The Saxon. Margaret Moore

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СКАЧАТЬ fought the urge to scream. “After was much too late. You should know that about Bayard by now. The time was already past to influence him! He will never alter his course now—never!”

      “How was I to even guess he would consider a marriage?” Ranulf whined. “All I knew was that he was prepared to argue over the amount of the Danegeld. It’s taken me many days to convince him to go that far. Nor has he ever so much as hinted at a marriage.”

      “Bertilde has been dead these three years,” Ordella reminded him, all the while wishing she had waited a little longer before agreeing to marry Ranulf. Then she might have had a chance for Bayard, rather than this clod.

      “So I thought he had no interest in marriage.”

      “That is the stupidest thing you have said yet. He is a wealthy thane with no children. You should never have dismissed a possible marriage.”

      “As you have just pointed out, Ordella, it is done. I cannot undo it.”

      “But now he might have children, too.”

      “He hasn’t yet, and he’s had many women.”

      “That is no guarantee. He so rarely stays in one place for long, it could be that he is gone before a woman knows. Or perhaps he has never acknowledged any children, if they were born out of wedlock. If you had the sense of a donkey, you would have considered these possibilities.”

      Ordella was almost weeping with frustration. Her only reason for marrying Ranulf had been to become part of Bayard’s wealthy, important family. Unfortunately, she had come to realize she had chosen the least promising member of the clan. “She is young, too. She could give him many children.”

      “Or maybe he will hate her and never go near her. This is a political match, Ordella. Don’t forget that.”

      “I hope for your sake it is so. Or you can forget any hope of inheriting anything from him.”

      “You said the same thing when Adelar arrived.”

      “That was before I knew the kind of man Adelar is—and for that you should thank God. If he was more ambitious, he could have you living in some hovel at the edge of the wood. It is clear Bayard favors him, and their mothers were sisters.”

      “You are forgetting the stories about his father.”

      “That old tale? No one believed that Viking. Imagine trying to imply that a Saxon thane would betray his own people.”

      “Yet Kendric has never tried to be in the Witan, and any other man of his stature would have.”

      “The main thing to consider now is how to increase your importance to Bayard.”

      “I am his nephew. What more reason should Bayard need to listen to me?”

      “If that’s the only cause he has to suffer your presence, he can easily discard you, fool!”

      Ranulf started to climb out of the bed. Ordella grabbed his arm and held on. “Forgive me,” she said in wheedling voice. “I am upset to think that Bayard did not take you into his confidence. After all, you deserve to be. You are his closest relative. Adelar is but a cousin.”

      Ranulf relaxed a little. She crawled closer and encircled him with her thin arms. “I simply fear you may not get what is your due, Ranulf, and then I get angry. Forgive me for taking out my indignation on you.” He sighed softly as she caressed him. “You do forgive my harsh words, don’t you?”

      “Yes.” He twisted and his mouth swooped feverishly over hers. His hands groped her breasts.

      Ordella made all the appropriate noises. But her mind was not on Ranulf, or his clumsy attempts at lovemaking. She was wondering how to proceed when Bayard’s bride arrived.

      * * *

      “The hour grows late, and I think I have done enough celebrating,” Bayard proclaimed as he rose clumsily to his feet. Around him, his men raised their drinking horns in yet another salute.

      Except for Adelar. He had left the hall some time ago, his arm draped over a serving wench with a high-pitched voice and a constant giggle.

      Bayard made his way past his men and past the servants who were already asleep. Once outside, he walked casually around the outer wall of the hall and into the shadows.

      Then, with a muffled groan, he suddenly doubled over.

      His malady was worsening. There could be no doubt of it. The pains were coming more frequently and growing in intensity.

      When the spasm passed, Bayard straightened slowly, certain of two things. His plan had to work, and he had little time left to implement it.

      Chapter Two

      A fortnight later, a Danish maidservant fussed about Endredi as they stood in Bayard’s bower. They had been told to wait there until the marriage ceremony, while Dagfinn and the others had gone immediately to the hall.

      Thick, colorful tapestries hung over the wattle and daub walls. The chest of the bride’s goods stood in a corner. Other, larger wooden boxes were placed throughout the room, a testament to the groom’s wealth. There were also two intricately carved stools beside a delicate round table upon which sat a jug and two silver chalices. Light came from a many-branched iron rod bearing several tallow candles. A large bed, ornately carved and hung with heavy curtains, dominated one end of the building.

      The older woman brushed off Endredi’s gown, straightened her belt and tidied a stray wisp of her mistress’s thick, red-gold hair.

      “Will you please stop?” Endredi asked, trying to keep annoyance from her voice and reminding herself it was simply Helmi’s way to be always hovering about like an insect.

      “Dagfinn said you had to look—”

      “Beautiful?” Endredi looked at Helmi skeptically. “I look presentable—beautiful will be for Bayard to decide.”

      “Unless the man is stupid and blind, he can’t help but think so. Still, he is a Saxon, so who can say how his mind might work? Everyone knows they are all vicious, horrible barbarians—”

      “You have done your best,” Endredi said, interrupting the woman before she began another tirade against the Saxons. Endredi knew that there could be good Saxons as well as bad, just as there were good and bad Danes.

      “I don’t know what that oaf Dagfinn is trying to do, marrying off his brother’s widow to some Saxon.”

      “Dagfinn seeks peace.”

      “Huh! I think I am not the only old woman among the Danes here! When I was young, a man was glad to fight. Wanted to fight. Dagfinn is a coward.”

      Endredi put her finger to her lips. “Take care, Helmi, lest he hear your insult.”

      Helmi straightened her slim shoulders. “Well, he and his men could not win a battle if Odin himself was on their side.”

      Endredi СКАЧАТЬ