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The Saxon. Margaret Moore
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Bayard’s expression was hard as flint. “He is the Britwalda, King of the Britons, and anyone who says otherwise has no place in my hall.”
“Of course, my lord,” Ranulf replied hastily. “I meant nothing else. But what of the woman’s loyalty?”
Adelar darted a condemning look at Ranulf’s lean, anxious face. “Are you saying you doubt that Bayard can control his own wife? That he will be influenced by a bright eye or soft cheek?” he asked, inwardly hoping it would not be so, and that perhaps Bayard would hear his words as a warning.
“Not at all,” Ranulf answered, reddening under the scrutiny of the two men whose haughty, stern eyes were so alike. “Naturally I wish that this marriage may be a happy one.”
“Women are evil creatures, full of sin and temptation,” Father Derrick said, his stern, deep voice commanding silence. “Men should beware their traps and snares.”
“Yes, Father,” Bayard replied peaceably. “I regret that I cannot be as strong as you in denying the desires of the flesh, but I shall be very careful. And this is merely a marriage of necessity.”
“That is good, my son.”
“Now you must all join me in a pledge of loyalty to any future children this marriage will bring.”
Ranulf struggled to look pleased. “Yes, my lord. To your children.”
Bayard lifted his goblet. “To my heir.” For only a moment, Adelar thought he saw a look of pain in Bayard’s eyes, but it passed before he could be sure it was pain and not mere annoyance with Ranulf. “This alliance should ensure that my land will be safe for someone to inherit when I am dead. The woman’s dowry will also enrich my estate.”
“My lord, surely you know I hope you will live a long and happy life and leave many sons to follow you,” Ranulf said.
“I know precisely what you hope, Ranulf,” Bayard replied.
“Beware the yearning for earthly wealth,” Father Derrick intoned. “A camel can pass through the eye of a needle sooner than a rich man enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
“Thank you, Father, for your timely reminder,” Bayard responded with his usual good humor. “Someone find Godwin. We need music—oh, there you are, Godwin. No time for hanging about in the shadows, gleeman. Sing something suitable for the occasion. Adelar, where is your ale? Are you not going to drink to my impending marriage and my future bride? What was her name?”
“Endredi,” Adelar replied, looking about for that timid female slave. “Ale!” he shouted impatiently. He wanted to get very drunk very quickly.
But not for celebration. He wanted to forget.
* * *
Ranulf’s wife shoved his wandering hand away. “I’m talking to you about serious matters, dolt!” Ordella said sharply, her pale blue eyes seeming to glow in the dim building.
Ranulf, lying beside her in bed, gave her a peevish look. “And I’m acting like a husband.”
“Speak quietly, you lustful beast. A husband would have his family’s interest in mind, and that is what I am trying to discuss.”
“Oh, very well.” Ranulf shifted to a sitting position in his bed. In the other part of the building, which was only half the size of Bayard’s hall, slaves and servants slumbered. His wife, however, had the amazing ability to sound as if she was almost shouting without waking anyone. “What is it?”
“I want to know what you are going to do about this marriage.”
“Do about it? Nothing. An agreement has been made.”
“Because of your stupidity.”
“Mine? I am not marrying some Viking widow. And you yourself said we should make peace with the Vikings. If the betrothal is broken now, who knows what those savages might do?”
“I didn’t mean a marriage alliance.”
“And I tell you again, I did not suggest it. Dagfinn did, and Bayard agreed.”
“Yes—and for that reason alone you should have stopped it.”
“I should have stepped into the middle of the discussion and ordered Bayard to refuse?” Ranulf asked scornfully. “He would have had me tossed from the hall.”
“If you had been witless about it, of course he would,” she snapped. “You merely needed to find a way to delay the negotiations. Then you could have dissuaded him.”
“I did protest his decision, after the Danes had gone.”
Ordella fought the urge to scream. “After was much too late. You should know that about Bayard by now. The time was already past to influence him! He will never alter his course now—never!”
“How was I to even guess he would consider a marriage?” Ranulf whined. “All I knew was that he was prepared to argue over the amount of the Danegeld. It’s taken me many days to convince him to go that far. Nor has he ever so much as hinted at a marriage.”
“Bertilde has been dead these three years,” Ordella reminded him, all the while wishing she had waited a little longer before agreeing to marry Ranulf. Then she might have had a chance for Bayard, rather than this clod.
“So I thought he had no interest in marriage.”
“That is the stupidest thing you have said yet. He is a wealthy thane with no children. You should never have dismissed a possible marriage.”
“As you have just pointed out, Ordella, it is done. I cannot undo it.”
“But now he might have children, too.”
“He hasn’t yet, and he’s had many women.”
“That is no guarantee. He so rarely stays in one place for long, it could be that he is gone before a woman knows. Or perhaps he has never acknowledged any children, if they were born out of wedlock. If you had the sense of a donkey, you would have considered these possibilities.”
Ordella was almost weeping with frustration. Her only reason for marrying Ranulf had been to become part of Bayard’s wealthy, important family. Unfortunately, she had come to realize she had chosen the least promising member of the clan. “She is young, too. She could give him many children.”
“Or maybe he will hate her and never go near her. This is a political match, Ordella. Don’t forget that.”
“I hope for your sake it is so. Or you can forget any hope of inheriting anything from him.”
“You said the same thing when Adelar arrived.”
“That was before I knew the kind of man Adelar is—and for that you should thank God. If he was more ambitious, he could have you living in some hovel at the edge of the wood. It is clear Bayard favors him, and their mothers were sisters.”
“You are forgetting the stories about his father.”
“That old tale? No one believed that Viking. Imagine trying to imply that a Saxon thane would betray his own people.”
“Yet Kendric has never tried to be in the Witan, and any other man of his stature would have.”
“The main thing to consider now is how to increase your importance to Bayard.”
“I am his nephew. What more reason should Bayard need to listen to me?”
“If that’s the only cause he has to suffer your presence, he can easily discard you, fool!”
Ranulf started to climb out of the bed. Ordella grabbed his arm and held on. “Forgive me,” she said in wheedling voice. “I am upset to think that Bayard did not take you into his confidence. After all, you deserve to be. You are his closest relative.