Ethelred was deep in conversation with his parent but Ban saw her come in and smiled. Then the smile faded a little and his eyes narrowed, taking in her altered appearance, for although she had sluiced her face with cold water before rejoining the company, her eyes were still suspiciously pink-rimmed, her face unwontedly pale. However, one warning glance held him silent and he merely watched as she turned away, extending her hands towards the blaze.
Letting the conversation wash around her Ashlynn kept her gaze on the fire, though in truth she saw nothing. All she could think of just then was being tied for life to a man she did not love, and being taken from her home and everything that was familiar to live in a distant place among strangers. Her father used the excuse of the troubled times but both of them knew it was more than that. Whenever he looked at her he saw her mother, the beloved wife he had lost just days after Ashlynn’s birth. Though he tried to hide his resentment afterwards he had never quite succeeded. With this marriage she would be gone and the reminders with her.
In due course they took their places at table but Ashlynn’s appetite had deserted her and she ate little. Around her the conversation continued, still very much focused on the political threat that hung like a pall over all their lives.
‘Will Heslingfield remain safe from the Conqueror’s anger?’ said Gytha.
Her sister-in-law’s voice penetrated Ashlynn’s consciousness and she glanced up, her attention caught in spite of her sombre mood.
‘We have done nothing to provoke it,’ Ban replied. The tone was even enough but Ashlynn detected the criticism beneath. Her brother had been much in favour of the rebellion and their father’s refusal to allow his kin any involvement had rankled with him. Lord Cyneric threw him a shrewd glance.
‘Be thankful for it.’ He frowned. ‘All the same we shall be ready to defend ourselves if the need arises.’
‘Against an army?’ replied Ethelred.
‘William will hold the city and use it as a base to consolidate his position as he has with York. Besides, the weather is on our side too. He will seek winter quarters for his men. We may perhaps see forays for food and supplies but little more, I think. We shall be secure enough until the spring.’
‘If William finds none to punish within the city he will look elsewhere. Heslingfield may not be as safe as you think, my lord.’
Lord Cyneric frowned but he did not immediately reply, pondering his son’s words. Though they did not always see eye to eye on every issue, Ashlynn knew her elder brother’s opinion carried weight with their father. At three and twenty Ethelred had much of the look of his parent, being tall and well made and with the tawny hair and blue eyes that were a family characteristic.
‘He is right, my lord.’ Ban threw his brother a swift glance. ‘It may not be safe to stay.’
‘The women should be moved to a place of safety,’ Ethelred went on, ‘though heaven knows those are precious few these days.’
‘We shall consider Gytha’s situation in due course,’ their father replied. ‘Ashlynn is to marry Burford at Yuletide. Her future safety is assured.’
The news fell like a thunderbolt and for several seconds there followed a deep silence in which all eyes went from Cyneric to his daughter. Ashlynn felt her face grow warm as resentment rose like a tide.
‘Ashlynn to wed Burford?’ said Ban. ‘Since when?’
She could hear disbelief in his tone. The same incredulity was registered in his face.
‘Since this morning,’ she replied.
He threw her a penetrating look. ‘I didn’t know you cared for him.’
‘Why should she not?’ replied Ethelred. ‘He is a worthy man in every way.’ He smiled at his sister. ‘Congratulations. I wish you happy, Ashlynn.’
As the others hastened to add their felicitations Ashlynn bit her tongue forcing back the angry denial that would otherwise have burst from her. Inside, her heart felt like lead.
‘You will be safe enough with Burford,’ Ethelred continued. ‘Would I could say the same about Gytha. The only way to go is north and the border country is dangerous enough.’
‘Aye,’ said Ban, ‘and always will be while men like Black Iain of Glengarron ride unchecked.’
‘’Tis said he’s a friend of Malcolm Canmore, so he’s not likely to be checked, is he? Besides, the man commands a small army and raids with impunity deep into English territory. No doubt the rogue will use the current situation to his further advantage. If William is busy hereabouts he’ll not be able to see off the Scots as well.’
‘Black Iain or no Black Iain ’tis a risk plenty of folk are prepared to take.’
‘Belike he would not bother with refugees anyway. They are too poor to tempt him.’
‘Let’s hope so for all those wretched souls fleeing the Norman wrath,’ Ethelred replied. ‘He has been known to seize much more than gold and cattle. The tales of his deeds are legion.’
Lord Cyneric snorted. ‘Tales grow with the telling. The man would have to be at least ninety just to have had the time to carry out all the exploits attributed to him.’
‘Even if only half are true his reputation has been well earned, and I would not have my wife fall into his clutches.’ Ethelred threw another thoughtful glance at the two women. ‘But may not Gytha go with Ashlynn after Yule? I am sure that Burford would readily offer her his protection too, until such time as the situation becomes clearer.’
Ashlynn’s heart thumped. With every passing moment it seemed that this loathed marriage was becoming more real.
‘The idea has much merit,’ replied Cyneric. ‘I will speak to Burford on the matter as soon as may be.’
Gytha’s brown eyes revealed her anxiety more than words. The prospect of a lengthy journey in the depths of winter, with a young child to boot, did not appeal. Ashlynn could well understand it. However, she also knew that Gytha would do whatever was necessary to protect her son.
She was fond of her sister-in-law whose pretty plumpness and placid nature were enhanced by her gentleness. Sometimes she wished she could be more like her; wished she had the same sweet patience and outward serenity. Ashlynn promised herself that one day she too would comport herself with the same ladylike demeanour and good humour for Gytha surely was the model of a perfect wife. She loved Ethelred and her child and put their needs above her own with a degree of selflessness that Ashlynn wondered if she could ever emulate. For a start her tongue was too ready with quip or argument to admit of her ever being so completely under a man’s thumb. Yet Gytha did not seem to mind. Ethelred’s every word was law to her, even on those occasions when, in Ashlynn’s view, she would have done better to hit him rather than humour him. Yet Ethelred was a good husband in his way and the marriage was a success.
Ashlynn’s hands clenched in her lap. She accepted that she must marry one day and have a husband and family of her own. But not like this, she thought, not like this. Had she still been free to choose, the man she married would be very different from either Athelstan or her brother. Both had their good qualities: they were steady and hard-working and honest; kind enough too in their way, but they lacked vital passion somehow, passion and fire. And something more that was harder to define: a certain dangerous
