The Chosen Queen Read online

  ‘It didn’t work?’

  ‘You could say that. The horses were churned up in the Welsh mud within minutes. Griffin’s forces were all over them. They had to retreat but the city was vulnerable. I am told the Welsh have done much damage. They have secured not just a victory but a jest at our expense.’

  Svana saw Harold’s jaw tighten and knew the wound ran deeper than his light tone was letting on. She clasped his hands tightly.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  He looked at her and puffed out his breath.

  ‘It is no great matter. If looking foolish is the worst that we suffer we should count ourselves fortunate but we cannot let it go at that. The king’s honour is at stake.’

  The babe rolled suddenly in Svana’s stomach as if, like its mother, it was scornful of such ideas. Definitely a girl then. Svana’s hand closed protectively over it and Harold placed his own on top.

  ‘It quickens?’ he asked and Svana nodded. ‘Perhaps, then, it will stop making you so sick?’

  ‘I hope so, though now fear for you will take its place.’

  He looked reproachfully at her.

  ‘Nay, Svana, fear not for me. I know what I am about on the field and I train hard. I am well fed.’ He patted his belly ruefully. ‘And I have the best armour. It is late in the year so this cannot go on long. I will return to you for Christ’s mass, I swear.’

  ‘At Nazeing?’

  ‘Svana . . .’

  ‘I know, I know. Christ’s mass is at Gloucester. Always has been and always will be.’

  ‘You will come? The boys too?’

  ‘If I am well enough.’

  ‘You are angry with me.’

  She looked deep into his eyes and saw the faint amber rings glowing like fire around the soft pupils. She sighed.

  ‘Not with you, my love, just with all this . . . this warmongering. It seems so pointless.’

  ‘Maybe it is, Svana, but what can we do? England is a rich and prosperous land. Others covet it and if they attack we must surely defend ourselves?’

  ‘My fighting man,’ Svana said, stroking his face, and he smiled ruefully. ‘We cannot let foreigners prey on our land or our people, I suppose, but why must it always be you who does the defending?’

  Harold shrugged.

  ‘The king seems to think I am the best for the job.’

  He looked so very bashful, sat there before her with his skilful warrior’s hands clasped softly over her belly, that Svana could argue no further. She wound her hands around his neck and kissed him fervently.

  ‘You are the best, Harold – the best for England and the best for me.’

  He kissed her back.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he whispered, ‘but I prefer you.’

  She felt her loins stir.

  ‘It is just a shame, then, that England is so very demanding. Do you have time to come to bed?’

  His eyes darkened and he pulled her up into his arms.

  ‘I do, my love. I most definitely do. England can wait that long.’

  Afterwards, as they lay in a tangle of blankets, Svana curled against him, trying to imprint every finger space of him onto her flesh to last her in the lonely weeks ahead.

  ‘You will be quick?’ she asked.

  ‘As quick as I safely can.’

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  ‘And you will broker a peace between King Edward and Lord Alfgar?’

  ‘I will do my very best.’

  ‘And you will bring Edyth safely home?’

  ‘Why would I not?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Svana sat up and fumbled for the letter. It took her a minute to find it amongst the hastily discarded clothing but at last it emerged from beneath Harold’s trews. ‘She says “I hope to see you one day”.’

  ‘As I’m sure she will.’

  ‘But why “one day”, Harold? Why not soon? And why does she talk of “all that has happened”?’

  ‘Girls prattle, my love. She is bored, you said so yourself.’

  ‘So why does she not write more?’

  ‘Perhaps vellum is scarce in Wales?’

  ‘Hardly, Harry. If the king can gift her a horse, he can afford a few sheets of vellum.’

  ‘A horse?’

  ‘Yes, a beautiful creature, Edyth says.’

  ‘But why . . . ? Oh, honestly, Svana, you have me questioning now. Look, the girl is in deepest Wales with her mother and King Griffin is at Hereford, knocking down walls and doubtless making free with the local girls. Things may have grown flirtatious but that is over. I will ride forth and I will bring them to the table and we will all see you in Gloucester for Christ’s mass.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ he objected, kissing her.

  Svana sighed.

  ‘So little is,’ she said wistfully but Harold stoppered her words with his lips and she gave in to his renewed caresses whilst she could.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Billingsley, December 1055

  Edyth,

  I pray this missive does not take as long to reach you as I fear yours did to reach me and apologise deeply for the delay. My dear husband has been chasing the king around the country, I chasing him, and your letter, I fear, chasing us both. I wish I could send one of Harold’s falcons straight to you with my words tied to his leg but until he can be trained to seek Rhuddlan we shall have to content ourselves with the slow progress of horses and men.

  I hope this finds you still well. My babe has quickened and is due in the spring by which time I very much hope you will be back in East Anglia. Perhaps, if God wills it born safely, you would do us the honour of standing as godmother? Harold likes to see the children offered to God and as I defy the poor man on so much it seems only fair to grant him this small favour, especially when it secures them loving and inspiring mentors – something I know you will be for this dear child.

  Harold has ridden forth to meet your father’s forces. It does not please me that such a clash should occur. I wish men could settle their disputes without swords and I pray for a year of peace but perhaps such a year is for women and until they hold the reins of power it will not come. I can only hope and trust that neither side here truly wishes harm to the other and that a peaceful settlement can be reached and we can meet in Gloucester for the Yuletide court. I wish you all good cheer and desperately hope to see you soon.

  With love,

  Svana

  Edyth folded the letter carefully. It was creased and stained from too many readings but it had kept her comforted on the cold road into England, not least because she was certain Svana would be delighted to hear she was riding to peace talks. A letter had come from Griffin a few days back inviting them to join him at Billingsley, just over the English border. Meghan had hailed the news with almost ferocious joy and they had ridden out as soon as the chests could be packed.

  Becca had begged to accompany Edyth ‘for her comfort’ and, noting young Lewys in the guard, Edyth had consented with a smile. She had been glad of the company for it had been a hard, impatient ride but now she could see a line of tents on the horizon and knew they must be close to the Welsh camp. She tucked Svana’s letter carefully into her pocket and drew tighter on Môrgwynt’s reins.

  ‘Y ddraig!’ came a sudden cry – the dragon.

  Edyth followed the guard’s eager pointing and saw Griffin’s rampant dragon pawing the bright air as his standard snapped in the sharp December breeze. Her breath caught and Môrgwynt skittered sideways. She had not seen the Welsh king for five months. She had told no one, not even her mother, of her tentative engagement and it had begun to feel as if she had imagined it. Her hands shook on the reins. If her marriage were to happen she would not see Svana, or any of the English court, at Yuletide, nor any time soon after.

  ‘Come, Edyth,’ Meghan said jauntily, throwing her fur-lined cloak over her shoulder, ‘let us ride in to your father.’

  Her head high and her face glowing, Meghan led them up
to the edge of the Welsh camp. They were sighted from afar and by the time they approached the first tents, a rough guard had been hastily assembled. They rode carefully up the line and then, suddenly, there he was – King Griffin. Framed in the doorway of his deep scarlet pavilion, he stood taller and stronger and far, far more handsome than Edyth had dared to remember. His hair was fox-red in the low sunlight and his eyes, as he fixed them upon her, bluer than the winter skies. He might be closer to her father’s age than her own but he radiated an energy and lust for life that set her heart crackling.

  ‘Lady Edyth. May I?’

  He held out a hand to help her from Môrgwynt’s back and she slid from the horse and into his arms. He steadied her, his hand light but firm around her waist, and for a moment it was as if no one was there bar him.

  ‘I have missed you,’ he murmured.

  ‘And I you, Sire.’

  It was true suddenly and becoming more so with every moment he stood over her.

  ‘You are, then, still willing . . . ?’

  She watched his lips form the words and longed to kiss away the unbelievable uncertainty in them. She could feel herself growing with every moment at his side, as if she were a plant that had withered, unnoticed, and was now greedily sucking up spring rains.

  ‘I am yours to command, Sire.’

  ‘Oh, Edyth.’ Griffin’s voice dropped a tone. ‘I’d forgotten how you excite me.’

  ‘Then I am glad I am come to remind you.’

  He groaned softly and Edyth felt a tingle of power but now Alfgar was upon them and they had to pull apart and face the world.

  ‘My dear girl, you are grown fully a woman. I am so glad you are here to share our triumph. King Griffin and I have fought such a campaign!’

  Edyth caught Griffin grinning at her over Alfgar’s shoulder and she had to bite on her lip to stop herself laughing with him at her father’s enthusiasm. One glance at her mother’s face, however, killed all her amusement.

  ‘Alfgar?’ Lady Meghan asked sternly, her eyes boring into Griffin’s hand, sat lightly but firmly around Edyth’s waist.

  Alfgar grinned and tugged her keenly forward.

  ‘See our dear daughter, wife.’

  ‘I most certainly do. She appears very . . . comfortable with our host.’

  ‘As she should be, my sweet, for they are to be wed.’ Edyth saw Meghan’s eyes widen and shifted awkwardly. ‘It will be a match of great honour,’ Alfgar hastened on, ‘for she will be Queen of Wales.’

  Meghan rounded on her daughter, urgent fury in her eyes that she had not been party to this secret, but the Red Devil was towering over them, awaiting congratulations.

  ‘How wonderful,’ Meghan stuttered.

  Griffin roared with laughter.

  ‘Fear not, dear lady, I shall take care of your daughter for she is very precious to me. On this great match a wonderful peace will be founded.’

  ‘And will, I hope, last,’ Meghan said primly but she was already swelling with the import of the moment and, no doubt, the thought of all the new gowns that would need to be ordered.

  ‘When do we talk peace?’ Edyth asked hastily.

  Alfgar rolled his eyes.

  ‘We have been talking peace for days, Edie. Peace, it turns out, is a complicated business.’

  ‘Poor Father. You have never liked formalities.’

  ‘True, true, but I am learning patience.’

  Edyth reached up and kissed him.

  ‘I am glad of it.’

  ‘And we are nearly through, I think. Harold niggles away about the tiniest details but Griffin is standing firm.’

  ‘Harold?’ Edyth’s heart jolted. She glanced at Griffin. ‘The Earl of Wessex is here?’

  ‘For King Edward, yes. You know him?’

  ‘Oh, a little.’ Edyth could feel her heart pounding and put her hand to her neck to try and hide it from the watchful king. Griffin’s bright eyes narrowed.

  ‘How?’ he demanded.

  ‘How? Just, just because I know his wife, the Lady Svana. She holds lands in East Anglia near my father’s soon-to-be-recovered estates, is that not right, Father?’

  ‘It is,’ Alfgar agreed but Edyth could sense Griffin watching her intently.

  ‘Come within,’ he said now – an order. ‘I am sure your father wishes to settle your mother and the boys in their pavilion but perhaps then they will join us for a glass of wine? I am getting quite a taste for the drink.’

  He smiled but his hand was under Edyth’s elbow and his intent was clear to all. Meghan started forward but Alfgar steered her away, contenting himself with a guarded, ‘We will not be long’, before leaving his daughter to Griffin’s mercies. As soon as they were inside the pavilion Griffin pulled Edyth roughly against him.

  ‘What is Earl Harold to you?’

  ‘Nothing, Sire, truly.’

  ‘Nonsense. I saw your eyes. You are hiding something.’

  ‘But not from you.’ Edyth quivered in his iron grasp. She had no idea what to do now, could see no way out of his jealousy, save the truth. ‘He caught me once, a while back.’

  ‘Caught you? If he—’

  ‘Griffin, listen, please.’ He started at her use of his name and she pressed her advantage. ‘He caught me up a tree. I was watching something – two people. They were . . .’

  To her relief she saw a smile creep into Griffin’s eyes and his grasp relaxed.

  ‘They were what, Edyth? Tell me.’

  ‘They were, were rutting, Sire.’

  ‘Rutting?!’ Griffin threw back his head in laughter then clutched her in against him. ‘Rutting? And did you like the look of it, cariad?’

  ‘It surprised me, Sire.’

  ‘Griffin. Call me Griffin again. What surprised you?’

  Edyth shut her eyes.

  ‘How big he was.’

  ‘Oh, my love. Oh, Edyth!’ He buried his head in her neck, pressing his lips against her skin. ‘Do not worry,’ he said throatily. ‘I will not disappoint you there.’

  Edyth pictured Lord Torr lazily stroking his member. She pictured the girl, bottom thrust eagerly upwards, begging for him to enter her. She tried to imagine herself like that but felt revulsion nudge up against excitement in her gut. And still Griffin kissed her.

  ‘Sire, please, I . . . I’m afeared.’

  He pulled back and looked down at her curiously.

  ‘Afeared? There now, you need not be. I will look after you. I am going to give you such pleasure, Edyth. Such pleasure.’

  ‘What is life without pleasure, Edyth Alfgarsdottir?’ Torr’s voice said, shivering up her spine, but now Griffin was taking her hand and, turning it palm upwards, placing the gentlest of kisses into the curve of her fingers.

  ‘Trust me,’ he said softly. ‘Tomorrow I shall wrap up the peace talks. Let Earl Harold have his petty parcels of borderland for I have my prize and I want to take her home and enjoy her as she, I swear, will enjoy me.’

  The town of Billingsley was of middling size – maybe a hundred occupants – and the lord’s great hall was not so very great. It was, at best, twenty paces long and was already bursting with people when Alfgar and Griffin led their party into the negotiations next morning. Griffin had insisted Edyth be included in the deputation and Alfgar, flushed with the raucous welcome the king’s betrothal announcement had received in their camp last night, had readily agreed. Edyth would have gladly stayed in her father’s gloomy pavilion – and even taken up a needle – rather than face Earl Harold in negotiations but Lady Meghan was so delighted to be back over Ofa’s Dyke and on English soil again that she was agreeing to anything.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Edyth had heard her telling two local ladies earlier. ‘I’m delighted at my daughter’s match. Rhuddlan is very grand and the countryside very beautiful and King Griffin is the first man to rule the whole of Wales ever – is that not impressive?’ Edyth had stepped pointedly up to her mother’s side but Meghan hadn’t even flinched. ‘It’s so much more civilised there
than you’d imagine but, then, the king is so very wealthy and so very, very strong.’

  Edyth had not quite been able to see her mother’s face but could have sworn she’d winked and certainly the two ladies had giggled lasciviously.

  ‘And your daughter to be queen. You must be so proud.’

  ‘So proud,’ Meghan had confirmed, patting Edyth’s head absently. ‘Such an honour.’

  And now they were walking into the hall and, despite the chill of the day, Edyth felt hot all over. Her arm was resting on Griffin’s and he was holding his own as stiffly as any English courtier but he might as well have been gripping her waist for the clear implications of her appearance at his side. ‘It’s not just an appearance,’ she told herself sternly as the English rose and bowed, ‘it’s fact. You are betrothed to this man and you are proud of it.’ Even so, she could not meet Harold’s eyes as he stepped forward.

  ‘My lords – ladies. You honour us with your presence.’ First he kissed Meghan’s hand and then turned to Edyth. ‘You are much grown, Lady Edyth, since we saw you last. You look well.’

  ‘I am well, thank you, my lord.’ Edyth could feel Griffin’s eyes tight upon her and still dared not look at Harold. ‘I have been kept most kindly at Rhuddlan.’

  She glanced at Griffin who clasped his other hand over hers.

  ‘Lady Edyth has graced my palace with her presence. So much so, indeed, that I have asked for her as wife and her father has been pleased to consent.’

  The assembled men gasped. Alfgar shifted awkwardly but jutted out his chin.

  ‘It is an alliance, I am sure, that will serve us all well,’ Alfgar said stiffly. ‘Our two countries have enough enemies beyond our seas without fighting each other.’

  Edyth blinked at her father’s sudden eloquence. How long had he been deliberating over this little speech? He sounded defiant, defensive even, as if expecting opposition, but Harold just stood frozen to the spot staring at Edyth.

  ‘Which is why,’ Griffin prompted, ‘we should conclude the terms of our peace.’

  Harold nodded but did not move. Edyth kept her eyes firmly on the floor and after a moment he clicked his teeth, as if to a recalcitrant horse, and wheeled away. Griffin escorted Edyth into a seat next to him, Alfgar slid in on her other side and together they faced a now steely Harold.