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by ariadne


Author's Chapter Notes:
I had an amzing number of reviews and each and every one was read with joy. many thanks to you all.
The Great Hall in Chester was alive with excitement. The Norse would be here for the presentation of the bride and the pre-wedding meal this very evening. Athelflaed had overseen every aspect of the feast: she intended that her hospitality and the hospitality of her hall would not let Mercia down. She had been a little put out when Thora had arrived at the hall first thing in the morning, closely followed by a couple of slaves, their hair shorn and their iron collars around their necks. The slaves had been carrying a bag each; Thora curtseyed before the Lady of Mercia and presented her with them. Athelflaed could smell the spices before she even opened them: an extremely expensive gift. There must have been a pound of spice in each of the bags.

‘A gift from one lady to another. We mean no offence but thought this might help with the feasts over the next few days.’

‘Thank your Lady Fritha for me,’ Athelflaed said, taking the bags and handing them to the head cook. She thought back to the woman she had met: she was not the bitchy kind of woman, though Athelflaed had enough of those to deal with in court, and they had talked about how hard it had been to get enough spices for the feast. It really was just a gift from one lady to another. She looked at Thora: another sweet child. Perhaps she could be of use this side of the river…

‘Maybe you could assist me if your mistress can spare you. We need to be extremely formal tonight and I don’t know what is acceptable and what is not amongst your people.’

‘Yes my Lady, Lady Fritha told me to help in any way you needed.’

‘Good,’ and the two women sallied forth around the kitchens to oversee the cooking of the great banquet that was to be spread before everyone that night as Elizabeth and William were finally, formally, introduced.

That afternoon saw Athelflaed overseeing the laying out of the tables. Embroidered cloths were laid out first, covering the wooden tables. Each guest would be bringing their own knife and spoon but bowls and platters were being supplied from her household, and they had had to raid every chest to ensure there would be enough. The benches had feather-filled cushions set upon them, the gold in the embroidery reflecting the candlelight around the room; flowers and scented herbs had been added to the rushes on the floor, sweetening the air. The beeswax candles had been changed in the sconces, and the tall candles set around the room. The fire had been built up high to ensure the hall was warmed right through, and the light from it would add to the effect. Athelflaed had ordered good apple wood to be burnt, adding another scent to the room.
The Hall was ready for its noble visitors. Athelflaed had set her maid to sit sewing in the hall though, having seen Darla and Dru wondering around. She wanted no unexpected accidents this evening. They had been talking far too furtively with their respective husbands, and Athelflaed knew they were plotting something and she wasn’t going to allow them even the opportunity to spoil the formal welcome tonight.

Torches floodlit the whole path from the river, through the gate to the hall. Father Gregory had arrived with his entourage to talk with William. He needed to make sure that the young man had given enough thought to the vows he was about to make. The Prior was well aware that although Edmund of Wessex was quite content to allow this treaty, Liam and Harold were determined to upset things. He had grown to like the young man who had been so determined to make a success of his life, and was looking forward to meeting the woman who was destined to be his wife.

He found William sitting quietly with Brother Giles in the chapel: it was one place he knew that his siblings would not go voluntarily. Now that the fasting and austerity of Easter was over, the chapel was decorated with flowers, its brightly painted walls glowing in the last of the evening sunshine.

‘Good evening William: are you ready to meet your bride tonight?’ the elderly churchman asked. He signalled for both men to sit back down on the bench they had been occupying. William didn’t quite know what to say. He wasn’t about to lie to Father Gregory.

‘And how did your visit to your friends go last night?’ Giles added with a twinkle in his eyes. William gave a guilty start and looked at the Prior.

‘What,’ the old man asked, ‘did you think they would keep it from me? Now, while we are quiet I must ask you, William: do you go into this marriage willingly? The church cannot condone a forced union.’

‘Very willingly Father: in fact I don’t think I could enter matrimony with any other woman. We were born for one another,’ William answered with all honesty, his eyes alight at the thought of being with Buffy again. He ran his hands through his dirty brown curls and looked at the elderly churchman. They would have talked longer but a boy came running in to the building.

‘I was sent to find you sirs. The guests have been seen gathering the other side of the river: they are on their way!’ he blurted out breathlessly. He had been a little scared at the sight of all the norsemen gathering together but he gave a little bow before running out again.

‘Shall we go and meet your bride, William?’ Giles asked. ‘I must say I am curious to meet the woman who has managed to alter you so much.’ Giles’ smile took the sting out of his words.

William straightened his floor-length formal tunic and tightened the leather belt a little, settling his eating knife on his hip. Giles and Father Gregory took their places either side of him as escort and made their way back to the main hall. Athelred and Athelflaed were already there, talking with the lady Anne. Liam and Harold were standing close by, their wives dressed in their best. If they were hoping to outshine Buffy they were going to be sorely disappointed.

Horns signalled the arrival of the guests. The doors were flung open and the evening had begun.

Ingimund and Fritha processed into the hall, every inch the lord and lady, the different style of dress making them seem alien to the Saxons watching the proceedings. Following them were men at arms and a group of women. Helga was being escorted by Eirik. Liam and Harold didn’t try very hard to hide their laughter: William’s future bride looked even worse close up, all grey and worn. Liam leaned across to his older brother and pointed out the blond and brunette that were following, either side of Connor. Each was dressed in silk and pleated linen, obviously wealthy and each was gorgeous.

‘Wouldn’t mind taking a poke there,’ Liam said in a not so quiet voice.

Buffy and Faith smiled slyly at one another. They had listened to William last night as he laughed over his brothers’ mistake about his bride, and thought that they might just play along for a short while.

Ingimund was being formally welcomed to the hall, Thora holding the bowl for him to wash his hands and face after the journey. Athelred made formal speeches that were being translated into the Norse tongue; Ingimund replied and waited for the translations again. Although both men spoke the other’s tongue to a certain extent, it was a useful practise that gave them time to think before answering.

Buffy looked around the hall. The walls were higher than she was used to, the decorations very different, but pleasant to look at all the same. She could see the Lady Anne, dressed in her best and standing near William: Buffy felt a blush rise on her cheeks as the Lady gave her a very pointed look and a half smile. The smile reached to Anne’s eyes and made them look even more like William’s and Nordlys’. Darla and Dru came to stand either side of their mother-in-law and looked like a couple of crows guarding their food. They reminded Buffy of a couple of the un-dead who came back to terrorise and eat the living. She shuddered and turned away, resting her eyes on William’s face. His hair was longer than she remembered it, and he had lost weight. She hadn’t had time to notice much beyond the fact that he was with her the night before.

Ingimund noted the position of everyone in the hall: he was a warrior first and foremost. Eirik had carried a blowing horn into the hall. Its note would reach the forces camped the other side of the river: help would be with them if things went sour. He didn’t believe that Athelred would betray the peace, but stupid usually meant dead, and he had lived a long time.

Eirik and Helga stood aside, moving away from the centre of attention, allowing Buffy and Faith to move forward. Liam and Harold grinned.

‘Poor William, having to stick his virgin dick into that!’ Harold whispered to Liam. Athelflaed shot them a look. Edmund had been receptive to this treaty, but the brothers were a known problem. It was the reason they had been sent to the Mercian Court, and their wives were no better.

Father Gregory stepped forward and held his hand out to William, leading him to a spot before Ingimund and Athelred. It was time for the formal introduction. The churchman gave the young man a smile. It was such a rarity for there to even be friendship between married couples before the wedding. He hoped this love match would work.

William took his place in front of the Prior. He had been given a fine gold ring to give to Buffy as a symbol of their commitment, but he held a hand-carved bone ring in the other hand, one he had spent all winter carving. It was covered in saxon figures with a border that copied the tablet weave she had added to his tunic. He was proud of the work and hoped his Buffy liked it as well.

Ingimund escorted Buffy forward and placed her in front of the churchman. That was when it hit Liam and Harold just who the bride was going to be. Their sharp intakes of breath echoed throughout the hall.

‘William, I present Elizabeth of Trondheim; Elizabeth, this is William of Wessex,’ the nobleman said. Buffy looked up shyly from under the cap she had worn to cover her hair; she stared at William’s face and gave a saucy smile.

‘My Lord,’ she said with a small curtsey and William gave a bow.

‘My Lady,’ his grin was equally saucy. They were both trying hard not to laugh as their hands were joined together.

Darla and Dru were furious. They started talking far too loudly; Father Gregory turned to them and tried to quieten them with a stare but they were having none of it.

‘I bet that’s not this Elizabeth: she’s just some slave they have brought to fool you,’ Liam said to Athelred.

‘A serious claim. Have you proof of this alleged Norse deception?’ the king asked with a frown.

‘Well look at her! She’s supposed to be Connor’s mother, yet she looks nothing like him!’ Liam pointed to Connor who was still standing beside Faith. ‘There is no way she is old enough to have done the things she is supposed to have done,’ he stated with certainty. He wasn’t going to have weedy William win such a prize: if anyone was going to have her squirming under them it would be him.

Buffy looked straight at both men. If they sought to intimidate her they were mistaking their quarry.

‘Elizabeth is my step mother, and this IS Elizabeth of Trondheim.’ Connor was barely able to conceal his anger. Who were these men to doubt his word, or Ingimund’s? Nobodies, that’s who.

William felt his heart grow cold. He knew his brothers wanted to destroy him, but this was appalling, to damage such a hard fought-for treaty. But of course: it would reflect badly on him and that’s what they wanted, to discredit him.

‘This is some whore William is trying to pass off as a noble just to get her into his bed,’ Harold said with certainty.

Athelred smiled, but it was the smile of a fox having spotted his prey. ‘Of course, you will be willing to prove that?’ he asked quietly. ‘Trial by ordeal, here, tomorrow!’ he ordered to the fascinated court. Athelred turned to his guards. ‘Make sure they don’t drink to much tonight: they will be busy tomorrow.’ He turned to Ingimund. ‘I trust that will satisfy you as well, sir.’

Ingimund smiled and nodded his approval as Liam and Harold were surrounded by Saxon hearth troops and knew there was no way out. Liam felt the blood drain from his face; Harold felt sick. They would never survive the ordeal; they had just wanted to stir things up. They had honestly believed that their position in the court had been unassailable, they couldn’t believe that people had sided with their pathetic little brother.

‘A wise move,’ Father Gregory said nodding wisely. ‘If they can carry an iron straight from the blacksmith’s forge to the church door without it blistering their hands, we will all know they speak nothing but the truth. Let God decide. Now let us continue with the celebrations. William, don’t you have a gift for Elizabeth?’

William turned away from his brothers and back to his beloved. He held out the gold ring to her and took her hand. There on her finger was the bone ring he had given her the Yule they had spent together. William smiled at the sight of it and slipped the gold ring on beside it. Lifting her hand to his lips he brushed a gentle kiss over both rings before releasing his grip.

Father Gregory smiled. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, ‘William, would you care to sit with Elizabeth so you may at least know a little of each other before the wedding?’

Anne smiled as her son held out his arm to Buffy and escorted her to the main table. He ensured she was comfortable and slipped off the shawl she had been wearing.

‘You look beautiful, Buffy.’

Darla and Dru took a deep breath in and stared at the jewels their soon-to-be sister was wearing. Lapis and glass shone in the candlelight and silver gilt brooches caught the last rays of the dying sun. Buffy pulled out her horn spoon and set it by the plate in front of her. There was so much she wanted to say to William that she didn’t know where to start. Father Gregory stood and said grace before the meal and then Ingimund stood to bless the company.

‘For Faith, Folk and Family: we give thanks!’ His voice rang out over the assembly and then the food was brought in. Anne found herself sat near the charming young man that had escorted Buffy into the hall. She smiled at him nervously and tried to start a conversation, wondering whether or not he spoke her tongue.

‘It’s been a fine day today,’ she said slowly and carefully. Connor grinned and answered quickly in the same language.

‘That it has, Tant Anne.’

‘You call me aunt…’

‘Well you are by marriage, lady: I am Connor, husband to your niece Tara.’ He smiled at her with his open face. It had won Tara round; perhaps it would win her aunt as well.

‘Tara!’ Anne squeaked and reached for the wine. ‘You married Tara?’

‘Yes, lady.’

‘How is she?’ Anne’s face softened as she asked. Her heart had gone out to her youngest and gentlest niece when her sister had died; she had been overjoyed when William had told her the girl was safe but to actually meet her husband was something she couldn’t have imagined in her wildest fantasies.

‘Well. She has given me a son just last year and is staying at Buffy’s hall to oversee it while Buffy is here collecting William.’

‘Collecting William?’

‘Well yes, Buffy wants him to return home after they are married. There is nothing for them here.’

Anne felt her heart fall, of course she would want to stay amongst her own kind and from the tales he told William would be far richer there than he was here.

The talk continued far into the night. William and Buffy were not much pleased at the formal farewell they had to endure. Only two more days and they would be wed… Anne was grateful that Elizabeth was so very different from her other daughters-in-law, and was looking forward to seeing the woman again on the morrow when Liam and Harold would face the Ordeal.





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