunk revelers sang and cheered us to the bedchamber. Demas gave strict instructions for Gil and Sigberht to remove the debris from the hall first thing in the morning. There was to be no one left in the manor after cock crow.

“The moment you have been waiting for has arrived,” he said, staggering a bit to the large trestle table.

A wave of revulsion as thick as week-old pottage overcame me.

“Don't look so enthusiastic,” he said dryly. “You are not my first choice either.” He sat on one of the chairs and removed his cloak and shoes. “We have a little time to kill before we make this marriage official.” He stretched out his feet, cracking his toes, and poured another hornful of wine.

I had been careful to meter out my consumption, thinking it prudent to keep my wits about me. Demas, with all the toasts he had to acknowledge and match horn for horn, was clearly drunk.

“You promised I would see Edward.” I hadn't seen him since before the wedding ceremony, three days prior.

“And you shall, my wife, you shall. Once the greedy dogs pass out and stop draining me dry.”

“You don't seem to have much affection for your fellow noblemen.” I sat on the bed as far away from him as possible—though he gave no indication of wanting to come near me.

“They are a bunch of fools, following a weak, dying king and his useless brother. They will never defeat the Vikings. But all that will soon change.”

My mind raced with questions, but my thoughts were halted by the flicker of the day candle at the foot of my bed. A meager stump of wax was all that remained, floating in a puddle of hot liquid pooling around the quivering flame. I swallowed hard and looked up as someone knocked on the door.

“Ah, about time,” Demas said, standing.

Gil walked in, leading Edward in front of his massive body.

“Come,” Demas said, motioning to Edward with a crook of his finger.

Edward moved obediently to his side.

My arms ached to hold him, to protect him. But my feet were rooted. Anything I did or tried to do would only make matters worse. A tear ran cold down my cheek.

Demas stroked Edward's hair, which had been brushed to a brilliant shine, like fields of silken wheat under a full moon.

“Such a good lad, is he not, Gil?” Demas caught my gaze and smiled. “Pity.”

Gil garbled his agreement; spittle dripped onto the rushes underfoot.

“Don't touch him,” I warned, my voice low and menacing.

“Avelynn, don't,” Edward pleaded. “It's all right.”

“It is not all right!” I said, gasping.

“You see, Edward. I have not hurt her,” Demas soothed.

Sigberht entered the room, carrying an axe. Gods, how could I stop them? It was now three against one!

Demas stepped away from Edward, and my heart stilled.

“Gil.” Demas inclined his head behind him.

Gil walked over and grabbed hold of Edward. His trunk of an arm wrapped tightly around Edward's chest, and a knife appeared at his throat. A look of shock and confusion darted through Edward's trusting blue eyes.

“No,” I yelped, and started forward.

“I wouldn't do that, wife,” Demas called out.

Gil pressed the blade into Edward's throat. A small trickle of blood ran down his neck.

I couldn't do this. I didn't care what happened to me, but I could no longer sit here and just watch Edward die. I crouched, ready.

Demas shook his head and sighed. “I warned you any struggle on your part would result in Edward's suffering.”

Grabbing the axe from Sigberht's outstretched hand, Demas moved in front of Edward and brought the full force of the shaft to bear on Edward's shin as he swung. The sound of bone shattering ripped through the small room. A scream rose from Edward's throat, but Gil moved his knife hand to Edward's mouth and efficiently silenced him. Edward's body shook, his eyes wide with terror as tears rolled down his face.

“Bastard!” I lunged at Demas, but Sigberht raised his knee, catching me in the stomach. I was pitched backward, colliding with the ground and curling onto my side, wheezing and gasping for breath.

Satisfied, Sigberht bound my hands, securing them to one of the posters of the bed. My lungs bucked and heaved as breath slowly trickled through my nose. Nausea built in my gut as pinpoints of light flickered across my vision. I strained through watery eyes to see Edward. His face was ashen, his eyes lolling in their sockets. He looked close to fainting.

An urgent knock at the door drew Sigberht away. He returned a moment later. “My lord, there is some sort of trouble in the courtyard.”

Demas removed his belt, laying it across the back of one of the chairs. “I have a rather pressing matter to attend to here.” He slipped his trousers off, kicking them onto the rushes beside him. He motioned to the axe. “You two take care of it. I need to consummate my marriage.”

Gil released Edward, who dropped like a stone, and slipped out the door with Sigberht.

“Avelynn,” Edward hiccupped through tears, as he crawled on hands and knee, dragging the one leg awkwardly behind him.

“Isn't this a cheery picture of domesticity,” Demas said, stroking his erection, and stepped in front of Edward, blocking his progress. Demas yanked hard, lifting Edward by his hair, and placed a forearm around his neck. His hand covered Edward's mouth. “Do you know what it's like to feel pain, Avelynn? To have your heart cut out and mashed underfoot?”

“Yes.” My eyes pleaded for mercy.

“You think Muirgen or your father count?” Edward struggled, squirming to break free. Demas grabbed his knife from the belt hanging on the back of the chair and struck Edward's temple with the iron hilt. Edward's body slackened. Demas searched my eyes. “I want you to feel firsthand the suffering you have caused me. I want you to live with the knowledge that I have taken away everything and everyone you have ever loved.” His eyes, rimmed in red, glittered with tears, his gaze never leaving mine.

“I never meant to hurt anyone. Osric killed your friend. He is the enemy. Not me.”

His face waxed white. “How do you know that?”

Admitting to witchcraft could in no way aid my cause now or in the future. “I saw the stag brooch. I know how much the young man meant to you. Osric is the only one capable of doing such a vicious thing.”

He hesitated.

“Please.”

Edward's limp body crumpled to the floor. Demas stepped away, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve, and poured another glass of wine, slogging it down, his back to me.

Edward lay unconscious, but his chest moved with each precious breath.

Demas stumbled back to the bed. “You are right about Osric.” He drained the cup and threw it at the hearth. It landed several feet from its target. “Your brother might yet prove useful. In the meantime, his life would secure your continued cooperation.”

With my wrists still bound, he extricated me from the post and dragged me forward. He nudged Edward's side with his boot, earning a plaintive groan. “Such a handsome lad.” He cocked his head to the side. “Since my young friend has been taken from me, perhaps your brother can serve in his place.”

“He's only a child!”

“Ah, but he'll grow.” His erection jerked and tightened. “I bet his mouth is tighter than your cunt.”

Something snapped. I twisted out of his hold and lunged for the silver charger. I grasped it with my bound hands and threw the basin of hot wax into Demas's face. He yelped, dropping the knife as his hands clawed at his face, and fell backward, tripping over Edward. I grabbed the knife and then brought my foot down hard onto Demas's crotch. I stumbled to the table and held the hilt tight between my thighs, frantically sawing through the thick fibers binding my wrists.

I extricated myself from the rope and sent a prayer to the Goddess. Demas growled and lunged. I spun out of the way. He missed his target and fell, landing on his knees. I picked up one of the heavy, ornate chairs and brought it down over his head. Having momentarily dazed him, I used all the strength I could summon and connected my fist with the side of his jaw.

He tumbled sideways, rolling onto his back, his slackened arousal limp and harmless against his thigh.

If he thought he would find pity for his loss, his plight landed on deaf ears and a cold heart. Mad, blind hatred drove me forward. I raised the knife high in the air and brought it down swiftly and cleanly. “That was for my brother.” His cock flopped lifeless onto the rushes between his legs. He howled and writhed, curling into a ball. But I wasn't finished.

I ran to the heavy plank table and dragged it between the door and the bed, a solid deterrent against anyone attempting to get in. I threw on Demas's cloak, fumbling with the brooch to secure it over my shoulder, and pulled on his shoes. Though large, they would serve to protect me better against the cold than the slippers I'd had on. Demas seemed close to fainting, and I wanted him wide awake. I grabbed the pitcher of wine and threw what was left of the contents in his face. He stirred and flashed me a look of venomous steel. I stepped behind him and yanked hard on his hair. He grabbed at my dress and tried to pull me down on top of him. My foot ground into the bleeding stump of his crotch and put a violent stop to his struggles. “That was for my father,” I hissed in his ear.

I took the knife and cut deep across his forehead. “This is for my grandmother.” I yanked hard, cleaving the skin in one fluid motion from his skull. Blood poured, covering his face, spilling into his sputtering mouth.

The door moved two inches and banged into the table.

“Lord?” It was Sigberht's voice. Our eyes connected. He took in the scene before him and rammed his body against the door. The bed jerked.

I hesitated, torn between a desire to rip Demas's heart out with my bare hands and a flicker of self-preservation.

The door heaved, and the bed slid an inch along the dirt floor.

As much as I wanted to finish Demas, survival won out.

I grabbed Edward, lifting him into my arms, and ran to the window. He moaned, stirring. I opened the shutters.

“Edward.” I jostled him, trying to wake him. The door slammed against the table, the former creeping open another inch.

“Edward.” I was near to panic. I tried to maneuver him gently through the window, but he fell from my grasp and landed with a gut-wrenching thud on the other side. He let out a pinched wail. “I'm so sorry,” I whispered, and then jumped into the darkness after him.

 

TWENTY-THREE

I didn't think, I just moved. There were no consequences to my actions. I was pulled along by some unknown thread, an unseen hand pushing me beyond reason. What I had just done was suicide. It was only a matter of course before the entire manor knew what had happened and set out to bring me to justice.

I tucked my arm under Edward's knees, the other under his neck, and lifted him to my waist.

“Avelynn?” His voice was weak, infused with pain.

“It's okay. I've got you.” I cradled him close. He whimpered as my hand cupped the knee of his broken leg. Anger flashed and boiled hard in my veins, and the rage fueled my resolve.

The sky burned an ominous orange. Muffled sounds flitted through the breeze. When the direction of the wind changed, I smelled smoke. Something nearby was on fire. I couldn't see the cause, but remembered the urgent knock on the door and Sigberht mentioning trouble. I thought of Ealhswith and Alfred, and the innocent people visiting and working within the manor. I sent a silent prayer to the Goddess for their safety, but as for Wareham itself, I hoped it went up in flames, taking Demas and Osric with it.

Harsh male voices, yelling and threatening, echoed in the haze. I hugged the tree line surrounding the manor, hoping to reach the River Frome. The river marked one of the manor's boundaries. If I could just keep to the shadows, perhaps we could make it. As I progressed farther from the hall, shadows flickered orange around me. Pillars of smoke rose into the starless sky, curling and choking the air. Several outbuildings were on fire, their wheat thatch fully engulfed. The warmth of the flames touched my bare arms and caressed my face, even as I passed several feet away. I didn't know how the fire had started. I only hoped the unfolding chaos would help to render Edward and me invisible.

Edward was a scant twig of a boy, but the limp weight of his body made my arms shake and my legs tremble. Lifting one knee to hold his back, my standing leg shook as I jostled him higher. He wrapped his arms around my neck, his head resting on my shoulder, trusting. I didn't know how far I would get. My only thoughts were to reach the river. But one thing was certain: if there was some possibility of escape, I would find it. I wouldn't stop until Edward was safe.