Nightfall till Daybreak (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 2) (23 page)

Freya had to smile at that. “Since when do boys do what
they’re told, or women…?”

Pain clouded Aidan’s face then; a sensation that was more than
physical.

“I saw Lothar fall,” he said hoarsely, tears running down his
cheeks. “My friend – with a pregnant wife waiting for him at home. Life is a
cruel bitch. I would have given my life for that man. It’s not right that I
should live and he not.”

Hereric returned with the rabbits and was delighted to find
Aidan awake. He sat, chattering to Aidan, regaling him of their adventures
since the battle, until Freya told him to leave Aidan be and help her skin and
gut the rabbits.

Once the rabbits had spit-roasted over the fire, the three
companions devoured them. Freya was worried that, since he had just awoken,
Aidan would lack appetite. The opposite was true.  They propped him up against
a tree trunk so that he could eat his rabbit without choking. Like Hereric and
Freya, he gnawed at the bones, even when he had picked them clean.

“How are you feeling?” Freya threw the rabbit bones on the
fire and sat down next to Aidan. “How’s your head?”

“I’ve felt better.” Aidan managed a weak smile. “Although that
rabbit has made all the difference. My head still feels about twice the size
though. It hurts me badly.”

“You took a massive blow to the back of the head. It looks
like you were hit by a rock or the blunt edge of an axe,” Freya replied. “We
found you pinned under a Mercian axeman.”

Freya paused then as another thought suddenly occurred to her.
“Of course, there may have been others who were still alive amongst the dead,
but there was no time to search for them.”

Aidan nodded, his dark-blue eyes filled with pain. “What you
did was very brave, and very foolhardy, sweet Freya.” He reached out and placed
a hand over hers. “But I am pleased you did it.”

Freya looked down and fought back tears. “I had to look for
you. I couldn’t go on with my life wondering what had happened to you. If you
were dead then I needed to see it with my own eyes.”

“You are unlike any woman I have ever met,” Aidan replied
quietly, his voice catching. “Brave, proud and beautiful. I love you. I should
have told you before I left for Barrow Fields but I foolishly thought I’d
wait.”

Freya stared at Aidan, tears running down her face. She was
unable to speak, and when she finally managed, the words were barely above a
whisper.

“And I love you.”

Aidan squeezed her hand tightly, his gaze holding hers fast.
“You are worth living for, and you are worth dying for. You are the only woman
I will ever love.”

Chapter
Twenty-four

It was a cold, misty morning when Freya rose from beside the
fire and poked at the dying embers with a stick. Hereric sat opposite her,
owl-eyed from taking the last watch. Behind them, Aidan slept fitfully. His
head was paining him terribly, and this worried Freya. He needed Cwen’s care.

“Are we going soon?” Hereric asked.

Freya shook her head. “It will take us at least another day if
we continue on foot. I was hoping to find a way to travel down-river.”

“But we don’t have a boat.”

“I know that,” Freya sighed as fatigue weighed down upon her,
“but maybe I can find one. Wait here and keep the fire burning. I’ll be back in
a bit.”

Freya wrapped the shawl that Aidan had given her back in
Beodricesworth about her shoulders. The shawl was a little worse for wear now,
but it still provided some protection from the damp, chilly day. Taking care to
move quietly, Freya made her way out of the copse and peered out at where the
shadows of the Great Barrows of Kings loomed over the river.

The tide was coming in. At its lowest point, the water was
just over two feet, too shallow for any boats to sail in. At high tide, the
river rose to at least eleven feet; more than deep enough for most barges and
longboats. There were no boats laying on the bank this morning, but Freya knew
that most travelers on their way to Rendlaesham docked here. There were a number
of villages on the banks of the Deben and it was a busy waterway. As such,
Freya guessed that if she waited a while, a boat would come.

She sat down at the edge of the copse, hidden from view by
undergrowth, and waited.

The tide rose quickly and a misty rain began to fall, coating
the world in tiny, sparkling droplets. Freya’s hands and feet felt numb with
cold and her nose was starting to run, but still she waited.

Mid-morning, a small boat appeared down-river. It moved
quickly, its single oarsman paddling with the tide. There were two men on-board
but the boat sat low in the water as it was bearing heavy sacks.

Freya watched, her pulse racing, as the boat angled towards
the muddy bank. The men climbed out and waded through the water, pulling the
boat up through the mud. Once they reached the bank, they hefted the two jute
sacks out of the boat.

“How far till Orford?” one of the men asked his companion.

“We should reach it just after noon,” his companion replied,
“but the tide will have turned by then. Once we off-load these, I suggest we
spend the rest of the day in Orford’s mead hall. It’s just the weather for it.
We’ll sail back to Ramsholt with tomorrow’s tide.”

“You’ve got no argument from me there,” his companion agreed,
“but let’s hide the boat if we’re going to leave it overnight.”

Freya held her breath and watched as the men placed the oars
inside the boat and carried it into the copse. A moment later, she realized
they were coming straight towards her. She flattened herself on the ground and
had just wedged herself under some prickly undergrowth, when she heard the men
stop just feet away.

“Cover it up with some ferns,” one of the men instructed. “It
should be safe here, especially in this weather.”

Freya lay still and silent while the men moved off. She waited
until their voices had completely faded before she wriggled out from the
undergrowth and ran to get the others.

Soon the tide would turn, and they would be on their way to
Woodbridge Haven.

***

The rain fell in a soft veil over the world. Freya heaved back
on the oars and raised her face to it. Either-side of her the waters of the
River Deben stippled slightly in the rain. They had been travelling down river
ever since noon, but it was impossible to know how much time had actually
passed for the sun had not once shown its face.

Hereric sat behind Freya, perched at the bow, while Aidan sat
at the stern. The paleness of Aidan’s face worried Freya, as did the deep
grooves of pain that appeared either side of his mouth. He slumped against the
side of the boat and did not pay much attention to his surroundings. 

The farther they travelled down-river, the wider the Deben
became. Once they reached the estuary, the river would become so wide that it
would be impossible to see from one bank to the other. Freya had instructed
Hereric to keep a watchful eye out for a stand of trees close to the north bank
once they passed a few tiny islands in the center of the estuary. Those trees
signaled the edge of the woodland where her mother lived.

“Look Freya!” Hereric eventually called out. “Are those the
trees you spoke of?”

Freya glanced over her shoulder. Her heart soared when she saw
the dark line of trees that almost reached the water’s edge, followed by a
steep bank with steps leading down to the mud.

“That’s it!” she called back, her voice tight with excitement.
“We’re home!”

Freya and Hereric clambered off the boat and waded in through
the clinging mud, pulling the boat in as close to the bank as they were able.

It was an effort to get Aidan off the boat. His movements were
slow and sluggish, and he was finding it difficult to coordinate his limbs
properly. Eventually, they managed to help him to the bank, and up the narrow
steps that had been cut into it.

Reaching the top, Freya felt a rush of joy as the smell of wet
vegetation hit her. There had been times over the past few months that she had
thought never to see these woods again.

With Hereric supporting Aidan’s right side, and Freya his
left, they made their way down the leaf-strewn path that cut through the
forest. Eventually the path would lead to the other-side of the woods, and the
hamlet of Bawdsey – but they would not need to travel that far.

After a while, Freya instructed Hereric to veer right, off the
path. They had walked some distance farther when the trees drew back and they
stepped into a small clearing.

A small wattle and daub cottage, with a thatch roof in need of
repair sat in the heart of the clearing. A large vegetable plot stretched
behind the structure, as did a small fenced enclosure where Cwen of Woodbridge
Haven kept her chickens.

“
Mōder!
” Freya shouted as they approached the
cottage. “
Mōder
, are you there!”

Freya saw smoke rising from the thatched roof and her eyes
filled with tears. Her mother was home. They were safe.

The door flew open and Cwen rushed out, her hands dusty with
flour. They had interrupted her in the midst of making bread.

“Freya!”

Cwen sprinted over the wet ground, her long brown hair flying
behind her like a flag.  Freya stepped forward and embraced her mother
fiercely, unable to stop the tears that suddenly flowed over her cheeks. Great
sobs rose within her. The relief was so great she felt as if her legs might
give out under her.

“You’re home!” Cwen cried, hugging Freya so hard her ribs
hurt. “But how? How did you…” Cwen reached out and touched the iron collar
around Freya’s neck, her eyes narrowing.

“It’s a long story; one that needs us all sitting in front of
a warm fire with food in our bellies.” Freya stepped back and wiped her eyes.
“For now let me introduce you to Hereric and Aidan.
Mōder
, Aidan
has been wounded in battle. His wounds are seven days old. Can you help him?”

Cwen’s gaze shifted to Aidan, her practiced healer’s gaze
taking him in with a single sweep. Looking upon her mother’s face, Freya saw
there were lines that had not been there a year ago. There were more strands of
grey in Cwen of Shottisham’s brown mane than Freya remembered. The grief of
losing her daughter to Ricberht had taken its toll. Yet her hazel eyes were as
bright as ever.

“We need to get him inside,” she said quietly. “Follow me.”

It was warm and dry inside the cottage, with a roaring fire in
the hearth. Hereric sank down onto a sheepskin with a sigh of pleasure and
gratefully took the earthen bowl of pottage that Cwen passed him. Meanwhile,
Freya had taken Aidan over to the pile of furs, where Cwen slept in the far
corner of the dwelling.

“Boil me some water Freya while I get my herbs,” Cwen ordered.

Freya smiled as she went to do her mother’s bidding; she had
missed Cwen’s bossiness.

Aidan was sitting groggily on the furs, watching the industry
of the two women. “She’s quite a woman your mother,” he commented when Freya
helped him out of his leather vest. She began to unwind the bandages around his
chest, shoulder and head so Cwen could take a look at his injuries.

“She most certainly is,” Freya smiled. “She’ll take good care
of you.”

“I wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t already done that,”
Aidan gave Freya a smile that made her insides melt.

“Let’s take a look at you,” Cwen bustled up and handed Freya
her basket of herbs and potions. “Even battered and bruised you’re a handsome
one. No wonder my daughter cannot take her eyes off you.”

“
Mōder!
”

“What?” Cwen replied without a hint of embarrassment. “I may
be getting old, but I’m not blind.”

Cwen examined Aidan’s chest and shoulder wounds while Freya
looked on intensely. “These are healing well,” Cwen reported, “although the cut
on his chest should have been stitched.”

“There was no time for that,” Freya replied quietly.

Cwen cast her daughter a questioning glance before checking
the arrow wounds. “You cleaned these well. There is no festering.”

Aidan caught Freya’s glance then and winked.

“It seems you’re well enough to flirt with my daughter. You
can’t be in too bad a shape after all,” Cwen observed tartly.

“It’s my head that hurts the most,” Aidan admitted.

Cwen examined the wound and frowned when she gently probed the
scabbed wound with her fingertips and Aidan yelped in pain.

“This came close to splitting your head open,” she told him.
“The wound needs a poultice. I’m afraid you’re going to have sore head for a
while yet, but it should come right eventually.”

Freya felt giddy with relief at this news.

“Really
mōder
? He will be alright?”

Cwen glanced from Aidan to Freya and gave a knowing smile.
“Yes he will.”