and its peaceful
countryside and Svana’s invitation to stay on her enchanted estate, but it all seemed terribly far away with the Welsh sea throwing itself at her feet, the Welsh birds circling her head and
the Welsh king looking down at her with such tenderness.
‘I consent,’ she whispered and now he pulled her fiercely against him.
‘You will be a great queen, Edyth,’ he promised, his lips whispering the words against her own. ‘You
deserve
to be a great queen – greater, perhaps, than a rough
king like myself can offer.’
‘No, Griffin, you—’
But he put up a finger to silence her.
‘No matter, cariad. It will be my honour to see you to your throne.’
And then his mouth covered hers and, for a sea-wisp of time, crowns and thrones and titles seemed as nothing.
They rode back towards the palace at a more sedate pace, newly shy with one another despite the intimacy of their promises. Griffin had kissed her only briefly, then handed her
back onto her horse before his ‘baser self’ took hold. Even so, Edyth felt as if he had stripped her naked there on the sand, so acutely did she feel his want, and she was sure every
man and woman of the court would see it too. She had no idea how she would face her mother without her reading all that had passed, but when she finally reached her, Meghan was too distracted to so
much as look at her.
‘They will ride to battle, Edie.’
‘I know.’
‘On the morrow.’
‘The morrow?!’
Edyth thought of Griffin’s words that any day might easily be his last and felt fear grip her. He had said nothing of riding out so soon, only that she should not speak of their marriage
until he had asked her father.
‘How do you know?’ she demanded.
‘Your father’s mercenaries have arrived and apparently they are too expensive to keep here so the king’s commander has ruled that they will ride immediately.’
Edyth ran to the window and looked out and sure enough the pasture behind the palace was teeming with men pitching rough soldiers’ tents and lighting campfires.
‘There must be a thousand of them,’ she exclaimed.
‘Two thousand,’ Meghan sniffed. ‘They cost a fortune but your father insists it must be done to prove . . . oh, I don’t know what to prove but he seems very
certain.’
Edyth watched the ant-like mass of fighting men and felt her stomach curdle. She and Griffin had ridden in through the small gates on the seaward side where all was still waving grass and
rippling water and romance but here, before her now, was the reality of Griffin’s life as king. Not dreams and crowns and queens, but conflict and battle.
‘They ride on the morrow?’ she repeated, chilled to her bones despite the heat of what had seemed such a beautiful day.
‘It is hard, I know, but if God is with us – as I’m sure he is – we will be able to go home.’
‘To England?’
‘To England, yes, Edyth. Where else?’
But to that, Edyth had no reply.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bosham, October 1055
Lady Svana,
I was so pleased to receive your kind reply, though I fear you worry too much about me. Rest assured I am safe, nay, honoured here and am living most comfortably. I must confess, though,
that it is rather dull now the men are gone to war. It is not so much that I delight in their company, as that life is so much livelier when they are in court. Now there seems to be little more
to do than sew and sing and stop my brothers getting into mischief and my mother weeping for home.
Already, it seems, the days are tipping over into autumn. I am sure you must be very busy on your farmlands but for myself I cannot believe I have passed a whole summer in Wales. Not
that it is not a very beautiful country and not that I would not mind staying longer, just that so much has happened since the mid-Lent council when last I saw you in such unhappy
circumstances.
My one consolation is my horse. The king gifted her to me and she is the most beautiful creature
countryside and Svana’s invitation to stay on her enchanted estate, but it all seemed terribly far away with the Welsh sea throwing itself at her feet, the Welsh birds circling her head and
the Welsh king looking down at her with such tenderness.
‘I consent,’ she whispered and now he pulled her fiercely against him.
‘You will be a great queen, Edyth,’ he promised, his lips whispering the words against her own. ‘You
deserve
to be a great queen – greater, perhaps, than a rough
king like myself can offer.’
‘No, Griffin, you—’
But he put up a finger to silence her.
‘No matter, cariad. It will be my honour to see you to your throne.’
And then his mouth covered hers and, for a sea-wisp of time, crowns and thrones and titles seemed as nothing.
They rode back towards the palace at a more sedate pace, newly shy with one another despite the intimacy of their promises. Griffin had kissed her only briefly, then handed her
back onto her horse before his ‘baser self’ took hold. Even so, Edyth felt as if he had stripped her naked there on the sand, so acutely did she feel his want, and she was sure every
man and woman of the court would see it too. She had no idea how she would face her mother without her reading all that had passed, but when she finally reached her, Meghan was too distracted to so
much as look at her.
‘They will ride to battle, Edie.’
‘I know.’
‘On the morrow.’
‘The morrow?!’
Edyth thought of Griffin’s words that any day might easily be his last and felt fear grip her. He had said nothing of riding out so soon, only that she should not speak of their marriage
until he had asked her father.
‘How do you know?’ she demanded.
‘Your father’s mercenaries have arrived and apparently they are too expensive to keep here so the king’s commander has ruled that they will ride immediately.’
Edyth ran to the window and looked out and sure enough the pasture behind the palace was teeming with men pitching rough soldiers’ tents and lighting campfires.
‘There must be a thousand of them,’ she exclaimed.
‘Two thousand,’ Meghan sniffed. ‘They cost a fortune but your father insists it must be done to prove . . . oh, I don’t know what to prove but he seems very
certain.’
Edyth watched the ant-like mass of fighting men and felt her stomach curdle. She and Griffin had ridden in through the small gates on the seaward side where all was still waving grass and
rippling water and romance but here, before her now, was the reality of Griffin’s life as king. Not dreams and crowns and queens, but conflict and battle.
‘They ride on the morrow?’ she repeated, chilled to her bones despite the heat of what had seemed such a beautiful day.
‘It is hard, I know, but if God is with us – as I’m sure he is – we will be able to go home.’
‘To England?’
‘To England, yes, Edyth. Where else?’
But to that, Edyth had no reply.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bosham, October 1055
Lady Svana,
I was so pleased to receive your kind reply, though I fear you worry too much about me. Rest assured I am safe, nay, honoured here and am living most comfortably. I must confess, though,
that it is rather dull now the men are gone to war. It is not so much that I delight in their company, as that life is so much livelier when they are in court. Now there seems to be little more
to do than sew and sing and stop my brothers getting into mischief and my mother weeping for home.
Already, it seems, the days are tipping over into autumn. I am sure you must be very busy on your farmlands but for myself I cannot believe I have passed a whole summer in Wales. Not
that it is not a very beautiful country and not that I would not mind staying longer, just that so much has happened since the mid-Lent council when last I saw you in such unhappy
circumstances.
My one consolation is my horse. The king gifted her to me and she is the most beautiful creature
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