Dream of Me/Believe in Me (50 page)

“Mortals,” Thorgold murmured just before he ambled off to find his sleeping place. He would toss some belongings in the men's hall to make it look as though he
were there, but the small bridge he'd noticed just before entering Hawkforte appealed to him far more.

“You should rest,” Krysta suggested to her black-garbed friend when they were alone. The journey first by sea and then by horse had tired them all but Raven was the oldest of the trio by far, so old indeed that Krysta had no idea of her true age. Now that their destination was reached, it seemed only sensible that she take her ease.

But Raven would have none of it. “Perched on a horse is a poor way indeed to see a land. I would know more of this Lord Hawk's wealth and what sway he holds over this place.”

With that, she was gone. Krysta had no chance to remind her to be cautious before there was a faint, fast-fading flutter of wings beyond the hall.

A short while later, having smoothed her gown and hair as best she could, Krysta also emerged, albeit in a somewhat more conventional manner. She stood for a few minutes, enjoying the touch of the sun on her skin, before surveying the busy scene.

The manor of Hawkforte was hard by the sea on the southeastern coast of Britain in the place she knew was called Essex. It dominated a point of land that controlled sheltered bays on either side. Watchtowers were set at intervals all along the high timber walls, giving a commanding view of movements by land or sea. Higher still was the central tower that rose above the bailey yard, standing fully four stories tall. Accustomed as she was to the strongholds of the Norse, Krysta still could not help but be impressed.

It being day, the wide wooden gates in the outer walls stood open. A steady stream of people, horses, and wagons moved through them. Krysta peered at the Saxons with unfettered interest, observing that contrary to the foolish rumors she had heard, they lacked both horns and cloven feet. A small smile tugged at her mouth as she saw
her own good sense confirmed. They were people like anyone else. Soon they would be her people even as their master would be … well, no, not her master but her husband certainly, and she was determined that he would never have cause to rue that no matter what dour Daria had to say about it.

She would be the best possible wife the Lord Hawk could ever hope for, an ornament to his hall, a comfort to his days, a partner in his endeavors to bring peace between their peoples. What more could he possibly ask for? Truly nothing, and that being the case, he would love her as she must be loved were she not to suffer her own mother's fate.

A shadow moved behind her eyes. The dull echo of old pain rippled through her. Her mother … gone from her so long, who had risked her life for mortal love and lost. Her father had desired her mother, of that there was no question, but he had not loved her as she needed to be loved and so the tenuous connection between them stretched too thin to hold. With its snapping came the loss not only of the dream of love but also of a child, Krysta herself, left behind to the care of Thorgold and Raven. They had, as she grew, warned her that the same fate could befall herself. She had scarcely contemplated their warning, for that was when the thought of any man in her life seemed so remote as to be absurd, back before the summons to her family's manor, to stand beneath the hate-filled gaze of her half-brother and learn she was to be given in marriage to a stranger who, should he fail to love her, would all unknowingly destroy her life.

But that would not happen, she was quite resolved. Hawk
would
love her. Never mind that she had scant knowledge of men and even less of marriage. Aware that in her ignorance she might make some dreadful error that
could ruin everything, she had hatched the admittedly unusual but, she thought, reasonable plan to come to Hawkforte as one of her own servants. Cleverly disguised, she would learn everything she could about the man whose wife she was to be. When she had done so, the servant girl would vanish—the black dye washed from hair that was naturally golden—and the Lady Krysta would appear, fully prepared to be the best—and best loved— wife the Lord Hawk could ever have.

It all made perfect sense to her; indeed, she was quite pleased to have thought up so resourceful a plan. True, Thorgold and Raven had tried to discourage her, until she reminded them, gently to be sure, that they were hardly experienced in such matters. The intricacies of marriage were at least as much a mystery to her beloved servants as they were to Krysta herself. But not for long. Oh, no, before very many days had passed, she was certain all her questions would be answered, her concerns resolved, and her course clear.

All perfectly sensible.

So where to begin? As she studied the activity in the bailey, she noted that the people looked healthy, well fed, and adequately if plainly dressed. Everybody seemed to have some task to do and was going about it diligently. There was even a little group of children sitting together as they carded wool.

Children fascinated her; she had been the only child in her own home. There she had lived from her birth until the day scant weeks before when she left for the journey to Essex. While her father lived, he had visited her frequently but he never even suggested that she leave her home and come to the family seat, where her half-brother and half-sisters, the children of his first marriage, resided. After his death, she had remained apart, content enough with her life. Yet she had always had the unsettling sense
that she was merely biding time, waiting for something to happen.

Now it had and she could not repress her excitement, especially since she had actually seen the Lord Hawk. Eagerly, she scanned the bailey again but there was no sign of him. She was disappointed but not overly so, for there were still the children. Irresistibly drawn to them, she approached with caution, unsure of her reception, but when a hazel-eyed urchin looked up and smiled, her hesitation vanished.

“May I help with that?” she asked, indicating the wool they were carding. One of the little girls, apparently the leader of the small group, regarded her for a moment, nodded, and handed her a set of paddles set with wire teeth closely fixed together. Krysta settled down beside them on the dusty ground, studying how they went about their task and trying hard to do the same. Her first few efforts were clumsy. The paddles were more difficult to manage than she'd thought and she skinned her knuckles several times.

“Like this,” the little girl said and placed her small hands over Krysta's, showing her the proper motion. With that help, she did better and soon felt she had the knack of it. When the children nodded approvingly, she couldn't help but be pleased.

They worked in silence for a short time before the little girl asked, “You're one of the foreign lady's servants, aren't you?”

Krysta nodded, disliking the lie but telling herself yet again that it was necessary. “My name is Ilka.”

“People say Lord Hawk doesn't want to marry her. He's only doing it for the alliance.”

Despite the tightening of her throat, Krysta managed to reply. “Perhaps he'll change his mind when he gets to know her.”

“Perhaps.” The little girl looked unconvinced.

“What's your name?” Krysta asked after a pause.

“Edythe.” She introduced the others, who nodded shyly.

“What else do you do besides this?” Krysta asked.

Edythe shrugged. “All sorts of things. We help with the flocks, bring wood and water, cook, whatever needs to be done.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “Lady Daria likes everyone to be busy.”

“What about Lord Hawk? Does he think you should work all the time?”

Edythe cast her a glance from beneath sooty lashes. “Lord Hawk is a great and powerful noble. He has concerns far beyond here.”

That told Krysta much. Understandably enough the Lord of Hawkforte left domestic matters to a woman. If he noticed at all that she was an extremely demanding person, he either did not care or saw no reason for change.

Or did he? He had, for whatever reason, agreed to take a wife who would be expected to manage his household. Perhaps he would appreciate someone whose view of such matters was very different from that of the Lady Daria. Or perhaps not. One more thing for Krysta to discover.

She would have sighed just then had not one of the children leaned over and whispered to Edythe, “She's going.”

Following the direction of their collective gaze, Krysta observed Lady Daria departing Hawkforte in a lavishly appointed litter balanced between two pairs of horses. Several harried-looking servants followed on foot behind her. The lady was leaning out between the curtains, inciting the grooms to keep the horses under better control, complaining about the bumpiness of the road, and otherwise making her feelings known.

“Gone to market,” Edythe explained. Quickly, she and the other children bundled up their carding. Before
Krysta's eyes, their demeanor changed from solemnity to exuberance.

“Now's our time to play,” Edythe said and grasped Krysta's hand, drawing her with them.

They went, laughing and skipping, through the gates and down to the river that twined along the base of the hill. Krysta spared a quick glance at the moss-draped bridge that spanned the sparkling flow of water but chose not to inquire too deeply into what stirred beneath it.

The children were tumbling over one another like puppies. She was delighted to see it, having sensed that their earlier constraint was unnatural. Did everyone at Hawkforte, or at least all those not under the lord's direct command, have to pretend they were something other than they were to appease Demanding Daria?

At that irreverent thought, Krysta put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle but could not hold it back entirely. Sprawled on the riverbank, her small fingers teasing a stone she looked about to toss, Edythe glanced at her with wisdom that belied her years. “My ma says we have more fun sneaking off than we would if we could just play whenever we want.”

“Do you think that's true?” Krysta asked, settling herself beside the little girl. Edythe was about eight, slender without being thin, with alert, intelligent eyes and a firm set to her small chin. She seemed to have a mature way of looking at the world that belied her tender years.

“I think my ma says it to make the best of things but that's all right, sometimes it's what you have to do.”

Wisdom indeed, Krysta thought, yet did she dislike the idea that the good people of Hawkforte had to labor under such constraints. With all her heart, she hoped her husband would allow her to make such changes as would benefit them all.

But first there was the river to play in and a happy afternoon to while away twining garlands of daisies, chasing
butterflies, and seeking out the tender raspberries the children knew well how to find. Krysta contented herself with listening as they talked among themselves, now at their ease.

She had no preconceived notions of children, but these children were very wise and aware. She wondered if the adults of Hawkforte realized how much these young ones saw.

“Fat Betty is with child again,” Edythe remarked as she popped a raspberry into her mouth.

A little girl seated beside her made a small O with her mouth and opened her eyes very wide. “No! Is she really? My ma says she only has to look at a man to catch a baby.”

“That's not how it's done,” a lad named Howard informed them. “Besides, Fat Betty's husband's off in Brittany. He went months ago on Master Tyler's ship. So what's she doin' breedin'?”

Edythe sighed, rolled her eyes, and plucked another raspberry. “Goes to show, all those foreigners runnin' around town sure stir things up. Least that's what my da says.”

“Good for business though,” Howard remarked. “My da says we're plumper than he ever dreamed we would be this side of paradise. Lord Hawk knows a sharp sword, a strong arm, and a good mind are what it takes to get ahead in this world.” He looked around proudly as he added, “That's why Da says I ought to be after learnin' to read. Says he gonna have a word with Lord Hawk 'bout that, see if the monks here can teach me.”

The good sense of this was greeted with nods all around. A little girl, Aedwynna by name, blinked her big blue eyes, smiled sweetly and said, “My da says Lord Hawk's the toughest son of a bitch he's ever met but it's all right because he's our son of a bitch.”

Edythe coughed delicately and cast an eye in Krysta's direction. She also said, “Aedwynna, don't say bitch, it
isn't nice. Leastways not unless you're talking about your dog.”

The little girl shrugged. “Oh, all right. Anyway, my sister gets so silly every time she sees Lord Hawk. Her and her friends go all giggly. They say that woman who's coming better be really, really nice.”

Suddenly, she remembered who was listening. “She is, isn't she, Ilka?”

Caught off guard, “Ilka” did not answer at once, prompting Edythe to look at her with concern. “She's pretty and kind, and she'll be a good wife to Lord Hawk, won't she?”

“Oh, yes, of course. But you know … she might be an even better wife if she knew more about Lord Hawk, knew what he likes and doesn't like, for instance. That might help her to do a better job right from the start.”

Edythe understood that immediately. “We could help. We could tell you things and you could tell her.”

“I suppose you could….”

“Well, then … Lord Hawk is very, very strong. He's had to be all his life because he spent most of it fighting up until a few years ago when King Alfred got the Danes to stop trying to take any more of England.”

“I saw him once pick up a man the size of a horse,” Howard declared, “and throw him all the way to the other side of the training field. The fellow wasn't hurt, fact they were both laughin', but it was really somethin' to see.”

“I saw him lift up the whole back end of a cart loaded with rocks,” another young boy chimed in, “and hold it while a man who was caught under it crawled out.”

“That was Old Finney, he could've gotten killed right then. You know, he goes to mass every single day and lights a candle for Lord Hawk?”

“My ma always puts him in her prayers,” Edythe said.