Darkest before Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 2) (20 page)

There was much to prepare for the coming Ēostre
celebrations, and Alchflaed was glad for it kept her mind busy. Despite the
growing influence of men like Seaxwulf – who preached that the spring equinox
was a time to celebrate the resurrection of god’s son, Jesus, from the dead –
the folk of Tamworth took delight in preparing for the great pagan feast that
marked a turning point in the year.

The monk tried his best to make Paeda forbid the
residents of the Great Hall from erecting a wooden statue of the goddess, Ēostre,
upon the high seat: the body of a voluptuous woman with the head of a hare. He
nearly wept when Paeda waved off his complaints and said that folk were more
than welcome to place offerings at the goddess’ feet, and that the people of
Tamworth could continue their practice of making sacrifices and offerings to
the apple and plum trees that grew to the south of the town. This ritual
ensured that the wights living within the trees would protect the fruit and
provide a bountiful harvest.

“But you are a Christian!” Seaxwulf cried, his face
pinched with outrage. He pointed to the crucifix that hung about the king’s
neck. “By allowing these celebrations to take place you insult god and place
your soul in mortal danger!”

Paeda, who was attempting to eat his noon meal, slammed
his fist down on the table. To his credit, the monk did not flinch. Such was
the strength of his conviction, he stared the king down, although Alchflaed saw
that his body quaked beneath his robes.

“Enough monk! I have built you a church, what more do you
want?”

“A king must set an example for his people,” Seaxwulf
pressed on doggedly. “How will your subjects follow god, if you allow them to
continue their heathen ways.”

“Ēostre does no harm,” Paeda replied, his voice now
dangerously low. Alchflaed recognized this as a sign that her husband was about
to lose his temper. “There is no reason why beliefs cannot co-exist
side-by-side. Why is the Christian god right and all others wrong?”

Alchflaed glanced at Paeda, surprised by his comment. She
knew he had agreed to be baptized as part of her father’s agreement to let him
marry her, but she had not realized he had given any thought to the difference
between his new religion and the old one.

Seaxwulf gaped like a landed trout, suddenly at a loss
for words. Seeing the monk’s confusion, Paeda pressed his advantage.

“Leave us, Seaxwulf,” he ordered, waving the monk away.
“Go to your church that I have so generously given you, and decorate it as you
see fit for the coming days. Those who wish to can join you. However, if I hear
one more whining complaint about Ēostre, I will have you flogged and sent
north to your brothers at Lindisfarena. Is that clear?”

Seaxwulf flushed. He now shook like a reed in the wind;
such was the force of his anger and indignation. However, he was not a foolish
man, and so he held his tongue. Stiffly, he nodded. Then, giving the king one
more reproachful look, he turned and strode from the hall.

When Seaxwulf had gone, Aethelred was the first to break
the heavy silence.

“The monk grows tiresome. Why don’t you rid yourself of
him? I can take care of it, if you want?”

Paeda glanced over at his brother and frowned. “That
won’t be necessary.”

Aethelred smirked. “No need to worry. You can just tell
Oswiu and that pious bitch he married that the monk had an unfortunate
accident.”

“And they would merely send another to replace him,”
Paeda growled. “Don’t be a fool, Aethelred. As long as he doesn’t anger me
further, Seaxwulf stays.”

The prince’s mouth thinned and Alchflaed saw he wished to
say more. Her gaze rested upon Aethelred then. After what Maric had told her,
she now looked at the ealdormen and thegns surrounding the king differently.

Which ones were plotting against him?

She had not included Prince Aethelred in her observations
but seeing the scorn in his gaze, she realized he was the perfect candidate. He
could even be plotting with the exiled Wulfhere to topple Paeda from the
throne.

***

On the morning of the spring solstice, the Great Hall of
Tamworth was a hive of activity. Slaves set up long tables, either side of the
fire pits, and decorated the hall with
daffodils
and sprays of cherry blossom. They placed baskets of freshly boiled eggs upon
the tables, and prepared a rich hare stew to serve alongside roast lamb, bread
and braised spring vegetables.

Alchflaed oversaw the mixing of the dough for the Ēostre
buns: small, rich breads enriched with milk, butter and dried blackcurrants.
Once the dough had proved, she incised a cross upon the top. The mark did not
signify the Christian cross – like that which Seaxwulf wore about his neck –
but instead the four seasons and the rebirth of the sun after the winter. Once
she had brushed the tops of the buns with egg, the slaves baked them in a huge
clay oven outside. The scent of the baking breads wafted over the stable yard,
calling all the men working there to the Ēostre feast.

Slaves carried in barrels of mead from the stores, and
lined them up against the wall, ready for the feast. There were also barrels of
sloe wine, made from last autumn’s harvest. The king usually drank mead or ale,
but sloe wine was his favorite and brought out only on special occasions.

As noon approached, men, women and children poured into
the king’s hall. Alchflaed took a seat next to the king upon the high seat and
watched the folk take their seats. As well as the king’s ealdormen and thegns,
a number of ceorls took their places upon the low benches that ran either side
of the long tables. Dressed in their best tunics, many of their wives were
flushed with excitement; it was only on special occasions that the king
welcomed free folk to feast with him.

Alchflaed’s gaze moved around the room. Although she was
dressed in her best green woolen gown, with flowers in her hair, she did not
feel remotely festive. She was on-edge and unhappy, her stomach knotted with
apprehension.

Her gaze shifted down the table, to where Seaxwulf sat
next to the healer, Glaedwine. The monk was scowling and Glaedwine was trying
to draw him into conversation. Farther down the table, her father’s stewards
had just taken a seat. Wada and Alfwald had brought their men with them from Bebbanburg
– warriors who dined tonight at the lower tables. She imagined her father had
warned them to expect trouble, and to be ready to seize control when it came.

Wada was a huge man with a mane of grizzled blond hair
and a thick beard to match. He wore an embossed leather jerkin, his arm rings polished
and gleaming. Alfwald was also bearded, although his was red and he wore it
much shorter than Wada. His thick red hair had thin braids running through it.
They were both fearsome warriors and Alchflaed noted that Paeda had as little
to do with them as possible.

Sensing someone’s gaze upon him, Alfwald glanced her way.
His gaze met Alchflaed’s and she saw the challenge in his eyes. He inclined his
head slightly and gave a cool smile. Heart thumping, Alchflaed looked away.

He knows what father has ordered me to do.
He’s waiting.

Next to her, Paeda held out his jeweled, golden cup to a
passing slave to fill. No one else in the hall had yet lifted their cup. They
all awaited the king’s blessing first.

Paeda, darkly handsome in a black quilted vest that showed
off the breadth of his chest, got to his feet and raised his cup. Immediately,
the conversation around the hall died.

“Hail Ēostre!” he called out. “Hail the spring, and
the coming of summer! Hail new life!”

Everyone present, save Seaxwulf, lifted their cup high.

“Hail Ēostre!”

Paeda took a deep draught of sloe wine and spread his
arms wide, in an uncharacteristic display of welcome and good humor.

“Feast!”

A roar of approval shook the rafters and the men and
women fell upon the food. Alchflaed did not join them immediately; instead, she
searched the perimeter of the hall for Maric. She found him, standing in the
shadows, not far from the doors. As promised, he had remained nearby. The sight
of him calmed her slightly, and she lifted her cup to her lips, taking a small
sip.

The sloe wine was very strong and she resolved to drink
sparingly. Her nerves were on edge and she would have preferred water. However,
the female slave who attended their table kept refilling her cup, the moment
Alchflaed replaced it upon the table. Even after a few sips, the wine made her
light-headed.

The feast was in full swing now. Laughter and excited
voices filled the cavernous space. Mead and wine flowed and slaves scurried back
and forth, ensuring no one’s cup was ever empty. There would be more than one
man vomiting on the rushes by the feast’s ending.

The feast wore on, and afternoon slipped into evening.
Alchflaed ate slowly, although she found the wine had revived her appetite. It
was delicious fare, and she eventually relaxed. Paeda ignored her, as he did
most of the time these days. Instead, he talked with Aethelred and two of his
ealdormen whom he had invited to feast at the king’s table.

Aethelred had consumed so much wine that he began to sway
on his seat. His eyes had gone unfocused, and he was slurring his words. The
men at the table roared with laughter when the prince fell, face down, in his
stew.

“Pathetic!” Paeda roared. He had gone red in the face and
his eyes had a glazed, unfocused look after all the wine he had drunk. “Take
him to his bed!”

Three male slaves climbed upon the high seat and pulled
Aethelred out of his stew, before carrying him off to his alcove. Laughter rang
across the table and the slaves poured more wine.

The feast seemed to stretch on endlessly. Maric, who was
not supposed to be present, kept well back from the floor, in the shadow of one
of the alcoves. He watched the revelry, his belly rumbling at the sight of all
the rich food. His noon meal had consisted of stale bread and watery broth. His
mouth watered at the aroma of roast lamb and the rich hare stew.

Despite his hunger, he kept a close watch on the faces of
the feasters, looking for a sign that something was amiss. Yet, he found none.

Maric saw nothing to rouse his suspicions as he observed
the Ēostre feast. Osulf and Elfhere sat at one of the long tables beneath
the high seat. Unlike the king and those at his table, the warriors seemed to
prefer mead to sloe wine – and Osulf was drinking copious amounts of it. As day
slipped into night, the warrior was holding his cup high into the air and
roaring drinking songs.

Maric saw Alchflaed retire to her bed early, leaving the
men to drink. The monk left shortly after. It appeared that Seaxwulf had
consumed a goodly amount of wine for he swayed and stumbled as he made his way
across the floor.

Eventually, one by one, the revelers stretched out onto
the rushes and went to sleep. Maric watched some of the warriors, younger ones
mostly, stumble outside to be sick. Others, too drunk to move far, lay down upon
their cloaks on the rushes and went to sleep under the tables. Maric had seen
Edgard leave the hall to rejoin his family, but the others – Bryni, Osulf and
Elfhere – slept in the king’s hall.

Bryni still sat at the table, snoring over the remains of
his meal, while Elfhere had stretched out onto the bench next to him. Osulf had
managed to stumble over to the platform that ran around the edge of the hall,
and he slept there, near the foot of the ladder that led up to the King’s Loft.

Paeda was one of the last to leave the revelry. He was so
drunk he could barely stand. Maric watched the two ealdormen who had feasted
with Paeda at his table help the king across the hall. It took Paeda an age to
climb the ladder to his quarters, for he kept slipping on the rungs. Maric was
surprised to see Paeda so inebriated. The king always took mead or ale with his
meals, but rarely drank to excess. Clearly, he had underestimated the strength
of the sloe wine.

Maric’s eyes felt gritty and stung with fatigue when he
finally retired for the night. He had not truly expected Osulf to make his move
during the Ēostre feast, for it would have been foolhardy in the extreme
to attack the king when his loyal retainers surrounded him. Nevertheless, Maric
had promised Alchflaed that he would keep watch, and he was pleased he had.

With no cloak to sleep upon, for Paeda had confiscated
all his clothing save the tunic, breeches and boots he wore, the rushes were
uncomfortable – and prickly – to lie upon. Still, after a long day, Maric paid
little attention to the discomfort. He was exhausted. Moments after he
stretched out in his spot near the doors leading from the hall, sleep claimed
him.

***

Alchflaed awoke in the early hours of the morning and
realized something was wrong.

Her mouth tasted foul – strangely metallic – and her head
throbbed. She opened her eyes, expecting to see darkness, but instead her gaze
fell upon the pitted timbers above her head. One of the clay cressets along the
wall still burned, which was strange, for she had thought she had extinguished
them before going to sleep.