Black Pearls - Louise Hawes [72]
"I shall not go." I placed my hand on his head and held him as if he were a babe. "I shall not go." Behind us, Felicity stamped, impatient to be off again, but we paid her no mind.
When at last my fond husband stood, it was only to hold me
again. He wrapped me in his arms and whispered more endearments. "You told me everything you have is mine," he said. "But when I thought you dead, I found that I had nothing left, nothing at all."
"But, sire—"
"I swore then that I would ride to church." His body had ceased trembling, and his voice grew stronger. "I would beg God's forgiveness if I could not have yours."
"You have it, good my lord."
"And I would ride as I had forced you to ride." He released me then and turned away. "Naked and alone."
I did not speak. Instead, I brought his face to mine and pressed my lips on his. No need to chatter on about my visit to Ædre, to tell how Felicity and I had come to dare the Cune. Those stories could wait. For now, we had said all that needed saying, and there was only one thing to do.
Leofric lifted me to my horse, and because he could not bear to let me go, climbed up behind me. Though she had never carried us both, Felicity set out eagerly and brought us home almost as quickly as we wished to be there. We left her in the keeping of a groom and then sped, old lovers made new, to my chambers.
I like to think that it was that very night when Ælfgar was conceived. I choose to believe that those enchanted hours, in which I learned again my husband's mysteries and he mine, were a joy that bred more joy. Nine months later, our son was born.
Like his father, Ælfgar was strong and well formed. As he grew, scenes like the ones I had imagined on my walk from the river were often played out. For he and Leofric loved to wrestle and frolic, to test each other's mettle in mock jousts or play at cock of the roost. They would sometimes include me in their capers, especially if they had need of a damsel to capture, or a keeper of scores. But there was between them a special bond, a love that springs up among men. It is not so much a secret that shuts women out as a rough-and-tumble place we cannot go.
Nor did I need more than to watch my two fine fellows at play. I had my own bond, my own sweet companion in the land of women. For, you see, I did go back to the old woman's house and to the babe who'd been born there. With my husband's permission, I visited often, and though Fride soon married and gave the girl a father, I became a sort of kindly aunt to Ebba and her family.
Like my son, Leofric's daughter grew daily more comely and blithe. Though she seldom saw the earl or her half brother, little Ebba knew no want. The jewels I had left in her great-grandmother's care were spent on a stone house to replace their thatched hovel and a cow whose milk sold far better than honey. Before the old woman died, their state had risen so far above that of the other villagers that townsfolk took to calling them ealfrende, "earl's kin."
"Auntie! Auntie!" The little girl would run to meet me as soon as I stepped down from my horse. Each time she had a long list of childish triumphs and disasters to recite. "My rabbit has the grippe," she would say, "and Father will not let me fish. I picked three apples, but no one will show me how to bake a pie."
"Well, my dear," I'd say, smiling down at her upturned face, "a witch once told me that apples are good for ailing rabbits." I would take her hand, as excited as she. "Let us see if it is true."
While I loved my son and thanked Our Savior each day for his sturdy limbs and sunny spirit, Ebba needed me more. When her mother told her no, I laughed and whispered yes. When her father thrashed her for her pranks, I slipped her trinkets and toys. In short, the child intoxicated me, and I spoiled her until she was as proud and willful as a princess.
I was not surprised, then, when, in her eighth summer, my "niece" complained that Fride had punished