The Breaking Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter
Two

A
Meeting at Market

Tamworth,
Kingdom of Mercia – Britannia

Merwenna’s first glimpse of Tamworth was of the
great tower, rising against a windswept sky.

She had never seen a dwelling made of stone before,
nor had she ever seen such a tall structure. She literally gaped before reaching
for her brother, plucking at his tunic to get his attention.

“Seward – look!”

Seward twisted and gazed up at the massive tower
thrusting into the heavens above the tree tops. Like his sister, he had never
seen anything like it. The tower was made of a dull-grey rock, and even from
this distance, Merwenna could make out the patches of lichen that encrusted it.

The Great Tower of Tamworth,
Merwenna gazed at it, excitement leaping in her breast.
We’ve made it
.

The five days, most of it on foot, it had taken
them to reach Mercia’s capital, had been exciting for them both. As Seward had
predicted, their father had not come after them. Two days out from Weyham they
had decided to risk traveling on the road, and those they had met on the way
had been friendly. At dawn this morning, they had met a cloth merchant on his
way to Tamworth – and they had spent the last stretch, perching on the back of
his wagon, amongst bolts of linen.

The wagon bounced along the rutted track, between
rows of magnificent horse chestnuts, before emerging into the gentle hills
around the base of Tamworth. Merwenna watched, with interest, the folk laboring
in the fields around the town. They were
geburs
– peasants bonded to the
Mercian king – giving their labor in return for his complete protection. The
geburs
were gathering a bountiful harvest of cabbages, turnips, carrots and
onions, which would see Tamworth through the long winter to come.

The sight of the folk working the fields reminded
Merwenna that her parents and Aeaba would be working alone this year, and much
harder than usual – all because of her and Seward’s departure. Still, upon
finally reaching their destination, Merwenna’s guilt was short-lived.

As the wagon trundled toward Tamworth’s gates,
Merwenna stared up at the stone walls of the Great Tower of Tamworth and took a
deep breath. Perhaps Beorn was already here – waiting for her. The thought made
her pulse quicken.

The cloth merchant – a stout, balding man of around
forty winters – flicked the reins. He urged the two heavy-set ponies that
pulled his wagon, through the gates and into the town itself.

Merwenna perched upon a bolt of linen and gazed at
her surroundings. Thoughts of Beorn were momentarily cast aside as a wall of
noise and smells assaulted her senses. She saw street vendors hawking hot pies
and freshly roasted rabbit; the aroma of their wares made her stomach rumble.
She heard the wailing of a babe somewhere in the crowd, and the excited shouts
of children who ran amongst the throng of folk going about their daily
business.

The wagon trundled along dirt-packed streets,
in-between tightly packed wattle and daub houses and workshops. They passed an
iron-monger’s, and breathed in the tang of hot iron as the smith beat out a
blade on his anvil. They passed the baker’s, and caught the aroma of hot
oat-cakes, fresh out of the oven.

Farther on, they rumbled by the town’s mead hall; a
long, low-slung, and windowless, structure. Here, Merwenna caught the
unmistakable whiff of fermentation. She made a note of the hall’s position, for
they would need to retrace their steps back to it; hopefully, it would be able
to accommodate them for a few days. They would sleep on the floor with others
visiting Tamworth.

Eventually, the cloth merchant brought his wagon to
a halt in the middle of a crowded market place. It lay not far from the wooden
perimeter that divided the Great Tower from the rest of Tamworth. Here,
Merwenna and Seward clambered down from the wagon, their limbs stiff and
aching. Despite the discomfort, the ride had saved them over half a day’s
journey, and Merwenna had been grateful to rest her blistered feet.

“Thank you,” Seward shook the cloth merchant’s
hand. “We are grateful for the ride.”

“I’m sure you are,” the man gave Seward a sly look
before casting a glance in Merwenna’s direction. “You didn’t think I’d let you
travel for free, do you?”

Seward released the merchant’s hand and stepped
back, his smile fading. His hazel-eyes narrowed as he took the measure of the
cloth merchant for the first time.

“We have no gold,” he said finally.

This was not strictly true. They carried the
leather purse with them – although they only had enough for food and lodgings
to sustain them for the few days they would stay in Tamworth – nothing more.

“How unfortunate for you,” the merchant’s gaze
gleamed as he spoke. “Yet, I expect payment all the same.”

“But we have nothing to pay you with,” Merwenna
spoke up, only to receive a quelling look from Seward. He was in charge here.

“Really?” the merchant grinned, enjoying himself
now. Around them, the crowd jostled; merchants, farmers and traders were all
vying for the townsfolk’s attention. Merwenna was not used to being surrounded
by so many people – and she felt her chest constrict.

This was not how she had envisaged arriving at
Tamworth. There was something in the merchant’s leer that frightened her.

“If it’s payment you require, we can help you at
market today.” Seward offered evenly. “You have much cloth to sell – you could
do with our help.”

“I can sell my wares without your assistance,” the
merchant replied with a shake of his head. His gaze then shifted back to
Merwenna. “However, your sister is a comely wench. If you give her to me for
this night, I shall consider your debt paid.”

A deathly silence followed his words.

Seward stared at the merchant, his face turning
hard. Merwenna watched her brother flex his fists, the muscles in his bare arms
bunching as he did so.

“You want to lie with my sister?” he asked,
enunciating each word as if he could not believe he had heard correctly.

“That’s right, lad,” the merchant grinned. “And if
you give her to me, our debt is settled.”

“I’m not lying with you – foul goat!” Merwenna
exploded before Seward could reply. “I’d die first!”

The merchant’s grin faded at her insult. “A debt is
a debt,” he growled.

“The price you ask is too high,” Seward growled
back. His face had gone red and he stepped menacingly toward the merchant. Like
his father, Seward was slow to anger. However, when roused he was not lightly
crossed. Merwenna could see her brother’s rage kindle like a Winterfyllth
bonfire. She longed for his patience to snap – she wanted him to lash out and
break this letch’s jaw.

“If you will not accept our offer of assisting you
sell your wares, we will be off,” Seward told the merchant. “You will not lay a
hand on my sister.”

“You must pay!” the merchant thrust his chin out
pugnaciously. “Gold or your sister – you decide!”

He made a grab for Merwenna – a rash and foolish
move, for Seward’s fist lashed out and connected with the man’s jaw. The merchant
sprawled back against the bolts of cloth.

The crowd suddenly hushed around them. Folk had
finally noticed that an altercation had exploded between the two young
travelers and the balding man.

“Fool,” the merchant spat blood onto the dirt and
hauled himself to his feet. Then he drew a hunting knife from around his waist.
“I’ll cut you up for that.”

Merwenna’s breath caught in her throat. Seward was
unarmed, and suddenly out of his depth. She could see the mean glint in the
merchant’s eyes; he was much older and slower than her brother. Yet, she
realized, with a sickening jolt, that this man had killed before – and could do
so easily again.

“Leave him be!” Merwenna stepped in front of
Seward, holding her hands up in supplication. “Please don’t kill him.”

“Merwenna!” Seward grabbed her around the waist and
hauled her back from the merchant. She could hear the rage in his voice and
knew this situation was just moments away from spiraling out of control.

“You want to save your brother?” the merchant
advanced toward Seward, knife raised. “Then you know what you must do, you
little whore.”

“Wait!”

A woman’s voice, cultured and gentle, cut through
the crowd.

“I will pay for them. Do not harm him.”

Merwenna glanced around, searching for the woman
who had spoken. A moment later, the crowd parted and a blonde woman of around
forty winters stepped forward. She was finely dressed in a long, sleeveless
blue tunic with a silk trim. Her slender arms were bare, adorned only with
bronze arm-rings, and a heavy belt studded with amber sat low on her hips. Her
golden hair was braided and wrapped around the crown of her head.

Merwenna stared at the woman. She had always
thought of her mother as comely, easily the finest-looking woman in Weyham, but
this woman outshone her. She had never seen a woman so beautiful.

The woman approached them, her skirts rustling as
she did so. She walked with regal grace. The cloth merchant’s attitude
transformed the moment he set eyes on the woman.

“Milady,” his face went slack with shock. He lowered
his knife, before bowing his head respectfully. Around him, the crowd grew
tense.

Merwenna spotted four warriors following the woman.
They were all big men, clad in tunics of fine cloth, and gleaming leather. Each
man carried a heavy ash spear, their expressions formidable. Merwenna’s stomach
somersaulted as she realized who the newcomer was.

Only one woman in Tamworth could command others.
Only one woman would walk about town with an armed escort.

Cyneswide, Queen of Mercia, stood before them.

Chapter Three

The
Queen’s Guests

“My Queen,” Merwenna blurted, her face flaming “I’m
sorry. We did not realize this man wanted payment for assisting us. We would
never have accepted his help, had we known.”

Merwenna curtsied low and, out of the corner of her
eye, saw Seward bow reverently. Like her, he looked stunned. Never had they
imagined the Queen of Mercia would ever bandy words with them, let alone come
to their aid.

“I was only demanding what I was due,” the merchant
blustered, finding his tongue once more.

“What is your name?” Cyneswide asked.

“Drefan, Milady. Drefan of Chester.”

“How much do they owe you, Drefan of Chester?”
Cyneswide asked, her gentle manner not slipping an inch as she met the man’s
eye.

“Two
thrymsas
,” he muttered, his face reddening.

This utterance caused a few gasps amongst the
crowd. Two gold coins –
thrymsas
– was an exorbitant fee. However, the
queen did not flinch. Instead, she turned to the warrior to her right. He was a
huge man with shaggy brown hair and a wintry gaze.

“Pay him, Rodor, if you please.”

The warrior nodded, before retrieving a leather
pouch. He extracted two gold pieces and handed them to the merchant.

Merwenna watched the transaction, relief flooding
through her. This woman’s kindness easily matched her beauty.

“Thank you, Milady,” she murmured, “I am so sorry
to have caused this much trouble.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Queen Cyneswide fixed
her with a calm, blue-eyed gaze. “You and your brother are not from Tamworth,
are you?”

Merwenna shook her head.

“What are your names?”

“I am Merwenna, and this is my brother, Seward, of
Weyham, Milady.”

The queen nodded. “And what is your business here?”

Merwenna took a deep breath and cast a glance at
her brother. Seward seemed to have swallowed his tongue in the presence of the
beautiful queen. He wore a slightly stunned look as he gazed upon Cyneswide.

“My brother has escorted me here,” Merwenna replied
hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have come to seek my
betrothed.”

“Your betrothed?” Queen Cyneswide’s fair brow
creased into a frown.

“He rode to war with the king,” Merwenna explained.
“I have had no word in three months – I had to come and look for him. I have to
know if he lives.”

“Have you had any news of the battle, Milady?”
Seward finally spoke up.

“I have,” the queen smiled at Seward. “Good news.
We have defeated the Northumbrians – Mercia is victorious.”

The wave of relief that slammed against Merwenna
then, made her feel light-headed. Seeing his sister’s reaction, Seward stepped
close to Merwenna and placed a protective arm about her shoulders. Merwenna
sagged against him, her legs suddenly weak.

“The king and his
fyrd
ride toward Tamworth
as we speak,” the queen continued, with a warm smile. “I dearly hope your
betrothed is among them. Your loyalty deserves reward.”

Merwenna dropped her chin, embarrassed. Tears stung
her eyelids and she frantically blinked, trying to hold them back. “Thank you,
Milady.”

“Where are you lodging?” Cyneswide turned her
attention to Seward once more.

“Nowhere, as yet, Milady,” he replied. “We will see
if there is space for us at the mead hall.”

Merwenna, regaining control of herself, and
managing to stem the threatening tears, watched the queen pause a moment.

“There is no need for that. You may stay in the
King’s Hall while you await your betrothed.”

Merwenna stared at the queen, her mouth opening in
shock.

“M…Milady,” she stuttered. “That is too generous an
offer.”

It was indeed, for the queen’s proclamation had
caused murmurs to ripple through the amassed crowd. Some whispered eagerly to
each other, darting keen glances at the brother and sister who stood before the
queen. Others stared at them with ill-concealed envy.

Drefan of Chester – the cloth merchant – looked as
if he had just supped on sour milk. He glared at Merwenna, his eyes glittering
under heavy lids.

“Perhaps,” the queen gave an enigmatic smile, “but
it’s mine to make.”

Merwenna smiled and cast a glance at Seward; her
brother was grinning ear-to-ear.

“Come,” Cyneswide held out her arm to Merwenna.
“Escort me back to the Great Tower.”

Merwenna took the queen’s proffered arm, while
Seward took up the rear, alongside the queen’s escort. The brother and sister traveled
light, carrying nothing more than leather satchels slung across their fronts.
As such, there was no need to return to the cloth merchant’s cart.

As they moved away, the cloth merchant stepped
forward.

“Milady,” he called out. “Do you not wish to buy
some cloth? I have the finest linen, and even a bolt of blue silk that matches
your eyes.”

Cyneswide turned back, her gentle gaze suddenly
hardening.

“I think not,” she replied. “I do not buy from men
who would bully a maid into giving away her virtue. You will receive no
purchase from me today – or any day.”

Merwenna followed the queen out of the market
place. However, as she moved away, she made the mistake of glancing back at the
cloth merchant.

Drefan’s gaze seized hers for an instant, and what
she saw there made her step falter. She had made an enemy – and she knew he
would never forget it.

***

“Mead, Milady?”

A man approached Queen Cyneswide and her two
guests, as they sat near the fire pit. He was young and slender with haunted
eyes. The iron collar about his neck marked him as a
theow
– a slave.
The sight of him fascinated Merwenna; there were no slaves in Weyham.

“Yes, thank you,” the queen replied, “and pour some
for my guests as well.”

The slave poured their clay cups to the brim,
avoiding their gazes as he did so. Merwenna took a sip of mead and had to stop
herself from wrinkling her nose; it was not a drink she was used to. Instead of
taking another sip, she let her gaze travel around their surroundings.

It was all she could do not to gawp. Tamworth’s
Great Hall was vast. Damp stone walls that emanated a chill, despite that it
was late summer and still warm outside, ringed a massive open space. A thick
layer of rushes covered the floor, and two hearths roared at either end. To the
right of the space, wooden steps led up to a private platform. Merwenna craned
her neck to look up at the rafters high above. They were blackened, with a hole
in the center to let out smoke from the fire pits.

The hall was a hive of activity. Servants and
slaves moved across it as they went about their chores, while others worked at
a long table that ran along the wall, preparing the evening meal.

There were few men about, as most had gone to war
with their king, but those who remained to guard the Great Tower were indolent
this eve; they sat drinking and exchanging riddles around the second fire pit,
or playing knucklebones at one of the long tables. In contrast, the high-born
ladies, most of them ealdormen’s wives, sat at the far end of the hall, bent
over looms or industriously winding wool onto wooden distaffs.

Merwenna saw two girls among the high born ladies.
They had fine blonde hair and delicate features, bearing a startling
resemblance to Cyneswide. Seward had also noticed the two beauties and was
finding it difficult to ignore them. The queen saw him looking and smiled.

“They are my daughters – Cyneburh and Cyneswith.”

Seward, who had been caught blatantly staring,
flushed and looked away.

Cyneswide’s smile faded and she focused her
attention upon Merwenna. “Soon they will marry and leave this hall; when they
do I will be surrounded almost entirely by men. I have three sons as well… here
are the trouble-makers now.”

Merwenna followed the queen’s gaze across the hall
where three boys had just entered. They were dressed in fine linen tunics and
leggings. The two youngest, who were both blond, playfully cuffed each other
before ending up in a noisy wrestle on the rush-matting, amongst the dogs. The
oldest of the three, a darker-haired lad, cast them a disdainful look and
continued on his way across the hall toward his mother.

“Wulfhere, Aethelred – enough!” Cyneswide called
out. The boys ignored her, and a moment later, their mother was forced to call
to them once more. “Boys – if you don’t stop this instant your father will hear
of this upon his return.”

The lads sprang apart, as if doused with cold
water. They climbed to their feet, dusted themselves off and approached their
mother, stopping next to their brother. The eldest boy was staring at Merwenna,
as if he had never before seen a woman.

Cyneswide noted the direction of his gaze and
smiled.

“This is Paeda, my eldest son – and these are his
younger brothers, Wulfhere and Aethelred. Boys, this is Merwenna, and her
brother Seward. They will be our guests for the next few days.”

All three boys nodded, their gazes curious.
Merwenna observed them in kind; the brothers were all tall for their age, and
handsome.

“What have you been up to all afternoon?” the queen
asked, before reaching out and ruffling Wulfhere’s hair.

“Out searching for frogs,” the boy replied.
Merwenna could see much of his mother in his face, however his pale blue eyes
and white-blond hair must have come from his father. “Paeda caught ten but I
made him let them go.”

“Wulfhere’s a big baby,” the dark-haired boy
sneered at his brother. “I told him I was going to bake a frog pie and make him
eat it – and he believed me.”

Wulfhere glowered at Paeda in response but said
nothing. The youngest, a boy barely older than seven, started laughing, only to
receive a cuff across the ear from Wulfhere.

“Enough boys – go and play knuckle bones with the
men,” Cyneswide waved them away with a tired smile. “We will eat soon – and I
promise, no frog pie.”

The boys went off, jostling each other as they did
so. The queen turned back to Merwenna with a tired smile. “My sons exhaust me
with their boundless energy. My girls were much less trouble at the same age.”

“I suppose they will calm down once the king
returns,” Merwenna replied.

“They will,” Cyneswide sighed, her smile suddenly
brittle, “but for now, let us enjoy this evening. Come, tell me of Weyham – I
have never traveled that far west.”

Merwenna took a mouthful of pottage and glanced
worriedly at Seward.

Her brother was at ease in the King’s Hall; too
much so in her opinion. He had downed three large cups of mead and was now
starting on his fourth. The mead was far stronger than the brew he drank at
home. Seward was now merrier than she had ever seen him.

The mead had also loosened his tongue. He laughed
and joked with three other youths seated near him; their laughter rang across
the table, echoing high amongst the rafters.

Merwenna gave Seward a pointed look, willing him to
keep his voice down. Fortunately, they did not sit at the ‘king’s table’. The
royal family and highest-ranking men and women sat on the other side of the
hall.

However, the queen’s absence from their side had
made some of the warriors bold. Two of them were staring rudely at Merwenna
now. Seward was oblivious as he regaled his new friends with his latest hunting
exploits.

A female slave passed by, carrying a large tureen
of pottage. She was winsome and curvaceous with thick dark hair and green eyes.

“
Wes hāl,
my beauty,” Seward leaned
back to admire the girl as she refilled his trencher. Her rough homespun tunic
could not hide her luscious curves.

Merwenna gritted her teeth. Her brother did not
usually behave so boldly with women – yet this evening he appeared to have
forgotten himself. The slave girl gave him a shy smile in response and moved
away, continuing down the table, her hips swaying. Seward’s gaze lingered on
her until the girl had moved out of his line of sight.

Merwenna stared down at her pottage and bit her
tongue to stop herself from reprimanding her brother.

Drunken oaf.

They were guests here. After this afternoon’s
incident, she thought Seward would have been more careful. The queen had
bestowed a great honor upon them, but her brother hardly seemed to care.

Merwenna pushed her half-eaten trencher aside and
tried not to notice that Seward was filling up his cup – again.