The Betrothed Sister (27 page)

‘Gudrun.' Padar, recognising her, hurried forward with haste, sliding on the ice, reaching out for her, the long sword, still unsheathed, threatening to drop further and trip him up. ‘Why are you here?'

Connor indicated the heavily armed guards. He spoke for Gudrun. ‘These men are here by my request and will protect us. Padar, my friend, we are travelling south to sell our goods and Gudrun is coming with us. So you had better get a wedding over and done with.'

Padar said. ‘Why is Gudrun here in the darkness of midnight?' He looked at the frightened girl. ‘What happened?'

Connor put his arm around Gudrun. ‘No time. And, a priest's blessing later. Lady Thea says you are betrothed to the maid. For now let us witness you pledge your troth. Trust me, it is necessary. Gudrun is in danger.'

‘Just like this. Why?' He stared at Gudrun. Her face, what he could see of it, looked yellow in the light of the lantern. Her eyes seemed haunted. ‘What has happened to you, Gudrun?'

Something was deeply amiss.

Connor kept his arm protectively about Gudrun's shoulder. ‘She has been accused of possession of a magic object. In Novgorod, they think magicians cast evil spells, so this puts your betrothed in great danger. It is safer if you marry her, safer for her and for you.'

Padar thought quickly. He would do anything to protect Gudrun. ‘This is not how I imagined our wedding would occur. But, I marry you willingly, Gudrun. I marry you this night.'

Gudrun nodded. ‘And I thee,' she said, her teeth chattering from cold, or was it shock?

‘No more time wasted. She needs rest.' Earl Connor pushed his hand into his mantle. ‘Have you a ring?'

Sheathing Gabriel, Padar shook his head. ‘Inside, lots of them maybe.' He kept silver and jewels locked away in a small coffer in his loft chamber.

‘Take this. It was stolen off a maiden seized by an Irish dragon. Fairy silver. Perfect for her. My wedding gift.' He laughed, breaking the tension.

Gudrun smiled at last and Padar reached for her and hugged her to his breast. ‘Oh, my love, my sweet, sweet girl.'

Connor handed a velvet pouch to Padar who drew the silver ring from the purse. It had flowers and runes engraved on it, spelling the maker's name, FRE. Runes could contain magic, Padar mused as he held the ring.

Padar lifted Gunnhild's hands into his own and swore to be her husband. They exchanged a brief kiss. It was done, the hastiest wedding in Christendom.

‘Thank you,' Gudrun whispered, as he slipped Fre's ring over her third right finger. ‘Thank you for saving me from the terem kitchens, or worse.'

‘Now,' Connor said, ‘my guard will sleep in the barn with the animals.' He turned to the ancient English knight who lowered his lantern and nodded. ‘Padar, find me room in the hall for a few hours' rest. I have sledges arriving at dawn. After that we use horses and boats. We have the warehouse to secure while we are away. It may be some time before we return.'

Padar called to the gaping, nudging boys. ‘Meet Gudrun, my wife. Obey her as you obey me. Now, get to your beds.' Inside the hall, he pointed to an alcove. ‘There is a couch behind the curtain, Connor, as you well know.' He took Gudrun's hand. ‘Our chamber is up the ladder. Come.'

He took Gudrun by the hand and helped her to climb up into his loft chamber, his scabbard thumping up behind him. He pulled a wolfskin curtain aside to reveal the upper chamber where he slept amongst packs of cured ox hides, pots of olive oil, and opened coffers filled with elk tusks, reindeer horns and walrus teeth. ‘All for trading,' he said, on seeing Gudrun stare wide-eyed around the chamber. He drew her closer and said into her ear. ‘We are going to be rich when this lot is sold south, Gudrun. If you do not want to return to Novgorod we shall have enough wealth to set up in Flanders, go into cloth, or return to Denmark. There are many places for a wealthy merchant, song-maker and spy to live these days.'

She said quietly, ‘Not a spy, I hope.'

‘Those dark days are behind me.'

He sat Gudrun on his low, wide, wooden box of a bed, unstrapped his sword and carefully leaned both sheath and sword against the lime-washed wall within reach of the bed. He removed her cloak and her shoes and her outer dress. He unbraided her hair, laid her on his linen sheets and covered her with a soft bearskin. It was a relief that the night was so cold, the fleas that hide in the sheet seams must have surely died of it. Shedding his mantle, pulling off his boots and removing his outer garments, he climbed in beside her.

As the thin moon's light slid through the shutters' cracks, in the safety of Padar's arms, her body angled into his, Gudrun grew warmer to his touch. Soon she was whispering a brief explanation as to the horror she had endured. She related how Lady Thea was travelling that night to the Convent of the Holy Trinity. For long hours she, herself, was forced to pray on her knees in the Church of the Virgin. ‘All because of a brooch with strange markings on it,' she said sadly. ‘Bishop Xantes told me I must pray hour by hour, by the bells, to escape its evil possession.'

As she spoke, Padar could feel the wetness of tears seep through his under-tunic. He held her even closer. ‘How did you get away?'

‘When Earl Connor discovered from Lady Thea what had happened, he came to the Church of the Virgin. He said to Bishop Xantes that he would take me with him back to Denmark.' She sat up, allowing the fur rug to slide from the bed linen. ‘Earl Connor promised that I would make a pilgrimage to those places where pilgrims gathered. I had no time to say goodbye to Lady Thea. Nor had I time to send her a message thanking her for my deliverance.' She heaved a sob and, falling into Padar's arms, murmured, ‘Without heed for her own safety, Lady Thea had arranged everything. She told Earl Connor that I must marry you and stay with you. But, I did not know if you would want me. After all they have accused me of magic's evil grip. They took Needle, my cloak pin, from me,' she half-whispered, half-sobbed. ‘They stole my talisman.'

‘How could you doubt me, my love? All will be well. I shall find you another. Your talisman watched over you more than we all can know. What appears good in one place may own a different meaning in another. You have committed no sin.' Padar stroked her loosened hair. It was fair and soft, and its silk sorely tempted him to intimacy, but not tonight. Instead he said, ‘We have each other, a great packet of furs to sell in the south and my sword Gabriel to protect us. When we cross other lands to the Flanders coast a priest will bless our marriage. You will be reunited with Countess Gytha and with many of our old friends from Exeter.' He stroked her forehead, kissed her eyes and then her mouth. Responding she moved closer into the circle of his arms. ‘Not tonight, my sweet. Believe me, I want to take you, but, for now, you must sleep. Morning will arrive sooner than a bird pecks a worm from the earth. Gudrun, I love you more than my own life. Never again doubt my love.'

Gudrun drifted into sleep, but Padar lay thinking that there was more to this than he knew. How had Gudrun come by her talisman? Why had she been accused? Was Lady Thea safe in this strange country, in a convent that was even more secure than a terem, a convent with its strange icons, silent nuns and bearded priests? He must find Katya's merchant father and see if he could discover the truth of it all.

Thea sat in an upright chair close to Katya, who had fallen into an exhausted deep sleep. She watched the moonlight sweep over the quiet herb gardens that lay below her window, casting shadows on the wall beyond. A night owl hooted. For a moment she fancied she was in Exeter. It was not such a bad fate, she decided. The convent was peaceful. Rather than being greeted by Mother Sophia as if she was an outcast, she had been welcomed into this gentle community of women as if it were an honour for them to receive and instruct her. Prince Vladimir may have had no option but to wait patiently for their wedding too. Maybe he would send her word.

She fell to her knees and prayed to St Theodosia for Gudrun and Padar. ‘Dear Saint, protect them. Bring them back safely to me one day soon.'

After that she climbed into the bed beside Katya and drifted into an exhausted sleep, glad that the following day would offer her a day of instruction, prayer and work in the herb garden clearing away the last of the early spring snowfall from the pathways.

Some weeks later, escorted by guards, accompanied by one of her ladies, Princess Anya rode on a gorgeous caparisoned white horse into the convent to see Thea. The day was pleasant. It was one of blue skies and scudding white clouds that flew about the sky like cupids' wings. They met in the refectory. At first a sense of betrayal haunted Thea. Anya had not come to see her before her departure from Novgorod. Now, here she was with only Lady Sabrina and her guards in attendance.

After their greetings had been exchanged and Mother Sophia had left them alone, Thea held her head high. ‘I am happy here, though I wish to know my fate. Am I to be sent back to Denmark in disgrace?'

Princess Anya took her hand. ‘No, Thea. Your wedding will take place next spring.'

‘Another year? So long a betrothal is unnatural.' Thea tore her hand away.

‘Make a positive experience of your time in Holy Trinity. It is a period for preparation, gathering knowledge and reflection. Many of our women love the sanctuary the convent provides for them. In the Rus lands women who enter convents are revered as if they are clergy themselves; surprising, of course, in this dominant world of men.' Anya took Thea's arms and pulled her round to face her. ‘Please know that I am your friend. Know that I have no love for Olga, who possesses a mean spirit.' Anya broke off. Before continuing, she glanced along the refectory table at Sabrina who was bent over a piece of embroidery and lowered her voice. ‘I do not even want Sabrina to hear me. Olga is bitter because she wanted Prince Vladimir for her own eldest daughter.' She squeezed Thea's arms gently, dropped her hands and allowed them to rest on the table.

‘Where is Lady Olga's daughter?' Thea asked quietly.

‘She dwells in a wealthy princess's household far away in the city of Chernigov. The princess is with the wife of Prince Vsevolod's elder brother. The girl will marry another wealthy noble. The mother is bitter. She wanted alliance with the prince. Rest assured, Vladimir is still your prince, Thea.'

The air in the refectory stilled as Thea absorbed Anya's words. She had been hurtled from thinking she could be sent back to Denmark to knowing that she was to marry her prince. She heard bird song in the garden beyond and the hum of prayer from the midday service in the Church of Holy Trinity. Somewhere servants were sweeping. All these sounds had become her normal everyday currency. Her heart lifted. She sent a swift prayer to St Theodosia. ‘Thank you. So many women desire marriage with him,' Thea said sadly, thinking of the cruel Danish princesses.

‘It may be so; many sought him, but Vladimir wants you. The prince has explained his note and his misguided impatience to see you. He wept when his father threatened to return you to Denmark. Vladimir is his father's only son by the greatest princess of us all. His mother was a Monomakh, a princess of Constantinople. God will protect you. He will keep you safe.'

Thea could not resist saying, ‘They sent Gudrun away.'

‘No, you sent Gudrun away, and you were right to do that. She will return one day, safely, with our friend, Padar. They have, according to Earl Connor, travelled to Flanders. Earl Connor spoke with my husband about her marriage. Appearances must be observed. It would never have been safe for her to remain in my terem. Olga would find a way to destroy you through your maid.' At this Princess Anya leaned over and whispered in Thea's ear. ‘We have let it be known that she has been removed from court. Padar has taken her on a journey south. Even Steward Michael does not know their true destination because he thinks they travel north to Denmark. Gudrun will be safe and you will be safe from Olga's scheming.'

‘And they will visit my grandmother,' Thea said with hope in her heart. ‘They will return one day with news of her.'

‘We shall see,' Anya said softly.

Before she left the convent, Anya placed a kiss on Thea's forehead and gave her a tiny cross studded with garnets to protect her. ‘Wear it and think of me. Put all your cares behind you and grow even more beautiful.' She took Thea's hands in her own and added, ‘Katya will watch over you. Her father will visit her soon and bring you our news.'

Thea had the prince's forgiveness, it seemed, and Vladimir still cared for her and insisted on their wedding. She could not contain her joy. She would endeavour to learn new things but one thing she promised herself. Never would she allow Lady Olga to join her terem when she lived with Prince Vladimir in their palace in Kiev.

What had Prince Vsevolod said?
Evil can be defeated by prayer and observance of the faith.
Perhaps there
was
truth in those words, she thought, and dug out the weeds that jumped all over the herb garden that summer with renewed determination. Still, he had directed his words at the wrong person.

22

Convent of the Holy Trinity, December 1071

Thea had not made progress with her embroidery. She had lost interest since she had been sent to the convent. Instead, she had passed autumnal mornings working in the herb garden and quiet afternoons in her chamber improving her Russian and writing down stories using an old bronze stylus on sheets of birch bark purloined from the convent's workshop.

It took her days to master writing on birch bark with a stylus. She persevered and succeeded. At first she penned little stories in her native English, the first language she had learned to write, glad that she had learned the art of writing. Later, she practised writing in her new tongue. The Russian letters looked as if they were enchanted, as magical as the runes and swirls on Gudrun's forbidden brooch pin. The written word held power, she mused. Long ago people had thought that letters were indeed as powerful as those etched into Gudrun's needle.