A Man of Value (6 page)

Ascha put her hand on his arm. “You would rather stay home and pine for your Agneta. There will be many young women happy to see you tonight. They’ll take your mind off Agneta. You need to get on with life and start a family.”

He shrugged. “It will be good to see Leofric. He’ll be there, won’t he?”

Ascha hesitated. “Yes, but he’s changed, Caedmon. Be prepared. He didn’t return whole from Alnwick. I don’t want to say too much. He’s your friend. He’ll be glad to see you.”

Caedmon nodded. “It’s a pity the celebrations aren’t being held at Court.”

Enid fastened Ascha’s cloak around her. “Thank you, Enid. It’s a hostile place for us now, unfortunately. We’ll all feel safer and more welcome at the home of the Beasants. They have plenty of room for the few of us that are left.”

The torchbearers were waiting, sent from the Beasants to accompany them, and they made their way on foot the short distance to their destination.

Caedmon couldn’t conceal his shock when he saw his old friend, Leofric Deacon. The once burly, jovial and handsome lad had become a gaunt shadow of his former self. His right ear was gone, his right eye covered by a patch. The mutilated side of his face bore a thick, heavy scar from his hairline, through his eyebrow to his chin. It had twisted his mouth into a permanent grimace.

“Leofric, old friend,” Caedmon rasped, extending his hand.

Leofric’s gloved right hand remained at his side, but he offered his left to Caedmon. “Sorry, Caedmon, my right hand doesn’t work well. Godemite, it’s good to see you, even with one eye.”

The two men embraced. Caedmon could barely speak, imagining the horror his friend had suffered. “Leofric,” he managed. “How did you survive these wounds and get back here?”

“I was lucky. Eivind helped me. His injuries weren’t as serious. You’ll see him later, I’m sure. He looked for you without success, and, to be frank, I was in no fit state.”

“I was found under another man’s body. Wyvern drew their attention to me. What happened to your hand?”

Leofric shrugged. “Burns. You don’t want to see. It’s not a pretty sight. Ah, here comes your mother, with Kendra Beasant in tow. Lady Ascha will no doubt be busy trying to find a wife for you.”

Caedmon turned his mouth down at the corners and shook his head. “I’m not interested in Kendra.”

Leofric slapped Caedmon on the back and chuckled. “Why not? She’s a beauty. Look at those breasts! What I wouldn’t give to be suckling on those, wrapped in her long blonde tresses. She always did prefer you.”

“Leofric, how nice to see you,” Lady Ascha said when she and her companion reached them.

Leofric nodded and kissed Lady Ascha’s hand. “Lady Ascha.”

“Caedmon, you remember Lady Kendra?”

Caedmon turned to the well-endowed girl he remembered as empty headed. He forced a smile. “Yes, of course. Lady Kendra, I’m glad to see you again.”

Kendra gave him her hand and curtseyed. He bowed and helped her to rise. When she didn’t remove her hand from his, he felt obliged to give it a perfunctory kiss. She blushed. “We’re all ecstatic to see you safely returned, Sir Caedmon. When we believed you were dead, it was a great loss for all Saxons. I myself cried every night for sennights.”

She still hadn’t removed her hand and her bountiful breasts were thrust towards him. Leofric stifled a chuckle. “I’m flattered, Lady Kendra. I’m sure there was much weeping for all the brave Saxon knights who didn’t return from Northumbria.”

He dropped Kendra’s hand and turned to his friend. “Leofric, who else came back?”

He didn’t want to continue the conversation with Kendra. He was sorry to disappoint his mother, but he would much prefer to talk with Leofric and seek out old comrades. However, Lady Kendra wasn’t easily put off. “Eivind Brede, of course. He was heroic, dragging poor Leofric back.”

Leofric winced. His mother reddened.

“Bernhard Blakemore has a nasty scar, though not as bad as Leofric’s, and Dalston Garthside seems to have gone a little bit mad. Thomas Chadwicke’s broken arm wasn’t set right and looks strange, and—”

“Yes, Lady Kendra,” Ascha interrupted. “I’m sure Leofric will make sure Caedmon sees his old comrades again. They too will be anxious to see him. Here comes Eivind now.”

Thank you mother.

Eivind strode over to Caedmon and embraced him warmly. “Caedmon.
Oli Crosse
. It’s good to see you.”

Caedmon slapped his old friend on the back. “Eivind. I never thought to see your ugly face again.”

“Aye. Uglier now with this cursed scar. But I was lucky.” He glanced at Leofric. “I’m sorry we left you behind, Caedmon. We truly thought you must be dead. We didn’t have much time to hunt for you. The Normans were making sure no survivors left that bloody field. If it hadn’t been for the heavy mist, none of us would have made it back.”

Caedmon nodded. “I understand, Eivind. I wouldn’t have expected you to risk your lives looking for me.”

“How did you manage to survive?”

Caedmon told the story of how he’d been found and nursed back to health. Kendra made her excuses part way through the story, giving the excuse she had to greet guests as her father’s hostess. Ascha shook her head and followed her.

Caedmon breathed a sigh of relief and winked at Leofric. “Did anyone see Malcolm fall?”

They all looked at their feet.

“No, but I saw his son Edward die at the hands of the Earl,” Leofric murmured. “I was distraught and took my attention off protecting myself, and—well—you see the results. Anyway, back to this nun you talked about in such glowing terms.”

Caedmon felt his face redden. “She was a special person. If she wasn’t a nun—”

“Ho, ho. Our friend Caedmon has fallen in love at last.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

It seemed to Caedmon his mother would never run out of candidates for him to consider as his wife. For four months she arranged chance meetings. He’d known these women for years, grown up with most of them, and his heart told him he didn’t want to spend his life with any of them.

Lady Ascha often voiced her opinions of his attitude at table as they supped. “But they were girls then, Caedmon. They’re women now. Some of them lovely women. Kendra isn’t suitable, but Aediva Newberry cares for you, and—”

Caedmon bristled. “Mother, please. Aediva is sweet. She will make someone a wonderful wife, but that someone isn’t me. Please stop trying to marry me off.”

Ascha ate some of her pigeon pie. He expected she would try again. “I don’t want you to be alone, Caedmon. I won’t be here forever.”

“I would rather be alone than spend my life with a woman I don’t care for.”

“But you care for Aediva.”

The pie had suddenly lost its taste. “Not that way.”

“You mean the way you care for Agneta, your little nun?”

“Aye,” he replied wistfully, excusing himself from the table.

He complained to Leofric one day as they shared a jug of ale.

“Tell someone who cares,” his friend retorted jovially. “You’re surrounded by beautiful women, all lusting for you and you don’t want any of them. None of them take a second look at me. I’m too repulsive. No woman wants to wed a monster.”

Caedmon felt great sorrow for his friend, who’d been such a handsome knight, before Alnwick.

Perhaps I’m being too selfish, wanting too much. But—Agneta.

“I know, I’m selfish, but Agneta is special.”

“You spent little time with her, during most of which you didn’t know your own name. From what you’ve told me, she isn’t likely to want to marry you after what we did at Bolton.”

Leofric was the only other person aware Agneta had seen them at Kirkthwaite Hall.

The alehouse was full and noisy, and Caedmon had to shout to be heard. “I helped to destroy her life, Leofric. I owe her.”

Leofric shook his head, and cupped his hand to his mouth. “But that doesn’t mean you have to marry her.”

Suddenly there was a lull in the noise. People were staring at them. Caedmon gazed into his tankard, feeling his face redden. “I don’t want anyone else. It’s much more than that. She haunts my dreams. I’m obsessed with her.” He took a long swig of his ale.

“I dream of a woman too,” Leofric said wistfully, then stopped, and looked warily at Caedmon, whose attention was abruptly on him.

“Who?”

“It’s of no importance. It was before—this.” He indicated his disfigurement with his gloved hand.

“Did she care for you—before?”

“Aye. But that’s the past. This is the reality. I’ve come to accept I’ll be alone. But
you
don’t have to be. Marry one of these hearty Saxon wenches, and live happily ever after. I’ll be
Uncle
Leofric to your many offspring.” He clinked his tankard against Caedmon’s.

“I suppose—”

Their conversation was interrupted by loud shouts from the street. “Siege! An army at the gates! Normans!”

The two friends jumped to their feet and ran out of the alehouse. Panicked people scattered hither and thither. Caedmon grabbed a boy by the arm as he ran by. “What’s the alarm? What’s happening?”

The lad tried to pull away, on the verge of tears. “The city’s under siege. Let me go, I beg you, sir.”

Caedmon clamped his hand tighter. “Be calm. Tell me who is laying siege.” He already had an idea who it might be. Rumours had been rampant for weeks that one of Malcolm
Cenn Mór’s
sons would try to wrest the throne from Donald
Bán
.

“They say it’s Duncan, son of our good King Malcolm, and his first Queen, Ingibiorg. He has a mighty army with him, Normans and Northumbrians.”

“Normans?” Leofric exclaimed.

“Northumbrians?” Caedmon said quietly. He let go of the boy’s arm and the urchin sped away. “We’ll go to my mother’s house, Leofric. Saxons must decide what to do in the face of this new threat. Our decisions now could be crucial to our future here. Edwinesburh has suddenly become a more dangerous place.”

When they arrived home, Enid told them Lady Ascha had already gone to the Beasant home where most Saxons were gathering. They followed her there.

Edgar Beasant addressed a restive crowd. “It appears Duncan is in league with his half brother, Edmund, son of Malcolm
Cenn Mór
and Margaret. As you know, Edmund fled to England when Donald
Bán
seized the throne. Now King William Rufus is aiding him in this bid to wrest the throne from Donald.”

Caedmon wished he could get his mother’s attention across the crowded room. “This is a kettle of stinking fish,” he exclaimed to Leofric. “Malcolm and Rufus were bitter enemies, and now Rufus is helping Malcolm’s two sons.”

“Where does that leave us?” Leofric wondered aloud.

Beasant had continued speaking. “It’s my opinion that for the moment we do nothing. The siege may not be successful. If Duncan and Edmund do succeed in taking the throne from Donald
Bán
, I suggest we form an emissary committee to convey our assurance of support.”

“Aye,” everyone shouted.

“I will volunteer to head the Emissary Committee, but we need younger men, young knights.”

“Caedmon Woolgar,” someone shouted.

Caedmon’s mother scanned the hall for a glimpse of him.

“Sir Caedmon, are you willing?” Beasant asked.

Ascha’s eyes found his. She hesitated, then nodded slightly.

He nodded back, heartened by the pride in her eyes. “Aye. Willing. I propose Sir Leofric Deacon, a knight who sacrificed much for Duncan and Edmund’s father, Malcolm
Cenn Mór
.

“Sir Leofric, are you willing?”

Leofric didn’t hesitate, only nodded to Caedmon. “Aye. Willing.”

“Any other names to propose?”

There was a pause. People murmured quietly, shaking heads.

“Hearing none, settled then. Sir Caedmon and Sir Leofric. If you please. My library, forthwith.”

Caedmon liked the look of pride on Leofric’s face, instead of the desolation he usually saw there.

~~~

After Caedmon’s departure, life in the convent became a numbing, monotonous round for Agneta. She’d previously taken secret delight in being able to use her work in the Infirmary as an excuse not to attend all the recitations of divine office required of the other novices. Now, despite the fact she’d been appointed Infirmarian and given full control, she determined to be present at all the services, unless it was a matter of life and death in the Infirmary.

She was determined to banish thoughts of Caedmon from her life. First up for Lauds at two hours after midnight, she went back to her pallet in the dormitory after that, until first light when she rose for a breakfast of bread and ale. If all was in order in the Infirmary, she offered assistance to the Sacrist with the books, vestments and vessels.

After Prime she met with other nuns in the chapter house where chapters from the Bible or the writings of saints were read out. Then it was Tierce, after which she worked in the hospital, or helped with the washing or cooking. She learned how to make wine, ale and honey, and as the spring of the Year of Our Lord One Thousand and Ninety Four arrived, assisted with the planting of vegetables and herbs.

She often struggled to stay awake during the service of Sext at midday, but the dinner served after that revived her somewhat, and she went back to work until Nones, three hours later, then Vespers two hours after that, and finally Compline. She rarely had any idea of what was served at the light supper served between Nones and Vespers.

As the days passed, the round became a daily grind, Lauds, breakfast, work, Prime, work, Tierce, work, Nones, Vespers, work, Compline, work, work, work, sleep, work. After Compline she collapsed, exhausted, onto her pallet. She came to an understanding of why nuns were detached. They were too numbed by fatigue to feel anything.

Yet, every night, Caedmon came to her.

I want to warm you forever.

He pulled her body against his.

I have to tell you—I took part in the raid on Bolton.

In her dreams he cradled her dead brother, practiced with his sword, held his helmet on his belly, crowded her in the oxcart, breathed his warmth breath on her, brushed his lips against hers, looked up at her hiding place in the barn.