spindle. The rain had started again, dampening her mood further, and the noise in the adjoining Great Hall was deafening now that Garrick had finished his story and joined the other warriors. Annis did not foresee her evening being a pleasant one.
Her husband stepped further into the room, reluctantly it seemed. “You haven’t even spoken to Deorca, Annis. How can you know you don’t like her?” His voice took on an impatient tone.
“How can I speak to her when she’s not Saxon? I know very little Latin, and you said she was difficult. I do not have the patience to wrestle with a stubborn ass of a woman. Give her to Redwald; Hilde says he needs an apprentice.”
Cædda laughed out loud at that, his voice booming over the din. “Tanning is not work for women, and dealing with Redwald is more punishment than she deserves. I might as well give her to Garrick—or the Danes for that matter.”
Punishment was precisely what Annis had in mind for the slave. If a Christian man had, in fact, thrown her from a ship, her crime must have been severe. Adultery was the only reason springing immediately to mind. Cædda’s attentions were diverted enough by Saoirse and the bastard child; Annis didn’t want another slave to compete with.
A serving girl squealed as one of the men grabbed her by the rear end, sending the other warriors into peals of laughter. Annis grimaced at the racket.
His mood seemingly lightened, Cædda smiled softly and walked over to her. “Don’t be troubled.” He bent down to kiss her. “Hilde is getting old and Saoirse is still a girl. I was hoping Deorca could be a companion for you while I’m away. She’s noble and educated; she could help with the children’s education. Perhaps she won’t be so difficult when she feels out of danger.”
Annis looked up at him with doubt. “I will see if she can be of use to me. But if she continues to be difficult, I’ll give her to Redwald.” She was about to ask him about his pilgrimage to Ethelred’s tomb when her two youngest sons came screaming into the chamber.
Dægberht was hacking at his little brother, Esmund, with a wooden sword Garrick had given him. Esmund had no sword and was deflecting the blows with one of the cook’s serving trays. The high-pitched laughter of the boys caused their mother to wince. She silently prayed, not for the first time, that her fourth child would be a girl.
Hilde tore into the room with a look of fury on her face. “I told you to come in and greet your father! If you keep acting like swine, I’ll hog-tie you and send you to slaughter with the rest of the pigs!” She snatched the sword away from Dæg’s hand and gave him a firm kick to the rump.
Cædda drained his ale and tossed the cup onto the floor. “My boys like to fight, Hilde. Let them be.” He mussed Dæg’s hair as the boy cowered from the nurse’s anger.
“Your boys will soon be men, and a good man knows to keep fighting out of doors and away from woman’s eyes, My Lord,” Hilde said hotly.
Annis suppressed a giggle. Hilde was an old woman with a cruel husband, and she wasn’t one to apologize for anything. In a house full of men and boys, the aging servant was Annis’ only confidante.
Cædda wasn’t quite as amused with the sharp-tongued nurse, but at Annis’ insistence, he tolerated her. “Has Deorca been settled?” he asked her.
“That she has, My Lord.” Hilde picked up Esmund and sat him down on Annis’ lap, their matching red hair shining in the firelight. “I have her bedded with Saoirse and I’ve got her some clothes. She’ll have to hem the skirts proper tonight, but no matter. She did ask after that,” she said, pointing to the silver crucifix around Cædda’s neck. “Didn’t catch all of it. Just that there was a crucifix what belonged to her.”
Annis looked at the beautiful pendant. The woman must be very rich to have a crucifix like that. A thought came to her and she smiled. “It’s so beautiful,”
Her husband stepped further into the room, reluctantly it seemed. “You haven’t even spoken to Deorca, Annis. How can you know you don’t like her?” His voice took on an impatient tone.
“How can I speak to her when she’s not Saxon? I know very little Latin, and you said she was difficult. I do not have the patience to wrestle with a stubborn ass of a woman. Give her to Redwald; Hilde says he needs an apprentice.”
Cædda laughed out loud at that, his voice booming over the din. “Tanning is not work for women, and dealing with Redwald is more punishment than she deserves. I might as well give her to Garrick—or the Danes for that matter.”
Punishment was precisely what Annis had in mind for the slave. If a Christian man had, in fact, thrown her from a ship, her crime must have been severe. Adultery was the only reason springing immediately to mind. Cædda’s attentions were diverted enough by Saoirse and the bastard child; Annis didn’t want another slave to compete with.
A serving girl squealed as one of the men grabbed her by the rear end, sending the other warriors into peals of laughter. Annis grimaced at the racket.
His mood seemingly lightened, Cædda smiled softly and walked over to her. “Don’t be troubled.” He bent down to kiss her. “Hilde is getting old and Saoirse is still a girl. I was hoping Deorca could be a companion for you while I’m away. She’s noble and educated; she could help with the children’s education. Perhaps she won’t be so difficult when she feels out of danger.”
Annis looked up at him with doubt. “I will see if she can be of use to me. But if she continues to be difficult, I’ll give her to Redwald.” She was about to ask him about his pilgrimage to Ethelred’s tomb when her two youngest sons came screaming into the chamber.
Dægberht was hacking at his little brother, Esmund, with a wooden sword Garrick had given him. Esmund had no sword and was deflecting the blows with one of the cook’s serving trays. The high-pitched laughter of the boys caused their mother to wince. She silently prayed, not for the first time, that her fourth child would be a girl.
Hilde tore into the room with a look of fury on her face. “I told you to come in and greet your father! If you keep acting like swine, I’ll hog-tie you and send you to slaughter with the rest of the pigs!” She snatched the sword away from Dæg’s hand and gave him a firm kick to the rump.
Cædda drained his ale and tossed the cup onto the floor. “My boys like to fight, Hilde. Let them be.” He mussed Dæg’s hair as the boy cowered from the nurse’s anger.
“Your boys will soon be men, and a good man knows to keep fighting out of doors and away from woman’s eyes, My Lord,” Hilde said hotly.
Annis suppressed a giggle. Hilde was an old woman with a cruel husband, and she wasn’t one to apologize for anything. In a house full of men and boys, the aging servant was Annis’ only confidante.
Cædda wasn’t quite as amused with the sharp-tongued nurse, but at Annis’ insistence, he tolerated her. “Has Deorca been settled?” he asked her.
“That she has, My Lord.” Hilde picked up Esmund and sat him down on Annis’ lap, their matching red hair shining in the firelight. “I have her bedded with Saoirse and I’ve got her some clothes. She’ll have to hem the skirts proper tonight, but no matter. She did ask after that,” she said, pointing to the silver crucifix around Cædda’s neck. “Didn’t catch all of it. Just that there was a crucifix what belonged to her.”
Annis looked at the beautiful pendant. The woman must be very rich to have a crucifix like that. A thought came to her and she smiled. “It’s so beautiful,”
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