Malia Martin (14 page)

Two days later Aleene felt much strengthened when the king came to visit her. He stood quietly by her bedside, his eyes sad and weary. “We leave on the morrow, Lady Aleene.” Before Aleene could even take a breath to ask, the king continued, “And we take this man, Cyn-ewulf,withus.”

Aleene bit her lip to keep from saying anything.

“I concede to your wish not to marry Aethre-gard.” The king stroked his graying beard, then laid his hand lightly on top of Aleene’s. “He would not do well here.”

“He would die here.”

“Keep your rebellion to yourself, lady of Seabreeze Castle, for you will want to nurture it.” A tiny smile hovered at the corners of Harold’s mouth. “I shall send another suitor soon.” Again his eyes showed much weariness.

Aleene closed her own, trying not to feel sorry for the man.

“I have been having problems with some Thanes in York.” The king turned, clasping his hands behind him. “I shall offer an alliance with you. They will welcome this wealth,” the king gestured around Aleene’s chamber, “I’m sure.”

The only thing that kept Aleene from jumping up and verbally thrashing her king was her sure knowledge that she would crumple at his feet from lack of strength. She did not even think she could argue, not now. She just felt completely defeated.-Aye.”

“That was much too easy.”

‘To take away everything that a mere woman has is terribly easy,” she couldn’t help biting back, her words reeking with bitterness.

“Ah, there is the lady of Seabreeze Castle. As you get better, I’m sure your claws will sharpen and by the time your poor bridegroom arrives, he will give serious thought to whether this castle and its wealth is worth it.” The smile in Harold’s eyes belied his hurtful words. “Do not worry, Aleene, I shall choose more carefully this time. You shall have a strong man to rule you in fairness.”

Aleene closed her eyes again, letting the silence drag on long enough that finally the king left, probably believing that she slept. As the door shut behind him, Aleene clenched the soft linen sheet between her hands, nearly ripping it with the strength of her anger.

A
strong man to rule her in fairness!
As if such a thing existed! Strong men did not know the meaning of fairness, especially when it came to ruling people, weaker than they. Especially when it came to ruling women.

And why should they be given that right!
With all of her strength, Aleene threw off her covers and pushed herself from her bed. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her, but she pulled on a kirtle and crept over to the door. Her head swam a bit, but she supported herself with the wall and opened the heavy door.
Her
heavy door. This was her castle, her body, her life. And nobody had the right to rule them, fair or otherwise. With the added strength of her anger, Aleene got the door open and went into the darkened hallway.

“Milady!” Berthilde rushed forward. “Ye shouldn’t be about.”

“Berthilde, I must.” Aleene pushed ineffectually at the maid’s hovering hands. “I must do something.”

“What, milady?”

Aleene looked wildly about. “I . . . you must help me, Berthilde, I need a plan. The king is to take Cyne with him. He is going to send another suitor.” Aleene dropped her face in her hands. “I must do something.”

A commotion clamored from below. Aleene looked up, frowning at her maid. “What happens below?”

Berthilde’s face showed no curiosity, only concern. “I know not, milady. You must lie down. I do not think you are well.”

A shout echoed up the winding stairwell.

“Something goes on below, Berthilde.” Aleene moved quickly toward the noise.

“Hold, milady, at least allow me to assist you!” Berthilde took her arm. “That is all we need, another death in this place.”

Aleene allowed her maid to help her to the great hall where she encountered complete chaos. “What happens?” she asked a passing warrior.

“King Hardrada of Norway has invaded in the north,” he said quickly. “We leave immediately for London. Everyone!”

Aleene blinked in shock as the man ran from her, barking orders as he went.

“Holy mother of God,” Berthilde whispered beside her.

Invasion? But the summer was over, how could an army get to their fair isle now? It was a threat she had not taken seriously because of the problems that faced her personally. But now it was happening. It wasn’t only Seabreeze at stake, but the whole country. She swallowed hard, realizing that her entire body shook.

A flash of sun-burnished hair caught her gaze; she rushed toward it automatically and grabbed at her husband’s arm. Even in her terror, Aleene realized she had a great opportunity before her. She pulled at Cyne, trying to get to the stairs. “We shall hide you until the men have left.”

“No, my dear, I’m afraid Cynewulf will be coming with me.”

Aleene heard the hard edge of Harold’s words as she felt Cyne resist her retreat. Turning, she realized her king held Cyne’s other arm in an iron-fisted grip. Her own hands clenched convulsively around Cyne’s strong forearm.

“Shall we rip him in half, Aleene?” One bushy eyebrow crooked over Harold’s eye. “Solomon would deem that fair. You may have one half, I the other.”

Aleene felt frustrated tears sear the back of her lids, but she would not let them drop. “You cannot take him into battle. He is but a simpleton. He will be killed.” As she spoke, Aleene eased her grip on Cyne’s arm and trailed her fingers down to wrap around his hand. That strong, warm hand curled around hers, infusing her with strength.

“He shall not go to battle, Aleene.” She detected a hint of softness in her king’s voice. “He shall be safe.”

“Please, your highness, allow him to stay here with me.” She dropped her eyes, her bravado slipping. “I will not lie with him. You have my word.”

“He will be safe with me, Lady Aleene. You have
my
word.” Harold pulled Cyne toward him and Aleene could do nothing but let him go.

She reached out, brushing at a curl that fell against Cyne’s forehead. When her fingers touched his skin, she trembled. Aleene clenched her fingers and pulled them away. Something held them together, a bond connected their souls. She did not understand it, but she knew it to be true. He had the mind of a boy, but still she felt as if she would never be whole without him.

She tipped back her head, straightened her spine, and looked into King Harold’s eyes. “Keep Cyne safe, your highness.” She looked back into Cyne’s eyes and had to bite the inside of her lip in order to tear her gaze away again. “I have your word on that.”

With a sigh, the king nodded, then turned, taking her husband with him.

T
he days dragged by slowly, the nights slower. Aleene could not make herself care for anything besides news of Cyne. She knew she should be working, readying the castle for winter, especially now that the men were gone and the threat of an invasion hung thick in the air. But the only thing she could make herself do was hike the tower each morning and look across the hills, watching and waiting.

So it was ironic that he should come during the night, as she slept, her watchful eyes closed, her waiting heart surrendered to dreams of him.

In her dreams she was free of fear, free of memories and restraints. She could be happy, love with all her heart. She could be as she had been before reality tore joy from her grasp.

In the blissful surrender of sleep, she felt Cyne reach for her, enfold her in his strong arms, and lightly kiss the tender skin at her nape. She reached around him, giving herself to his kisses. And then instead of waking to find no one, she blinked her eyes open to find that his presence didn’t filter away with reality.

“Cyne!” She pushed away from him in shock. “What has happened? Why are you here? How?” Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him close to her body. “Oh, I give thanks to God that you live. That you came back to me.”

He only held her tighter as if he understood. Aleene could not help the small laugh that escaped her. It was a strange sound, a sigh, a giggle, a sob all wrapped together in a heart-wrenching response.

Aleene burrowed her face into Cyne’s broad chest, and he stroked the back of her head, his large hand so strong and assured, Aleene almost believed that he loved her, too.

The thought shocked her, scared her. She loved this man. How strange, how wonderful. Aleene gripped his tunic in her hands. But how could she? She felt his lips against her hair and banished any doubt. It did not matter. She loved, and he could not hurt her. She would not be afraid.

Finally, she pushed away. “Are you with someone? Did the king return?” she asked even though she knew he could not answer. Then she laughed, and it felt good. She felt free. She did not even care if the king was here. Somehow she would keep Cyne with her. She turned to look out the window at the gray sky that spoke of dawn.

“Well, I guess I should go welcome our guests.” Aleene jumped up, grabbed the gown she had worn the day before and quickly pulled it over her head.

Grabbing Cyne’s hand, she ran from her chamber, down the narrow stairway to the great hall below. The room was silent, as it had been for many days. No men slept on benches or slouched against the walls.

Aleene turned a puzzled gaze to Cyne. “You have come alone?”

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes intently studying her face. It seemed, almost, as if he would speak. Aleene held her breath for a moment, waiting.

And then he bowed his head, saying nothing. When he looked back at her, the familiar vacant, happy look of a puppy shone from his eyes.

Aleene shook her head, dislodging the strange thought that he might actually speak. Of course, he could not. She squeezed his hand. And she did not want him to, after all. She just wanted her Cyne. The innocent man to whom she could open her heart. “You must have come alone.” And then a thought struck her like a blow. Aleene ran for the door, peering out into the silent morning. A few servants filtered out of the chapel and some more worked the fires in the kitchen area.

Aleene surveyed the castle grounds quickly and thoroughly, then turned back to her husband. “You got away!” Her heart fluttered lightly in her chest, and she caught her breath. “You got away!”

A corner of his full mouth hooked up into a funny, cocky sort of smile she had never seen on his face. Silently, she drank in his beauty. She suddenly wanted to throw her arms around him and dance him around the yard. He had gotten away. “And you came back to
me.”

His head bowed then, cutting off their eye contact. But she grabbed his chin and forced his gaze back to hers. “Oh, Cyne, I’m so glad you came back to me.” She almost didn’t get the words out around the dryness of her throat. She laughed again, and impulsively threw her arms around her husband. His arms came around her, holding her so tightly she feared she might not be able to take a breath. “You give me sunshine,” she cried into his dirty tunic. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

The wind changed that morning. Aleene watched as the flag on her tower fluttered, lay slack against the pole, then straightened with a southerly gust. It was what they had watched for all summer. For a southerly wind meant Duke William would be able to push any ships he might have out to sea and make it to their tiny island.

Now Aleene knew they had no fear of that. No one would try to cross the channel so late in the season. They were safe from attack. And then later that day news came of King Harold’s victory at Stamford Bridge just beyond York. They had beaten back the invaders from Norway.

Aleene smiled, happy to know that the men of the town would be home soon to care for their farms and families, but sad that she would again have to face her king and fight for her own happiness. She knew, though, that she could perform her duty as a wife now. She had come close in her dreams, surely she could finish the act with her husband. Her fear seemed a part of another person now, Tosig’s tyranny over her an act of aggression from a man now dead. He could not reach out to her from the grave, and she would not allow his darkness to cloud her happiness anymore.

She walked through the yard outside the hall, her steps invigorated and her heart anxious to find her husband. Some of the children played with one of the dogs, throwing a stick for it to fetch. They stopped as she neared, all of them quieting and eyeing her warily.

She felt a tiny twinge of self-consciousness that straightened her spine and angled her chin a bit higher. They clustered before her, their towheads close, faces pale. She fingered her own black-as-night tresses, faltering in her steps. “Have you seen Lord Cynewulf?” she asked them.

They murmured amongst themselves, shaking their heads and backing away from her. She stood silently for a moment, her happiness draining away from her.

One of the smaller children stepped forward. “I believe he went to the cliffs, milady, to the fort.”

Aleene took in this information and nodded. Even the children hated her. She began to
turn away, but stopped. She had spent many years closing herself to others so they could not hurt her, but, really, how badly could this child hurt her? She smiled, tentatively. “Thank you very much,” she said, stumbling a bit over the words.