The Cross and the Curse (Bernicia Chronicles Book 2) (18 page)

"I have been blessed. Our king has seen fit in his generosity to give me land and I am honoured." Beobrand inclined his head to Oswald, who looked on with an amused expression. "And I have been blessed with the bravest and most noble of hearth warriors." Acennan and the others grinned. "I am young, but we have fought side by side and you know me, as I know you. I will not forsake you, as I know you will not let me down."

The men had cheered. Beobrand had blushed, but when he looked at Oswald, the king had nodded in approbation.

Now his warband stood in the courtyard, ready to leave Bebbanburg. Elmer, Garr, Aethelwulf and Ceawlin all brought women with them. Along with those women, there were seven children of varying ages. The youngest was Elmer's boy, still a babe, carried in Maida's arms. The oldest was Garr's willowy daughter, a girl of about ten years.

All of them looked at Beobrand, waiting for him. A score of people looking to him to lead. His throat was thick. It was hard to swallow. Sunniva smiled at him.

Well, if he was going to lead, he would need to start.

"Come, my gesithas. My comitatus. We have fought and returned victorious. Now is the time to reap the rewards. Let us travel to our new home. We have earned the rest."

The sun had disappeared behind the hills in the west when they made camp. The horizon was a dim line of gold, the underside of the clouds aflame with the last rays of sunlight.

They were all exhausted. Beobrand had soon realised that travelling with a lame man, women and children would prove difficult. He was used to a faster pace, but soon after leaving Bebbanburg the tears had started amongst the younger children. In the end, three of the children had ridden on Sceadugenga, while the others were carried, either by their mothers or their fathers.

Anhaga had managed to acquire a mule from the stables of the fortress too, with the promise that it would be returned at the earliest opportunity. It was fully laden with all of the provisions and equipment they thought it could bear. The morose beast rolled its eyes balefully at them, but walked fast enough without them having to resort to beating it.

"Anhaga is already proving useful," said Beobrand to Sunniva. She did not reply. They looked on as the men and women prepared the camp. "He found us this cave. We'll be glad of it tonight when the rain comes."

Sunniva nodded. There was no denying Anhaga's resourcefulness in obtaining the mule. And finding them shelter from the elements on what looked likely to be a wet night could not be a bad thing. And yet, Beobrand knew that Sunniva was not happy about Anhaga's presence. He was not sure why, but was too tired to pry now. Perhaps it was because he was a cripple. Many believed such men were cursed. He would ask her once they were at Ubbanford.

A couple of the men were lighting a fire under the overhanging slab of rock he had referred to as a cave. Huge rocks made up a deep recess in a hillside. It was not really a cave, being open to the elements at the sides, but it would provide protection from rain. And the heat from the fire would be reflected from the rocks. It was a good place to camp.

Anhaga removed the burdens from the mule and tethered it. Beobrand saw to Sceadugenga himself. Once the animals were tended to and the fire was lit, it was full dark. The younger children were already asleep. The women began to cook a pottage over the fire, using a large clay pot.

Beobrand beckoned to Acennan and the men. They walked some way from the fire and the protection of the cave. Around them was utter blackness. The wind-rustle of trees sounded like cowardly whispers of treachery in the dark. The men's eyes glinted with reflected light from the fire. The scent of damp loam was heavy in the air. It would be raining soon.

"Cadwallon is no more, but we must remain vigilant," said Beobrand. "The land is Oswald's, but it is not tame. Each of us will take a watch tonight."

The men grunted and groaned, but they did not complain. They knew he was right.

After they had gone back to the camp, Acennan placed a hand on Beobrand's shoulder. Beobrand started. He was nervous.

Acennan chuckled quietly. "No need to worry, Beobrand. I know you. You think too much. All will be well. You have me to help you." The stocky warrior walked to the fire.

Beobrand remained at the edge of the camp for some time. Staring into the darkness. The wind was picking up. A chill shivered his spine.

All will be well.

His mother used to say that. He had never truly believed it as a boy. Now, with the weight of new leadership pressing upon him, it seemed a vain hope.

Rain fell noisily in the night. It kept many of them awake. The lip of the cave was veiled in a sheet of water. It was as if they stood behind a waterfall. The small flames of the fire glimmered in the wall of water. A child cried, scared by the constant crash of the storm.

Beobrand was glad that Anhaga had led them to this cave. They were dry and warm enough in the shelter. And yet he could not sleep. What would await them at Ubbanford? He could stand in shieldwalls. Stand toe to toe against a warrior bedecked in war harness. Yet to impart the dire news of the deaths of Ubba and his sons to the lady of the hall was a prospect that filled him with dread.

He reached over to Sunniva's warm form in the darkness. He was gentle, not wishing to awaken her should she be asleep. But he wanted to feel her touch. His hand brushed her back and she stiffened. He withdrew his hand.

"What is wrong, my love," he whispered, close to her ear. He breathed deeply of the scent of her hair.

For a long while she did not reply. Perhaps he'd imagined her reaction. Maybe she slept still. Then she rolled over. Her face was wet. Slick with tears. His stomach lurched. It pained him to see her thus. But he was no stranger to grief. Sometimes you needed to weep. He reached up and wiped her tears from her cheek. His rough, sword-callused hand felt clumsy against the smooth perfection of Sunniva's face.

"I miss my father and my mother," she said in a small voice.

"I miss my family too," he said. He could not bring himself to speak of his father.

"I have no brýdgifu." Beobrand started at the mention of the bride gift, the dowry paid by a bride's family that would belong to her and her alone.

Sunniva continued: "You need not speak to my family to agree the handgeld. I understand why you do not marry me. There is no need. And I am happy to be yours. I love you. But I had always dreamt of my handfasting to be before my friends and family. Now, I have no family, and my friends are left behind or gone."

Beobrand's heart clenched. He had been blinded by the turn in his own fortunes. He had not seen Sunniva's desires.

"Do not think that I do not wish to marry you," he said, urgency lending a sharpness to his words. "I love you and I must be favoured by the gods themselves to have received so much." Sunniva flinched. He knew she disliked referring to the gods. She believed it tempted them to pay heed to the lives of mortals. Better to be left alone.

"Do not fear for your brýdgifu or the handgeld. I cannot bring back our families," he cursed inwardly at his clumsy words. The handgeld was a price he should have paid to Sunniva's family. To his own ears he sounded more concerned for the cost of their marriage than their love. "But I will see to it that you are provisioned for. Your morgengifu will be fine. I have it all planned," he lied. He would have to think of something to offer her as her morning-gift — the present he would give her on the day after celebrating their marriage. Still, perhaps he could delay the decision for a few days.

"Let us plight our troth tomorrow, here, before these good people. Then we will seal our handfasting with a feast at our new home."

Her tears had ceased. He held her close to him; stroked her hair.

The noise of the rain lessened.

He sensed that the worst of the storm had passed.

The storm blew over them in the night and the day dawned chill and misty. Some of the wood they had stored for the morning had got damp and now the fire smoked and spat like an angry wyrm. There had been no incident in the night and the group seemed in good spirits.

The children ran around the clearing outside the cave. The womenfolk prepared food. The men packed gear into sacks. Anhaga piled provisions onto the mule. It stood, sullen and stolid. Somehow it managed to convey its disgust at being so laden, with a flick of its ears and a snort. Anhaga whispered soothing words to it. The mule seemed unimpressed.

When they had broken their fast and were ready to leave, Beobrand summoned them all.

"There is something, or rather someone, I have neglected over the past few days." The men looked on with interest. The women stood thin-lipped and disapproving. It seemed they knew what and who he had neglected. The thought came to him then that it was these very women who had prompted Sunniva's distress the night before.

He held out his hand to Sunniva. She stepped close and placed her small hand in his.

Her hair shone in the hazy morning light. She wore the blue dress she had worn that summer day back in Gefrin where they had lain together for the first time. Beobrand felt himself stirring at the memory. Gods, now was not the time for that! He looked away from her with a sheepish grin.

He caught Acennan's eye. His friend smiled and winked. It seemed he had a good idea what Beobrand was about to say too. Perhaps they all did.

"I have received many gifts these last few days. Treasure and land from our lord king. Your oaths. But the treasure I value most is here." Beobrand turned back to gaze at Sunniva. She smiled back at him. Her eyes glittering.

"I wish for all of you good people to witness now as I, Beobrand, son of Grimgundi, stand before you with Sunniva, daughter of Strang. I hereby take her hand and with this handfasting I solemnly plight my troth to her until death parts us. Do you, Sunniva, daughter of Strang, plight your troth to me."

"I do, and gladly," Sunniva said, her voice quiet but steady.

"Then so be it. Let all who have witnessed this know that we are now wed. I will seal the promise with the morgengifu when we are settled at our new home. At Ubbanford we will also celebrate the handfasting with a feast."

The assembled folk let out a ragged cheer. The women looked less fierce now. They seemed to approve of his actions. Acennan flashed his teeth in a grin.

"Now, let us be on the move," Beobrand said in a loud voice. "The day is free of rain and we still have far to travel."

Everyone moved to ready themselves for the journey. Beobrand noticed with surprise that Anhaga was already limping out of the clearing, the mule plodding along behind him. The man was not the fastest of travellers, but he was eager to please.

Sunniva pulled him close and placed a kiss upon his lips.

"Thank you," she said.

He held her at arms' length and drank in her beauty.

He shook his head. "I should be thanking you," he said.

PART TWO

SECRETS AND SHADOWS

"Grendles modor,

ides aglæcwif yrmþe gemunde"

"She'd brooded on her loss, misery had brewed

In her heart, that female horror, Grendel's Mother"

Beowulf

CHAPTER 9

It took them the best part of two more days to reach Ubbanford. It would have taken longer had Anhaga not known the land so well. He led them along paths that could barely be discerned. Tracks overgrown with thick vegetation took them down to infrequently used fords across streams swollen with the recent rain.

The first day they made good progress, though they all grew tired of the children's moaning. More than once a grizzling child would be made to wail when its father became weary of the whimpering. Each time a child was cuffed Beobrand had to strive hard to suppress a shudder. He supposed the shadow of his father would always be with him. But none of these children were treated harshly. Their tired parents would follow a command with a slap, not with a fist.

Beobrand watched Sunniva as they travelled. She loved the little ones, and would often carry the smaller children. What would their children be like? Would he be a good father? Did he carry his father's rage within him? Could he turn into a figure of fear to a child?

His mother had told him he was not his father's son. He was still unsure about what she had meant, but he vowed he would never allow himself to treat a child or a woman the way his father had.

Beobrand looked forward to reaching their destination. If nothing else it would bring some respite from the noise of women and children. He still dreaded having to bring the news he bore for Lady Rowena. But he was a thegn now, and such was his duty. He could kill easily enough. Now he must learn to lead. Part of that was to be able to give bad tidings as well as good. As with a battle, the waiting before is almost as bad as the fight itself. He wished to have this task over with. The closer they got to Ubbanford, the more withdrawn he became. He knew he had to deliver the news, but he didn't have to like it.

They camped that night on the edge of a copse of blackthorn. As the sun set, they could see in the distance a ring of huge standing stones, black shadows against the glare in the west. They clawed their way out of the earth like the tips of a giant's fingers.