shrugged.
‘What can I say? He’s a Norman by blood and I suppose, despite what we’ve taught him, he still believed it was the best way. Maybe he wanted to prove that to us – to
me.’
‘It didn’t work?’
‘You could say that. The horses were churned up in the Welsh mud within minutes. Griffin’s forces were all over them. They had to retreat but the city was vulnerable. I am told the
Welsh have done much damage. They have secured not just a victory but a jest at our expense.’
Svana saw Harold’s jaw tighten and knew the wound ran deeper than his light tone was letting on. She clasped his hands tightly.
‘I’m sorry.’
He looked at her and puffed out his breath.
‘It is no great matter. If looking foolish is the worst that we suffer we should count ourselves fortunate but we cannot let it go at that. The king’s honour is at stake.’
The babe rolled suddenly in Svana’s stomach as if, like its mother, it was scornful of such ideas. Definitely a girl then. Svana’s hand closed protectively over it and Harold placed
his own on top.
‘It quickens?’ he asked and Svana nodded. ‘Perhaps, then, it will stop making you so sick?’
‘I hope so, though now fear for you will take its place.’
He looked reproachfully at her.
‘Nay, Svana, fear not for me. I know what I am about on the field and I train hard. I am well fed.’ He patted his belly ruefully. ‘And I have the best armour. It is late in the
year so this cannot go on long. I will return to you for Christ’s mass, I swear.’
‘At Nazeing?’
‘Svana . . .’
‘I know, I know. Christ’s mass is at Gloucester. Always has been and always will be.’
‘You will come? The boys too?’
‘If I am well enough.’
‘You are angry with me.’
She looked deep into his eyes and saw the faint amber rings glowing like fire around the soft pupils. She sighed.
‘Not with you, my love, just with all this . . . this warmongering. It seems so pointless.’
‘Maybe it is, Svana, but what can we do? England is a rich and prosperous land. Others covet it and if they attack we must surely defend ourselves?’
‘My fighting man,’ Svana said, stroking his face, and he smiled ruefully. ‘We cannot let foreigners prey on our land or our people, I suppose, but why must it always be
you
who does the defending?’
Harold shrugged.
‘The king seems to think I am the best for the job.’
He looked so very bashful, sat there before her with his skilful warrior’s hands clasped softly over her belly, that Svana could argue no further. She wound her hands around his neck and
kissed him fervently.
‘You
are
the best, Harold – the best for England and the best for me.’
He kissed her back.
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he whispered, ‘but I prefer you.’
She felt her loins stir.
‘It is just a shame, then, that England is so very demanding. Do you have time to come to bed?’
His eyes darkened and he pulled her up into his arms.
‘I do, my love. I most definitely do. England can wait that long.’
Afterwards, as they lay in a tangle of blankets, Svana curled against him, trying to imprint every finger space of him onto her flesh to last her in the lonely weeks ahead.
‘You will be quick?’ she asked.
‘As quick as I safely can.’
She stuck her tongue out at him.
‘And you will broker a peace between King Edward and Lord Alfgar?’
‘I will do my very best.’
‘And you will bring Edyth safely home?’
‘Why would I not?’
‘I don’t know.’ Svana sat up and fumbled for the letter. It took her a minute to find it amongst the hastily discarded clothing but at last it emerged from beneath
Harold’s trews. ‘She says “
I hope to see you one day
”
.
’
‘As I’m sure she will.’
‘But why “one day”, Harold? Why not soon? And why does she talk of “all that has happened”?’
‘Girls prattle, my love. She is bored, you said so yourself.’
‘So why does she not write more?’
‘Perhaps
‘What can I say? He’s a Norman by blood and I suppose, despite what we’ve taught him, he still believed it was the best way. Maybe he wanted to prove that to us – to
me.’
‘It didn’t work?’
‘You could say that. The horses were churned up in the Welsh mud within minutes. Griffin’s forces were all over them. They had to retreat but the city was vulnerable. I am told the
Welsh have done much damage. They have secured not just a victory but a jest at our expense.’
Svana saw Harold’s jaw tighten and knew the wound ran deeper than his light tone was letting on. She clasped his hands tightly.
‘I’m sorry.’
He looked at her and puffed out his breath.
‘It is no great matter. If looking foolish is the worst that we suffer we should count ourselves fortunate but we cannot let it go at that. The king’s honour is at stake.’
The babe rolled suddenly in Svana’s stomach as if, like its mother, it was scornful of such ideas. Definitely a girl then. Svana’s hand closed protectively over it and Harold placed
his own on top.
‘It quickens?’ he asked and Svana nodded. ‘Perhaps, then, it will stop making you so sick?’
‘I hope so, though now fear for you will take its place.’
He looked reproachfully at her.
‘Nay, Svana, fear not for me. I know what I am about on the field and I train hard. I am well fed.’ He patted his belly ruefully. ‘And I have the best armour. It is late in the
year so this cannot go on long. I will return to you for Christ’s mass, I swear.’
‘At Nazeing?’
‘Svana . . .’
‘I know, I know. Christ’s mass is at Gloucester. Always has been and always will be.’
‘You will come? The boys too?’
‘If I am well enough.’
‘You are angry with me.’
She looked deep into his eyes and saw the faint amber rings glowing like fire around the soft pupils. She sighed.
‘Not with you, my love, just with all this . . . this warmongering. It seems so pointless.’
‘Maybe it is, Svana, but what can we do? England is a rich and prosperous land. Others covet it and if they attack we must surely defend ourselves?’
‘My fighting man,’ Svana said, stroking his face, and he smiled ruefully. ‘We cannot let foreigners prey on our land or our people, I suppose, but why must it always be
you
who does the defending?’
Harold shrugged.
‘The king seems to think I am the best for the job.’
He looked so very bashful, sat there before her with his skilful warrior’s hands clasped softly over her belly, that Svana could argue no further. She wound her hands around his neck and
kissed him fervently.
‘You
are
the best, Harold – the best for England and the best for me.’
He kissed her back.
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he whispered, ‘but I prefer you.’
She felt her loins stir.
‘It is just a shame, then, that England is so very demanding. Do you have time to come to bed?’
His eyes darkened and he pulled her up into his arms.
‘I do, my love. I most definitely do. England can wait that long.’
Afterwards, as they lay in a tangle of blankets, Svana curled against him, trying to imprint every finger space of him onto her flesh to last her in the lonely weeks ahead.
‘You will be quick?’ she asked.
‘As quick as I safely can.’
She stuck her tongue out at him.
‘And you will broker a peace between King Edward and Lord Alfgar?’
‘I will do my very best.’
‘And you will bring Edyth safely home?’
‘Why would I not?’
‘I don’t know.’ Svana sat up and fumbled for the letter. It took her a minute to find it amongst the hastily discarded clothing but at last it emerged from beneath
Harold’s trews. ‘She says “
I hope to see you one day
”
.
’
‘As I’m sure she will.’
‘But why “one day”, Harold? Why not soon? And why does she talk of “all that has happened”?’
‘Girls prattle, my love. She is bored, you said so yourself.’
‘So why does she not write more?’
‘Perhaps
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