Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Aisley paused at the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside the longhouse. Humped blankets covered each pallet. A light snore and an occasional sleepy murmur were the only sounds. Hardly daring to breathe, Aisley crossed the floor on stocking feet. Releasing the clasp on her cloak, she draped it over her pallet and slipped beneath the fabric.

The beams of daylight illuminating the chinks between the shutters were brighter now than they had been earlier. It would not be long before someone awoke. Especially if the cockerel continued his alarm. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the commonplace scene in the longhouse so she might relive the wonder of her experience outside.

Brecc had kissed her. She ran her fingers gently across her lips, recalling the thrill that had coursed through her when he'd drawn her close. Being in his arms had felt so right. She swallowed the lump in her throat. He had promised to come to Trowbridge, but she knew the king dictated Brecc's movements. Brecc might be delayed for months, and if Wulfhere's determination during their last conversation was any indication, he would make good on his threat to have her married before then.

She willed her tears to stay away. Her mother might notice if she'd been crying, and she could not use the cold outside as an excuse. If Wulfhere or her mother were to ever find out what had transpired between her and Brecc ... She clenched her fists. Neither of them must ever know. Nor Diera, for that matter. Her sister was incapable of keeping a secret. This would have to be a sweet memory she kept to herself.

"Aisley?" Diera's sleepy voice was barely coherent.

"Yes."

"Is it morning already?"

"It is." And had been for some time.

Diera groaned. "Why does it always come so early?"

Aisley smiled into the semidarkness, grateful for the extra hour she'd been gifted. "I fear you will have to ask someone far cleverer than I to receive a good answer to that question."

"If you two do not cease your chatter, you will make enemies of all the other ladies in the longhouse." Their mother was not one who arose with a cheery disposition.

"I apologize, Mother," Aisley whispered.

"As do I." Diera paused. "Do you think we can stay abed until others have risen?"

"Yes." The rustle of their mother's pallet suggested she was settling into a new position. "And I do not wish to hear another word from either of you until then."

Brecc wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and surveyed the fresh gouges in the pell. Slashing at the inanimate object with a wooden sword had not been nearly as satisfying as pinning Rheged to the floor, but Rheged's refusal to enter into another practice bout with him had remained firm. And Brecc had been desperate.

"Are you ready to tell me what this is all about?" Rheged stood leaning against the barn wall, his arms folded.

"No." Brecc sheathed his sword and swiped at his brow again. Like Aisley, he was disinclined to share their private moment together with anyone else.

"The threat of a Viking attack?" Rheged was undaunted. "Word on the river? A rather lovely copper-haired distraction? Ormod's lack of bathing? Or something else entirely?"

All of them. With the addition of Wulfhere's callous threats and the exception of Ormod's neglect of his personal hygiene. Brecc had not noticed that, but thanks to Rheged, he undoubtedly would now. And he would have to sit beside the man all the way through the Twelfth Night feast.

With a groan, Brecc ran his fingers through his hair. The strands were damp. He would do well to bathe before this evening also. "Which of us is going to apologize to the king for damaging the pell so badly?" he asked.

"Responding to a question with another question that is wholly unconnected to the first is against the rules."

"Whose rules?"

"Mine," Rheged said. He took a step away from the wall. "We have been friends long enough for me to recognize that this rage you are battling is not normal. I will listen if you need an ear."

Brecc released a deep breath and allowed his shoulders to drop. Rheged was right. He must let something go. "If I had my choice, it would be Ealdorman Wulfhere who was the target of my blade."

Rheged's eyebrows shot up. "Well, I had not anticipated that response. Any particular reason why?"

"He's an ale-bibbing thegn with more avarice than nobility."

"Agreed," Rheged said without hesitation. "Anything else?"

It was Brecc's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Agreed?"

"Of course. I have spoken to the man. It does not take more than one conversation to ascertain that he is more interested in eating at the king's table than in protecting the crown."

Brecc grunted. Mayhap Rheged was more observant than he'd previously thought. "What else do you know of him?"

"He has two very attractive sisters who, up until now, he has kept hidden in Trowbridge, and his closest associate amongst the thegns is Ealdorman Gimm."

Brecc frowned. He should have guessed as much. Gimm hailed from Dorset and was as unreliable as the weather. He and his fyrd were always the last to arrive to battle and the first to concede. His men were never placed in the front line because they did not have the training or determination to stand firm when the Viking hordes attacked.

"What have you recently learned of Wulfhere?" Rheged turned the question back on him. "Something unpleasant, I'd wager."

"In that, you are correct." He would not betray Aisley's confidence by saying anything more, but it was comforting to know that should he be called upon to act against the thegn, he would likely have Rheged's support. "In fact, I think it might be worth the king's while to visit the good ealdorman in Wiltshire to gain a better gauge of his leanings."

"And to check on his sisters," Rheged said.

Brecc started for the door. "Aye. That too."

Aisley had not seen Brecc all day. It was hardly surprising. The cold weather had kept the women indoors all morning, and by afternoon, preparations for the Twelfth Night feast were well underway. After they had dressed for the occasion, Aisley had spent extra time plaiting Diera's hair into elaborate loops. Diera had offered to return the favor, but Aisley had opted for a narrow plait that circled the top of her head and left her remaining hair hanging freely down her back. Now that she was in the great hall, surrounded by all the exquisitely dressed ladies and gentlemen, however, she wondered if she should have chosen something a little more splendid.

Brecc had entered soon after Aisley, Diera, and their mother had taken their seats. Dressed in a maroon tunic with embroidery at the neckline and sleeves, he'd appeared even more handsome than he had before. Her stomach had fluttered the moment she'd spotted him, but when he took his seat at the head table and turned to smile at her, the fluttering had spiraled into a frenzied swirling. Eating would be all but impossible unless they made no further eye contact.

It was her third royal banquet in as many days, but this was the grandest yet. The hall was decorated with boughs of evergreens, the smell of pine and juniper mingling with the aromas wafting off the overflowing platters of food. The king and queen sat in state at the head table, watching with obvious amusement as the costumed mummers circled the room, entertaining the guests. Beside them, the thegns looked on with varying levels of enthusiasm, while those seated around the room offered applause, laughter, and cheers at regular intervals.

The main doors opened, and four servants walked in carrying the largest platter Aisley had ever seen.

"The Twelfth Night cake," her mother said, sitting a little taller so as to watch the servants parade the enormous fruited loaf around the room. "I wondered when it would be brought in."

"And look!" Diera pointed to the wooden circlet seated atop the loaf. "The crown for the Lord of Misrule."

The mummers bowed affectedly as the servants and their precious cargo passed by, no doubt practicing for the obedience they would be forced to offer the person in the room who discovered a bean in their piece of cake.

"Can you believe it?" Diera clapped her hands excitedly. "Someone will be crowned the Lord or Lady of Misrule in the very room where the king and queen of Wessex sit."

"I hope it will not grow overly unruly." Aisley had attended enough Twelfth Night celebrations to know how raucous they could become. The person who found the bean would be crowned sovereign for the remainder of the day, and all within his or her sphere would be obliged to obey his or her every command. It was a special honor, but as the guests would expect the Lord or Lady of Misrule to be clever, outgoing, and humorous, Aisley offered a fervent, silent prayer that no bean was located anywhere near her portion of the cake.

With their circuit of the room complete, the servants set the Twelfth Night cake on the head table and began portioning it. One by one, the guests received their piece. The room hummed with excitement. Several groans of disappointment followed until a male voice rose above the rest.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, behold, this evening's Lord of Misrule!"

Aisley's gaze shot to the head table, where Rheged was on his feet, holding a small white bean on the palm of his hand.

A cheer arose, and then someone shouted, "All hail, the Lord of Misrule!"

Bench legs scraped along the floor as the guests all rose and bowed to Rheged.

One of the servants handed Rheged the wooden circlet, and with a look of pure delight, the gentleman set it upon his head. It wobbled and then slid sideways, obviously a few sizes too small. Rheged caught it in his hand and grinned.

"My first command of the evening is that Ealdorman Ormod shall wear this crown on my behalf. I am not abdicating any of my power to him, mind you, simply the care of my headpiece." With obvious forbearance, the older gentleman accepted the circlet and placed it upon his head. It fit perfectly. Those in the room cheered their approval, and Rheged beamed. "And now, I believe it is time that the mummers paraded around the room like a flock of chickens."

The guests roared their approval, and the mummers gathered themselves together, tucked their hands in their armpits, and began flapping and clucking like a disoriented cluster of hens. Aisley began to laugh. She could not help herself. The mummers' various animal masks only added to the ridiculousness of their antics.

Rheged resumed his seat, watching with amusement until the mummers' arm flapping began to slow.

"Enough, mummers," he called. "You have been worthy chickens, but it is time for you to go to roost." To the sound of much laughter, the actors retired to the corner of the great hall and sat upon the floor to rest. Rheged surveyed the guests, and a hushed anticipation descended over the room. "I believe a role reversal is in order," he said. "One who has never been—nor ever will be—a thegn shall experience it this night." He looked directly at Aisley, and her breath caught in her throat.

"No," she whispered. "Please, no."

"Aisley, sister of Ealdorman Wulfhere," he called. "Come take your place at the head table. There is room enough here between me and Ealdorman Brecc."

The guests seated around her cheered and clapped their approval. Wulfhere appeared stunned. Brecc was glaring at Rheged as though he wished the man would choke on his words.

"Go, Aisley!" Diera poked her ribs. "People are waiting."

Attempting to stay the trembling threatening to consume her, Aisley stumbled to her feet. More cheers sounded. She did not look at her mother. There would be no reassurance found in her countenance. Instead, Aisley set her gaze on Brecc. He had turned from glaring at Rheged to watch her slow approach. His eyes shone with apology. She recognized his helplessness and simultaneously realized that only she had the power to make this situation tenable. Lifting her chin a fraction, she approached the head table.

Bobbing a brief curtsy to the king and queen, she moved to stand before Rheged. "I have obeyed your call to become a thegn, oh Lord of Misrule," she said loudly enough for those sitting nearby to hear, and then she offered a manly bow.

"Arise, Ealdorman Aisley," Rheged cried, "and join your fellow thegns on the bench."

Behind her, applause rang out. Unwilling to turn to acknowledge the crowd, Aisley made her way around the head table to reach the spot Rheged had created for her. Brecc rose and offered her his hand. She took it, clinging to the anchor it represented as she slid onto the seat. Moments later, he was seated beside her, his fingers still wrapped around hers beneath the table.

Rheged tilted his head toward them and spoke quietly. "You may both thank me at a later date."

"Or I may mortally wound you for putting Aisley through that," Brecc replied through gritted teeth.

"A perfect opportunity for you to sit together for the remainder of the evening, with no one in any position to question it," Rheged said, his eyes sparkling with good humor. "It was too good to ignore." He glanced at Brecc and grinned. "And fully worth the risk of a blade at my neck tonight." He turned to face the room again. "And now, my friends, it is long past time for some music. Ealdorman Gimm, I have heard it said that you have a remarkable voice. I would have you sing us a song."

The portly gentleman seated next to Wulfhere rose on unsteady feet. "A song, you say, sire?"

"Aye." Rheged waved his arm expansively. "Entertain us."

Aisley felt the guests' attention shift from her to Ealdorman Gimm and allowed herself a small portion of relief.

"I pray you will find it in your heart to forgive him." Brecc spoke softly, his eyes facing those in the room.

Following his lead, Aisley kept her gaze forward and her voice low. "I will if you will."

"Ah, you desire a united front." His tone was thoughtful. "I am beginning to think that tactic might be our best course with more than one person." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it to reach for his goblet. "It appears that Ealdorman Gimm's singing is an insufficient draw to capture your mother's attention."

Aisley forced herself to look to the table she'd left. Diera was watching the portly thegn, wincing at every untuneful note he bellowed. Her mother, however, was eyeing Brecc with a decidedly calculating expression. "What is she thinking?"

"I cannot tell, but I am most anxious that it not cause you difficulties."

The reason he had released her hand became clear. Whether or not her mother could see the placement of their hands beneath the table, Brecc wished to offer her no possible fuel for speculation. It was a wise decision, and Aisley could not fault it. Indeed, she should be grateful for his precaution. In her current discomforting position, however, it felt horribly as if she had been set adrift in a sea of overly interested onlookers.

She took an unsteady breath, and Brecc shifted slightly on the bench. Moments later, she felt his leg press against hers. Fresh awareness of his physical proximity—as comforting as it was disquieting—flooded through her in a warm rush.

"A united front, remember." His voice was gentle, reassuring. "By morning, most people in this room will scarcely recall your name, and your family members know full well that you were forced to play along with the annual Twelfth Night madness."

"True." He was right. After all, she was not the only one to have been targeted by the Lord of Misrule. "I am grateful that I was not asked to parade the room as a chicken or sing a ballad off-key."

"It is hard to believe you would have rendered a worse version of ‘Caedmon's Hymn' than is being offered now."

Ealdorman Gimm hit a particularly unpleasing note, and at her other side, Rheged squirmed.

"Mayhap it is time for Ealdorman Gimm to rest his voice," Rheged muttered.

He went to rise, but before he was fully on his feet, the main doors to the great hall flew open. A young man wearing a dark cloak burst into the room accompanied by a blast of cold air. The fire surged, and the guests gasped.

"Vikings!" the young man cried. "They have entered the town and are breaching the estate walls even now!"