Runes and Red Sails (Queenmaker Book 1)(4)

“Aelf…,” he managed.

She came to his aid. “Aelfhild, Eorl Cuthbert. We have met many times.”

“Aelfhild!” he exclaimed, overjoyed by the small victory. “Sit, Aelfhild! Feast!”

Although tempted to check on her mistress, Aelfhild could not deny that the aroma of the Eorl’s table had reminded her of just how little she had eaten in the past few days. The smell of charred meat and crusty loaves set her stomach to rumbling. She took the offered seat and set about the table. The Eorl resumed whatever story he had been in the midst of telling when Ceolwen and Aelfhild interrupted. His warriors humored him without paying much attention; it was a hunting story which Aelfhild could not possibly have followed even if she had been of a mind to, full as it was of broken spears and charging bears and drunken digressions. The warriors looked unimpressed, and she doubted this was the story’s first telling.

Aelfhild ate to bursting. The Eorl seemed to have mostly forgotten about her so she was left in peace. Cuthbert careened from jovial to mournful, booming peals of laughter changing to snuffling tears with little warning. His arms were a constant danger, waving to and fro as he told increasingly tall tales. He did not seem to care that his men had either stopped listening or fallen asleep long ago.

After a sustained attack on the spread, Aelfhild pushed back her plate and looked around the hall. It was a home, unlike the Great Hall. None of the gaudy hangings, the gilding or the jewels, but bare beams carved with whorls and spirals that ran up into the rafters where smoked meats hung to cure. The benches that lined the walls were piled with furs, and dancing light from the hearth filled the hall. It was a place for drinking and dancing, songs and feasts.

If this had been what Osric had offered her, she might have been tempted. But his world was all blood and gold.

There was a brief pang of guilt. She had not told Ceolwen about Osric’s offer. Other things weighed on her mistress’ mind, no doubt, but that was not the reason. Of course, she had never considered going to Osric. Not even for a moment; this she was sure of. But she had hesitated, and that worried her. Each time she resolved to get up and tell Ceolwen what had happened, her legs were leaden.

A heavy hand fell upon her shoulder, and she jumped. She turned to face Cuthbert’s bloodshot eyes.

“No shame in worrying on days like this, girl.” The Eorl looked ready to drop. “All will be well, I promise.” Cuthbert seemed certain, but Aelfhild struggled to believe him.

The Eorl’s warriors had all retired to their benches along the walls where they lay snorting and snuffling amongst piles of furs and blankets, except for one boy whose head rested soundly on the table. Someone had placed a blanket over his shoulders and taken the drinking horn from his hand. A puddle of drool gathered beneath his cheek, but he slept on, oblivious to all.

Cuthbert, hand on Aelfhild’s shoulder, squinted at her as though trying to discern which one of several Aelfhilds he ought to address. “Sleep, child; we shall be busy tomorrow.” He stumbled off toward his bed at the far end of the hall. A dull thud signaled that he might have found the floor instead, but it would likely be of little difference to him.

Aelfhild went back to the chamber prepared for her and Ceolwen. She hesitated outside the curtain, running through her defense once more in her head.

Ceolwen’s back was to her as she entered, the parted curtain allowing in traces of firelight.

“Still awake, lady?”

“I am too tired to sleep.”

Aelfhild sat down beside her mistress. “There was something I needed to tell you.” She picked at the front of her dress, stalling. “When Osric spoke to me earlier, I told you it was nothing. That was not true.”

“He asked you to betray me?”

Aelfhild’s face burned. Of course she had known. “Yes.”

Ceolwen turned to her. “Did you agree?” It was hard to tell in the dark, but Aelfhild thought she detected a grin.

“Of course not!” She bristled, ready to defend her innocence to the last. Ceolwen laughed, and Aelfhild’s chest deflated.

“Aela, I trust you with my life. I know you.” She squeezed Aelfhild’s hand. “Did he at least offer you something worth your trouble?”

This was not how the talk had gone in Aelfhild’s mind, but her stomach began to unknot. “He did not name a price, but he did mention something about a king’s favor.”

Ceolwen whistled. “Well, that must be worth something.” She bumped her shoulder against Aelfhild’s and they both giggled.

Then there was silence in the dark for a long while.

“What will happen to us, lady?”

“I do not know, Aela. But I do know that we can trust Cuthbert. We build from there.”

“Three of us against the world, lady. For now.”

“For now.” Ceolwen laughed at that, and said, “Osric had best be careful.”





3

Cuthbert and his warriors were gone long before Aelfhild was up and about, and she had little idea how the old bear had managed it. A fine skill for an Eorl, she thought, to tap the mead cask late into the night and rise early enough for battle. These days the Eorls settled with words what their ancestors had used armies to do; King Osred had often called that his greatest gift to Earnfold. It was neater, certainly, but harder to do with a headache by Aelfhild’s estimation.