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by Ariadne


Author's Chapter Notes:
don't you love me, two updates in two days:) 19 reviews will do that for you..more reviews = quicker updates, honest
William stood on the city walls watching the mist. If all had gone well, today was the day he would see his bride. Liam and Harold took their places at his side. They had been persuaded by Edmund to attend the wedding, but weren’t happy with the situation: Liam still sported the black eye from the last disagreement he’d had with his mother’s youngest child. He refused to even think of him as a brother, refused even to use his given name unless he had to; they had been teasing and tormenting the man all winter with the fact that he was being married off to cement a treaty that would benefit Mercians. Oh yes, he had been given an estate at Saughall, but that was small reward for having to marry a Norse woman, a widow with a grown son.

‘I wonder how old she is?’ Liam started up again, looking to see if William would react.

‘Well her son has seen 21 summers, at least so that would make her near mother’s age.’ William ignored Harold as well. His brothers could say what they liked: the day before, the rider had arrived from Ingimund’s hall to let them know the ship had made the crossing safely and his bride was just miles away.

‘Could you imagine bedding someone that old and worn out?’ Liam couldn’t help himself, he just had to keep teasing. ‘You’d have to keep your eyes shut the whole time!’

‘I bet she doesn’t even have all her teeth!!’ Harold started up laughing fit to burst. The mere thought of their little brother having to bed some toothless old hag just for politics made them glad for the women they had married, and trained. William ignored them both and kept his eyes on the river and the mist.

For William it had been a long and hard winter. He hadn’t expected it to be, but from the time of the Great Meeting between Athelred and Ingimund and the coming of spring he had felt every day drag as though it was as long as a year.

The worst of all was he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. The leaders had made him promise not to speak of his knowledge of the bride, except in the broadest terms. Liam and Harold had tried to disrupt the conference: they had tried every trick they knew to cause as much trouble as possible. One night William had gone back to his place by the fire to sleep, only to find Dru waiting in his bed. She was as naked as the day she had been born. Darla had been in Eirik’s, which was right by the side of his. William laughed out loud as he remembered the fuss both women had made when they were dragged out of their hiding places, naked, and paraded, naked, up to the high chair. Seems the idea had been to accuse Eirik and William of taking advantage of them when they were drunk. They hadn’t counted on William and Eirik watching out for each other. They had been warned that if they caused one more problem they would be sent to a nunnery to live out their lives, away from all the sport they loved. Darla had sulked for days, but at least they had left poor Anne alone.

William thought back to the conference in Chester. He had accompanied the rest of the court to the newly built priory house overlooking the river. It was set on the edge of the high cut, giving a wonderful view not only of the city but also of the river below. They could even see the old quarry the Romans had used when the city was first built.

The Great Hall had been cleared for the two courts to meet. Ingimund had brought Eirik with him as well as a number of his hearth-troop. But his wife was also there. A man doesn’t take his wife to war: it was a symbol of the growing peace between the two peoples. The Ladies Fritha and Athelflaed were getting along nicely, almost too nicely for the peace of mind of their husbands.

Giles had again been asked to keep the written notes for his Lord, and William had served as translator for the men. Not that they needed it: Eirik and Ingimund both spoke the Saxon tongue, but mistakes had to be avoided. Thora, the Saxon speaker from Ingimund’s hall, had also come to aid the queens. The three women were often seen talking quietly together. There were giggles whenever William approached. Giggles. He hadn’t known Athelflaed could giggle, he thought ruefully.

The mist swirled across the river, making shadows dance and spin. They brought back memories of the final day of the conference. William had been talking to Giles as he was writing up the last parts of the treaty when Ingimund and Athelred had joined them both. They had pulled both men aside and sat at one of the tables that had been set around the room. Eirik had brought across a jug of ale and cups for them all. William had honestly believed they were going to seal the deal over the ale.

He remembered the look on Eirik’s face as he had taken the cup and drained it. It was that look that had warned William that something else was going on.

‘William, we need to talk to you. This treaty is very important, it changes the whole way we deal with each other. It could be the start of a beautiful friendship.’ Ingimund laughed.

William smiled at that. The start of less killing, more likely.

Athelred had given him the strangest look. ‘We have decided to seal this bargain with a marriage. William, you will marry one of Ingimund’s kin next spring, when this treaty comes into being. Your wedding will be the seal that binds us all together.’

William could still feel his stomach sink with that thought. Athelred had promised him that he would never be married… no that wasn’t true, he’d promised he would protect him from the harpies in the court.

‘Whom am I to marry, sir?’

‘Well, she’s rich, a widow, has a son about your age…’

William had looked up into the faces of the men around him. They were all laughing, even Giles. He could feel his anger burn. This was no laughing matter. He was being sold off as part of a treaty. Well, yes, he had the right to say no, but how could he after all that Mercia had given him? ‘And?’ He had asked through gritted teeth.

‘And?’ Athelred had echoed.

‘Who is she?’

‘Daughter of a jarl, niece to another, favourite of many, good holder,’ the men were having a lovely time tormenting him. William was so easy at the moment, they had finally got him on the run. Nothing else had ever fazed the boy, sorry, man, and now the leaders could play.

‘Her name?’ William could still remember feeling sick as he waited for the answer. They couldn’t torture him any more, not in good faith.

‘Elizabeth of Trondheim.’

‘Buffy?’ He couldn’t believe his ears. ‘My Buffy?’

‘Well only if you agree, boy,’ Giles had smiled.

‘My Buffy…’

‘Your Buffy, if you’ll have her.’

Eirik had been dispatched the very next day to fetch the bride.

They had agreed to keep all the details away from Liam and Harold. They would be more malleable if they thought William was unwilling to go through the ceremony. And keeping them in the dark would make it easier to deal with as well as great fun. Accordingly, to the world there was to be an arranged marriage between William and an unknown female relative of high birth.

It had been hard not to show his excitement. Buffy would be his, if she agreed. He had to tolerate his brothers’ teasing and tormenting all winter but it was a small price to pay for the prize that would be his.

Athelflaed mounted the steps to watch with William. She wrapped her mantle around her arms: it was chilly in the early evening and the fog didn’t help at all. It seemed to chill her to the bone. William removed his own cloak and added it to the one she already wore.

‘Thank you, William. Excited?’

‘Yes, my lady.’ William kept his eyes on the river, praying that the next moment would bring sight or sound of the visitors.

‘It will be a fine accord, if they keep their side.’ Athelflaed watched William closely. His excitement was palpable.

‘They will my lady: they love trade and you are offering so much. Ingimund has promised to defend these shores against any attack, and the high road to Meols is nearly finished; you will have rich markets and they will have somewhere to trade.’ He knew she was trying to distract him, but it wasn’t working today.

‘Do you think a town of Norse and Saxon can work?’ Athelflaed watched the mist as well. She was talking quietly, keeping her voice low so that Liam and Harold would not hear their conversation.

‘Yes my lady, we just have to keep talking.’

‘That we do. The tide is headed for high now.’ She pointed to the depth of the river over the ford. ‘They should be here soon.’

Horns and voices could be heard in the distance, the mist covering any sight they might have of the ships they were expecting. It was as thick as a blanket along the river itself, creeping up the banks, hiding trees and visitors alike. William signalled the horn-blower on the wall. ‘Answer them man, before they start to think it’s a trap! They are good with those bows, and things will be edgy enough tonight.’

The long loud and clear note rang out over the city walls. The answering call echoed through the buildings behind them. Then mist started to lift, as though it had been acting as a curtain and the sight that greeted the Saxons froze Harold and Liam’s hearts. Five huge longships were being rowed up the river, every oar hitting the water at the same moment. They could hear the shouts and calls from the crews, and the noise of pipes being played to keep the men in stroke. The shields slung down the side of the ships looked like serpents scales. These men were warriors through and through: it would be hard to defend the city if they chose to attack. It was one thing to hound William about living with these men but to see hardened, armoured warriors pulling on the oars to bring the great ships in was another story. Liam and Harold loosened their swords in their scabbards and watched and waited to see what would happen.

Athelflaed watched as well. She studied William as he started scanning the faces he could see. She had recognised Ingimund, Eirik and Fritha in the first ship, but the others were strangers to her.

William’s eyes had locked into the third ship. There were women standing in the prow. The first one looked like a princess, her blond hair flying in the wind and her eyes scanning the walls. She locked eyes with Athelflaed and there was a small bow of her head, but she noticed nothing else when she saw William gazing down at her.

William’s brothers were pointing to an older woman at her side. ‘There’s your bride William, old enough to be Anne’s mother, grey haired and haggard!’

William glanced at where they were pointing and noticed that Helga was with the ship as well.

‘We’ll see which she is tomorrow when they all come for a meal, won’t we.’

William watched as they pulled into the moorings across the river from where he stood. He wanted to go running down and wrap his arms around Buffy. She looked so good; he felt his body harden at just the sight of her. It had been nearly two years, but he had to wait. Athelflaed had made him agree to a more formal introduction on the morrow. Her brother had his spies: Liam and Harold must not know that there was anything between William and Elizabeth. They had to think this was a formal treaty that they could disrupt, until it was too late.





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