Page 9 of Unconquered

Eada grimaced, shifted slightly in Drogo's arms, and struggled to go back to sleep.

Curled up in Drogo's arms but unable to make love because they had no privacy, she had found sleep annoyingly difficult.

She did not want to be awake, but the voice in her head would not shut up.

Something pulled at her, demanded that she leave her safe, warm haven; and she cursed as she finally accepted that she would not get any more sleep until she answered that voice.

Fully awake, her decision made, she suddenly realized that what she could hear in her head was weeping and a cry for help.

Drogo murmured a protest as she eased out of his hold, but to her great relief, he did not wake up.

Her hounds whined a greeting as she tiptoed past them, and she signaled them to be quiet.

She did not hesitate to think about where she was going; she knew.

The cry in her head led her.

So intent was she on following that cry that she was only faintly aware of her hounds trotting silently by her side, but their presence eased some of her trepidation.

When she found herself in the shadowed woods, she reached out for her dogs.

Although the bright moonlight helped her to see where she was walking, it also heightened the unsettling eeriness of the shadows around her.

She caught hold of her dogs' rope collars, and her painfully rapid heartbeat slowed.

Just as she began to think that the voice in her head had been no more than the remnants of some frightening dream, she saw the woman.

She was huddled at the base of a tree, and it was impossible to tell if she was alive or dead.

It was not until Eada reached the woman's side that she saw the swaddled child held in the woman's arms.

Even as she soothed her nervous dogs with a pat, Eada knelt by the woman's side, smiling a greeting when her eyes slowly opened.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Mortally," the woman replied, her voice a raspy thread of sound.

Eada needed to open the woman's cloak only a little to judge the truth of that.

The pale gown beneath the cloak was soaked in the blood from several wounds.

She felt the woman's face and found only the coldness of approaching death.

"Who are you and where are you from?" Eada asked.

"I am Aldith, wife of Edward of Bexhill." Aldith eased the blanket away from her child's face.

"This is Alwyn, my son.

He was born when the fire crossed the sky, a day after Easter."

"A powerful omen to be born under."

"And mayhap a good one, for he is one of the few who may survive the slaughter at Bexhill." Aldith touched a kiss to the baby's forehead.

"I give him to you.

Come, we both know that I am dying.

I beg you to ease my passing by promising to care for my child."

"I promise," Eada said and silently prayed she would not have too much difficulty in convincing Drogo to let her keep that vow.

"May God bless you."

The words were said with Aldith's dying breath.

Eada gently closed the woman's eyes and felt torn between grief and an inability to decide what to do next.

She wanted to bury Aldith and wanted to grab the child and race back to camp, away from the shadows of the forest and the presence of death.

She sensed someone approaching even before she heard her dogs growl softly in warning.

As the crack of a twig sounded in the stillness, Eada moved to shelter the baby with her body.

When she looked up, she found herself staring at the point of a sword.

She tore her gaze from that threat to look at the one who held it.

Inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the fair hair of the youth and his rough attire.

He was Saxon and probably her age or only a year or two older.

She knew she was not out of danger, but she felt she had a better chance of saving herself than if some Norman had found her.

"Would you kill one of your own people?" she asked.

"I have seen you with the Normans."

"I am Eada of Pevensey.

I fear I was cursed with the chance to be one of the first Saxons captured.

Would you kill me for that bad turn of luck?"

"I am Brun of Bexhill," he announced, but he eased his offensive stance only slightly.

"Aldith was my cousin.

If I believe you and you are lying, I could soon be rotting beside her and that is not a fate I wish to share."

"No.

I would guess that you crave a chance to kill Normans."

"You would not sound so disparaging if you had seen what those cowardly dogs did in Bexhill," he snapped.

"Mayhap taking a Norman between your thighs has stolen away your loyalty to your own people."

"Swine," she said almost pleasantly, her fear that he would hurt her fading away.

"What man or men I have taken between my thighs does not concern you.

I intend to survive this bloody, male folly.

And now, I intend to see that this babe survives as well."

"He is my kinsman, not yours."

"You clearly intend to fight Normans.

The babe will be safer with me." She tensed, saw her hounds look back toward the camp, and hissed, "If you do not intend to surrender your sword to me, you had best leave this place now.”

"Surrender? Never.

And why should I run?"

"Because a very large, battle-hardened Norman is coming this way." Eada was suddenly certain that Drogo had woken up, found her gone, and had come to look for her.

"Do not think to whet your sword upon him."

"I am not without skill."

"You are not old enough to learn all that he has learned.

Go and save yourself for a bigger fight than this, if you must fight at all.

Just heed this one thing—if you decide you have fought enough and that life is more precious than death in an already-lost battle, surrender to one of these men." After taking one quick glance behind her to be sure Drogo was not yet in sight, she clearly named him and each one of his knights.

"Or to me."

"I will never surrender."

"There is no time to argue that.

Just remember those names.

Now, go, for if Sir Drogo sees you holding a sword on me, he will kill you before I can even cry halt.

And," she added quickly as, after a brief hesitation, Brun sheathed his sword and started to leave, "if you need aid, call to me."

"Call to you?" Brun's voice was little more than a whisper in the dark for he had already disappeared into the trees.

"Unless you are with me, what can I gain from calling to you?"

"There is no time to explain something I am not sure I understand myself.

Just do it.

Call to me.

It brought me to your cousin.

It might bring me to you."

The only answer she got was a faint rustling as he moved away through the trees.

Eada sighed and picked up little Alwyn, who continued to sleep sweetly, blissfully unaware of the tragedy around him.

She had not been able to save the child's mother; and Brun was so angry, so eager to kill Normans, she suspected there might not be any saving him.

"What has happened here?"

Although Eada had been waiting for Drogo, she was still startled when he spoke.

His voice sounded frighteningly loud in the moonlit wood.

When he stepped up beside her, she looked warily at him.

The anger tightening his face began to ease as he studied Aldith's body.

"Is she dead?" he asked, finally releasing his grip on his sword hilt.

"Yes.

Somehow she dragged herself here from Bexhill, which has been laid waste." Eada shook her head.

"There was nothing I could do to save her."

"How did you know she was here?"

Eada grimaced.

"I heard her call for help."

"I heard nothing."

"I heard her in my head," she said, watching him closely as she stood up, Alwyn held close to her chest.

"Her voice was in my head and it pulled me here."

She cursed inwardly when she heard the defensive tone in her voice.

What he thought or felt about the strange things happening to her should not matter, but they did.

That annoyed her for she did not want to care about his opinion of her—not now, not when they stood on opposite sides of a bloody war, and especially not when she stood next to the body of a young woman slaughtered by the Normans.

"You heard her call to you within your head, but not with your ears?" he asked.

"Yes, within my head."

"Then you can see what is to happen, know what lies ahead."

"No.

I heard her.

I did not see her or know what I would find when I followed the voice."

He made a sharp, dismissive gesture with his hand.

"You heard her and you saw Sir Guy.

Call it what you will, you know things others do not and cannot.

Did you plan to keep this a secret from me?"

"There was no secret to keep.

I do not understand this any better than you do.

I have never had such things happen to me before.

Not until I met you.

Mayhap you brought this curse with you from France."

"I do not think so," he drawled, and taking her by the arm, he started to walk back to camp.

"There is no need for you to be afraid to tell me such things."

"I am not afraid."

Drogo ignored her sulky protest.

"I do not understand such things, neither how nor why they happen, but I do not condemn them."

"But you fear them.

Everyone does.

That fear is why Old Edith lived and died alone."

"And that is why you must be careful.

Yes, perhaps I do fear it, but that fear is born of uncertainty, not some idea that the devil works through you or some other foolishness.

But you know how others will think and, I say again, that is why you must be careful.

You must be secretive."

"Do you expect me to ignore what I see or hear? Should I have just pretended that I did not see the warning about Sir Guy or hear that poor woman's cries for help? Am I to push such things aside and do nothing?"

"No, but you must learn how to act so that people do not begin to question how you know such things."

"I am hoping that these things will not happen often, will, in fact, stop happening; but you are right, and I will try to do as you suggest."

"So obedient," he murmured and met her cross look with a smile.

For a moment they walked through the wood in silence, but then Drogo asked calmly, "What do you intend to do with that baby?"

"This baby?" She sighed when he looked at her.

"I promised the woman I would take care of him.

His name is Alwyn, and he is about six-months old."

"And you plan to fulfill that promise as we battle and march our way to London?"

"You could leave me behind in some safe haven and then you'd need not fear for the babe's safety."

Drogo ignored that.

"It will not be easy; but you have May to help you and, perhaps, we will find a safe place to leave him until this war is over.

Our problem now is to think of a reasonable explanation for how you could take a walk in the wood and return with a baby.

It will not take long for people to wonder how you found him when no one else recalls hearing or seeing him."

She watched him when he paused just outside of camp and frowned down at her.

He was obviously trying to think of a tale no one would question.

Eada said nothing, not wanting to disturb his thinking, especially when she had no ideas to offer.

"I think we shall just say that you slipped into the wood to relieve yourself and got lost in the dark," Drogo finally said.

"While you were wandering about trying to find your way back to the camp, you stumbled upon the child and his already-dead mother.

Not wishing to leave the child to die, you picked him up and continued to wander until I found you."

It was a good story and would be easy to remember, but Eada felt compelled to say, "I never get lost."

"This time you did—hopelessly so," he replied as he took her by the hand again and walked into the camp.

Eada was embarrassed to find everyone awake, waiting for their return.

She knew that, except for May, who rushed to her side, most of that concern was for Drogo, who would not have been in the wood if she had not slipped away without telling anyone.

If there were a next time, and she heartily prayed that there would not be, she would have to remember that she could not just run away without a word.

"What a sweet-faced child," May said as she lightly touched Alwyn's thick, blond curls.

"Where did he come from?"

Eada dutifully repeated the tale Drogo had concocted, feeling guilty about lying to May.

At the moment, however, all the men were close at hand, listening, and she was not sure if Drogo wished her to hide her skill from May and the men as well as from everyone else.

When May shyly asked if she could take the baby, Eada placed the child in her outstretched arms.

She watched May closely as the woman walked back to the rough blanket-bed she shared with Ivo, cooing and cuddling the small child every step of the way.

After glancing around to see that everyone had returned to their beds, Eada murmured to Drogo, "I think May has suffered the loss of a child—whether one of her own, a young sibling, or one she cared for, I do not know, but she has lost one."

"More visions?" Drogo asked as he pulled her toward their bed then sat down and yanked off his boots.

"No." She sat down next to him, tugged off her small boots, and slipped beneath the blanket.

"It was just something I sensed in the hungry way she took possession of the child.

She was gentle, but she grasped that baby like a starving man grasps a scrap of bread.

At first I thought she rushed to my side because she had been afraid for me, but although I do think she was concerned, that is not why she ran to me.

No, in truth, she did not run to me; she ran to the child."

"Then, perhaps, she will care for the child," Drogo said as he slipped beneath the blanket, curled his arm around her waist, and tugged her close against him.

"That would allow you to keep your promise to that woman yet not have to care for the child yourself." He nuzzled her hair, sorely regretting their complete lack of privacy and the inability to leave the protection of the army in search of a private place.

"Unless you want the child."

"There was no time to become attached to the baby.

If May truly wishes to care for Alwyn, she can, for I am sure he will be much loved.

Poor Aldith can rest easy about that." Eada sighed.

"I just wish I could have given her a burial, no matter how hasty or meager."

Drogo pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

"I will send Ivo and Tancred out to attend to her before we leave." He fought to subdue his hunger for her as he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"Rest now, Eada.

There is little time left before the dawn when we must continue on to Hastings."

She put her hand over his and closed her eyes.

"And what will happen in Hastings?"

"We will wait for Harold to bow to William and accept him as his king."

"Then you will wait a very long time."

Eada cursed, subtly rubbing her backside as she hopped out of the cart and then held the baby as May climbed down.

They had left the camp at dawn just as Drogo had said they would, hesitating only long enough to bury Aldith.

This time, they would set up a more permanent and, Eada hoped, a more comfortable camp.

As she helped May and Ivo empty the wagon, she looked toward the castle the Normans were hastily erecting.

It was no more than a wooden fort on a mound raised from the dirt dug out of an encircling trench, but that was equal to what many of the Saxon lords lived in.

What troubled her was the mark it made upon the land, a Norman mark of power on Saxon land.

What saddened her was her unshakeable conviction that it was but the first of hundreds.

"Do you think they intend to wait here for Harold?" said a young male voice from behind her.

As Eada turned to face Godwin, she tried to hide the dismay she felt when she saw that Sir Guy was making his camp right next to Drogo's.

"It appears that that is their plan."

"Do you think Harold will come?"

"It would be justice if he hesitated.

The way these men are clearing the area of food, there will soon be very little to eat.

So, if Harold waits long enough, these Normans will be starving and the winter will set in and then they will flee back to France."

"Which would be a nice, bloodless way to end the war," he said and smiled faintly.

"But it will not happen," she said after briefly returning his smile.

"Do you know something I do not?" Godwin asked, frowning and combing his fingers through his roughly cut, long, fair hair.

"What you said to me before and what you just said leaves me feeling that you know what lies ahead."

"Not really.

There was an old woman called Edith near Pevensey who knew such things, though.

She said that the Normans would win."

"She was a seer?"

"I suppose.

She called them sendings.

She heard things, and she was never wrong when she said something would happen.

Well, she said that the Normans would rule us."

"And that is why you want me to save myself and the women and the babes.

You feel that the crown already belongs to William.

Is that why you are so good to the Norman who captured you?"

Eada grimaced and shook her head.

"For all I tell everyone else to bow and survive, I have too much pride and anger to heed my own advice.

No, Old Edith told me that fate had chosen Sir Drogo as my mate, and I soon had to accept that, as always, she was right.

Sir Drogo does not know that," she added, glancing sharply at Godwin, who nodded, silently agreeing to keep her secret.

"Sir Drogo and his men are good, kind, and honorable men; so, since some Norman would undoubtedly have grabbed me, I am glad that it was him." She glanced behind Godwin to look at the two women preparing a fire.

"How are they?"

"Not well.

We were not taken by a good, kind, and honorable man.

Sir Guy treats us all like the meanest of slaves—and it is worse for the women, of course.

Last night he bedded Elga and handed poor Hilde to a fellow knight to use as he pleased." Godwin sighed and shook his head.

"I ached to kill him, but I fought to recall your advice.

This morning, Hilde forgot to feed or tend to her children, so I had to; and I realized that, although I do not think I can save the women, the children need me."

"Yes, Sir Guy would not care for them if the women died."

"No.

In truth, I think he would kill them or leave them for the wolves."

"Yes, he holds such cruelty in his soul.

It is good to have you near to hand to talk to, but I do wish Sir Guy had not chosen to camp here.

There is bad blood between him and Sir Drogo.

I fear there may be trouble."

Godwin nodded.

"Sir Guy hates Sir Drogo—deeply.

Sir Guy should be closely watched.

The kind of hate he holds is a sickness." He shyly patted Eada on the arm.

"Do not worry on this.

Sir Drogo is a strong, skilled knight.

Now, I must begin to work or Sir Guy might catch me idle and talking."

Eada smiled fleetingly and left him.

She busied herself laying out Drogo's things in the tent Ivo had erected on a small mound at the far end of their camp.

Since Drogo's men had their own shelters and even Ivo had a small one he would share with May and the baby, she and Drogo would be alone again.

When that thought made her shiver with anticipation, Eada lightly scolded herself for being a wanton.

"Mistress," May called as she cautiously entered.

"Young Unwin has come to say that Sir Drogo will return within the hour."

"Is there somewhere I could wash?" Eada asked, grimacing at her mud-stained gown.

"After two days in that cart and sleeping upon the ground, I feel very dirty."

"Ivo has prepared something for Sir Drogo." May caught Eada by the hand and tugged her out of the tent.

"If we shelter it with blankets, you can wash in comfort."

Eada took one look at the vat set near the brook edging their camp and knew that Ivo had foraged while she had been busy elsewhere.

It troubled her, but she pushed her unease aside and said nothing to Ivo.

He was doing what all armies did, including the English, and she knew he would not steal so much that people would starve.

Others would undoubtedly take what he had left behind, making Ivo's kindness useless, but she could do nothing about that.

As soon as the vat was filled and encircled by blankets, Eada took her bath.

It felt good to get clean and she allowed the pleasure of the bath to push aside her concerns.

When Drogo returned, she wanted to be clean and in good spirits.

This could be the last time they had together before the real war began.