Margaret Moore - The Saxon

Adelar threw more cold water on his head, then slowly walked toward the hall.

All through the wedding feast, he struggled not to stare at Endredi as she sat in the wide settle beside Bayard.

Of course he had recognized her at once. Her calm, quiet beauty, her bountiful red-gold hair and her unforgettable green eyes. She had seen him, too, and for a moment he had thought...hoped...been tempted to tell Bayard that the wedding must not be.

But who was he to go against his cousin’s plans, especially when he could not be sure of Endredi’s feelings? Once they had felt something for each other. They both had known it, and he, at least, had cherished it. Yet she had married another man.

It was as if she had confirmed his worst fear—that he was not worthy of her love. He was, after all, his father’s son, and though he struggled constantly to prove that he was not the same as his traitorous sire, perhaps it only mattered that he was of Kendric’s blood after what his father had tried to do to her.

The women at the well began to point, laugh and make jokes of the most bawdy kind. Adelar turned to see what they were talking of and saw Godwin at the door of the weaving shed bestowing a most impressive kiss and bold caress on Gleda. His breeches were half-fastened, and Gleda’s garments could only be described as disheveled. Clearly Godwin had not spent the night in the hall, or the stable, or alone for that matter.

When the passionate couple realized they had an audience, Gleda pulled away, gave the women a saucy smile and sauntered off to the hall. With a dismissive flick of her hair, she passed Adelar. Her presence made absolutely no impression on him whatsoever. There was only one woman who occupied his thoughts today.

Godwin made the women an impressive bow. “Greetings, my dears,” he said with great politeness. “I was not aware my every performance was to be observed. Ah, Adelar! Have we missed the meal?”

The women continued to chuckle among themselves while Godwin joined him.

“Greetings, Godwin. I believe you have already feasted,” Adelar remarked sardonically as he continued toward the hall.

“And well, too,” Godwin replied with a sly grin. “But then, you would know how well Gleda satisfies a man.”

“Apparently any man will do, too.”

“Is the mighty Adelar jealous of a humble gleeman?”

“Not at all. Take her, if she is willing. There are plenty of other women.”

“Speaking of women, Bayard’s new wife is not as lovely as they said, is she?”

“It is not for us to discuss Bayard’s wife,” Adelar replied coldly.

“You’re in a terrible humor today, Adelar. What’s the matter—not enough sleep last night, eh? Who were you with, if not Gleda? Let me think... I know! That little slave Ylla has had her eye on you. Or perhaps that servant of Bayard’s wife. She is old, but you always say older women have a hoard of experience that they are only too willing to share—”

“My only companion last night was a cask of ale, and I am ruing that decision now.”

“What? I don’t believe it! And yet he admits it, too. Well, miracles do happen, after all. Adelar awakens alone for the first time in how many years? I must tell Father Derrick at once.”

“Can you stop that wagging tongue of yours?” Adelar demanded. “You make my head ache.”

“Speaking of tongues, is it not amazing what Gleda can do with hers?”

Adelar did not wish to have a complete recital of Gleda’s abilities, so he began to walk faster. “I’m starving.”

“Me, too. Shall we see what remains haven’t already been thrown to the dogs?”

The door to Bayard’s bower moved and Bayard strode briskly out. “Good day!” he called, his breath like puffs of smoke in the chill air as he approached. “I am going hunting this fine morning.”

Adelar looked away from the bower where Endredi had spent her wedding night. “It is a fine day indeed, Bayard. I will fetch my horse.”

“I had intended to ask you to remain behind. Endredi needs someone to show her about the burh. ”

“I am not fit for a lady’s company this morning,” Adelar answered. “What of Dagfinn and his men?”

“They are sleeping like rocks in my hall. I have left some men to guard them. I do not want to spend more time in their presence than I have to.”

“I would be most happy to escort your bride about,” Godwin interjected.

Bayard eyed Godwin. “Perhaps, but I would like you to escort Endredi, Adelar. You can speak to her in her own language, and I want to make her feel that this is her home.”

His gaze was hard and firm, and Adelar knew he was as good as ordered to show Endredi the burh, although he would rather face ten armed Danes. “I will do as you ask, Cousin.”

“Good. Since you seem particularly grim today, I think it would be wise to have Godwin go, too.”

“I am only too happy, my lord,” Godwin replied.

“Rouse the dog keeper. I believe three pair of hounds should be sufficient today. I leave Endredi in your hands, Adelar.”

Adelar nodded as Bayard strode off toward the stable. The women at the well and the stable lads called out their good wishes, which the burhware acknowledged with a jovial response.

Godwin eyed his companion cautiously. “Bayard was not pleased by your reluctance.”

Adelar did not bother to wait for Godwin, who trotted along behind him. “I have no wish to play nursemaid to his bride.”

“Fine—but you should have been more tactful about it. You’ve annoyed him, and he looked happier this morning than he has for many a day.”

“I know,” Adelar replied softly. Indeed, he had thought the same thing. But he did not want to spend time with Endredi. He had no wish to see her look at him as she had yesterday—either the first time, when he had seen the unspoken feelings in her eyes, or later, when she had become as cold and distant as her homeland. Yet he dare not disobey his cousin, and Godwin was right about Bayard’s good humor. It had been all too rare of late.

They paused at the entrance to the hall, and Godwin let out a low whistle. “Bayard spoke the truth. Look at these louts!”

The Danes were sleeping wherever they had fallen into a drunken stupor. Some slumbered with their heads on their arms slung over the table, some lay on the benches and some were even under the tables. More than one snored loudly. One or two of Bayard’s dogs sniffed among the rushes, searching for food.

Adelar and Godwin stepped around them and went to Bayard’s end of the lord’s table.

“Not a morsel worth eating!” Godwin muttered in disgust, looking at the remnants of the feast.

Adelar picked up a crust of flat bread, then let it fall into the straw on the floor. One of the smaller hounds lunged for it and wolfed it down.

A deep voice from the nearest corner mumbled, “Who’s botherin’ the dogs?” Two human feet were barely visible beneath a pile of straw and dogs.

“Is that you, Baldric?” Godwin asked.

An affirmative growl answered them. “Can’t you let a fellow sleep in peace?”

“Bayard wants to go hunting. He says bring three pair of dogs.”

“This is no time for one of your jests, Godwin,” the dog keeper mumbled.

Adelar kicked the fellow’s feet. “Bayard wants to go hunting.”

Baldric sat up when he heard Adelar’s low, stern voice, his blond hair sticking out like so many pieces of straw. He shoved the dogs away from him and stood, scratching his flea bites. In the dim light, the short, burly fellow looked not unlike his charges. “It’s you, eh? Then I believe it.” With his rough voice, he sounded like a dog who had been taught speech, too. “Any food about?”

Godwin shrugged. “Duff’s probably gone back to bed after serving Bayard.”