The Fighting Man. Adrian Deans
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The meaning behind her words was obvious.
‘If he obeys you, then he’s your responsibility,’ I said. ‘And why are you wearing that hideous cloak when Harold gave you such a fine dress? He’ll be insulted.’
‘The green dress is fit for halls and feasts but ’tis heavy work for marching. And Harold has more to occupy his mind than the garb of women.’
She started walking in the wake of the wagon – a couple of hundred paces ahead – and Malgard romped after her, no longer troubled by the knife wound I had dealt him only four nights ago. I remarked on his recovery and Valla laughed.
‘I have some skill with healing,’ she said. ‘The poultice I made for him contained much of my power. It has drawn out the hurt and repaired the rent … but it was only ever a small wound … oh slayer of yesterday’s hares.’
She smiled and I knew she was mocking me, but it was too nice a day to be angry with her. I suddenly felt free and full of purpose. My ambition had cost me my family, due to the manner of God’s testing me, but now my mission of revenge had the support of the lords Harold and Tostig, and I was marching to Lundene to see the king in company with Valla, my wife – who seemed to be thawing towards me. She was striding ahead and watching her brown shapely legs was a torment. The cloak of skins seemed to offer glimpses of what it concealed, like a gauzy veil blurring my vision and my wits.
There were things she wasn’t telling me – that much was clear. I was all but certain that Valla, in league with the Lady Swanneshals, had freed the serfs the night before. But why? Why would the wife of Harold defy him in such a manner?
I could never think about Valla for long without growing uncomfortably aroused, which did not make for easy marching and I tried to think about something else. Revenge upon Malgard – that soon had me distracted and I began to imagine my audience with Edward, with Harold and Carl at my side to vouch for me – then Malgard in chains, pleading for mercy before his treacherous head was struck from his shoulders and stuck on a spike on Lundene Bridge where the crows and ravens would flense the flesh from his skull while his body was cut to shreds and left in the gutter to be devoured by rats and curs as low as he.
It occurred to me that God would be aware of my vengeance fantasy and would therefore do aught to aid or hinder me as suited His purpose. It then occurred to me that God must be aware of my desire for Valla and that in all likelihood He would devise another test for me.
‘I have made a decision,’ said Valla, wrenching me out of my reverie.
‘What sort of decision?’
‘I have decided, husband, that there is some good in you. Therefore, when the time comes … you may be the one to take my maidenhead.’
I couldn’t have been more shocked if the skies had suddenly opened and God Himself appeared before an army of angels to make the same announcement. I fell to my knees between the ruts of the lane and raised my eyes to heaven – awed and humbled by His greatness and subtlety. I felt tears trickle down my cheeks as Valla approached smiling.
As she did, I felt myself overwhelmed with a love for her so powerful it hurt. I could hardly speak, so overcome with emotion as I was, and it seemed that all of His creation was glowing with blessed perfection like a glimpse of Eden as she stood before me.
‘There is a condition,’ said Valla, and immediately, I was alert – the love hurt slightly less. ‘You must prove yourself worthy … you must swear an oath that you will touch no other woman in this life but me.’
‘Willingly,’ I cried. ‘Only … this time you speak of. When will the time come?’
‘That is not yet clear to me,’ she smiled. ‘It could be days … or it could be years.’
‘Years? You ask much of me Valla.’
She stood over me smiling and placed her hands on my shoulders, looking young and beautiful and full of secret promise.
‘Am I not worth it?’
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