Lady of the Lake (8 page)

Eli cleared his throat. Rashid lifted his shoulders in a shrug. Who could answer the Wolf of Warwick’s questions? Neither of them.

Edon nodded, also stumped by the conundrum. “If all else fails, I’ll still have that bath, Eli.”

“As you wish, lord.” Eli grinned, pleased to hear a request that he could accomplish with alacrity.

“Tala, Tala! Look what we have found!” Lacey and Audrey ran up the grassy path to Tala’s pool, their voices high with the excitement of a new discovery. They burst into the clearing where Tala had gone to bathe in private, each carrying a bundle in their arms.

“What is it?” Tala quickly got to her feet, dressed in a sparkling clean gown, her wet hair hanging down her back, alarmed at what news the twins were bringing. “Is there something wrong? Are you hurt, my darlings?”

“Oh, no, Tala. Look what Lacey and I found in the woods this morning. Aren’t they the most beautiful animals you’ve ever seen in your life?”

Each golden-haired twin opened a soft flannel in her arms and revealed a small, white-furred animal shaking against the wadded cloth pressed to her unformed chest.

Tala frowned as she sank to one knee between the twins. “What kind of an animal is it?”

“I don’t know,” Lacey said solemnly. “Audrey doesn’t, either. We’ve never seen such a beast. But Tala, they’re so sweet and soft. Touch this one.”

“You can hold mine.” Audrey lifted her animal up by its very long ears and put it in Tala’s hands.

Tala inhaled, surprised by the tiny creature’s lack of weight and its incredible softness. It was no bigger than a kitten. “Why, it’s a tiny ball of fur. Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know that, either,” Audrey declared. Lacey nodded in agreement “But they are ever so dear, and twins, too, just like me and Lacey. We can’t tell them apart.”

“It isn’t a kitten or a puppy, but it is a baby. Oh, see how it wiggles its nose.” Tala rubbed the white animal against her cheek and crooned, “Oh, it’s sweet. Do you know what direction it came from? Tachbrook or Warwick?”

“No,” the twins said in unison. “They move funny.” Then the girls giggled and shouted together. “They hop. Hop, hop, hop!”

“Tegwin said we had to sacrifice them to Lugh at the feast of the first fruits,” Audrey said matter-of-factly. “He says that is why they were found at the lake. We don’t have to sacrifice them, do we, Tala? I’ve never seen a creature like this and neither has old Anna or Venn or Selwyn. I want to keep them.”

“Yes, please, can we keep them?” Lacey pleaded.

“Wait just a moment.” Tala held up both hands, begging for peace. “I don’t even know what kind of animal this is. Why, it could grow to be ferocious and huge.”

“Nothing this tiny could grow up to be ferocious. We will train them,” Audrey argued. “Isn’t that right, Lacey?”

“We’ll feed them and take them for walks in the forest and clean up any mess they make. We promise, Tala.
Please! Don’t let Tegwin take them to the altar over the fens. The Lady of the Lake has your torque now. She doesn’t need these little animals. Tegwin’s just mean.”

“Hush now. You’re not drawing me into that argument before I’ve had a chance to even think, my ladies. First we must learn more about this animal, what it is, what it eats and how big it gets when it is fully grown. I will not make any decision before I know the facts.”

“Oh, thank you!” Lacey threw one arm around Tala’s shoulders, hugging her. Then she thrust her furry creature in her sister’s face. “Give Tala a kiss, Honey.”

“You can’t name yours Honey. That’s what I’m going to name mine!” Audrey howled.

“Yes, she can.” Tala cut off that argument before they could even start. “Come, both of you, be quiet! You’ve disturbed the god of the pool quite enough for one afternoon. Let’s go back to the temple and see if we can find someone who knows what sort of animal these are.”

There were nearly a dozen people living at the lake, but none of them—not one single person—had ever seen such odd creatures with such long and strange ears before.

They weren’t shrews or muskrats or hedgehogs or cats or dogs or any kin of the foxes so numerous in the woods. They were pure white, like winter animals, made to blend into the snow.

Where they had come from when no such animal had ever existed in Arden before, Tala wanted to know. Of course, there was one person she knew of who had brought a whole collection of strange animals to Warwick. Could these living fur balls belong to Lord Edon? If so, were they valuable and rare? Should she return them as soon as possible? Audrey and Lacey would be heartbroken if asked to part with the loving little creatures.

When Venn came back from hunting, he had another look at the tiny animals and a good laugh while watching them scamper about the lodge. They could jump quite far.
He told the twins they would be good sport for hunting and suggested they just turn them loose again, but the twins howled and would have nothing to do with that.

Just then Mother Wren came rushing into the glen, out of breath because she had hurried so fast. She had good news and bad news to impart. The good news was that the men of Wootton had come home, alive and well, freed of the yoke of Danish slavery.

“Well, most of them returned, I tell you.” Wren wagged her apron at her reddened cheeks. She gulped down the cup of water young Gwynnth handed her to quench her thirst. “Ah, it’s too hot for an old woman like me to be rushing about these woods, I tell you.”

“What is all this?” Tegwin demanded fiercely, scowling at Mother Wren as he came out of the vitrified temple and crossed the scythed grass to the hunting lodge. Wren’s wild tales always upset the sanctuary’s refugees or stirred up the old warriors to go out and make battle with the Vikings. “I’ve told you not to come here, old woman. One of these days a Dane will follow you, and then where will we be?” the druid complained.

“I didn’t come to speak to you, old man.” Mother Wren gave Tegwin equal measure. She turned and addressed her words to Tala, the rightful leader of the people of the grove. “The new jarl, Edon, went down to the quarry in a fury yester morn. Did you know, Tala, that his name, Edon, means wolf cub in the Viking tongue? Why, he spoke to every thrall, asking their names and making a list of their crimes, demanding to know all sorts of things. Where they were from and who their liege was.”

The woman paused to take a deep breath and again flap her apron at her ruddy face. Then she reached out and pinched Venn’s cheek, laughing gleefully. “Can ye guess what they told him? Nay, you cannot! To a man they told Lord Wolf their liege was the atheling of Leam, they did,
my boy! When he heard that, the Wolf of Warwick had all their chains cut off and set them free.”

“He did not,” Tegwin thundered, beside himself. The interfering old biddy couldn’t have told the Vikings the atheling lived! Not when Tegwin had informed Embla Silver Throat otherwise.

“Aye, he did!” Wren chortled. “And he promised each one their cottage and their land back, too!”

“You are lying,” Tegwin declared, stamping his blackthorn staff on the stones at his feet. “The woman’s addled. The sun has gone to her head. No Viking would free a thrall.”

“By Anu’s wrath, I am not addled!” Mother Wren declared. “I heard it true from Alwin, who witnessed every word. He told it to me and Alice of the Yellow Glen. The new lord is a force to be reckoned with, he is, this Wolf of Warwick.”

That brought a racket of questions and declarations from all the people of Arden Wood. Many had strange observations of their own to add to the mystery of the new jarl at Warwick. Some claimed to have seen a dragon slithering across the floor of a byre, longer than the tallest Viking in Warwick, Carl of York.

Two children had been freed that very morning and had come running to the grove, seeking their parents. They held everyone’s attention, recounting the death of Asgart the Horrible. The smallest even claimed to have heard Jarl Edon order Lady Embla to tend her looms. The very idea of Embla Silver Throat working a loom made every soul in Arden Wood laugh uproariously. Embla Silver Throat wouldn’t know a warp from a woof or needle from thread.

Mother Wren was distracted from the gossip by the twins and their new pets. “Upon my word, Princesses, where’d you get those animals? There be two tasty morsels, I vow.”

“We found them.” Audrey did not offer Mother Wren
her animal; neither did Lacey. Anything that could be skinned and boiled usually wound up in Mother Wren’s pots, they well knew.

“I imagine Embla Silver Throat had something to say about the jarl’s largess,” Tala ventured, bringing the topic back on course.

“Now there’s a question,” Mother Wren cackled. “I haven’t heard a peep from Warwick all day, but you can lay odds that Embla is stewing for revenge. May she end up like Asgart the Horrible. He stuck his big nose in where it weren’t wanted and
wheest!
Off went his head! He’d make good boiling in my black pot, he would!”

The twins screamed when the crone slashed a quick hand on their direction. They jumped back to the safety of Tala’s skirts.

“Wheest,
you old fool!” Tegwin snarled, shaking so hard that his long white beard wagged back and forth across his belly. “Dare you come here scaring the princesses, stirring up troubles with your tales and stories? Get you back to Wootton! Come here again and I will curse your garden with a rain of frogs.”

“Curse me with a rain of frogs, Druid, and I will set an army of black ants to plague you!” Wren made a hex sign.

“Tegwin! Wren!” Tala commanded sharply. “That’s enough, both of you! ‘Tis good news Mother Wren has brought, if it is true. Come, Mother Wren, I’ll fix you a chamomile tea to soothe your tempers. The day is hot and you’ve had a long walk.”

“‘Tis true. Every word, I vow,” Wren declared. She got her feet moving, accompanying Tala inside the lodge. She had saved her bad news for Tala’s ears alone. Better that the people of Leam rejoice over the good than mourn the bad. “You’ll have to come and see the men for yourself, I imagine, my lady,”

“Aye, I expect I will,” Tala said plainly, not caring if Tegwin liked that idea or not. He was the keeper of the
temple, not her keeper. And he had no right to call Mother Wren a liar; for all they knew every word she had said could be true.

“Tala, where is Gwynnth?” Venn asked before his elder sister went inside the hunting lodge with the old crone.

Tala stopped on the steps, letting Mother Wren grip her arm for support. She looked at her people, returning to their chores. “Gwynnth was here a moment ago.”

“Aye, she was. She gave me a cup of cool water for my throat.” Mother Wren nodded her white head vigorously.

Tala looked in the open doors of the hall, then back at the grove and the lake. Then she pointed to the causeway. “There she is, Venn. She’s probably going to bathe and wash her hair at my pool. Lacey, Audrey, put those animals in a cage! I don’t want them running loose, under everyone’s feet.”

Venn gazed at the small figure on the causeway. Something wasn’t right. Tala might go off alone to her pool, but that was because she was a woman grown and required her privacy. The younger princesses were always accompanied by someone—nurses or warriors who could protect them. And why would Gwynnth go the long way to Tala’s pool?

Venn decided this was good opportunity for him to exert his own independence and authority. Tala was clearly more concerned with wresting information about the jarl from Mother Wren. Gwynnth was still a child. The woods could be dangerous for a girl wandering alone.

“My lord Venn,” Tegwin called to him, wagging his blackthorn staff, beckoning Venn inside the temple. Venn knew what that meant—more lessons. More hours spent reciting the same old tales over and over again. It was too hot to be trapped indoors. The sun was too bright, the day too perfect.

He shook his head and waved the old druid off. “Lessons can wait. I will return anon, Tegwin.”

Venn didn’t wait for a reply. He ran to the stable and let Taliesin out of his stall. Leaping onto the white stallion’s back, Venn galloped off, following his little sister into the fens.

A
private audience with Mother Wren convinced Tala that she must see for herself the damage done to the village of Wootton. Nor would it hurt to discover the truth behind Wren’s claim that Leamurian thanes had been freed.

This time Tala wisely chose not to travel alone. She dressed with care to her station, donning her finest kirtle and a colorful, woven tunic that fell to her knees. With leggings and boots for comfortably riding astride, she took with her a guard of loyal warriors.

At Wootton, she found that seven of twenty freemen and one ealdorman had survived their arduous slavery in Embla’s quarry. They milled about, looking at the smoking ruins, quite disoriented for the moment.

They had lost wives and children and homes, but they stood before the princess of Leam as free men. Each longed to pick up his life and continue, as the stoic men of Leam had done for centuries. Grateful to be free of the bonds of slavery, they tempered their words to Princess Tala with hope.

The jarl of Warwick had spoken of a lasting peace and had promised them restitution for enforced service. Four had even agreed to continue to work at Edon’s quarry. Cutting the blocks of granite for his castle walls was to
their liking, as was the carving and sculpting of decorations upon cornerstones and fine lintels.

The jarl’s ambitious plans for his fortress intrigued Tala, as did his unexpected leniency to her people. Against the advice of her guard, she rode with them from Wootton to Warwick to seek out the jarl personally and speak to him. There was still the matter of the unsettled danegeld, as well as that of so many Danes taking up residence on land that belonged to Venn.

“Lady, you must not ride into Warwick alone. I cannot protect you if you do something so foolhardy,” Selwyn insisted, riding up beside her.

As the high walls of the wooden stockade at Warwick came into view, Tala had second thoughts. Three nights before, she had been very lucky…and very foolish to go alone to meet the Viking overlord. She drew up her palfrey and nodded at Selwyn, acknowledging his sound advice.

“‘Haps you are right, Selwyn. Go to the gate and give word to the jarl of Warwick that I would parley with him at King Offa’s oak, one hour before sunset. Say that he must come alone, else I will not appear.”

Selwyn considered her request before agreeing to it. Offa’s oak was within easy range of the forest. He could protect the princess there and successfully ambush any Danes. He rode quickly up to the gates of Warwick and delivered the princess’s message.

Rig was near the gates when the Leamurian warrior delivered his terse message. “Hold, sir. My lord would speak with you personally and hear the princess’s words. Wait and I will fetch him.”

Selwyn’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he held his restive horse still. Glaring fiercely at the young Viking, he decided that he could take the man and six more like him should they attempt to trick him. Selwyn drew his sword and gripped it easily in his hand. “I will wait a moment, no more. Run, Viking. Fetch your jarl to me.”

Rig did not waste time sparring. He ran to the keep, shouting for Edon, whom he knew was at his leisure within.

“What is it?” Edon was just coming downstairs from bathing and changing his clothes.

“There is a painted warrior at the gate. A Celt, lord, with a message from the princess. I detained him with a promise to speak directly to you. Will you come?”

“Aye.” Edon grinned, putting his hand out to Eli for his sword and his shield. As he descended the steps to the yard before the keep, Edon belted his scabbard at his hips. “What sort of paint does this warrior wear?”

“Wondrous paint.” Rig’s blue eyes snapped. “A falcon soars on his left shoulder and a snake twists down his sword arm.”

Edon’s step quickened as he rounded a byre and strode to the gate. “I am Edon, Jarl of Warwick,” he said the moment he spied the painted warrior seated on his horse.

“I am Selwyn of Learn.”

Edon planted his feet firmly on the dirt of Fosse Way, outside his secure gate. “You serve Tala ap Griffin?”

“I do.” Selwyn proudly allowed his horse to prance before the Viking, stirring the dust between them. The Viking was a giant among giants. Rumor was right. His hair was as black as Selwyn’s once had been, though the Viking wore it in a womanish way, unbound and free to tangle about his shoulders. Selwyn’s own great braid ran the length of his tattooed spine, a mark of his honor and courage.

“Well?” Edon put his fists to his hips, glaring at the mounted man. “What does her highness want?”

“To meet at the hour before sunset…at King Offa’s oak. Come alone, Viking, or she will not appear.” Selwyn delivered his terms and spurred his horse. The beast reared and pawed the air ferociously, then galloped off down the road. Selwyn’s scarlet cloak billowed behind him.

“It’s a trap,” Rig concluded, giving voice to alarms brewing inside him.

“Find someone who knows the location of King Offa’s oak,” Edon replied, his mind already made up. Trap or not, he would ride out to meet the princess. Theo’s predictions hung in his thoughts, warning him that the young woman was about to take flight. Going to parley with her might be his only chance to convince her to come willingly to Warwick. “You will follow me, of course, with Maynard and Thorulf, and Sarina must accompany me, but you will keep your distance, so that the princess doesn’t feel threatened.”

“In that case…” Rig flexed his shoulders and let his words trail off. No more needed to be said. Edon could handle a dozen men the age of the Celt. Sarina could handle their entire tribe.

They made haste to ride out, for sunset wasn’t that far off. Offa’s oak turned out to be the great tree they had paused at on the last leg of the journey to Warwick. Edon rode alone from the charred village of Wootton, with Sarina loping at Titan’s side.

With one glance back toward her soldiers hidden in the beech wood, Tala let her horse step onto Fosse Way. Her men would not be able to hear what she and the Dane talked about, but they were there if she needed them.

Smoking Wootton was upwind and uphill. The road descended steeply, so she had a clear view of the Viking jarl the moment he passed the smoldering cottages. The yapping of the village dogs alerted her that the wolf accompanied him.

She tightened her grip upon Ariel’s reins as they approached Offa’s oak. Ariel caught scent of the wolf and sidestepped, tossing her head anxiously. Tala caught a clear glimpse of the black scowl on the Viking’s face and knew a moment of fear. She gripped the reins tighter and gritted her teeth, telling herself she wasn’t a coward.

“That’s far enough, Viking!” she called out. “Come no closer, lest your wolf makes my horse bolt.”

“Is it the wolf that frightens you, Princess of Learn, or the wolfs master?” Edon drew Titan to a halt and snapped his fingers at Sarina. The wolfhound sat, casting an adoring look at Edon.

Thirty feet separated them, and Tala let out a sigh of relief. She ran her hand down Ariel’s withers, soothing her.

“Both,” she admitted, remembering his lips burning upon her body. The memory of how easily he’d overpowered her and used her struggles to his own advantage made a blush sweep up her cheeks. She would keep to the business between them this night—her land, her people and the wergild due her.

Edon scanned the tree and its vast canopy. Sarina’s alert pose and eyes directed toward the copse along the dried-up riverbed proved the princess’s guard hid there, a hundred yards away.

“You have nothing to fear. Meet me halfway so that we may speak to one another without shouting,” Edon commanded. “Sarina, stay.”

The wolfhound dropped her front paws to the earth and thumped her tail in the dirt. Edon rode forward slowly, his eyes never moving from Tala’s face.

Again her hair was neatly netted, and the lowering sun turned it to a crown of fire. Today a hammered gold band held the net in place, serving as a badge of rank. Her torque was gone from her throat, replaced by a pale ring of untanned skin.

“Good even, my lady.” Edon bowed graciously as their horses met nose-to-nose on the ancient road.

“Good even, Lord Edon.” Tala responded in kind, with courtesy learned at the kings’ courts. “You are very prompt.”

“What man would delay a moment longer than necessary for an assignation with you?”

“Only those with nothing to gain.”

“Or those whose blood no longer thickens at the sight of a beautiful woman. To what do I owe the pleasure of a private meeting?”

“I wanted to thank you for releasing my thanes. You move swiftly when the cause suits your purpose.”

“And what purpose is that, Lady? I gave you the terms of the kings’ will. The border is to be secured between the kingdoms, the sooner the better.”

“The border would be best secured by your withdrawal from Leam.”

“Is it penetration that is the issue between us?” Edon asked smoothly.

“I do not believe we shall ever come to terms upon that.” Tala’s chin lifted and she gazed steadily into his eyes. His innuendo came close to making her blush again, but she steeled herself to give away nothing. It came as a shock to realize again that those eyes of his were not brown but blue—so dark a blue they appeared almost black in the shade of the great oak tree. “Title to Warwick Hill is yours. I will no longer dispute that. But Leam is mine, the forest is mine. Wootton is in ashes. You gave me your word that the burning would stop.”

“So I did, Princess. I regret the loss of your village and am relieved to see that you were not injured in the fire,” Edon said sincerely. “It gave me great alarm when I was informed of the blaze. You led me to believe you were in the care of Wren of Wootton.”

Tala would leave him to believe she was in the care of every Leamurian alive before she admitted the truth—that she and her sisters and her brother no longer had any one place that they could truly call their home. What good did it do to cling to fortresses like her castle in Chester when there were not Leamurians enough to defend or protect it?

“Come with me to Warwick, Tala. We will sit down
and discuss my plans for Warwick and Leam. I will show you how our people can live together in peace.”

“Plans that include a marriage?” Tala said baldly. “I think not, Viking.”

The sharpness of her words struck a blow to Edon’s hard-won authority. Should he remind her that only he held the power of pit and gallows in Warwickshire? His next words were testy. “Are you not a ward of King Alfred of Wessex?”

“Alfred is guardian of Leam,” Tala answered calmly, making an effort not to react to the surliness inherent to his demand. “I owe the king little beyond the respect of his years. Only my father could order me to marry. Alfred cannot.”

How truly naive she was, Edon thought. “Why then have you asked for this meeting? What purpose is served?”

Tala lifted her chin, meeting his frank appraisal. “I wish to know when you will pay the wergild due me.”

She needed gold more than ever now. Gold to appease the Lady of the Lake and all the gods Tala offended each day with her doubts and indecision. Enough gold to appease each spirit of the earth, winds and waters. Enough to turn their greedy thoughts away from the sacrifice of a twelve-year-old boy-king. Atonement could begin with the bands at the jarl’s wrists and upper arms and the twisted strands of the wolf-head torque encircling his neck. Even the angriest god would be delighted by such a priceless offering.

Edon sighed inwardly. Was gold the only thing that mattered to the little fool? “Tala, I fear you know very little of the ways of kings.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked warily.

“Because it is the truth, lady.” This time Edon sighed aloud. “The wergild will not give you the ease you think it will. Even did I find Embla at fault for killing all of your
thanes, their freemen and thralls, the judgment will go to the injured king. Guthrum or Alfred will receive the wergild.”

She stared at him as if he had suddenly turned into some sort of dragon, breathing fire at her. Horror widened her eyes and parted her lips in dismay. “No. That cannot be. You are wrong. That is not the way of it. I have read the treaty.”

Edon nodded. “So have I. In fact, Tala, I have written many such treaties for my brother Guthrum. I have spent twenty years of my life acting as the Danelaw’s good-faith hostage, in courts and lands far, far away. The gold itself means nothing. It is blood money, the pledge for peace, but gold is always backed by blood. Come with me to Warwick. There I have documents and witnesses to back up my words with proof. I can educate you in the ways of kings, Tala.”

She swiveled in her saddle and pointed at the smoldering cottages of Wootton. “Are you telling me that you may burn my villages and I can receive nothing under your kings’ laws to restore the village the way it was?”

“I assured your freemen the cottages will be repaired. Beams and thatch are easily replaced. What other services do your peasants require? Rare and precious Welsh gold? Silver bars from the mines in Wroxeter?”

“Welsh gold will suffice,” Tala replied, glancing at the handsome bands on his wrists. Surely the Lady of the Lake would admire the fine work that went into making them. “The kings’ law is specific.”

Edon’s eyes never wavered from hers. “Exactly—the kings’ law is specific. Let me clarify what the law means.”

“By all means, do,” Tala commanded regally.

“A Dane and a Saxon meet here at this tree on their way to a battle between the Danelaw and Wessex on the common at Wootton. The soldiers do not like the look on the other’s face and exchange words. Words lead to blows
and they draw their swords. The Saxon slays the Viking in full view of King Alfred and King Guthrum. For the loss of one Viking warrior, Alfred of Wessex must pay Guthrum eight gold half marks. Had the Dane slain the Saxon, Guthrum would pay Alfred eight gold half marks. It is a tax, Tala.”

“What are you saying? What good is a tax?”

“The beauty of the tax is that Guthrum can turn to the soldier’s commander and say, ‘Why can’t you control those soldiers under your command? Did you have discipline in your ranks, your men would not be killing themselves off the battlefield. They would fight only when they are told to fight against another kingdom.’ It is a very simple law, lady, because of whom it holds accountable.”