Page 4 of Unconquered

The huge chest Edith stored her few possessions in creaked loudly as Eada opened it.

A small, ornately carved chest sat atop the old clothing and blankets inside.

For a moment Eada was afraid, but she harshly scolded herself for her own foolishness.

Despite that, she still shuddered as she picked up the small chest.

She was almost glad when the Norman entered the cottage, distracting her, but she still glared at him.

It was easy to blame him for all the turmoil she suffered.

Eada realized that she had already ceased to think of the large man as Old Edith's murderer.

She knew in her heart that it had been just a horrible, tragic accident, but she still resented him.

From the moment he and the rest of the Normans had set foot upon English soil, her life had been drastically changed.

Her family was gone; her father was quite possibly doomed, and now Old Edith was dead.

Even worse than all of that, Eada decided crossly, was the fact that the man disturbed her.

She could not stop herself from wondering what he looked like beneath his armor.

Her anger and grief had prevented her from really looking at him during the brief time she had attacked him and he had lost his helmet.

She found that she was intensely curious to see if he were as handsome as Old Edith had said he would be.

She quickly cursed herself for being a fool.

It did not matter if he were handsome.

He could be as ugly as a toad.

The man would take her whether she wanted him or not.

He was a Norman, one of a large army that had landed in England with every intention of conquering it.

If he chose to conquer her, too; there was not very much she could do about it.

Eada decided she would simply not make it too easy for him.

If it really were her destiny to belong to this tall Norman, then so be it; but she would ensure that he had to work hard for his prize.

"Well? What are you standing there for, you great fool?" she snapped.

Drogo decided that her language added a new sharpness to an insult; and although he did not understand her, he knew she was insulting him.

If the tone of her voice had not told him so, the look on her pretty face would have.

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her, wondering idly why his desire should be so strongly roused by such a foul-tempered little female.

Drogo then found himself wondering what he would feel if she smiled at him.

"You will come with us," he ordered and held out his hand.

She looked at his hand as if he waved something vile in her face, then stood up, still clutching the small box, and walked out the door.

Drogo watched the sway of her slim hips and fought the urge to slap her attractive backside.

He followed her out of the cottage, still uncertain if Serle were right when he had said the girl understood what they were saying.

When the Norman reached for her to set her on his horse, Eada neatly eluded his grasp.

She hurriedly mounted the cart pony's back and wondered crossly how the fools had planned to get their stolen bounty back to Pevensey if they all rode their own horses.

The stallions would never allow such a collection of noisy animals anywhere near them.

Eada called softly to her hounds as she urged the pony forward.

It angered her that Edith's animals would soon fill Norman bellies, but she suspected that her dear friend had known that as well.

Drogo glared at Serle when the man laughed then hurriedly mounted his horse.

He was going to have to do something about the girl's impudence.

Even now, something inside him told him that he would be keeping her close by his side for a long while.

Many men would envy him her beauty, but they would also laugh heartily at a man who had so little control over his woman.

The girl had clearly not been taught that man was the master of women.

"Er, Sir Drogo?" Unwin asked a little timidly as he rode up beside the older knight.

"Do you take the girl, too?"

"Of course.

She is my prisoner," Drogo drawled.

"Oh.

I see.

Your prisoner." Unwin's tone of voice made his doubts very clear.

"Yes, my prisoner.

Do you not see how she quails before our manly strength? Do you not see how she rushes to obey my every command? Look closely, boy, and you will see how her slim back already begins to bow beneath the acceptance of her enslavement." He grinned at the young man, who quickly grinned back as he realized he was being soundly teased.

Eada bit back a laugh then scolded herself for softening so quickly.

A sense of humor was compellingly attractive in a man, however.

It had always been one of the things she had looked for in a person.

She soon decided that the men's raillery grew unnecessarily crude and fought to keep her face averted, hiding her blushes.

If the men saw how she colored, they would know that she could understand them, and she was not quite ready to give them that knowledge.

Just as they entered Pevensey, the four knights encircled her, even though their warhorses needed a great deal of convincing before they would draw near so many common animals.

Eada wondered briefly if they made a show of bringing food and a prisoner but an instant later felt almost sorry for maligning them.

It was clear to see that they had moved closer to protect her from the harsh consequences of being a young woman within reach of a seven-thousand-man army.

Her guardians quickly got rid of their horses, and Eada decided that had been a mistake.

easily unsettled warhorses inspired far more caution than four well-armed men and two hounds which were not much inclined to bite anyone.

She was just about to kick one particularly annoying man right in his leering face when everyone suddenly grew quiet.

When the crowd of men slowly parted to allow one man and his small entourage to approach the cart, Eada instinctively knew that she was about to meet William the Bastard.

The man smiled faintly at Drogo and said, "When I saw such a crowd gathered, I thought you had brought us some fanciful beast, Drogo." He briefly glanced at Eada.

"Although, when one considers the rarity of this particular creature at the moment, I suppose you have."

Eada carefully studied William as Drogo explained what had happened during his brief foraging sortie.

The man who claimed the right to sit on the throne of England was not very impressive in appearance or stature, yet there was something deeply compelling about him.

She could see the strength in him, a strength supported by wit, determination, and ambition.

It saddened her to acknowledge that, but it was clear to her that William of Normandy could easily accomplish all he planned unless God decided to deny him the prize he sought.

She was abruptly pulled from her musings about the red-haired Norman baron when Drogo picked her off the pony's back and set her down at his side.

"Amfrid," Drogo said to the nervous, bone-thin man at William's side, "will you tell this girl that William of Normandy is her new king?"

When Amfrid did as he was told, Eada looked at William and calmly said, "Not yet.

Harold still holds the throne.

You, my lord, are still only a Norman lordling standing on the edge of England looking in."

"What did she say, Amfrid?" William asked when the man stared at Eada in openmouthed horror.

"It does not matter, my lord," Amfrid stuttered in reply.

"She is but some foolish girl."

"Amfrid, she is one of the people I intend to rule.

Now, tell me what she said."

His voice high and unsteady, Amfrid dutifully repeated Eada's words.

For a moment Eada feared that she had indeed been a silly girl.

William's face darkened and Drogo looked torn, as if part of him wanted to hide her and part of him wanted to beat her soundly.

Then, to Eada's surprise and the obvious astonishment of others, William began to laugh.

"Ah, Drogo, my old friend, do not look so dismayed," William said.

"She but spoke the truth.

Ask her, Amfrid, And when I do hold the throne? Go on, ask her.

She speaks the truth with no pretty dressing and I will hear it."

After Amfrid had carefully translated William's question, Eada replied quietly, "Then you will be my king and I will kneel to you.

I but ask that you forgive me if I weep at your crowning." She waited for Amfrid to repeat her words in French, then continued.

"I am but a little woman in a little town and will dutifully kneel to whomever sets the crown upon his head.

I am Saxon, however; and though I know none of the men of any consequence, they, too, are Saxon which makes them my kinsmen in blood and heritage.

To gain all you seek, you must now spill the blood of my kindred.”

"Yes, I will honor the crown, especially since I have heard it said that it was promised to you; but I will weep for the loss of Saxon lives, for the loss of Saxon lands, and, I think, the loss of much else that is Saxon." She curtsied then walked back to the cart, not waiting to see how her words were accepted.

"I am sorry, my lord," Drogo finally said when he was able to shake free of his shock and dismay and speak coherently.

"Do not apologize for words that have come from the heart.

They have even moved my dear friend Amfrid.

That child neither insulted me nor threatened me.

She simply and eloquently explained what she felt, and I can well understand those feelings.

'Tis rare to find one who can explain it so clearly and with neither anger nor bitterness."

William smiled suddenly and lightly slapped an uncertain Drogo on the back.

"I think you may have captured yourself a troublesome bundle, my friend."

William's good humor eased some of the unease knotting Drogo's stomach, and he smiled faintly.

"Most troublesome, but I intend to tame her."

"And watch her most closely," William said, quickly growing serious again.

"As she so graciously told us, Drogo, she is Saxon and, until I am crowned, she will not see me as her king.

She is small and very pretty, but that does not mean that she cannot be dangerous as well."

"I will not be blinded by her loveliness, my liege."

"Good.

Now, have your men take a share of the bounty you have gained and then put the rest with the supplies."

Drogo bowed slightly then watched as William walked away to disappear into a crowd of men near the town well.

From the moment he had set eyes on Eada, he had given little thought to the fact that she was Saxon, one of the enemy.

He was not sure he appreciated William's reminding him of that fact.

A hint of suspicion now stirred in his heart and he wished he could banish it.

As he looked toward Eada, he sternly told himself not to be such a fool.

He had invaded her land, taken hold of her town; and in the fighting that was sure to follow, he would undoubtedly take the lives of some of her people.

It would be wise to hold onto some suspicion.

He was responsible for other lives as well as his own, and he could not allow a pair of beautiful eyes to beguile him into ignoring any possible threat.

When he finally caught sight of Eada, he cursed softly.

She stood flanked by her growling hounds and encircled by nearly a dozen leering men.

Although she held her ground, glaring bravely at the men, it was a dangerous situation.

As he pushed his way through the men to get to her side, he mused crossly that some of the trouble she would bring was the lust and envy of the men.

He might well spend a great deal of his time trying to stop his fellow Normans from stealing her away.

The moment he reached Eada's side, he grabbed her by one slim arm and confronted the men.

With a sweeping glare, he proclaimed Eada his and his alone.

He knew that his belligerent stance at her side also announced that he was willing to back that claim with a sword or his fists.

As soon as the soldiers began to back away, Drogo turned his attention to Eada, absently patting the hounds which had been ready to defend her.

"William is right," he murmured.

"You will be trouble.

If I keep you, it is akin to taking an enemy into the very heart of my camp; and now I see that I may well have to watch my companions-in-arms as closely as I watch you."

Eada looked at him, hoping her expression held the look of sweet ignorance she strove for.

She resented the implication that she was not to be trusted, but could not reveal that without revealing that she understood every word he said.

Although he was an invader, her enemy, she would never stoop to betrayal, deceit, or treachery.

If she fought him, she would do so openly.

She also knew that, even if she spoke to him in French with all the eloquence of a troubadour, he probably would not believe her.

She met his steady look and quelled a start of surprise.

Behind the frowning concern and the faint hint of unwarranted suspicion was wanting.

It was the same look she had seen in the other men's faces, yet not so harsh or alarming.

Instead of fear, she felt her body warm with welcome.

Perhaps they were destined, she mused.

It was the only explanation for responding favorably to a lustful look from a man who intended to fight her people and help conquer her country.

She knew she was not the sort of woman to warm to a man simply because he was strong and handsome.

There was the problem of his suspicion, however.

If he feared she was the sort to slip a knife in his back or feed him to his enemies, their destiny would be difficult to fulfill.

Eada knew he would bed her without hesitation, but she was confident that Edith's prophecy was not for her to be a mere leman, one of the many poor, bedraggled souls who often trailed along behind an army.

Old Edith had promised her a soulmate.

Eada wondered just how hard she might have to work to gain that prize.

A group of men awkwardly shepherding a small flock of sheep down the road caught Eada's attention and she cursed.

"And where might they be taking them?"

The way she was glaring at the sheep gave Drogo a hint of what she had just said and he replied, "We need to feed the men." He pointed at the sheep and rubbed his flat stomach in an awkward attempt to make her understand.

"If you feed your soldiers too well this late in the year, you will face a long, hungry winter, fool."

Drogo shook his head.

Her tone was cold, angry, but he had no idea what she had just said.

He was either going to have to learn her coarse language or teach her French.

Although what she had said to William had disturbed him, it revealed a sharp mind, and he realized he wanted to enjoy that almost as badly as he wanted to bed her.

"Tancred," he called to his friend as he shook aside the confusion he felt over his strong, unwavering attraction to the slight woman at his side.

"Stay and guard this bounty of ours for a moment or two.

I will send Ivo to you so that he might choose what we require.

The rest must then be placed with the other supplies."

"Since the beasts are all tethered, I think I can do it," Tancred drawled, and then he looked at Eada.

"And I think you had best hide away your own bounty.

The men eye her with more greed than they eye the food."

"They understand that she is mine."

"Oh, they understand that.

You made it very clear.

That does not mean that they will now all stay away.

Some of them might think to challenge you, especially if you continue to dangle the prize in front of their eyes."

"I do not fear them nor will I turn away from a fight."

"I know that.

No insult was meant.

William, however, might prefer that his soldiers save their strength for the battle with the English."

While Drogo laughed along with his companions, Eada rolled her eyes.

The men had probably earned the arrogance they now displayed, but that did not make it any less irritating.

Eada also knew that, no matter how much she might resent it, she was going to need their protection.

One glance at the thousands of Normans and mercenaries swarming over Pevensey verified that.

Even if Drogo were not the one Old Edith had claimed as her destined mate, Eada suspected she would have accepted his claim to her anyway.

From what little she had seen so far, Drogo seemed to be a good, honorable man.

Far better to be the leman of one good man than a whore to the whole of the invading army.

"I wonder which one of these dogs has laid claim to my home?" she murmured as she looked around, trying to see if anyone walked toward her house.

"It would be nice if I could at least get a clean gown." She patted her dogs, glancing up at Drogo and catching him staring at her.

"It would be better if we spoke the same tongue," Drogo said.

Eada wondered if he were trying to trick her into confessing that she knew French.

It would make some things much easier if they could talk openly.

She was also not confident that she could maintain her air of ignorance for very long.

For the moment, however, it gave her a small advantage and she intended to cling tightly to that for as long as she could.

"And since I know exactly what he will ask of me, I see no need for words or any great understanding between us." She could tell by the frown upon his face that he recognized the bitter tone behind her words.

He had a keen ear and that could prove to be troublesome.

"I will not hurt you."

After glancing around to make sure that the English speaking Amfrid was not close by, Eada decided to answer Drogo directly.

He could not understand her words or know that she understood his if she guarded her expression.

"You mean to make me your leman, your whore.

If Old Edith was right and you are my destiny, it is certain that you do not know it.

You are but acting like any warrior who sees what he wants and just takes it."

Drogo shook his head.

"I wish I could understand you or that you could speak my language.

There is anger in your voice and, unless I can reason with you, I cannot soothe it.

Nor can I still the fear you must feel despite your brave stance."

She looked at the Normans casually plundering the town and noticed how few of her fellow Saxons she saw.

"Even if we spoke in the same tongue, nothing you could say could fully banish my anger, my sense of hopelessness, or my fear.

You have come to conquer and, though we are destined to be mates, in doing that you must hurt me.

And even if I spoke in the most eloquent French, I do not think you could ever understand how I feel about all of this."

When she tried to pull free of his grasp, he gently tightened his grip on her arm.

"No, you will stay with me."

Still pulling against his hold, Eada pointed toward the cart.

"I must get the chest Old Edith gave me."

Eada breathed a silent sigh of relief when he eased his hold enough to allow her to pull him along as she went to the cart.

It dismayed her a little that she had almost forgotten about the gift Old Edith had left her.

She quickly soothed her pangs of guilt by reminding herself of all she had endured since waking that morning.

A shiver of unease tickled her spine as she picked up the chest.

Old Edith had said that it held the truth.

Eada decided she had had her fill of Old Edith's truths.

So far, they had brought only confusion and sorrow.

As she clutched the small, ornate chest in her arms, she decided that this particular truth could wait.

She needed time to muster up the courage to look at it.

"You have not opened it," Drogo murmured.

"I did not see you do so in the cottage and I am sure you have not tried to since then.

Are you not curious about what she gave you? Or, mayhap, what you have stolen?"

It was hard not to respond to the accusation that she had helped herself to the possessions of a dead woman.

Eada found that deeply insulting.

If he made too many remarks like that, she was certainly not going to keep her knowledge of French secret for long.

Such insults demanded a quick, angry reply.

Her thoughts on how she might vent her anger were abruptly ended when Drogo reached for the chest.

"Do not touch it," she snapped, holding it out of his reach.

"It is mine."

Drogo was surprised at the vehemence of her response.

He was also dismayed by her continuing utter lack of submissiveness.

Although he did not wish to have her terrified of him or completely defeated in spirit, a little deference would be better.

It would strengthen his claim to her in the eyes of the other men.

"I think you forget that you are a prisoner," he said, wishing she could understand him.

"Nothing is yours alone any longer."

“This is mine.

There is nothing in this of value or of interest to you.

Old Edith granted me this with her last breath, and no French knight will lay his hands upon it."

The old woman's name was all Drogo recognized out of the softly hissed barrage of words.

It was enough to make him step back, however.

The old woman had clearly left the girl some meager inheritance, and he would honor that.

He would find some other way to assert his authority over her.

"Come," he ordered as he took her by the arm and started toward the house he had claimed.

Eada hurried to keep pace with his long strides.

She was uncomfortably aware of how tall he was, and how strong, as she was pulled along by his side.

Destiny had chosen a great deal of man for her.

All of her concern over his size, strength, and how she might be able to resist complete domination by him fled her mind as she realized which house they were striding toward.

She had to nip the inside of her cheek to keep from gaping.

The tall Norman who planned to conquer her as well as her country was leading her to the door of her own home.

Eada decided that the fates which had chosen him for her had a perverse sense of humor.