Naked (21 page)

“Of course you’re welcome to stay the night!”

Pink-cheeked, she laughed, too, but her attention strayed across the courtyard as though she searched for someone.

“Is your father at hall?” My father’s friend. It would bring my own father closer to me. My heart lurched. He might be able to give me advice on how to cope with the hungry gap as my father would have. My father had always managed to keep peace during famine, even though some barns in the Middle Lands still held grain, while others would be forced to scratch for enough for a meal. Some had enough money to pay prices forced sky high for the last of the crops, some had no money at all. Inequality always revealed its ugly face at such a time. Hunger could drive a man to many things, even thieving from his neighbor. I’d heard of such crimes and of the harsh punishments meted put at
althing
meetings—the loss of thieving hands. Somehow, my father had generally managed to avoid this in Coventry, at least that I could remember. I desperately wanted to achieve the same—or avoid having to mete out such justice. Would I ever be able to lift my sword and cut off one of my own people’s limbs?
No
. I would have to ensure my people didn’t go hungry, to be driven to such acts.

“My father isn’t here, nor my mother or sisters. They’re away all making visits.”

“Oh? Where have they gone?”

“To the east.”

My parents had often traveled to call on friends and relatives in the warm summer months. I’d gone with them, many times.

“July is a good time of year to travel,” I said easily, when Beolinda offered no more information. She still appeared anxious, her fingers in her mouth. “Are you sure it isn’t a problem having us here, Beolinda? With your father away?”

Aine was behind me on her brown mare and Acwell, still sticking to me like sap. They would need to be fed, too. Had I been hasty, calling unawares? How inconsiderate I’d become. Was even Beolinda’s family short of grain?

Beolinda seemed to come to herself.

“Of course not.” As she looped her arm through mine I smelt her sweet rose scent, heightened by the summer heat. “Leave your horse to one of the grooms, Godiva, and come indoors. How tired and pale you are. You must sleep in my bower tonight.”

*   *   *

We left Beolinda’s hall early in the morning. A red sky bloomed.

“Red sky at night, shepherds’ delight, red sky at morning, shepherds’ warning,” Aine muttered as we rode away.

I was glad to continue our journey to Evesham. Even though she’d been hospitable, I’d still sensed Beolinda’s lack of ease with me. I assumed there was a matter troubling her she didn’t want to share. Not famine, I prayed. If barns were already emptying, the Middle Lands were in greater trouble than I’d feared.

Acwell’s horse drew up to mine. The journey with him had been pleasant. Against all expectations, Aine seemed to enjoy his company. You never knew with Aine who would gain her approval. For my part I’d grown used to him, to value the reassurance of his solid bulk.

And he was a link to Leofric.

“Have you always been in Lord Leofric’s service?” I asked carefully. Acwell’s reserve didn’t encourage questions. But the urge to speak of Leofric overwhelmed me.

He nodded curtly.

“Then you were in Sherwood Forest?” I prompted.

Another nod. Then he surprised me by saying, “I served Lord Northman.”

So he’d known them both.

“What manner of man was Northman?” I pressed. The grief that cloaked Northman from view forbade me asking such questions of Leofric, or even of Godwin or Elfreda. Yet my curiosity was growing over the brother who still made such an impact. His presence seemed as potent dead as alive.

Acwell shifted his reins from one hand to the other.

“Lord Northman was a leader such as all men would follow,” he said after a moment.

“Like Lord Leofric,” I said.

Acwell hesitated. “Lord Leofric is not a man to seek power though he carries the burden of it.”

“You don’t think the earl a natural leader?” I felt amazed by Acwell’s response. I’d known Leofric had assumed the mantle of power from his elder brother but he’d never seemed uncomfortable with it. Quite the contrary.

“You misunderstand, my lady. A leader such as Lord Leofric is one to be trusted. He has the loyalty of every good man in Mercia.”

A man to be trusted. I wondered then what had been Elfreda’s meaning when she spoke of rumors against Leofric in the north.

“They were hard days in Sherwood, were they not?” Once again my question was leading.

“They were hard. But they are gone.” Acwell yanked on his horse’s reins. “I’ll check the road ahead. If I have your leave.”

With good grace I bowed. Our conversation was clearly over.

Yet again Acwell surprised me. Leaning close he murmured, “Don’t ask too many questions of the past, my lady. It does more harm than good.”

His horse thundered away.

*   *   *

Brother Aefic beamed as his tunic swished across the earthen floor of the chapter house. “God’s greeting, Lady Godiva. We’re pleased to welcome you to Evesham, my child.”

From Beolinda’s hall we’d sent word of our coming.

My hands outstretched, I went to him. At the sight of my bare finger, I winced. My ring hadn’t been found in spite of Aine’s hopes. I could not get used to its being gone. None of the servants had seen it. Being without it made the honeymoon I had shared with Leofric seem even more distant. A wife without ring, child, or husband.

“I came to seek your help, Brother.”

A brief clasp, swift and reassuring as a benediction.

He indicated a wooden bench where I could sit. On another he seated himself and pulled it close. “What can I do to help you? You know I am always at your service, just as I was for your parents. May their souls rest in peace.” He crossed himself.

Grief stabbed me, as it always did when my parents were mentioned. What they’d been through … “Their loss stays with me.”

“Their love stays with you.” He gently reframed my words. “It won’t leave you, just because they’re gone, my child. Love is eternal.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. Continuing to remember them was a way of continuing to love them. It comforted me.

Brother Aefic cradled his stomach and smiled at me, in the same way he had when I had gotten a Latin lesson right. “There’s trouble in Coventry that brings you here.”

The monk shared Aine’s uncanny knack of knowing what was going on without being told.

“No Danes at least. For now, the Middle Lands are safe under Mercia’s protection.” The defeat of Thurkill the Tall would have spread far and wide. Though Leofric had guarded me against complacency, even if others sought to seize my lands, Leofric’s strength and strategy … my faith was in their power. My lands were safe with him. The Earl of Mercia was a powerful ally. At least my marriage had served that purpose. Yet the victory felt hollow inside me. I brought myself back to the purpose of my visit.

“The hungry month approaches, Brother Aefic, worse than ever, we fear. I’ve made law that our people don’t have to pay taxes until the next harvest.”

“The reduction of taxes was often Lord Radulf’s practice in time of famine.”

“And now mine.”

The monk frowned. “But you’re not collecting the taxes at all? My child, that’s very charitable of you. It’s more relief than your father gave, I believe.”

For a moment I wondered if I had been overgenerous.
No.
What I had done was right and I would stand by my word. “There’s been so much hardship in the Middle Lands in recent months. We lost houses, barns, goods, stock as well as lives in the fight against Thurkill.”

“You’ll be rewarded for your charity, I’m sure. Your mother would be proud. Her devotion was an inspiration to many.”

“You know she hoped to build a stone church in Coventry one day. It was her dream and my father’s.”

“Your parents were most generous. A stone church would be a great gift. There are brothers who have traveled to Rome and brought to Engla-lond holy relics of the saints. How fine it would be to house such a relic in Coventry! But I’m sounding worldly. We don’t need stone buildings to do God’s work in the world.”

He chuckled as he rubbed his shaved head, a gesture I’d often seen him make. As a child I’d asked him if he had lost his hair. Shaking with laughter, he had told me it had been lost many moons before.

“The bees will help us.” He chuckled again. “You must see our beehives while you’re here.”

The monks paid their taxes with honey wealth. I’d always loved their hives.

“My old nurse Aine will want to see them. And a Mercian bodyguard is with me, too.”

“They will need to sleep in the servants’ quarters.”

Acwell wouldn’t approve. He guarded my bower door like a hound. Nor would Aine. Of late she’d taken to sleeping beside me on a pallet on the floor.

“You haven’t been accompanied by your husband Lord Leofric?”

“He’s in his own lands, in Mercia.”

“When is he coming south?”

“I’m not sure. There’s been plenty for me to do in the Middle Lands,” I added quickly.

“I understand.” Brother Aefic said kindly. “I’m glad you have come to Evesham, my child. We will help all we can with the famine. But grief is wearying. Rest here with us and regain your strength. Care of your health is a duty. When you’re stronger, you can go home.”

“Thank you, Brother Aefic.” Perhaps some time away from Coventry would give me the respite I so desperately needed.

I could no longer face my empty bower.

*   *   *

“Their honey tastes good,” Aine said reluctantly as we strolled through the garden, not far from where the beehives stood, shaped like vast golden baskets. The bees hummed through the warm summer air. Behind us the monastery buildings with their thatched roofs glinted in the sun. “Though I could get more from those bees than the monks do, I’m sure. I’d say a charm, that’s the way.”

“I don’t think the monks would approve,” I laughed, pushing the veil away from my face. I’d covered myself as we’d gone close to the hives though Aine hadn’t bothered. She swore she’d never been stung and never would.

“What’s wrong with telling the bees?
Settle down, victory-woman, never be wild and fly to the woods. Be mindful of our welfare and the goddess will be good
. That’s all you need to tell the bees, and they’ll never swarm you. My charms and herbal remedies work just as well as these monks’ medicines, if not better.”

“Their beeswax candles give strong light.” Each night I’d lit sweet-smelling tapers, marked with lines for each hour, and scented with candle-wyrt, in my quiet room. When I’d blown out the flame and lain in my narrow bed I’d been able to sleep. My mother had slept in such a cell, too. I seemed to sense her presence in the peaceful monastery.

Be brave. Move on
. That’s what she would have wanted. Let the pain and suffering diminish.

“I asked the beekeeper how they roll their candles. I offered him the recipe for my
oxymel
in exchange, but he said he didn’t want my witchery. Witchery!”

Not all the monks were as tolerant of the old ways as Brother Aefic.

“That sign language they use,” Aine went on. She’d taken to chattering of everyday things of late, to soothe my troubled mind, I suspected. “What’s wrong with words, I ask you?”

Again I laughed. It had taken me a few days to recall the monks’ sign language, too, especially at mealtime in the refectory. While one of the monks read the Bible aloud in Latin, we ate in silence. To ask for wine, two taps on the fingers. To pass the butter, three strokes on the inside of your hand. For pepper: knock one index finger on the other. For salt: shake your fingers together. Edmund and I had learnt the hand signs along with our Latin. We’d used it as a secret code. Just between us.

“The food is good, too, Aine.”

We’d supped on fresh vegetables from the garden made into thick soups and stews and my appetite had grown. Their
briw
of new picked green peas, mixed with eggs and bread crumbled in, was one of the finest I’d ever tasted.

“It’s wholesome enough,” she replied. “This rest has done you good and I’m glad for it. I’ve been worried about you, you’ve been so listless.”

“I hope you’ve rested too.” To my relief Aine appeared to have gained health at the monastery. She’d been through so much with me.

“Rest in this place? With all the bells ringing and smoke burning and singing throughout the day and the night?”

“Prime, terce, sext, none, vespers, and compline,” I recited.

“Candle, taper, wick, candle, lantern, and lamp,” Aine retorted. “That’s what we call our prayers in the Middle Lands. It was good enough for your mother.”

My mother had often visited Evesham and traveled home restored. I understood why now. The quiet and contemplation suited me, too. Unlike Aine, I’d found the rhythm of prayers and the chanting of the liturgy soothing, though I hadn’t attended all the services.

Brother Aefic’s advice had been sound. What he’d told me, in essence, was to remember the good times, the joy, the love. Healing would come by dwelling on my recollections of happy childhood days with my parents and their cherishment of me. I’d grown up surrounded by love. The warm weave was a mantle of protection I could wear any time I needed.

I’d taken walks and observed the monks at work in the surrounding field or sat indoors watching the scholars as they copied manuscripts in the scriptorium.

“Why don’t you try again with the beekeeper?” I suggested to Aine. “Perhaps you can tell him I would appreciate their candle secrets to light our hall in Coventry.” All the monks had been so kind to me, out of respect for my mother and father.

“That might work. I could try again. He’s down by the beehives now, encased in a hundred veils, so scared of being swarmed. I’ll go now, my lady, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Don’t get stung, Aine.”

Aine snorted again. “No bee will ever sting me.”

She bustled down the garden path toward the hives.

Plucking a dandelion from the grass, I sat down on a garden bench, my face to the sun.