She walked for miles, climbing higher and higher into the densely wooded hills, until her anger subsided and only then did she notice that she still had on her soft slippers. Feeling now every stone under her feet, she turned and sat down, looking out over the countryside below and blowing misty clouds of cold air out with each breath. She patted her arms in an effort to keep them warm. Curse Edward. He was always so sure of himself, so sure that his way of thinking was the only way. What did he know of the weeks of heartache they had all endured, waiting to see if Ethelred would recover even a little of his former strength? She threw out the silent accusation and almost immediately she heard her brother’s response; that he had been busy fighting off a rebellion. So, they each had their own burdens to bear; each now had their own destiny to fulfil.
‘We are all right as we are’. But were they? Was she? Edward had not brought Frith with him and she needed his quiet strength and ability to see every job that needed doing. Alhelm, it was clear, could not cope with the administration and was happy only when seated in the saddle, sword in hand. Besides, she found it hard, even now, to speak to him when Ethelred was not there as a shield.
The sun began to glow red in the afternoon sky and she stood up to make her way home before dark. Skirting a line of trees she detected the musty odour of rotting leaves, lying wet and undisturbed since the autumn fall. Turning away from it, she gazed across the valley, to a plume of smoke from a farmstead chimney, rising white against the purpling sky. What a peaceful scene, that changed only with the seasons. The leaves would decay, and help the spring growth. God grant her the strength to ensure that naught else came to change this landscape, so familiar to her, so beloved.
‘I know this. I know here.’ They had been Ethelred’s words, long ago, but now they were her thoughts too. She could help him. Many times before, she had been asked to do something for which she had no skills, no knowledge and somehow she had steered a straight course, and this time she had Ethelred to ask. Always before, she had stepped back, left the men to their business. Although she had learned long ago always to make the best of things, she had hated being Gunnhildr’s custodian, being so close to the enemy with no real power. Thus was life for all women; but now her life could be different. And as she thought of how Ethelred needed her and how she could serve him, she put a hand to her heart as another thought struck her. And truly does it strike me, for its truth is like a hammer blow. If she did not stand firm against Edward, if she did not become Ethelred’s stand-in, she was sure that Edward would take over the kingdom rather than allow another man to lead Mercia. Edward had always been ruthless; Gwen might have softened him but now that she had gone there would be no-one other than Teasel to counter his tendencies. As she stood on the hillside and looked out over her husband’s beloved land, she knew that she was all that stood between Mercia and Wessex; she, the outsider, was Mercia’s last hope of even nominal independence.
She hitched her skirt up, tucking the excess cloth into her belt and ran, ignoring the bumpy stones that pressed into her feet with each step. Side-sliding down the steeper terrain, she cared not for the mud splats kicking up onto her back. Heart thumping and breath too quickly snatched to stay long enough in her lungs, she arrived, gasping, at the hall. Alyth offered her daughter to her, but Elfwen was still whining and Teasel shook her head. Alhelm, back at his paperwork, looked up and pushed his brows together in an enquiring frown. She flapped her arms, but abandoned her explanation, shoving open the bedchamber door and rushing to Ethelred’s bedside.
She stood for a moment, waiting for her breathing to calm, then she lay down beside him, on his good side. “Before you fell, you had begun to use me to ease your worries. Use me now. Tell me. Tell me how to do it.”
From the left, his profile looked as it always had. His long nose remained perfectly straight, his jaw line was taut as ever and the tic that made his muscle twitch was still active from time to time. For a second she could believe that it had never happened. Now he turned to look at her and the lack of symmetry in his features was clear again. She knew he was struggling to form words and she waited, with patience newly learned.
In the darkened room, she could not be sure that she saw tears in his eyes.
Having moved his lips to the required shape, he tested the sound a couple of times and then simply offered her one word. “Build.”
This is one of my favourite scenes from your fab book, Annie. I feel a re-read looming...
ReplyDeleteThank so much Anna!
DeleteAnd build she did. Great excerpt Annie! I can't think of a better way to launch the DDREVS jubilee celebration.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much!!
DeleteAnd build she did. Great excerpt Annie! I can't think of a better way to launch the DDREVS jubilee celebration.
ReplyDeleteThank you!! :-)
DeleteSuch a stirring and beautifully written scene, I was right there with her!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much - glad you enjoyed it :-)
DeleteVery poignant, Annie. Aethelflaed is such a good character.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much Alison!
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