The Breaking Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter Four

Awake
in the Night

Seward smiled at the slave girl, and looked deep
into her emerald eyes.

Woden, she’s comely.

The mead he had consumed had made him feel
invincible. His limbs were weightless, and his senses, which should have been
dulled, felt heightened.

Here he was, a lad from a backwater village,
drinking in the King’s Hall. Not only that – but this dark-haired beauty had
been favoring him with lusty looks all night long. His breeches were growing
tighter by the second, and the sight of the girl’s slightly parted lips, as she
cleared the table in front of him, caused lust to knife through his groin.

Weyham had no girls that compared to this wench –
and no woman had ever given him such a melting stare. Earlier in the evening,
he had noticed that she wore an iron band around her neck, marking her as one
of the king’s slaves, but that had only heightened his desire for her.

Wait until I tell my friends about this
, he
congratulated himself.
They’ll never believe me.

“What’s your name, lass?” he murmured in her ear.

“Cerwen,” she replied, her voice a gentle purr. Her
lilting Cymry accent caressed him, making his manhood swell even harder.

Gods, how he wanted her.

It was getting late. Seward had moved to the far
end of the hall. He was now seated at a table, where a group of men had
continued drinking and swapping stories, long after the evening meal had ended.
Two pitch torches hung from the wall, casting a flickering orange light over
the table.

Beyond, many residents had laid out their cloaks
upon the rushes and stretched out for the night. Merwenna, who had been glaring
at him all evening, had finally given up and taken herself off to bed. The
princesses had retired to their bower, cloaked from view by a tapestry, and the
queen had climbed up to her quarters on the platform above.

There were few folk about to witness Seward’s
boldness as he reached out and squeezed the girl’s rounded rear. The others at
the table were so drunk, they did not appear to notice, or care.

The girl squealed, her eyes teasing in the
torchlight.

“Milord!”

‘Milord’ – I like the sound of that
.

Seward could get used to living in the Great Hall
of Tamworth.

***

Merwenna awoke to the feel of cold, damp stone
against her back, and tried to ignore her protesting bladder.

She had used the privy before retiring for the
night – but now she needed to go, again.

She lay next to the wall, inside the Great Hall;
far from the glowing hearths. Around her, she could hear the rustle of
breathing and a chorus of gentle snores. She was warm under her cloak, and
loath to struggle outside to relieve herself.

Merwenna lay there for a while, and mulled over the
day’s events. She ruminated over her brother’s drunkenness. His behavior this
evening had drawn far too much attention to them; she would have to speak with
him of it on the morrow.

Then, her thoughts returned – as they often did –
to her betrothed.

Mercia had beaten Northumbria – Beorn was coming
home. Tears of relief stung her eyelids as she relived the moment the queen had
informed them of Penda’s victory. She clasped her hands to her breast under her
cloak and whispered thanks to the gods, and prayed that Thor had watched over
her love.

Yet, her prayers could not distract her from the
fact she needed to use the privy.

Merwenna reluctantly pushed her cloak aside and
rose to her feet. Then, she carefully edged her way around the room, stepping
over the slumbering bodies of men, women, children and dogs. She reached the
door that led out into the Great Tower’s entranceway, and stepped out into a
long, narrow antechamber, lit by flickering torches. Corridors led off it, to
the left and right, to storerooms. There were great oaken doors at one end –
the way outside.

The privies lay through those doors, in the yard
beyond the hall. Merwenna hurried toward the doors. She was half-way across the
space, when a sudden noise made her pause. It was a muffled groan – and it was
coming from one of the narrow corridors that led down to the tower’s store
rooms.

She swiveled toward the sound and looked into the
shadowed passageway to her right.

What she saw there, froze her to the spot.

Seward and the slave girl he had flirted with
earlier in the evening, were coupling in a frenzy. Her brother had the girl up
against the wall and was thrusting into her. The slave’s skirts were hiked up
around her hips, her shapely legs clasped around him.

Merwenna stared, her shock turning to horror.

What, for the love of the gods, are you
doing?

What should she do? Part of her wanted to shout at
him, to make him stop, whereas another just wanted to turn tail and run.

Had Seward completely lost his wits?

At this precise moment, the young man did not
appear to care about the consequences of his actions. Instead, his mouth
devoured the girl’s. His hand’s clasped her buttocks as he rammed into her.

Merwenna could watch no more. She was too mortified
to say anything. She did not want him to know that she had witnessed this. It
was best if she slipped away quietly; best if she continued on her way to the
privy and pretended she had seen nothing.

She backed up two steps and collided with a hard
wall of muscle and leather. She cried out in alarm and tried to side-step the
obstacle – but an arm clamped around her torso in an iron band. She looked up
and saw the stone-hewn face of Rodor, the warrior who had led the queen’s guard
earlier in the day.

Rodor ignored her. Instead, his cold gaze was
riveted on the couple entwined in the shadows just yards away.

Chapter Five

Seward’s
Shame

“I am truly sorry, Milady,” Seward repeated, his
voice low.

Merwenna glared at the back of his head and fought
the urge to kick him. It was a bit late for apologies.

The queen regarded Seward impassively. Her two
daughters and three sons had gathered behind her, looking on wide-eyed at the
young man who had just given an account of himself.

A poor one, in Merwenna’s opinion.

Dawn had just broken over the Great Tower of
Tamworth. Pale light filtered in from the narrow windows high up in the tower,
illuminating the dust motes that drifted in the air. Inside the hall, the mood
was somber. Servants moved gingerly about the edges, preparing griddle bread
and rousing the glowing embers in the fire pits. Many were distracted in their
work; their gazes flicked constantly to the small group that stood before Queen
Cyneswide.

Merwenna waited behind Seward, her cheeks burning
in humiliation. The slave girl stood next to Seward. Her head was bowed; her
hair a dark curtain shielding her face. The girl’s shoulders were slumped in
defeat, trembling slightly as she wept. Ever since Rodor had interrupted the
lovers, the girl had not uttered a word.

 “I know you come from an isolated village,
Seward,” the queen spoke eventually, “and perhaps you are ignorant of the ways
of others. Yet, I cannot believe that you did not know that to touch a king’s
slave is forbidden.”

Merwenna’s stomach twisted at these words.
Cyneswide spoke calmly, yet there was no mistaking the flinty edge to her
voice.

“Please forgive me,” Seward bowed his head and
Merwenna caught the sincere regret in his voice. “I never meant to give
offence. I’m a fool.”

“Indeed you are,” the queen sighed, exasperated.
“You do realize that if this girl bears your child, the king will deal with her
harshly.”

Seward looked up and glanced over at where the
slave stood, her head still bowed.

Merwenna caught a glimpse of his face, and the
purple bruise that was forming around his left eye. After hauling Seward off
the girl, Rodor had hit him so hard that Seward had fallen, senseless, to the
ground. The warrior stood now, a grim sentinel, to Seward’s right, awaiting the
queen’s orders.

“I d…did not think,” Seward stammered. “Please don’t
punish Cerwen for my mistake.”

Rodor suddenly lashed out, striking Seward across
the face. Her brother staggered backward and collided with Merwenna.

“Slaves don’t have names!” he growled.

“Rodor, please,” Queen Cyneswide interrupted, her
voice still gentle. “That’s enough.”

Merwenna noted that the queen had not even flinched
during the exchange. This woman had probably seen many men slain before her in
this hall. The awareness made Merwenna’s legs start to tremble.

Cyneswide turned her attention back to Seward, her
gaze narrowing. “You are both responsible,” she replied gently. “Cerwen
knew
what she was doing.”

Merwenna looked down at her feet, wretched. Seward
could lose his life for one impulsive act. At that moment, she saw no way out
of the mess he had got them into.

“It is fortunate for you that my husband is not
here,” Queen Cyneswide continued. “He would make an example of both of you.
Still, I cannot let this go unpunished. You will both be whipped this morning.
After that, you must leave Tamworth, Seward, never to return. Cerwen will
remain here, and I only hope that you have not planted a seed in her womb.”

The slave girl gave a muffled sob and looked up,
her emerald eyes pleading. Next to her, Seward’s body went rigid; Merwenna
could see from the set of his shoulders that he was outraged.

“But Milady,” he burst out, “we did not…”

“I remind you again,” Cyneswide interrupted him.
“Had you come before my husband, you would be dead now – your head on a pike
outside the town walls – as a reminder of what happens to those who abuse the
king’s hospitality. I would advise you to hold your tongue. For your own good,
it’s best if you are far from Tamworth when the king returns.”

Merwenna felt danger in the air around them; Seward
was close to crossing an invisible line. She hated the thought of him being
whipped, but if it meant that he would walk out of Tamworth alive, then he
would have to suffer his punishment.

“Merwenna,” Queen Cyneswide turned her attention
from Seward then. “Come forward.”

Merwenna did as bid, keeping her gaze downcast. She
could feel stares boring into her and felt her cheeks burn hotter still.

“If you wish it, you may stay on here and await
your betrothed’s return.”

Merwenna looked up, shocked by this offer. She had
not wanted to leave Tamworth without knowing of Beorn’s fate. Yet, how could
she remain here after what Seward had done?

“Milady,” she gasped. “You are kind – but I should
leave with my brother. We have caused enough upset here.”

Queen Cyneswide smiled, the anger that had flared
while addressing Seward vanishing.

“You are not to blame for your brother’s behavior.”

“But, I can’t stay here without his protection,”
Merwenna replied. “I cannot travel home alone.”

“I will ensure you come to no harm here,” the queen
promised her. “And if your love does not return, I will have the king’s men
escort you home.”

Merwenna stared at the queen, momentarily struck
speechless by the offer. She was desperate to know that Beorn was safe, but she
had to stay with her brother. She turned to Seward then and discovered he was
glaring at her. His hazel eyes – so like his father’s – were almost green; a
sure sign he was furious.

“What will you do?” he asked, his voice flat.

His manner made Merwenna draw back.

She was willing to go with him, and abandon her
search for Beorn. Yet, he was staring at her as if she had betrayed him. It was
not her fault the queen had made her that offer. It was not she who had shamed
the pair of them. She had been worrying about him while he was only too ready
to think the worst of her.

Merwenna had been about to tell Seward that she
would return home with him, but now she hesitated.

“What should I do?” she asked him, deliberately
keeping her tone neutral.

“You can’t stay here – not without my protection.”

“But the queen has guaranteed that I will be safe
here and escorted home if Beorn doesn’t return.”

Seward’s gaze narrowed. “You would let them cast me
out and not follow? I only came here because you begged me to!”

Merwenna stared back at him and felt her own anger
rise. It was an odd sensation – both hot and cold. It made her reckless.

“I’m staying here, Seward,” she snapped. “Travel
home without me.”

Merwenna stepped back from her brother. Her brief
flare of anger faded when she saw the hurt in his eyes. They had always been
close, but she had now driven a wedge between them. Merwenna felt sick to her
stomach as she turned back to Cyneswide and gave the queen a brittle smile.

“Thank you, Milady. I shall stay.”

Queen Cyneswide nodded and turned to Rodor.

“Take Seward and Cerwen outside and give them each
ten lashes of the whip.”

The warrior nodded, his mouth thinning with
satisfaction.

“Very well, Milady.”

Merwenna watched, horrified, as two warriors hauled
the slave girl across the rushes toward the doors. Cerwen struggled, her tears
drying as she realized that the queen would show her no mercy. Instead, she
started cursing in a tongue that Merwenna recognized as Cymraeg. She had seen a
few of the Cymry in Weyham over the years, traveling over the borderlands between
Powys and Mercia. Like Cerwen, many were raven-haired and blue or green eyed.

Rodor turned to Seward and gave him a slow, dark
look, as if challenging him to make a similar scene. Instead, Seward stared
back – the light-hearted mood of the day before a now distant memory. Then, his
gaze shifted to his sister.

Merwenna stared back, tears suddenly welling. She
was so sorry it had come to this – yet pride would not let her back down.

“Good-bye dear sister,” he said, his voice harsher
than she had heard it. “We shall meet again in Weyham.”

The words sounded more like a threat than a
promise. It was as if she did not know him at all. Her free-spirited brother
had turned into a cold stranger.

Seward turned and let Rodor lead him from the hall,
without a backward glance.