Brandewyne, Rebecca (44 page)

Wulfgar
went crazy then. Rhowenna could feel the murderous rage that rolled up inside
him, so that despite his bonds, he lunged forward wildly, like some savage
predator, snarling and tearing free of the men who restrained him, as though,
with his teeth alone, he would rip out Ivar's jugular vein. Even Ivar took a
hasty step back from those blazing blue eyes that burned to his very soul, and
jabbed the point of his weapon warningly against Wulfgar's throat, cutting open
a small wound that trickled blood.

"Careful,
Wulfgar— or you die this moment, with your wife still alive and at my tender
mercy. Or mayhap I'll simply slay her and your babe both, right here and
now."

This
last threat, especially, was enough to make Wulfgar go absolutely still, his
breath coming in hard rasps, his eyes like blue flame. Slowly, tangling his
hand roughly in her hair to hold her still, while Wulfgar watched powerlessly,
Ivar bent and kissed Rhowenna full on the mouth, his tongue forcing her lips to
part. She did not struggle, she did not move, she did not breathe, knowing that
while a woman might not call her body her own if a man were bent on taking it
by force, her heart, her mind, and her soul were hers alone for the giving. And
those things, Ivar
the Boneless would not have of her; those things, he would not even touch
within her, so wholly were they Wulfgar's— and his alone. When, finally, Ivar
released her, puzzled and angered by her lack of fight, he said:

"By
the gods, 'tis not royal blood, but tepid water that runs in your veins, lady!
Morgen the maid had a good deal more spirit and backbone than you, I
swear!"

"That
is because you do not understand quiet courage, Viking, or inner
strength." Prince Cerdic spoke again at that. He had remained silent
before, the better to raise the odds of his not drawing Ivar's attention
further to himself, thereby spinning out the thread of his precarious existence
a little longer than it might otherwise have been. "My lady," he
continued to Rhowenna, "once, I would have bid you welcome here; now, I
can only bid you farewell, and for that, I am sorry. Had I laid eyes on your
beauty ere you were kidnapped from Usk, I would have paid all your ransom
demanded, and more. Instead, I did you a great wrong, which has brought you to
this pass, and I regret it more deeply than I can say. I've no right to ask—
but since I go this day to meet my Maker, in Heaven, and would stand before Him
with a clear conscience, I do crave pardon and beg you to forgive me
for my
transgression against you."

As
she gazed at Cerdic kneeling before the block, Rhowenna thought that but for
his own avarice and a trick of fate, he, not Wulfgar, would be her husband; and
while Cerdic was handsome enough in the same dark fashion Aella of Northumbria
had been, with his short-cropped hair and beard, still, she had grown
accustomed to a long tawny mane of hair on a man and a smooth-shaven face
against her skin.

"I
forgive you, my lord," she said to Cerdic, "for your loss was my
gain, and so I am the richer for it."

"Then
there is one thing more I would beg of you, and that is this: one kiss from
your sweet scarlet lips, fair lady, for your less-than-gallant betrothed, a
fleeting taste of what might have been had I not suffered my purse and my
ambition to rule me."

"Because
you are to die, I will grant what you ask, but only the kiss of peace, my lord,
and no more. For the rest belongs to him who is my gallant husband, to whom I
have gladly and willingly pledged my faithfulness and my heart."

"
'Tis enough, then; 'twill serve, my lady." And then, as Rhowenna solemnly
bent near to him, cupping his face to kiss first one cheek and then the other,
Cerdic whispered quietly
but urgently in her ear, "There is one thing, at least, that I can offer
you, my lady, and for my soul's sake, so I will before I die. Beware the
priest! He is a traitor to your people, a Judas whose treacherous soul I bought
with thirty pieces of silver from my purse. 'Twas through him that I learned
how best to lay the trap I used to strike at your father, Pendragon, in the
hope of winning Usk for my own, thence to march upon the whole of Walas and
proclaim myself its king. And when the attempt upon Pendragon's life failed,
'twas Cadwyr who counseled your father to betroth you to me, that I might gain
by marriage what I could not seize by force; and in this way did I seek to use
my poor, innocent, goodhearted sister, also. Now I am punished, fallen prey to
men even more ambitious than I, such is the nature of man, a savage and
predatory beast. Still, I think I might have loved you in the end."

As
she stepped back from Cerdic, Rhowenna did not dare to glance at Father Cadwyr,
for fear of what he would see upon her face, in her eyes, such was the anger
that churned within her at the revelation of his betrayal of Usk, of her
father, of her. Trembling, she went to stand at Wulfgar's side, burying her
face against his chest as, at last, Ivar lifted his broadsword high and
then brought it
down with a single, swift, hard stroke to cut off Cerdic's head.

Mathilde's
screams filled the air as blood from her brother's body spurted on the floor,
spreading across the stones to seep into her gown. Mumbling pious platitudes,
Father Cadwyr moved to comfort her, while Ivar began issuing orders to secure
the royal manor and the prisoners. Struggling fiercely, Wulfgar was taken away
to the dungeon, while Rhowenna and Mathilde were confined to a tower, with
Yelkei being sent to attend them. Mathilde, a gentle woman, lay on the bed
there, weeping hysterically until Yelkei gave her a potion that put her to
sleep. Then the spaewife said to Rhowenna:

"Lady,
'tis rumored that there is an army of Usk warriors marching toward Cerdic's
markland. It seems that lacking you as his bride, he instead betrothed his
sister to Gwydion, the king of Usk, and had already signed the necessary
scrolls and delivered to Gwydion her dowry when Ivar swooped to make war on
this stronghold. The princess Mathilde was to depart for Usk within the
fortnight. But instead of sending his sister, Cerdic was compelled to dispatch
a message to Usk, demanding men and arms to support him in his battle against
Ivar, as was agreed by the treaty Cerdic and Gwydion made between
them. The
missive reached Usk too late to be of any assistance to Cerdic; but 'tis
claimed that Gwydion means to have his bride ere returning home, that for her
sake, he'll not leave her to the mercy of the
Víkingrs;
and if that is
the case, then I have thought of a way in which to save you and your child from
Ivar the Boneless. So, do you listen sharp now, and hear my plan...."

* * * * *

The
deadly potion was bittersweet, and as she drank it down, Rhowenna could not
help but wonder with a deep shudder if it would, in fact, kill her and her
babe. All day long and well into the night, she had lain in the tower, moaning
and screaming, pretending to be in labor, terrified that she would actually
bring it on with her exertions— although Yelkei had told her that the draught
would delay the onslaught of childbirth. Now, as she felt the potion begin to
take effect, Rhowenna closed her eyes sleepily, drifting steadily downward,
toward a deep and dark unconsciousness, her last waking thoughts of the anguish
she must cause Wulfgar and whether she would ever see him again in this life.

* * * * *

"I
am sorry, Wulfgar," Yelkei whispered, and in her empathy, seeing the
torment upon
his handsome bronze face as he bent over Rhowenna's still and silent figure,
the spaewife had no need to feign the tears that streamed down her cheeks.
"I did everything I knew to do, but still, I could not save her. I have
seen it before: The hips of your lady wife were too small, and the child was
too large to travel through the narrow passage that leads into this world. She
and the babe are in Asgard now."

"Rhowenna
of Usk was not a pagan, but a Christian, old woman— and would even now be in
Heaven had you let me inside this tower to perform the necessary rites!"
Father Cadwyr glared at Yelkei malevolently. "Instead, she died
unshriven!"

"She
did not want you at her side, priest! She died calling not only on the
Christian God, but also on the gods of the Northland and other ancient gods,
whose names I had never heard before and so did not know. For she said that at
last, in her hour of darkness, she had come to understand that the one God was
the many, and that the many were the One, but that you, priest, served none
save the Devil and were a traitor to Usk and to your king!"

"Shut
your mouth, you evil old witch!" Father Cadwyr cried, and struck Yelkei
violently across the face, sending her sprawling
upon the floor, blood spurting
from her bottom lip.

Yelkei's
knife flashed in her hand then, but at that, Ivar spoke coldly:

"Priest,
from what little I know of the Christian God, you are a disgrace to your robes.
You've no respect for a man's tortured soul, or for the powers of a true
spaewife, either! Halfdan, take this miserable servant of Christendom out into
the courtyard, and hang him!"

"I
will, and with pleasure," Halfdan growled, grabbing hold of Father
Cadwyr's terrified, protesting figure and forcibly dragging him away.

Following
that, there was only silence in the tower, broken only by the sound of Wulfgar's
tormented, racking sobs as he held Rhowenna's limp body in his arms, cradling
her head against his chest, rocking her gently, and stroking her long, unbound
hair as though it were something very precious and very fine. Even Ivar was
still, unwillingly moved by this outpouring of love and grief; for although he
had known many emotions in his life, these two alone had surely eluded him, and
he envied Wulfgar them, despite the pain they had so obviously caused him.
After a long while, Yelkei murmured:

"The
last words of your lady wife were
of you, Wulfgar. She said that she
wished to be buried on the shores of Usk, from where you took her and where she
would wait until the end of time for you to come for her again."

"
'Twill be done, then. Gwydion of Usk arrives tomorrow morn, with the ransom he
is to pay for the princess Mathilde's release. When they leave, they may take
the body of your lady wife with them, Wulfgar, back to Usk," Ivar
declared. He was so distinctly troubled by Wulfgar's silence, by what he
glimpsed in Wulfgar's eyes, as though their vital flame had blown out, had been
forever extinguished, that he failed utterly to notice the faint, sly smile of
triumph that curved the corners of Yelkei's mouth.

* * * * *

"My
lady, art mad, in truth!" Gwydion cried as he stared at Mathilde, aghast.
"Ivar the Boneless did swear to me that you were yet chaste. But now I
think that the pagan bastard must have lied to me and that his rape of you has
unhinged your fragile woman's mind!"

"He
did not touch me, my lord," Mathilde insisted, with quiet fierceness.
"For when it seemed that he would do so, Rhowenna of Usk rose bravely to
stand between us. She looked him, unafraid, in the eye and said, 'Ivar, I had
not thought so, but art a fool
who does not learn from his mistakes?' And although
I knew not what she meant, he pondered her words, then laughed and said that he
was no fool, that he would get for me the purse he had not got for her. But we
are wasting time, my lord, when every moment is precious! Rhowenna is alive, I
tell you! But she shall surely die, in truth, if you do not pry up the lid on
her coffin so that she may breathe! Please, my lord, I beg of you! Oh,
please!"

Finally,
as they had just crossed over Offa's Dyke into Walas and so were no longer in
any immediate danger, Gwydion raised his hand to signal a halt to the men who
accompanied him. Then, dismounting, he walked back to the ox-cart in which lay
the wooden coffin that carried home to Usk the mortal remains of his beloved
kinswoman, Rhowenna. For an eternity, it seemed to Mathilde, he just stood
there, lost in reverie, his hand resting on the lid. On his face was such an
expression of sorrow that she understood that to him, Rhowenna had been more
than just a kinswoman, and her heart went out to him. Mathilde also knew that
Gwydion believed her mad. But then, as though he could not bear to throw away
the chance, the hope, however small, that she had spoken truly, he bade his men
force open
the lid on the coffin and then bent to gaze inside. So it came to pass that his
was the first face Rhowenna saw when, wakened from her now-natural slumber by
the noise of the hammers and the chisels, and the feeling upon her skin of the
heat of the bright summer sun, and of the caress of the sea-kissed wind, she slowly
opened her eyes.

"Gwydion!"
she breathed, hardly daring to believe that she was still alive, that he stood
before her in reality and not in a dream. Tears started in her eyes at the
realization. "Oh, Gwydion, at long last, after all this time, I have come
back to Usk!"

And
such was his joy at that, that it was some moments before he realized that the
last word she had whispered had been "Usk" and not "you."

The Reckoning

With
autumn nipping at their heels, the great
Víkingr
army marched
from Cerdic's principality back to Northumbria, to York, to reassert their
authority there over the Saxons who had defied them. Afterward, the
Víkingr
forces descended
again on East Anglia, where, at Thetford, they established a base to serve as
their winter quarters when the season came. Then, at Hoxne, they engaged and
defeated the troops of Edmund, the king of East Anglia who was later to become
a saint and martyr, and executed him; so it began to appear as though there
would not be a single king left in all of Christendom when Ivar had finished
carving out his own and greatest kingdom of all.