The First Lost Tale of Mercia: Golde the Mother (2 page)

“Everyone?” said Golde as she spooned out the
soup. “The pigs, you mean?”

“Everyone—all of them!”

Alfric looked at the boy curiously. “Even my
men?”

Eadric nodded, eyes twinkling. “Yes, lord. I
gave them acorns, beechnuts, and grains—just like the pigs!”

Golde went pale with embarrassment, but to
her shock, Alfric released a chiming laugh. “Serves them right!
Pigs, indeed! Good job, Eadric. That is your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes, lord, and yours?”

Golde clenched her teeth angrily. The boy
could be so impertinent! But the ealdorman just smiled. “Alfric.
Alfric Alfhereson. And you’re the son of …?”

Eadric shrugged his little wet shoulders. “I
don’t know!”

Golde set down the bowl with a resounding
thump, her stomach churning. “Eat up before it gets cold,” she
commanded them, even though she had lost her own appetite. Then she
hurried off to fetch the bread.

When at last they were all seated and eating,
a terrible silence fell over them. Eadric began kicking his legs
under the table. The temporary glimmer of light in Alfric’s eyes
faded once more. His mouth drooped with a frown and his jaws bulged
as he chewed angrily at his stale bread.

“Eadric, be still!” hissed Golde.

Alfric looked at Eadric again, and this time
a strange look fell over his face.

“I think I might stay here awhile,” he
declared.

The maid nearly choked on her first bite of
bread. “What?” She lifted her own cup of ale and drank desperately.
“You’re joking, right?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll stay here with you, and
little Eadric—” he tossed the boy a wink—“along with ...” He
frowned at Hunwald. “Whatever your name is.”

“Alfric—that’s ridiculous! I don’t
understand. You have manors to live in, and a fyrd to command, and
reeves and stewards to supervise ...” Her mouth went on flapping a
moment before her thoughts could catch up. “You … you do still have
all those things, don’t you?”

He picked up his bowl, though there was still
a decent amount of pottage left, and flung it against the wall.
Everyone stared in horror as the broth dripped down the planks.
Even Alfric gazed at his own mess as if it saddened him, his rage
spent in his meaningless tantrum.

Golde stood up, chest heaving with anger.
“Step outside, Alfric.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “What was
that?”

“You’re not an ealdorman anymore, are you?
You didn’t just ‘escape’ from the Danes, did you? Whatever you did
was far worse than that.
Wasn’t
it?” He looked away from
her, face burning. “Get out of this house, Alfric, or God help me I
will get on my horse, ride to the king, and tell him your
whereabouts myself.” This was a bluff, of course, for she did not
even have a horse to ride upon. But she did not think Alfric would
realize this.

Her suspicions must have been correct, for
Alfric rose so suddenly that his stool flew out from under him. He
was frightened now—it did not take much to frighten him. His eyes
flicked to Eadric, who simply watched this spectacle with
unassuming awe.

“You think King Ethelred will protect you
from the Vikings?” Alfric’s voice trembled with passion as he
looked from one of them to the next. “He won’t. He can’t. I helped
the Danes because they will rule eventually, anyway; and I’d rather
it not be over my own dead body!”

Golde could hardly contain her horror. So, he
had not only run away; he had “helped” the Danes! Had he given them
Ethelred’s plans? Had he supported them with his own fleet? She was
not sure she wanted to know. In truth, she hardly even cared about
the war; what she cared about was the safety of her own home, and
Alfric standing here now as traitor to the Anglo-Saxons poised too
great a danger. If he stayed here much longer he would bring the
king’s rage upon them all. She stormed around the table and grabbed
Alfric’s tunic. “
Out!
”

He stumbled as she dragged him through the
doorway, then cried out and sputtered as the rain splashed his
face. She slammed the door behind them and blocked it with her
small but sturdy frame.

He looked miserable, rivers of rain running
down his face as he stared at her. Nevertheless, mischief flared
momentarily from behind his golden lashes, and his expression
reminded her of one Eadric often wore. “Ethelred will forgive me
eventually, Golde dearest. I’ll talk some sense into him
again.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “How could
he forgive you? You helped the enemy.”

She could not see his tears through the rain,
but she sensed they were there. He stared up at the veiled moon. “I
did. I gave them Ethelred’s plans. I told them everything.”

“Stop, Alfric I don’t want to know—!”

“I took my ships and went with them.” He took
in a heaving breath. “We all would have died otherwise. It was the
only way …” Helpless, she waited for him to go on. She saw that he
could no longer hold it in. “That’s what I thought, Golde. I really
did. But then the rest of Ethelred’s fleet pursued us, and he … he
took … he took one of my ships …” He sobbed openly. Golde did not
know whether to feel sorry for him, or furious. “He slaughtered
everyone on board. And then his ships went after the Danes anyway,
and the battle … oh God.” He bowed his head and shook violently. “I
escaped my ship, with these men … but they took my ship, and some
of my men were on board … and now they’re dead.”

She was surprised to find tears pricking her
own eyes. Of course, Alfric had been a fool to act as he had. And
yet perhaps he had truly wanted to save his men’s lives—on that she
preferred to give him the benefit of doubt—and despite everything,
he had failed. “Alfric, you shouldn’t be here. Not only are you
endangering me, but you are leaving your true family to the king’s
mercy. Get back to your own family. Protect them. Go somewhere
safe. But you’ll solve nothing hiding here, cramming the last of
your loyal men in a pig-sty. Stay in the barn until morning, if you
must, but I want you gone before the cock’s crow.”

He scowled at that. “You’ll regret casting me
out when I’m in the king’s favor again, wench.”

“So be it. Until that time comes, farewell,
Alfric.”

There was nothing else to say, so she went
back inside and bolted the door. She remained leaning against it a
moment, trembling.

“Mother?”

Reluctantly, Golde turned to meet her son’s
gaze. To her surprise, he looked angry.

“Why did you send him away?” demanded Eadric.
“I liked him!”

“Because he’s dangerous.”

“No he isn’t! I could tell!”

Golde sighed wearily and sank down onto a
stool, dripping everywhere. Her heart ached as she watched Hunwald
clean the table without question or complaint. He was such a good
man. He did not deserve the trouble she brought to his doorstep.
“Alfric is dangerous in an unusual way, my boy,” she said. “Better
just to forget about him.”

“I don’t want to.” Eadric crossed his arms.
“I want to go with him.”

“You
what?
”

Eadric set his mouth stubbornly.

“Absolutely not, Eadric! I left him in the
first place to keep you far from his wily ways.”

His stern expression cracked somewhat, giving
way to puzzlement. “What do you mean, ‘left’ him?”

Golde looked away, suddenly feeling a painful
ache in her head. She had lived openly with Alfric once, running to
his side whenever he tired of his wife. Those days had been strange
for her, and were probably as close she would ever come to living a
courtly life. She had met a few important nobles and wealthy thegns
of Mercia during her stays in the manor. They all knew she was
little better than a whore, and most of them had used her as such,
but she was surprised by the inclusion they gave her compared to
most women. She wondered whether her shamelessness and openness in
her way of life gave her an unusual status in their eyes. When King
Ethelred sacked Rochester and cast out Alfric the first time, she
had run to Hunwald for shelter, still wearing a soft linen dress
decked with beads and embroidery. The swineherd had taken her for
some sort of noblewoman and she had let him believe it. He had not
asked any questions when her belly swelled and she gave birth to
what was obviously a bastard. She nearly died that day, and he
could have let her, giving himself two less mouths to feed. Instead
he sent for a midwife to help bring Eadric into the world.

She had dreaded the day she would have to
explain any of her past to Eadric. She wanted to go on living as if
it had never happened. She had let him assume, to whatever extent
he could understand the situation, that Hunwald was his
father—although he clearly doubted this, and had said as much to
Alfric. She had even let him believe that she and Hunwald were
husband and wife, though she never stated as much. How could she
explain the complexities of her situation to a boy like Eadric? She
had been close to another man before leaving the ealdorman’s manor,
as well: a wealthy swineherd named Wulfric, who was something of
Alfric’s friend. How could she tell Eadric with any dignity that
she did not even know which one was his father?

Unfortunately, Eadric was too smart for his
own good. He watched Golde’s face closely. “Tell me, Mother! Could
we go with Alfric, too? Could I live with Algar?”

Algar was Alfric’s legitimate son, only a
little older than Eadric. The two boys had encountered each other a
few times while Alfric was away and enjoyed playing together. For a
moment Golde wanted to explain everything to Eadric, but found she
could not. Her shoulders sagged with the weight of the burden she
was unwilling to release.

“I want to wear nice tunics like Algar, and
cloaks with pretty brooches, and when I’m older, a swordbelt.”
Eadric was getting carried away with these notions, and she could
see in his eyes that he would keep dreaming if she let him.

“Stop it, Eadric. The cost for those things
is very dear, and it is better to forget them. Forget Lord Alfric,
forget about Algar, and silly brooches! Go to bed, and don’t say
another word about them.”

She hoped she had given the right advice, but
she feared she had not as Eadric scowled fiercely and stormed off
to his cot. He kicked off his boots, but nothing else, before
plopping down on the hard floor and turning away from her.

Her heart was heavy as she joined Hunwald in
silence at the table. Together, they tried to clean up the mess
Alfric had left behind.

At last they all laid down in the dark and
were blanketed by a heavy silence. She wished they could all go to
sleep that night and wake up to a morning like any other, but she
already knew they would not. She listened to the sound of her own
fast breathing, unable to go to sleep no matter how desperately she
wished to.

She looked over at Hunwald’s form, turned
away in the darkness, and wondered if he truly slept. She wondered
whether he saw her presence here as a burden, or whether he had
enjoyed the company, despite its limitations. She wondered if he
considered himself a happy man, or merely content, or if he ever
paused to question his lot in life at all.

Then she looked at her son, his pale curls
strewn in the moonlight. She watched his small shape rise and fall,
and realized that when it came to Eadric, she did not have to
wonder. She knew suddenly, without a doubt, that Eadric would never
be as content as Hunwald living a simple life among pigs. He was
too smart, proud, and ambitious. He would always want more for
himself, she suspected, and part of that was her own fault. She
believed, herself, that people were not given a set lot in life:
they forged their own paths, whether they realized it or not.
Perhaps she had been wrong to cut him off so sharply when he spoke
of living a life like Alfric’s. The notion that Eadric might ever
be in a position similar to Alfric’s simply terrified her.

She got up and crawled to Eadric’s side. She
lay a gentle hand on his head, though he did not stir. Whether he
heard her or not, she didn’t know; and even if he had been awake,
she spoke so softly that her words might not have been audible.

“Eadric,” she whispered, “I want you to know
something. I think you can achieve anything in this life that you
set your mind to, no matter how impossible it may seem. I believe
you can eventually have all those things you dream of, if you truly
want them. Most of those things are simply not worth the trouble.
All of this fighting and bloodshed … what is it for? It is
foolishness.” She sighed, thinking that she was beginning to sound
like a fool, herself. “I suppose all I am trying to say is: be
careful what you wish for. Pick your battles wisely. Enjoy what you
have and take what you can reach ... and all will be well.”

She thought that her words made very little
sense, especially to a sleeping seven-year-old boy, but she knew
she said them more for her own sake than his. Feeling a little
better, she leaned down and kissed his forehead. After that, she
finally slept.

But she woke up much too late. The cock had
already crowed. Now the farm was too quiet. Alfric and his men were
gone.

And so was Eadric.

*

The pigs had scattered over the hills. She
found Hunwald in the barn, the dog whining at his side. He was
bleeding from the stomach.

She yelled with dismay as she lifted him up
and cradled him in her arms. She rocked him gently, but her mind
seemed to spin in circles. “Hunwald? Hunwald!” As she settled him
in her lap, more blood spilled from the stab-wound in his stomach.
Her eyes widened with horror, too shocked to blink even as tears
flooded her vision and nearly blinded her. “Hunwald!”

She practically screamed this time, and at
last he stirred. His eyes were even grayer than usual, devoid of
life and energy. They seemed unable to focus as he stared into her
face.