Naked (22 page)

A cuckoo called overhead. Cuckoo’s day had come and gone, when the bird’s first song was heard, heralding summer to come. Soon they would fly away to warmer climes.

Would I see Leofric again before the cuckoo flew?

“Godiva!”

“Edmund?”

“Over here!” A voice hissed from behind the shield of an elm tree.

“Edmund!” At once I ran across the lawn behind the tree and flung my arms around him. All the love I had for him, the love that had grown up with us, brimmed like ale froth the moment I saw him.

Hauling me behind cover of the trunk of the tree he held me close. The sapling slightness was completely gone now. In our time apart he’d filled out. Yet he was still not as broad as Leofric, whose chest was solid as an oak.

Edmund held me out by my elbows and examined me hungrily. “You’re as beautiful as ever, Godiva. More so, if that’s possible.”

I’d almost forgotten how handsome he was. Such a Saxon, Beolinda always sighed. His face was more tanned, contrasting his blond hair against his skin. There were new lines around his mouth. They only emphasized the blade of his lips.

Lightning.

“I’ve missed you so much. Nothing was the same in Coventry without you.”

Edmund’s empty seat at the table. His vacant horse stall. His bay stallion, gone. It had smote me every time I passed. Our horses had been stabled side by side since we were children.

His grip crushed the dandelion bloom I held. “I had to see you. I hated the way we left things between us. I’ve missed you, Godiva.”

“You left so quickly. We didn’t say good-bye. I thought I might never see you again.”

“I had to go.”

The jagged hole in the stable wall. “You frightened me, Edmund.”

Slivers of mirror glass. “I lost my temper. Not with you. I loathed your plan to marry that man.”

Distance stretched between us as I stepped back. “That man is now my husband.”

“Because you had to wed him.”

“Yes, but…”

“It’s all right,” he interrupted. “I understand why you married him. Your people come first.”

I stared down at the broken dandelion stem in my hand. There was no way I could begin to tell Edmund about the feelings I had for Leofric. The feelings that grew stronger and stronger as every day passed. I barely knew what to make of them myself, the mix of longing and desire, anger and regret that churned through me. Hot, cold, warm, chill.

“Where have you been? Did you go to the Angle Lands?”

“Not yet. I plan to. I’ve been all over Engla-lond. But I need to go home.” He flashed a bleak smile that tugged at my heartstrings. “Once I thought Coventry was home.”

“Coventry
is
your home.”

“Not anymore.”

I bit my lip. “You’re still angry with me.”

“No. I’m not angry.”

“So where did you go?”

To my surprise he shook his head. “I can’t tell you. It isn’t safe for you to know.”

“Not safe?” What could he mean?

“You’re being so mysterious! What’s the matter?”

“I have to speak to you alone.” Hilt-poised he peered past the poplar tree. There was no one in the garden, as far as I could see.

“You’ve got a bodyguard with you, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Acwell is with me,” I replied, puzzled. “One of Leofric’s men, you met him.”

“Don’t let Acwell know you’ve seen me. Or Aine. She’s here with you, too, isn’t she? Will you promise?”

Reluctantly I nodded. I never kept secrets from Aine.

“Meet me here tonight, when everyone has gone to bed.”

My heart began to drum. “But why?”

Edmund’s grey eyes stared into mine. “You’re in danger, Godiva.”

*   *   *

The full moon globed the night sky as I slipped into the monastery garden. Lavender from the herb plot filled the air with their delicate scent and the nightjars had begun to call. It had been easy enough to slip out. Acwell and Aine were in the servants’ quarters. The monks had retired to their cells.

“Edmund,” I whispered. Suddenly I felt frightened. “Edmund! Where are you?”

“I’m here.” His blond hair turned to silvered fox in the moonlight as he stepped out from behind the shadowy poplars. His dark cloak billowed.

The night air was chill. With a shiver I pulled my own cloak closer.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Of course I came! What did you mean today when you said I was in danger? Tell me!”

Edmund trod closer.

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll show you.”

With a swish, from beneath his cloak he pulled out a sword and held it up to the moonlight.

“Have you ever seen one of these?” he asked.

Two, edged-golden-hilted. I gasped.

“You have seen one, haven’t you, Godiva?” The sword glinted like fire as Edmund brandished it. “I thought so. It’s a
huscarl
’s sword.”

My thoughts flashed back to the night Leofric had rescued me from Thurkill. The two men outside the hut had been saying
huscarl
. I’d asked him about it in Arden.

Edmund brought down the sword, resting its tip on the grass between us.

“The
huscarls
are members of King Canute’s secret army, the most powerful men in Engla-lond,” he said. “They’re an elite mercenary force.”

“They’re nothing but traitors!” I exclaimed. I’d said the same to Leofric.

Edmund’s lips thinned. “The Saxons who have joined the
huscarls
have been given great privileges, lands, titles, money. They’re forging a new Engla-lond in alliance with the Danes. You’d be surprised who has joined them. Has Leofric ever talked to you about the
huscarls
?”

Uneasily I nodded. In Arden, Leofric had averted my question about whether the
huscarls
were traitors. He’d talked about expediency.

“King Canute has proclaimed that warriors who bear a two-edged sword with gold inlaid hilt will be admitted into his chosen guard,” Edmund said. “It’s their secret symbol.”

“A secret symbol,” I echoed. “How did you get one?”

“I can’t tell you.” He stared into the night, his mouth a grim line. “Let’s just say I’ve crossed paths with a
huscarl
myself. And you’ve seen one of these swords before, haven’t you?”

Reluctantly I nodded.

“Where did you see it?”

“I found one in the stables.”

“At your hall? In Coventry?”

The
briw
I’d had for supper rose up in my gullet. “Yes.”

“It’s as I thought.” Edmund sheathed the sword. “There’s something you have to know, Godiva. Leofric is a
huscarl
.”

“No!” I stumbled as though Edmund had struck me with the flat of the two-edged blade. “Leofric’s a Saxon through and through. He’d never join King Canute’s secret force.”

“How else would he have become an earl? Quite a feat to go from being a Saxon outlaw to one of the highest titles in the land. I didn’t want to tell you but there are tales of Leofric abroad in Engla-lond.”

“What kind of tales?”

“Leofric is responsible for the death of his brother.”

“No!” My hands flew to my ears as if I could block out Edmund’s words. “That’s not possible! He loved his brother! Northman was killed by Thurkill the Tall.”

“Thanks to Leofric. He betrayed Northman so he could rule Mercia himself.”

Elfreda’s revelations in the herb garden floated back to me
. Such terrible rumors in Mercia … dreadful things … too terrible even to speak of.

Doubt crept into my limbs like a cold breath of fog. I pulled my cloak closer.

“How do you think Leofric got his lands restored to him, a Saxon? And there’s something else.”

Another chill of trepidation. Fingering my skin.

“When Leofric arrived in Coventry after your parents had been killed.” Edmund leant in. “Convenient. Just in time, wasn’t he?”

Again my hands clamped my ears. To shut him out. I refused to listen to another word.

“Leofric’s mad for power, don’t you understand?” Edmund grabbed me by the arms and shook me, as if trying to wake me from a dream. “You’ve got to listen. I’m your oldest friend, you have to believe me. He promised King Canute his brother’s life and he delivered it. He’s involved in all kinds of terrible plots. Against you, against the Saxons. He’s a
huscarl
.”

“No.” The word was weaker this time.

“What do you really know of Leofric?” he demanded.

What did I know of him?

The image came. Leaning over me in the rose-gold dawn.

I knew his body.

But did I know his mind?

The husband who never spoke to me even in our most intimate moments. Only in Arden had we exchanged confidences and then he’d drawn away.

“Godiva.” Edmund shook me again, as if I were a doll made of hemp rags. “I came to warn you. Your husband can’t be trusted. He’s plotting against you.”

Wrenching free I flung myself away.

Edmund seized my shoulder, spun me around. “You have to listen! For your sake, Godiva, for the welfare of your people, for Coventry. Be wary of Leofric!”

The monastery bell tolled for compline.

*   *   *

In the scriptorium, all was quiet and peaceful. The room was small, with only a few wooden desks and chairs. On a carved stand stood an open Bible, the letters black, its illuminated colors bright. Red, yellow, blue, green, gold.

My mother’s missal had been made here. I sat and watched the tonsured monk working at his desk by the window, to catch the light on the manuscript he copied. Slow and steady. A quill dipped in ink, a scratch across the page. Another dip, another scratch.

Dip.

Scratch.

Dip.

Scratch.

The night before in my cell I hadn’t slept. Edmund had stolen away as the bell had tolled for prayers. Numbed by what he’d told me I’d stumbled back to bed in my monk’s cell, his words a hell-torment in my mind.

What do you really know of Leofric?

Leofric is a
huscarl
.

He’s plotting against you.

“No!”

I’d spoken the word aloud. The monk looked up, bemused, and then down at his work, serene.

Dip.

Scratch.

Dip.

Scratch.

Could what Edmund had said be true? I’d seen the
huscarl
’s sword in the stable at Coventry. I’d found it myself. And when I’d taken it to Leofric …

Their remembered voices swirled and quarreled.

Where did you get it?
Leofric.

I came to warn you.
Edmund.

Put. It. Back.
Leofric
.

Your husband can’t be trusted
. Edmund
.

Dizzy, I clutched my hands to my temples. Surely Leofric was unable to feign his sorrow over his brother’s death, the sorrow I’d witnessed in the Forest of Arden. The sorrow that had drawn me to his arms, my lips to his, our bodies pressed against the tree …

And my parents … Ambushed. The Danes. Lying in wait.

Be wary of Leofric!

Had I made love with a Saxon traitor? An assassin? A murderer? A
huscarl
?

Could my body have betrayed me?

I shivered as if in a crypt.

“Lady Godiva.”

The scriptorium door had opened. So deep in my tortured thoughts I hadn’t noticed.

Brother Aefic hurried inside.

“We’ve been hunting for you everywhere, my child. I have news for you.” Puffing, he wiped his brow. “Lord Leofric has returned to the Middle Lands.”

23

She sought her lord, and found him, where he strode

About the hall, among his dogs, alone …

—Tennyson (1842):
Godiva

“Home at last.”

We’d left the monastery the day Brother Aefic had given word of Leofric’s return. I’d not seen Edmund again. But before he vanished into the shadows he’d promised to keep me in his sights. Somehow. It made me relieved to know he still watched out for me.

I’d missed the reassurance of him beside me.

Acwell cantered up. “I’ll ride on to the hall, my lady, if you will allow.”

“Of course.”

Making the gesture of his clenched fist across his chest, he bowed and galloped away.

He was going to Leofric.

Leofric.

My heart wanted to gallop, to race, to reach the hall as fast as I could to see him, to run into his arms.

Be wary of Leofric!

As we entered the main street I slowed Ebur to a walk.

“There’s something on your mind, my lady.” Aine said, pulling on her pony’s reins.

“I’m fine, Aine.”

“You can’t hide anything from me. Your health began to improve at the monastery. Got some color back. Now you’re as white as Ebur.”

As usual I wanted to confide in Aine. But I’d promised Edmund to keep it between us.

All the way on the long ride from Evesham I’d considered possible courses of action. I still hadn’t decided how to approach Leofric, whether to tell him what I knew.

Would it put me in less danger?

Or more?

Nervously I twitched my braid over my shoulder. When I saw him I’d know what to do. I had to trust my instincts. “Come, Ebur.”

We entered the main street.

“God’s greeting!” I called to the miller and his wife who were both standing outside the grain stores.

They looked away.

Puzzled, I shrugged. Perhaps they hadn’t heard me.

Farther along the street, inside the forge, the blacksmith was hard at work.

“Good day!” I shouted, as I always did, over the wheezing bellows.

Again, there was no response. I frowned. Instead of replying to my greeting or even coming outside to check Ebur was well shod, as he often did, sparks flew as the smith continued to bang at the horseshoe he had on the anvil.

Aine’s lips tightened as she pulled her pony nearer to me.

Outside the tavern where I had taken Godwin, two farmers stood.

I waved.

They turned their backs.

Aloud I gasped. Never had I been shunned in Coventry. Never, since I was a child, clinging to my mother’s skirts, had I not been greeted with kindness and affection.