Read Online His Captive Lady by Carol Townend - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carol Townend
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Godwine's house in Southwark. That was where, as a boy, I originally met Thane Guthlac.'
Erica's eyes widened. 'Did you meet King Harold, too?'
Again, Wulf took his time answering. In the hall, the noise was lessening, save for the clatter and bang of trestles and benches as they were pushed back to the wall to make room for sleeping.
'Yes, but I do not like to talk of those days,' he said in a closed voice, and bent over his cross-gartering.
Erica nodded. She understood; she felt the same way herself. She also had met King Harold, both when he was an earl and, later, when he had been king. And, yes, it was indeed painful to recall former times, when a Saxon king sat on the throne of England, and when William of Normandy was but a minor princeling on the other side of the Narrow Sea. 'We all wish King William in hell,' she said. 'What loyal Saxon would not?'
Wulf shot her an impenetrable look and set the leg bindings aside. 'Goodnight, my lady.'
'Goodnight.'
Settling down once more on his cloak, Erica composed herself for sleep.
Chapter Six
E rica drifted awake some time in the dead of night, uncertain as to what had woken her. The lamp was smoking, its light was feeble, but there was enough of it to ward off her fear of the dark. Indeed, it was surprising that she had actually slept, for sleep had been elusive since coming to the fens. She had been ill at ease every moment since leaving Whitecliffe, even when among her men, yet sleep had taken her here in the heart of Guthlac's castle; it was very odd.
The smoke from the lamp was twisting upwards in a lazy spiral when she became aware that the barrel was no longer blocking the storeroom entrance and the door was ajar. She was alone!
Heart in her mouth, Erica bolted upright, clutching her cloak to her breast. Soft footsteps approached. The door creaked wide and a tall, broad-shouldered figure stooped to enter.
'Wulf!' The relief was so intense she almost laughed. 'Where have you been?'
'Did you think that I had abandoned you?'
Slowly she shook her head.
A dark brow lifted; it told her he thought her a very poor liar. 'You have my cloak, I was cold,' he said, showing her the blankets he was carrying. 'Go back to sleep.' He rolled the barrel back in front of the door.
'I was right to choose you, Wulf Brader,' she murmured as--wonder of wonders--sleep came to take her a second time.
Wulf stared into the flickering half-light created by the lamp. God, but these boards were hard as iron and just as cold, he thought, as he tried to find a more comfortable position. The lady considered that she had been right to choose him. Hah! If only she knew what she had chosen. Never mind that she was apparently bedded down with one of Guthlac's men--how would she react if she knew the whole truth? If she knew that Wulf was a Norman captain? What had she said--that she wished King William in hell? Hell indeed, Wulf thought, wearily scrubbing his face.
He wished he were a thousand miles away or, at the very least, back at the temporary Norman garrison that had been thrown up at Ely. He wished he had been given another commission, any commission, as long as it did not involve betraying Saxons or meeting a brave and beautiful thane's daughter who compelled him to help against his better interests.
Thankfully, with Lady Erica saved from real disparagement, he should be able to report to De Warenne's man and, with luck, return to the Norman base at Ely. Archers, he had decided, archers would be key to any successful attack on Thane Guthlac.
Meanwhile Lady Erica lay happily ensconced in his cloak, a small bump in the gloom, her breathing soft and even. Heaven help her, she trusted him. Given the precariousness of her position as the daughter of Guthlac's sworn enemy, that was nothing short of miraculous. He permitted himself the luxury of savouring that thought. She, a Saxon noblewoman, trusted Saewulf Brader--now there was a novelty. It was too dark for him to make out her
Erica's eyes widened. 'Did you meet King Harold, too?'
Again, Wulf took his time answering. In the hall, the noise was lessening, save for the clatter and bang of trestles and benches as they were pushed back to the wall to make room for sleeping.
'Yes, but I do not like to talk of those days,' he said in a closed voice, and bent over his cross-gartering.
Erica nodded. She understood; she felt the same way herself. She also had met King Harold, both when he was an earl and, later, when he had been king. And, yes, it was indeed painful to recall former times, when a Saxon king sat on the throne of England, and when William of Normandy was but a minor princeling on the other side of the Narrow Sea. 'We all wish King William in hell,' she said. 'What loyal Saxon would not?'
Wulf shot her an impenetrable look and set the leg bindings aside. 'Goodnight, my lady.'
'Goodnight.'
Settling down once more on his cloak, Erica composed herself for sleep.
Chapter Six
E rica drifted awake some time in the dead of night, uncertain as to what had woken her. The lamp was smoking, its light was feeble, but there was enough of it to ward off her fear of the dark. Indeed, it was surprising that she had actually slept, for sleep had been elusive since coming to the fens. She had been ill at ease every moment since leaving Whitecliffe, even when among her men, yet sleep had taken her here in the heart of Guthlac's castle; it was very odd.
The smoke from the lamp was twisting upwards in a lazy spiral when she became aware that the barrel was no longer blocking the storeroom entrance and the door was ajar. She was alone!
Heart in her mouth, Erica bolted upright, clutching her cloak to her breast. Soft footsteps approached. The door creaked wide and a tall, broad-shouldered figure stooped to enter.
'Wulf!' The relief was so intense she almost laughed. 'Where have you been?'
'Did you think that I had abandoned you?'
Slowly she shook her head.
A dark brow lifted; it told her he thought her a very poor liar. 'You have my cloak, I was cold,' he said, showing her the blankets he was carrying. 'Go back to sleep.' He rolled the barrel back in front of the door.
'I was right to choose you, Wulf Brader,' she murmured as--wonder of wonders--sleep came to take her a second time.
Wulf stared into the flickering half-light created by the lamp. God, but these boards were hard as iron and just as cold, he thought, as he tried to find a more comfortable position. The lady considered that she had been right to choose him. Hah! If only she knew what she had chosen. Never mind that she was apparently bedded down with one of Guthlac's men--how would she react if she knew the whole truth? If she knew that Wulf was a Norman captain? What had she said--that she wished King William in hell? Hell indeed, Wulf thought, wearily scrubbing his face.
He wished he were a thousand miles away or, at the very least, back at the temporary Norman garrison that had been thrown up at Ely. He wished he had been given another commission, any commission, as long as it did not involve betraying Saxons or meeting a brave and beautiful thane's daughter who compelled him to help against his better interests.
Thankfully, with Lady Erica saved from real disparagement, he should be able to report to De Warenne's man and, with luck, return to the Norman base at Ely. Archers, he had decided, archers would be key to any successful attack on Thane Guthlac.
Meanwhile Lady Erica lay happily ensconced in his cloak, a small bump in the gloom, her breathing soft and even. Heaven help her, she trusted him. Given the precariousness of her position as the daughter of Guthlac's sworn enemy, that was nothing short of miraculous. He permitted himself the luxury of savouring that thought. She, a Saxon noblewoman, trusted Saewulf Brader--now there was a novelty. It was too dark for him to make out her
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