Father Gregory pulled his wet cloak off as he came into the hall out of the heavy rain. He shook the thick material, trying not to soak the men who were still asleep after the celebrations the night before. It had been a late evening, the ale and wine had flowed very freely and most had yet to even surface after the heavy drinking. Gregory knew it was almost too early to wake the hall but he had to speak to Athelred immediately. He pushed his way through the sleeping bodies, trying not to step on any. It was hard. Most men had rolled themselves up in their cloaks and slept out of the way of the passages through the hall, but some had just slept where they had fallen, making it more of an obstacle course than a walk for the old monk.
Gregory could see Athelred and Ingimund sitting at the centre table, Eirik and Godwin close at hand. The four men were treating themselves to more ale in hopes of curing the head nails they were all suffering. ‘My Lords,’ he called out quietly as he approached the centre table. The men all looked up, then Athelred smiled and indicated the bench opposite him.
‘Pull up a space Father, and join us.’
Father Gregory accepted the cup of small ale, and smiled in gratitude at the woman who put a plate of cold meat and bread in front of him. There was even a small amount of nuts and dried fruit on the wooden dish. He could feel his stomach rumble. He had been in such a hurry to get to the Lord of Mercia that he hadn’t had time to even break his fast after first prayers. The men watched in amusement as the thin Prior said a cursory Grace over his food and took a huge mouthful of the stewed beef. They had been discussing the incident the night before and wanted to know the churchman’s view of the situation, but would have to wait until his mouth was empty before they asked him any of his opinions.
Gregory looked at the men around him. There were smiles in their eyes despite the fact that it was so early. They could hear the noises of sleeping folk all around them, and Gregory kept his voice low.
‘Liam and Harold are still claiming that the Northmen have not brought the real lady Buffy, and that William has somehow managed to con you all into accepting his wench,’ Gregory stated. ‘They are insisting that the lady take the Trial by Ordeal, proving that she is who she claims to be. They are also claiming that William has made some sort of secret treaty with the Norse to destroy the city and take it as their own.’ He felt uncomfortable after the interview he had had with the two men. They would not confess their sins, or allow him to give them absolution.
Ingimund burst out laughing. ‘If I had come to war I would not have brought my wife with me, and if I had meant to destroy the city I certainly wouldn’t have put my womenfolk in the line of fire! And why would I want somewhere that is so far from the coast? No, I’ll stick to the rich farmland on my side of the pale and you stick to your town your side.’
Athelred smiled. ‘I certainly wouldn’t have brought Athelflaed or my court with me if we had suspected treachery.’ He turned to Gregory and asked, ‘do you think they will cause more trouble?’
‘Well, the guards have them away from any who might spread the rumours as you instructed, my lord, and have made them stay in the chapel praying all night. But simply, I think their hatred of their brother runs deeper than their sense of self preservation. They are simply brooding on how he has all the luck and how they can steal his good fortune from him. I can’t see them passing any sort of test at the moment.’ Father Gregory said solemnly.
‘We will keep a close watch on that situation,’ Athelred said as he signalled to Godwin. ‘Inform my guards that I will brook no nonsense from anyone whilst our guests are here. Any infringement of the Witan Peace will be dealt with severely.’
He turned to Ingimund expecting similar orders to be given, but the Norse Lord just took a drink of his ale and looked around the room at the awakening warriors. Eirik didn’t seem to be anxious to leave the ale either.
‘What?’ Ingimund asked when the men were staring at him. ‘I don’t have to add orders. Buffy has already threatened to slit the gizzard of anyone who spoils her wedding to William and none of my men are brave enough to face her in a mood. Nor stupid enough to court that sort of danger.’ He laughed out loud at the thought.
Athelred tried to understand the power a single woman could hold. Buffy had seemed a slight thing when he had seen her the night before, but she had been treated with a great deal of respect. There was something about her, the same something his own good lady had, an air of authority maybe?
William was sitting with his mother as they broke their fast. She was delighted to have met Connor the night before and to have talked about Tara all night was a true joy: it was obvious from the way the young man spoke that he held a great deal of affection for his second wife. Anne had to admit she was trying to understand the concept of more than one wife but she would talk to Brother Giles, he would help her. William was full of stories about Buffy and Nordlys. Her son was already besotted by his little daughter, and from the tales being told she had him wrapped around her tiny thumb. Breakfast passed swiftly, and William would soon be going back across the river to see to the final details of the wedding, well the norse wedding. Buffy had insisted that they marry in both cultures. She said she wasn’t having him escape again.
Anne watched as the lords talked quietly and felt her heart sink again. For all the joy she felt in her youngest son, she wondered about the eldest two. How could they be so stupid as to start a fight like that then in front of the Lord of Mercia? But then they were so like their overbearing bully of a father, no thought for the consequence of any action they took, whilst William was her child through and through, from his dark blond hair to his slim figure; unlike the lumbering brutes that she had borne for her lord. At this moment she was no gentle lady, she just wanted them and their wives to rot in hell. They would find out their fate later that very day. It was in God’s hands now: there was nothing she could do to help them. She would just stay out of the way of her daughters until they left for Wessex. She really didn’t need another beating. Anne went back to concentrating on William’s stories and on her breakfast. She would try and go to the market later to find a small gift that Connor could take home for Tara. A wedding gift from her aunt.
William left his mother eating. He had managed to slip some extra silver into her pouch, so she would have enough money to buy some pretty things at the market that was forming in the city square. He picked up his horn cup, a gift from Buffy the night before, refilled it with ale and made his way over to where Father Gregory was talking to the Lords of land and sea. Eirik and Godwin were sitting quietly nearby and William intended to ask the men to stand by him in the church when he took his vows to Buffy.
Father Gregory watched as William sat by his friends and turned his attention back to the two lords. He gave a small cough and took a deep breath. ‘My Lords, we have to talk about the trial.’
‘Of course Father Gregory, by tradition and law you should oversee it.’ Athelred said to the holy man.
‘Well, yes my Lord,’ he seemed slightly mollified, ‘but the accused should have at least three days fasting and praying first. Would you allow me to take them to the priory where they may consider their immortal souls?’
Ingimund looked at Athelred. It was the Saxon’s land, but it had been his kinswoman who had been insulted. ‘If it is your way, then we should obey your laws. That was agreed,’ he answered, ‘and I don’t intend to start breaking the terms of our treaty before the marriage has been consummated officially!’ he laughed to himself.
‘Officially?’ Athelred asked. Ingimund looked pointedly at William who wondered why he had suddenly become the centre of interest to the North Lord. Ingimund’s beard bristled as he grinned in the young man’s direction. ‘I think there was some putting of carts before horses the other night…’
‘Ahh,’ Athelred smiled as well. ‘It’s nice to know that their won’t be any complications on the wedding night,’ he added and turned back to the cleric, who hadn’t quite managed to keep up with the conversation.
‘Is this meeting something I need to be worried about? Is there a problem?’
‘No Father Gregory, just the talk of married men.’
The cleric blushed. He must seem very unworldly to men like these, he thought ruefully, but back to his own business.
‘We need to do the trial properly; we must seen to be fair…’
‘Of course. You make any and all arrangements you see fit and the men will be under your protection until the morning of the trial.’
Athelred gave a small smile and confirmed the orders to his guard. ‘Give the prisoners over to the care of Father Gregory, but ensure they are well guarded. I will have nothing break the peace of the Witan.’
William and Eirik were invited to join the lords and dice were found. The rest of the morning would be spent far more happily in games of chance and in losing money to each other. William couldn’t refuse Athelred’s offer to join them, and knew he would have to put off going and seeing Buffy till later that day, or even on the morrow. He couldn’t wait for the wedding when he would be able to be with her as much as he needed to be. William refilled the ale cups around the table and signalled to one of the women that the jug was nearly empty. He then threw the dice; even the sight of three sixes failed to cheer him up.
Across the river Faith and Buffy looked out of the hall doorway at the slowly clearing sky. Word had gone round the Norse encampment that traders had set up in the city, there was a market and the two young women really wanted to go.
Helga had taken one look at the grey overcast sky, and chosen to stay indoors near the fire, to carry on with her weaving and talking with Fritha. The women shared kin and it was of far more importance to them to catch up with all the news than to go traipsing around a Saxon market in the rain…
Buffy and Faith knew they would need an escort. A warrior who could be persuaded to go with them to protect them from any harm; preferably a volunteer. Most of the warriors had yet to arrive back from the drinking the night before and that left Connor. Connor who was sleeping as though dead, his head barely showing above the furs on his bed. Connor who hated and loathed shopping with a passion. Connor who had been instructed to make sure that nothing upset the bride.
Faith and Buffy looked at one another and grinned. Connor was their volunteer.
Connor awoke from a pleasant dream about his ladies to find both Buffy and Faith bringing him breakfast in bed: it was a well known and sure sign of trouble. Whatever they wanted from him his first instinct would be to say NO. He looked between the dark pools of brown and emerald green. The women really wanted something.
‘What are you two after?’ he asked groggily, his head not quite catching up.
‘Why would we be after anything?’ Buffy asked in all innocence.
‘Cause you have brought me breakfast and you are not shouting even though you know I have a hangover.’ It seemed very obvious to Connor. Faith traded looks with Buffy. Maybe they had overdone the being nice…Connor was suspicious.
‘Come on girls, tell me what you want then I can go back to dying in peace.’ Connor was a little sharper than he meant to be and Buffy started pouting.
Connor could resist most things, but not the pout. The pout was cheating. ‘What am I doing?’ he asked.
‘Taking us to the market,’ Buffy blurted out and it left Connor wondering which of the Norns he had upset that they had made him suffer the penalty of helping the women with their shopping. But he couldn’t leave them unescorted here. Olaf had made himself scarce as soon as the words shopping and town had been mentioned; in fact when Connor looked around, all the men had made themselves scarce. With a show of poor grace he pulled himself out of his bed and donned his sword. He then picked up the bags of hacksilver they would need to pay for the goods and followed the women down towards the small boat that had been put aside to use as a ferry when the tide was high. They pulled their thick cloaks tightly around them; the ground was muddy after the night’s rain and both women were grateful for the help they received in getting out of the small boat.
The town was bustling as they entered through the gate near the Priory: there were great stone buildings around them, fallen into ruins now, remnants of the rooms used by the previous occupants of the city visible for all to see. But there was a good road that led to the market square, a market full of wonderful stalls. Buffy and Faith could feel their hearts quicken at the thought of all that shopping. They loved shopping. Faith looked around her and took a deep breath in: she could smell all the different smells of the market. It seemed familiar and alien at the same time. There were food merchants and a moneyer could be heard hammering coins in one corner. There were the squawks of chickens held captive in baskets and the smell was as familiar as the landscape was different. The tone of the voices took the women home, as the sounds of the language reminded them they were in a new land. But markets were markets and they would soon learn how this one worked. They grinned at one another and set off through the stalls at a fast pace, Connor following on behind, feeling like nothing more than a very well trained dog.
Faith and Buffy dismissed the spices as poor and third rate, then they found and bought fresh foodstuffs for the encampment and had wandered around for quite a while; then they had found the fabric store. Buffy and Faith had found the fabric store… words that sent a cold shiver into the heart of many a brave man. The price of the linen had made them gasp, the silk was poor quality and way overpriced, but the woollens were incredible, better than any they had seen before. It was worth coming to the source of their normal supplies, rather than trusting their menfolk. The fabrics were sublime, fine woven wool, some still in the grease had caught their eye and was fast diminishing their silver supply. Twills and split herringbone patterns that were the best of a master weaver’s craft.
Buffy looked around for a runner to help carry the shopping, but could see no-one: that was something she missed. She shrugged her shoulders and started to pick up the load she had bought; Faith picked up the other bundle. They were heavy but both women were used to hard labour, and they headed off in the direction of more stalls. Connor wanted to help but knew that he had to keep his hands free to defend the women if necessary. His duty was to be a bodyguard: all the women in the market should have had someone escorting them. Connor followed his women, keeping a sharp eye out for trouble. They were strangers in a strange land, and despite being under the protection of the Witan, there still might be problems.
Buffy and Faith spent a little more silver on some honey cakes, buying extra for the hall as well. They were rich and spicy, the honey running down their fingers and making them sticky. The girls were licking their fingers, both looking younger than their years, their cares a world away for a few moments. The conversation was light hearted and fun when Buffy whipped her head round: she had heard a cry coming from behind the stalls. The voice sounded familiar: it was Anne. Buffy dropped her bundles and her cake and ran towards the cries. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she came around the corner. The Lady Anne was pinned up against a wall whilst Dru and Darla were searching her dress. Dru had her arm firmly across Anne’s throat, and there was blood running down her face from a scratch along her cheek; she was gasping for her life’s breath.
Buffy leapt forward and grabbed for the dark haired Saxon woman, shoving Darla out of the way and sending her flying into the mud. Dru screeched loudly as Buffy pulled her away from Anne. Faith took her normal fighting place on Buffy’s left side; she watched Darla who came forward with a knife in her hand. Faith made a big play of the fact that the Saxon pulled a blade first before kicking her in the stomach and sending her flying again. Dru went for Buffy’s eyes.
‘See to my mother!’ Buffy yelled towards Connor, ensuring that the man was kept out of the fight, knowing that no-one would forgive a warrior for attacking two women. Anne’s bodyguard was nowhere to be seen and the guards who had been with Darla and Dru stepped away from the fight after a glowering look from the northern man.
William was sitting quietly with the Athelred and Ingimund. Father Gregory was pouring another cup of ale when a runner came bursting into the hall.
‘Two of the Norse women are giving some women a slap down, and the Norse women are winning!!!’
The men hurried from the hall and made their way swiftly to the market place: any trouble between their peoples had to be dealt with swiftly. There they were met with an amusing sight, a sight that caused all the men to laugh out loud.
The Lady Anne was sitting on a cart, being given a drink of wine by Connor who was fussing over her like she was his own mother, whilst Buffy and Faith were sitting on top of Darla and Dru, pinning them securely to the floor. If either of the two sisters moved too much they got a mouthful of cow dung and they were swearing and moaning about their treatment at the hands of the vixens from the north. The two Norse women were practicing with the knives they had taken from the Saxons, using a plank of wood as a target. The funniest thing to Ingimund and William were the caustic comments they were making about the quality of the knives, and their balance when being thrown. Athelred watched in amazement at the professional way they were handling the weapons.
The two leaders managed to get their attention eventually by shouting loudly, and Faith and Buffy stood up, leaving Darla and Dru in the dirt. Darla struggled to her feet, trying to free herself from her hem, but Dru jumped up and went for Buffy’s eyes, her nails held before her like claws, talons. Buffy just laughed and grabbed the woman’s wrists, holding Dru away from her face and body: she was still laughing. Dru was screaming and shouting: she seemed to be mad. Buffy needed no help to protect herself though. She was more than capable of ensuring her own safety.
Lady Anne physically shrank away from the noise, her face showing her terror. Connor stepped in front of his Grandmother and protected her from the venom spewing from the woman’s mouth. Connor was a big man and Anne could not see past him as he ensured her welfare. She managed to take a deep breath and calm herself down. Her daughters would not be permitted to hurt her today.
‘Buffy, put Dru down please, you might catch something!’ was William’s only comment on the situation. Buffy was still laughing as Dru was removed from her arms. She had found the whole episode rather amusing. Saxon women, it seemed, were not trained in weaponry and fighting the way Norse women were, and Dru and Darla were totally inept at either attack or defence. Anne had been stunned when her new daughter had leapt to protect her: Buffy was tiny compared to the two women but she was like a wren defending her own. Ferocious.
Athelred turned to William. ‘Are you sure you want to marry her? Life could be dangerous,’ he grinned.
‘Oh, I’m sure.’ William looked towards his lady love with a smile that spoke of his deep and abiding feelings for the woman who had stolen his heart.
Ingimund turned to Athelred and started talking. ‘We had better see what caused this rumpus. It’s bad enough that there was trouble yesterday, but more today is starting to cast bad luck on this treaty.’
‘All the trouble seems to have come from one family, though.’ Athelred pointed out reasonably.
‘Lady Elizabeth, Lady Faith: may I enquire as to the reason you were using these ladies as impromptu seats?’ Ingimund asked. Faith chuckled at the formality of the question.
‘Dru and Darla attempted to attack my mother,’ Buffy stated, ‘and when I took exception to them hitting and pinching her, they were stupid enough to pull a blade on me.’ Buffy looked around for her woollens: she was far more worried about them than she was about the attack by two such inept assailants. She was pleased to see the stallholder had put them safely by him. There was one honest man around: honest or terrified. The sight of the Norse woman fighting had been enough to scare most men, and Buffy was good at what she did. She had protected her own for years and crossing an ocean had not stopped her instincts.
Athelred looked at the woman. ‘They pulled the blades on you?’ He had to make sure that the Saxon women had been the breakers of the truce.
‘Yes: we have witnesses.’ She pointed towards the lady Anne and towards the stallholders who had gathered to watch the proceedings and excitement.
William smiled to himself. There was his Buffy, the one that had overseen the deaths of the men who had raided her hall, and put a cloth yard through the chest of a man who had threatened her foster sister. His eyes turned towards Faith: she was pulling off the cap she had worn out of respect for Saxon mores. She ran her hand through her hair and tidied up the fancy knot she had been wearing. The stares from the men around her just made her grin even more and she pulled the cap back over her long dark locks.
William offered his arm to Buffy and signalled a couple of the men from the hall to pick up her shopping. Connor helped the lady Anne down carefully and gave his free arm to Faith.
‘I can’t let you out of my sight, can I?’ William whispered as they walked back towards the hall. ‘You cause trouble where ever you go.’
‘They started it,’ Buffy pouted, casting her eyes up into his blue ones. She knew no man could have raised his hand to the women, but she wasn’t held back by questions of nicety. She was considered as weak as they were. She smiled to herself: two problems taken care of in two days…now for the wedding.
Father Gregory looked at the two dirty and bruised women. He hadn’t been able to say a thing during the Lord’s questioning, he had been too angry, but now his temper had calmed a little, he could. ‘Take them to the church. They can spend the day and night fasting in contemplation of their sins.’ He instructed the guards as he turned his back on their tears and Dru’s howls. The poor woman seemed to have lost her mind completely.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
a double length chapter becuse everyone waited so nicely. sorry its been a while, Real Life has thrown a couple of curve balls in my direction. But I am getting back to the writing
Chapter End Notes:
please review and kick my muse back into working properly.