siege.”
Agneta’s had to wipe her sweaty palms on her habit. “Siege?”
He nodded. “Went with Rufus’s army to help depose King Donald.”
She swallowed hard. “Was the siege successful?” Her hands shook and she had to stop her ministrations. She saw the questioning look of concern in Mayda’s eyes.
“Are you all right? You look like you might swoon,” the novice whispered.
Agneta nodded, and wiped her brow with her sleeve.
The injured man continued, “Duncan’s king now, but more or less shares the throne with his half-brother, Edmund. They’re the sons of King Malcolm, you know, the one killed near here, at Alnwick.”
To Agneta’s surprise, it was Mayda who asked, “But you say the Normans helped them capture the throne?”
The man nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain. Agneta could see he was close to swooning as they laved the putrefaction from his wound.
“Was it a long siege? Did many die?” she stammered.
He had to wait for the spasm of pain to pass. “No, it was enough that we threatened. Donald the Fair couldn’t withstand our army and gave up quick. Saved his own neck. I was unlucky. Too cocksure of our success.”
Agneta had to get away, before she did indeed fall to the stone floor. Caedmon wouldn’t sit idly by if he had a cause to fight for and he hated Normans. “Sister Mayda can finish taking care of you. Hopefully, the wound will heal properly now. Watch his fever, Mayda,” she whispered, unwilling to look her friend in the eye. She fled to the sanctuary of the chapel, and fell to her knees.
“ Pater Noster ,” she sobbed. “Please—please protect him. Keep him alive. I can’t bear the thought he might be dead. Please.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Many Saxons have already left, mother. We must do the same. This country is no longer safe for us. We have no future here. Duncan’s flimsy hold on the crown won’t last now that his foreign allies have had to return to their own lands to put down a rebellion.”
“You’re right, Caedmon. I’m too old to start again,” Lady Ascha replied sadly, slumped in a chair. “This house has come to be home for me.”
“But you have another home. In Ruyton. We must go there.”
Ascha shook her head, apparently unwilling to think about it, but said, “Shelfhoc is your birthright, Caedmon. I suppose you’re right. I’ve been away for a long time, and the memories—”
He took his mother’s hand, and bent his knees to hunker down beside her. “It won’t be easy. You already know it’s a long, hard journey. But I’ll be there to help you and Leofric has already said he’ll accompany us. There’s no reason for him to stay, now both his parents are gone. I believe many more will want to accompany us. We’ll seek shelter in monasteries and abbeys along the way. We can make a new life in the Marches. From what I hear, your valiant Norman protector, the Earl of Ellesmere has the area under control, and you’ve said yourself his stewards have kept up Shelfhoc.”
“Yes,” Ascha whispered.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it? The Normans stole everything from us, yet it’s thanks to a Norman we have a manor to return to in England. I’ll set about organizing our departure.”
Ascha looked around, her eyes wandering over the furnishings, the drapery, the warm wooden panelling. “What about this house? Can we sell it?”
Caedmon clenched his jaw. This was the only home he’d ever known. “We can try. I’ll speak to some people at Court. Though in these unsettled times—”
He pondered the possibilities. “Edgar Beasant might be interested. He’s decided to stay here, and has mentioned buying a house for Kendra and Eivind, now they’re married.” He shook his head. “What is Eivind thinking? Being married to Kendra would drive me mad.”
“Perhaps he loves her,” his mother said.
Caedmon shook his head. “Eivind isn’t a man who would marry for love.”
“Not like you, my son? Will you not choose a
Agneta’s had to wipe her sweaty palms on her habit. “Siege?”
He nodded. “Went with Rufus’s army to help depose King Donald.”
She swallowed hard. “Was the siege successful?” Her hands shook and she had to stop her ministrations. She saw the questioning look of concern in Mayda’s eyes.
“Are you all right? You look like you might swoon,” the novice whispered.
Agneta nodded, and wiped her brow with her sleeve.
The injured man continued, “Duncan’s king now, but more or less shares the throne with his half-brother, Edmund. They’re the sons of King Malcolm, you know, the one killed near here, at Alnwick.”
To Agneta’s surprise, it was Mayda who asked, “But you say the Normans helped them capture the throne?”
The man nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain. Agneta could see he was close to swooning as they laved the putrefaction from his wound.
“Was it a long siege? Did many die?” she stammered.
He had to wait for the spasm of pain to pass. “No, it was enough that we threatened. Donald the Fair couldn’t withstand our army and gave up quick. Saved his own neck. I was unlucky. Too cocksure of our success.”
Agneta had to get away, before she did indeed fall to the stone floor. Caedmon wouldn’t sit idly by if he had a cause to fight for and he hated Normans. “Sister Mayda can finish taking care of you. Hopefully, the wound will heal properly now. Watch his fever, Mayda,” she whispered, unwilling to look her friend in the eye. She fled to the sanctuary of the chapel, and fell to her knees.
“ Pater Noster ,” she sobbed. “Please—please protect him. Keep him alive. I can’t bear the thought he might be dead. Please.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Many Saxons have already left, mother. We must do the same. This country is no longer safe for us. We have no future here. Duncan’s flimsy hold on the crown won’t last now that his foreign allies have had to return to their own lands to put down a rebellion.”
“You’re right, Caedmon. I’m too old to start again,” Lady Ascha replied sadly, slumped in a chair. “This house has come to be home for me.”
“But you have another home. In Ruyton. We must go there.”
Ascha shook her head, apparently unwilling to think about it, but said, “Shelfhoc is your birthright, Caedmon. I suppose you’re right. I’ve been away for a long time, and the memories—”
He took his mother’s hand, and bent his knees to hunker down beside her. “It won’t be easy. You already know it’s a long, hard journey. But I’ll be there to help you and Leofric has already said he’ll accompany us. There’s no reason for him to stay, now both his parents are gone. I believe many more will want to accompany us. We’ll seek shelter in monasteries and abbeys along the way. We can make a new life in the Marches. From what I hear, your valiant Norman protector, the Earl of Ellesmere has the area under control, and you’ve said yourself his stewards have kept up Shelfhoc.”
“Yes,” Ascha whispered.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it? The Normans stole everything from us, yet it’s thanks to a Norman we have a manor to return to in England. I’ll set about organizing our departure.”
Ascha looked around, her eyes wandering over the furnishings, the drapery, the warm wooden panelling. “What about this house? Can we sell it?”
Caedmon clenched his jaw. This was the only home he’d ever known. “We can try. I’ll speak to some people at Court. Though in these unsettled times—”
He pondered the possibilities. “Edgar Beasant might be interested. He’s decided to stay here, and has mentioned buying a house for Kendra and Eivind, now they’re married.” He shook his head. “What is Eivind thinking? Being married to Kendra would drive me mad.”
“Perhaps he loves her,” his mother said.
Caedmon shook his head. “Eivind isn’t a man who would marry for love.”
“Not like you, my son? Will you not choose a
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