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Author's Chapter Notes:
wonderful reviews and I think my muse is on drugs she types so hard at the moment.
my Thanks to Hrolf for betaing
and thanks to Ariadne for my wonderful banner
The talk with his mother went well - better than expected. He wanted to do as Giles had asked, but not to have mentioned Buffy would have been so disrespectful that he told the gentle Lady Anne everything, well nearly everything, about the wonderful woman he had met…she was his mother after all. Anne cried tears for the beautiful lady who had captured her son’s heart and that she could never get to know.

William opened the sack that he had brought with him and pulled out the brooch and the note…he read it gently to her, at least the part that Buffy had written to The Lady Anne. His mother’s blue eyes held tears that matched his own.

‘Is there any chance of a child?’ She asked him quietly.

William felt his heart break again, ‘No, they use herbs to stop that. I know it’s a sin, but it’s what she wanted, and I had no way to support a child. I couldn’t have left a bastard behind me, mother, and Buffy would have hated it here.’

‘What is she like?’

‘Strong: she reminds me of the Lady Athelflaed. She held home and hall together while her son was away making a good profit for them all. And she could shop! I saw her spend nearly thirty pounds of silver at a single market: even if I had brought her home I could never have afforded to keep her…

‘But her son could? Her son? William, how old is she?’

‘Younger than Liam, he’s her stepson. She had 25 summers when I knew her; I know she is older than I am, but not by that much, she carried the weight of her whole hall on her shoulders and still had time to laugh and play. We skied and skated in the winter, and one day in the spring she ran away. She hurried through her work and hid in the woods for the afternoon where no one could find her, just to have some quiet. We sat until dusk and she got home to find the messages to say that I had to leave. She just served the guests and cared for everyone there. You would never have guessed that she was crying inside.’

He looked at the brooch again. ‘She said it was her mothers.’

‘I wish I could have met her, William.’

‘So do I.’

It was the last time they talked about Buffy. It hurt Anne too much to see the haunted look in her son’s eyes and there was no way she would let her other children find out about the woman William loved so much. The brooch was worn every day, a gift from the daughter she would never know.


William’s life with his brothers was …interesting… Liam had tried to start his normal name calling and bullying. But William saw it for what it really was, bullying, and like all bullies he was easily beaten. The taunts just rolled off his back like water from a duck, and there was nothing that Liam could do about it. William had even caught Liam trying to kiss a serving girl and had walked straight into the back of him. ‘Oh I’m sorry Liam, I didn’t see you.’ in the couple of seconds it took his to help get his elder brother back on his feet the girl had broken free and run. A quiet word with Godwin later, and Liam was watched wherever he went if there was any chance of a woman being around him. It caused William no end of fun, thwarting his brother at every turn.

The talk at the table had been of the Norse and their ways. William joined in when it was appropriate, and here in Mercia his words were listened to.

‘If we only knew what they really wanted,’ Athelstan said one night. ‘Personally I would wipe them all out but I don’t think it’s ever going to happen: we need to come to some understanding with them. William what was it they wanted? What could we do to make ourselves and our people safer?’

‘Firstly sire, it is a mistake we all make thinking them just one people with one goal: each hall is more autonomous than maybe we are used to. They all speak at the Thing, the Witan; if there is need, they even allow their women to talk, even if the women prefer to shop…

‘They want trade, new markets for their goods. Take Chester. The city is old but the walls that remain are strong. It wouldn’t take much to strengthen it even further. Then the Norse could come up and camp on the meadows and the Saxon come across to trade with them…or Wirhal, they say the farm land is not as good on the north coast, but they could farm it, they would have a safe port with access to Dubhlain and Mann, and you would have goods coming from the Caliphates and the silk road.’

‘Do they really have the spices to make it worth while?’ Athelstan loved his ginger cakes, and he loved money even more. The taxes he could raise on a market like that were remarkable and Mercia had no real ports.

‘Oh yes.’ William answered. ‘There were two spice merchants at the market I went to, and their prices were half what you are paying, if not a quarter…’

Liam brooded from where he sat far lower down the table than his younger brother. What on earth could they be talking about, what could his brat of a brother possibly know that made him worth talking to? He watched as William finally got up from the table and unrolled his pallet and settled down for the night. He would have to think of some way to deal with dear little William.

The first time Liam tried to beat him up again was in Shrewsbury, in the main hall of Lord Athelstan. They had been finishing the morning meal when Liam had pushed Wiliaim off of his chair and sent him flying. The great brute had laughed and whined, ‘it was only a joke…’ Lady Athelflaed was not impressed and ordered them to take their fight outside. Lady Anne was terrified, Liam had always beaten William in any fight, but Athelflaed smiled at Anne and William was grinning, grinning like a wolf that had seen a lamb without protection. He was bouncing on his feet, light and quick.

It wasn’t a fight, it was a thrashing. Liam had always used his strength and bulk instead of skill. William heard Olaf’s voice, ‘you are faster than they are boy, use it, use your speed.’ Every time Liam came anywhere near landing a punch or a hit, William had vanished, ducked, twisted out the way, but not before landing a blow for himself. Liam looked like a great lumbering ox, swinging wildly and foolishly, a drunken man not capable of walking, a complete fool. The warriors around were cheering on first one then the other.

Liam finally got a hit into William’s stomach, hard enough to send the younger man flying onto the ground with a whooph as all the air was knocked from him. William was spread out on the ground, regaining his breath. At that point he was grateful he’d taken off his over tunic and given it to his mother, he wouldn’t want it damaged. Winded, he lay still for a moment but couldn’t believe his luck when Liam came over to give him another kick. The warriors hissed at Liam: this was supposed to be a friendly fight, not a brawl…but William had been taught a few tricks by Olaf. He rolled with the kick then launched his own attack, his right foot catching his older brother under the ribs and sending him flying across the courtyard. He then did a shoulder spring up and back onto his feet, (thank you Xander, he thought, remembering the days the warrior had spent teaching him that move).

Liam then disgraced himself completely and pulled a blade. He aimed for his bother’s back but was caught up short by Godwin, the master at arms.

‘There’s a difference between a tussle and drawing a weapon, especially in front of the Lady,’ the man hissed at Liam and after disarming him, flung him away as if he were so much rubbish.

‘You did well, William.’

‘Thank you sir, I had good teachers.’

The King was looking at William and signalled him over. William kneeled before him and bowed. The king offered his ring for William to kiss.

‘There’s a place here for you as one of my hearth troops if you want, William.’

‘Thank you my lord, I will think about it seriously.’

‘Let me know tonight.’

‘I will, sire.’

Lady Anne was delighted, Liam furious. His crawling weed of a brother had all the luck.

‘He makes his own,’ Anne said quietly when Liam complained to her. ‘He earned that offer, you shouldn’t have drawn the blade. Be thankful the King was in a generous mood, drawing steel in his presence normally gets you thrashed.’

William watched as his mother walked away from Liam. It wouldn’t be safe for him to return to his brother’s hall for a while; perhaps he should stay.

‘If I stay, what will you do, mother?’ He asked her quietly when she was sitting in the sun.

‘I’m staying: Athelwyn has offered me a position as one of her ladies and I have nowhere else to go. And I really can’t bear to live under Harold’s roof a day longer.’

‘What about the dower house? You said you would live there when Stephen died and Harold married.’

‘I had to sell it to raise your ransom, William.’

‘You raised that money? I thought my brothers…’

‘They refused: just like Tara’s family, there was no honour in any of them.’

‘In that case, we’ll both stay here. I just hope I never have to face Connor or Xander across a battlefield.’

‘And if you did?’

‘My oath would be to Mercia, mother, and I wouldn’t break that.’

He was a man now with a man’s place in a King’s hall and Liam had shown his true, coward’s colours. Life was sweet.





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