Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Chapter 10: Misgivings and Delays
Caderyn paused in the doorway of the tavern, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness within before he glanced around the interior, searching the gloom for the one person he needed to talk with. Spotting the telltale flash of blond locks at the knights' usual table, Caderyn strode inside, eager to speak to his friend.
"Gawain." The blonde knight looked up from his drink when Caderyn approached, glancing back down when Caderyn sat down in the chair in front of him. "You are angry with me, brother, and I would speak with you about it."
"What is left to say, Caderyn?" Gawain asked. "You know where I stand on the matter."
"You know how important this alliance is, Gawain. I have to do this if we are to have any hope for a lasting peace—can you not stand with me?"
"Caderyn, she's a Saxon," Gawain said suddenly, unleashing all of his pent-up concerns and suspicion. "They're not to be trusted. How can you marry one of them?"
"What would you like me to say, Gawain? I know you don't trust her, but you should at least trust that I know what I'm doing," Caderyn said, exasperated.
"That's just it, Caderyn—you don't know what you're doing," Gawain argued. "Do you think me so foolishly blind that I don't see the growing unease in your eyes the closer we come to the wedding? Think you I don't know you better than you know yourself? I watch you walk closer to this fate with every passing moment, and I know it for what it really is—folly."
"Yes, of course I have doubts, Gawain—but I won't be a slave to them. There comes a time in a man's life when he's faced with the chance to make the biggest wager of his life, and only he can decide whether to gamble or not. Have you no faith in me to choose for myself, brother?" The question hung in the air, and Caderyn felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Gawain look away.
"Caderyn, you're closer to me than any other," Gawain said, "but in this, I fear you are gravely mistaken. I'm sorry," he said regretfully. He picked up his ale and left, leaving Caderyn to stare down at the table miserably.
"Is this to be my fate, then, Venus Felix?" he murmured, softly questioning the Goddess of Fortune. "Am I to gain a wife, only to lose a brother?" With a sigh of deep remorse, he slid a forgotten cup of ale closer and wondered what the future would bring.
Sæthryth bit her lip, overwhelmed as she gazed around in at the activity going on around her. With the acceptance of the marriage proposal, everyone had frantically begun to prepare, as Arthur wanted the marriage alliance sealed as soon as possible. That being the case, most of the men were wandering around aimlessly, trying to keep out of the way as the women worked crazily to make the arrangements.
She looked around for her brother, but wasn't surprised that Offa was nowhere in sight. He is likely doing his best to help Wulflaf maintain control over our people—no doubt many will protest the marriage. Still…I wish Offa was here. Gazing around at all of the bustling women, none of whom she really knew, she felt terribly alone. She had no friends here to speak of. She'd never had an opportunity to meet with any of the women that frequently accompanied the knights, and of the few knights she'd met, only her betrothed seemed truly amenable to her presence. She sank onto a nearby bench with a lonely sigh, shifting the dirt beneath her feet with her toe aimlessly. Preoccupied, she didn't notice the presence approaching her until the bench creaked with an added weight. Sæthryth looked up to see the fiery knight's woman sitting next to her, a tired smile on her face.
"Hello, Sæthryth. I am Orainne," she said slowly. Sæthryth smiled back at her, eager for the company, even if they weren't able to communicate easily. Orainne shoved a lock of her hair behind her ear and glanced toward the tavern where Caderyn had disappeared shortly before. "Do you have worry to marry Caderyn?" she asked haltingly, her bright blue eyes gazing kindly back at Sæthryth as she waited for an answer.
"No, no worry," Sæthryth told her shyly, casting a quick look Caderyn's way before smiling back at the younger woman. "I am eager to marry, for I am much lonely here."
"Caderyn is a good man…he will make you much happy." Sæthryth looked down, picturing Caderyn as she had seen him earlier that morning—his dark, tousled hair, noble features, and strong frame as he'd leaned his head back and closed his eyes, absorbing the sunlight for a quiet moment.
"I do not know him well, Orainne, but something tells me you speak truth. We will come to know each other, and we will be happy." Orainne nodded, not understanding some of what Sæthryth said, but understanding both the confidence and the hopefulness in her voice nevertheless. "Still," Sæthryth continued, "this seems a considerable hassle—my people have never placed much importance on the appearance of such matters," she said as she gazed around at the frantic preparations. Before she could continue, Vanora hurried over, dragging Wulflaf over with a hassled look, the other Saxon men following closely behind.
"Where do you lead us, woman?" Wulflaf asked with more than a small trace of impatience.
"I need you all to remain here so that I can find you when I need you," Vanora told them importantly.
"For what reason could you possibly need us?" Gar asked with more than a minor trace of annoyance.
"I don't know yet, but I'm sure something will come up," she replied distractedly, bending down to pick up a basket of fruit that sat beside the bench.
"This is foolish—we are warriors, not handmaidens to wait upon a bride," Gar said in annoyance.
"Don't be difficult—just do as I said, Saxon," Vanora told him, her eyes narrowing with the promise of swift retribution if he was so unwise as to do otherwise. The Saxons looked to Wulflaf for direction, waiting to see how he would respond to the woman's commands. Heaving a sigh of irritated resignation, Wulflaf threw his hands up and muttered a heartfelt curse before telling them to remain where Vanora stationed them before he turned and walked away without another word. Vanora watched for a long moment, as though debating whether or not to follow him, before she looked back at the remaining men. She stared at them critically for only a second and with a nod of her head, she turned and walked away in the opposite direction, apparently coming to the conclusion that it wasn't worth chasing after Wulflaf when she still had the rest of them to help her. "Wait here for me, in case I have need of you," she called back over her shoulder as she hurried away.
With a frustrated sigh of his own, Gar propped himself up against the wall and scowled angrily after Vanora and Wulflaf, and Drefan threw a friendly arm over his shoulder.
"Come, Gar," Drefan said easily, "enjoy the peace for a time. It happens so infrequently that you should take pleasure in it when it comes along." Gar responded with an angry look in Drefan's direction as he crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly and shrugged off Drefan's arm.
"This is all your fault, woman," Gar said suddenly to Sæthryth. She was saved from responding, however, when Hummingbird suddenly ran by in a blur of red hair and brown dress, turning back suddenly when she spotted them and squeezing herself into the small space on the bench between Sæthryth and Orainne.
"Yay, it's Wedding Day! Isn't it exciting, Sæthryth?" she cried happily, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "You're going to marry Caderyn, and then you'll be my aunt, and I can come to see you, and we'll have fun and do things, and you can come and see me, too!"
"I'll be your aunt? I didn't realize Caderyn is your father's brother," Sæthryth said with a puzzled expression.
"Oh, he's not," Hummingbird said off-handedly, lowering her head as she absently brushed at a dust stain off her dress.
"Your mother's brother, then," Sæthryth said with a nod of confirmation.
"Nope."
"Then…how is it that I will be your aunt?"
"Because Caderyn is my uncle, silly," Hummingbird told her, sparing a glance in Sæthryth's direction that clearly said she was foolish for not knowing the answer to such a question.
"But child, for him to be your uncle, he would either have to be your father's brother or your mother's brother," Rathelm said quietly.
"Nuh-uh," she argued, spitting on the stain and rubbing at it diligently as she spoke. "Papa says that all the knights are my uncles, because we're Sarmatian, and they're blood," she said matter-of-factly.
"Ah, I see," Sæthryth said, at last comprehending what the little girl meant. "I would be honored to join your family, fea bridd."
At that moment, Offa appear nearby, looking harrowed as he gazed around impatiently. Spotting them, he approached, the limp he was struggling to hide only barely noticeable as he slowly made his way toward them.
"Offa, come sit with us!" Hummingbird yelled, forgetting all about the dirt stain as she caught sight of Offa.
"As much as I wish it, I cannot, little one. Besides, I do not think that bench you sit on can hold another," he said, sparing a smile for Hummingbird before turning to Sæthryth. Sister, I am to escort you to the wife of the loud Sarmatian, and we need to hurry—we don't wish to anger her. Her man tells me that she's a helsceaða if she's crossed."
"Very well, brother," Sæthryth replied with a laugh, coming to her feet and taking her brother's proffered arm. "Hummingbird, would you like to accompany us?" she asked.
"Alright," the little girl replied, eagerly leaping up to grab Offa's other arm. "Will you be my escort, too, Offa?" she asked prettily.
"You honor me with your request, fea bridd," Offa told her with a smile, allowing her to retain her hold on his arm. "It's a lucky man who gets the privilege to escort two such beautiful ladies," he said with a wink.
Hummingbird giggled, and the others all smiled to hear her laugh so prettily, her childlike delight endearing.
"Bye, everyone! I'll see you all at the Wedding Day," she yelled back excitedly, eliciting a laugh out of everyone. As Offa, Hummingbird, and Sæthryth left, the Saxons slowly fell silent, each looking expectantly at one another, as though asking what they should do now.
"With Offa, Sæthryth, and Fea Bridd as a distraction, the bitch-woman will surely be occupied," Gar said suddenly. "Let's leave while we have the chance." The others were still for only a moment before they stood abruptly. As they all began to hurry off in the direction of their camp, Gar turned back, looking down at Orainne expectantly. "Are you coming with us, fæmna?"
Orainne looked up, considering his words for a moment and slowly nodded. He helped her to her feet, and she smiled mischievously as she followed him, thinking of what Vanora would say when she came back to find them all gone. With a laugh, she picked up her pace, coming up alongside Gar who smiled back down at her, obviously thinking the same thing.
"When we reach our camp, I'll show you how to play ban," he told her, uncertain whether she understood him or not, but certain that by the end of the day, she would be able to not only play the game but also curse in the Saxon tongue as well as any Saxon warrior.
Feeling as though he'd narrowly escaped some dark fate after managing to escape the red-haired woman, Wulflaf walked resolutely toward the closest tavern, wanting only to be left alone to drink himself into oblivion. The preparations for the wedding had him uneasy and thinking entirely too much. I don't wish to be a part of this, and would that I had never brought up the matter of weddings. The familiar ache in his chest was back, and he sped up, not wishing to think on weddings, women, or love.
Dropping into a seat in a dark corner of the tavern, Wulflaf bent his head, staring morosely into the ale set down before him. I feel your absence now more than ever, Maidha, for what I could not give you, he thought solemnly, allowing himself, for the first time in many years, to think of her once more…
He'd been watching her for some time, watching her lithe form weave in and out of the narrow paths between the sleeping bodies covering the floor. Her face was pretty—not beautiful, but pretty—marred only by a scar that cut across her left cheek. But some unnamed quality about her had caught his eye and had kept him watching her despite his need for sleep.
He sat away from the others, neither participating with them nor wishing to, content to simply be left alone. The anger that was a constant part of him churned in his gut, and he tightened his hold on the ale in his fist, trying to push away all thought in the vain hope that he could have a moment's peace from the deep anger that was a constant part of him. The woman passed again into his line of sight, and Wulflaf welcomed the respite she offered from the solitude of his own mind. At that moment, she lifted her head, and their eyes met for a brief second before she hastily lowered her head, not wishing to garner the unwarranted attention of a Saxon warrior. But it was too late.
"Come here, woman." With only a slight tremble to betray her trepidation, she set the tray she held in her arms down and slowly approached him.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Tell me your name."
"Maidha, my lord."
"Sit by me, Maidha—I have a desire for company." She stiffened at his words, paralyzing fear filling her eyes, and his perceptive eyes softened somewhat. "You have nothing to fear from me, woman. I simply wish you to sit with me, no more than that."
She slowly knelt at his feet, folding her hands in her lap and lowering her head in the submissive manner of slaves, and Wulflaf watched her for a long moment before looking away, no longer certain why exactly he'd called her over.
He couldn't say how long they sat there silently before she finally ventured to speak, uncomfortable with the unending silence.
"My lord, should I bring you more ale?"
"No," he replied curtly. She waited for a moment, hoping he would speak further, but she quickly recognized he was likely to remain silent, and it was this realization that prompted her to continue.
"Does something trouble you, my lord?" she asked hesitantly.
"Nothing you need concern yourself with."
She was silent for a long time, secretly watching him with questioning eyes. His stoic silence unsettled her, and it wasn't hard for him to see the anxiety in her body as she did her best to sit through the unbearable silence.
"My lord," she began, but he cut her off with a fierce stare and a wave of his hand.
"Do not call me such," he said suddenly, pinning her with a cold, harsh look.
"What would you have me call you then?"
"My name is Wulflaf. That will suffice."
"But…it's disrespectful for a slave to speak thus to a warrior—why would you have me dishonor you this way?"
"It is not disrespectful to call the son of a slave by name." As he watched her eyes widen with disbelief, he couldn't really say what had urged him to reveal the nature of his parentage to her, but the damage was done.
"How do you sit before me a warrior, then?" she asked, shifting closer to him with all the anticipation of a child anxiously awaiting the climax of a story.
"My father is a very powerful man," he said coldly.
"Who is he?"
"We will not speak of it." He fell silent again, his eyes once more returning to the depths of the flames in the hearth before him.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
"What reason do you have to feel sorry?"
"I speak of matters that are painful for you. I would apologize to you for such a wrong."
"So I can assume you will know better than to speak of it again," he replied curtly. She nodded and lowered her eyes once again, causing Wulflaf to frown—he hadn't meant to speak so sharply.
"To whom do you call "Master?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly.
"I was a part of Cathair's household until two days ago," she told him quietly.
"And now?"
"I was sold to another—Cerdic is my master now." At the news, Wulflaf's jaw tightened and anger settled in his gut. Of all the warriors among us, she would belong to my father.
"Has he taken notice of you?" he asked her, his fierce gaze locked onto hers as he awaited her answer.
"No—I avoid him as much as I am able," she whispered.
"For your own sake, continue to do so."
"He frightens me," she revealed to him after only a moment's hesitation. "And his son—Cynric, he's called—there is a sickness inside him, a cruelty that makes him so much worse than his father. It's in his eyes…" She fell silent, fearfully glancing around them to ensure that no one was listening.
"Know this, woman—if Cynric harms you, I will see to it that he knows better than to do so again."
"But, how can you?" she asked despairingly. "His father is high chieftain of the people—surely Cerdic will kill you if you harm his son."
"No. Cerdic will not interfere. And we have an understanding, Cynric and I." Yes, we certainly do, and it's that if he crosses me, I'll strike him senseless, until he is so shamed that he would not dare speak of it to his father. "You will come to me if he threatens you, Maidha," he commanded her, and she stared at him with perplexed eyes.
"I don't understand."
"What about it is difficult?" he asked, gazing down at her with sardonic eyes.
"I am merely a slave—why would you see to my safety? I am nothing in this place, worth scarcely more than the hound that rests at Cerdic's feet."
"I would not have any slave treated as my mother was," he told her, his jaw tight with barely suppressed rage.
"What happened to her?" Maidha ventured to ask, hesitatingly moving closer to him.
"Cerdic gave her to one of his men for a night, and the man killed her in a drunken rage—he beat her to death."
Maidha gasped, her face paling as she unconsciously rested her hand on his knee.
"Oh, Wulflaf, I'm sorry," she murmured.
"Don't be. I took care of it." She didn't ask what he meant, and he didn't offer the information, but he recalled well what it had felt to drive his sword through the heart of the man who'd killed his mother, how the wave of hot blood had washed over him as he plunged his blade in further. "Know this, Maidha, I will suffer no one to harm you," he said suddenly, his eyes gazing into hers with an intensity so deep it was almost frightening. He couldn't say why she was suddenly so important to him, but he had the strangest feeling that the gods had bestowed a gift upon him for the first time in his life, and he was loathe to let this new gift come to harm. No, I would not have you harmed—you are mine, and I protect what is mine, he thought, clenching his fists. He would protect her.
Years later, Wulflaf's mind still burned with guilt and rage at the thought of his failure. I was foolish to think I could protect her. The gods are fickle, he thought, his throat tightening at the surge of anguish that threatened to overcome him. Angry at the swell of emotion, Wulflaf shoved away from the table and stood, pouring his ale out onto the ground and leaving the tavern with meaningful strides. Exercising his iron-clad control, he wiped all thoughts of Maidha out of his mind, refusing to be consumed.
Early afternoon found Dayn sitting with Tristan and most of the other knights at a tavern, all of them hoping to get as far away from the wedding preparations as they could. The busy women were paying them no mind, and all of the men breathed a silent sigh of relief for the inattention. Even Lancelot was foregoing his usual female companionship in favor of avoid being conscripted to help with the preparations. Spotting movement in the corner of his eye, Dayn looked up, curiously watching Tristan motion a serving boy over with a wave of his hand. What's he doing? He never purposely attracts the attention of the servants, so why is he calling for one now?
The serving boy--no older than ten--approached, and Tristan hauled him closer with an arm thrown over the boy's shoulders.
"Sir?" the boy asked eagerly.
"Is she well?"
"Yes, sir. Jamis just reported in. He says your woman is watching all of the women get the wedding ready, and she hasn't had any trouble, sir—we're making sure of it," the boy told him seriously.
"Good," Tristan replied, dismissing the boy with a nod. Dayn watched him with a growing smile before he leaned back lazily against the wall and slanted a sly look at Tristan.
"So you're having the serving boys look after your woman, now, Tristan?"
"We have a mutual agreement. They need something useful to do. I need someone to watch after Niamh from time to time."
Dayn leveled a grin at Tristan, his mouth starting to lift in a smirk, and Tristan stared at him questioningly even as he began to peel an apple with his dagger.
"Why do you stare at me, Dayn?" Tristan asked, cocking an eyebrow imperiously at Dayn.
"Oh, no reason," Dayn said innocently, his mischievous grin belying his words to the contrary.
"Dayn," Tristan said slowly, his eyes narrowing, wanting an answer for why Dayn looked so highly amused.
"I just find it amusing is all. How you care about her, and yet refuse to admit it," Dayn replied, his eyes alight with amusement.
"What is it you speak of?"
"Niamh. I've seen how you look at her, talk about her. You care about her."
"There you are!" The happy shout saved Tristan from replying to Dayn's accusation as Hummingbird ran up to them and threw herself into Dayn's lap. "Mama sent me to find you, and I did it!"
"What did she want?" Dayn asked, laughing at the little girl's excitement as she practically shook with the excitement of the day.
"She said the wedding is going to start soon, and she wants you both to hurry. You can't be late!" Hummingbird said anxiously.
"I'd better go find Niamh, then," Tristan said, coming to his feet. "I'll meet you there, Dayn."
"I'll go with Tristan, to make certain he finds Niamh," Hummingbird said importantly, nodding her head resolutely. Dayn smiled, winking down at her, before he nodded and turned on his heel.
"Don't take too long," he called back over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around as he left to go fetch Orainne. Tristan watched him go for a moment before glancing down at Hummingbird indifferently.
Tristan studied her, suspicious of her motives even as she smiled guilelessly back up at him. What mischief is this? For mischief is all it can be—seldom does she choose not to follow Dayn…Perhaps the gods are punishing me for some infraction, he thought, rolling his eyes heavenward as though to seek the answer to his question there.
"Hurry, Tristan! We don't have time to stand here—they might start the wedding without us!" she cried impatiently, pulling on his hand urgently. Allowing her to maintain her grip on his hand, he started forward with a sigh, still uncertain exactly how he had come to be saddled with the energetic six-year-old as she began to skip along beside him happily.
"Tristan?"
"Hmm."
"Do you know what I think?"
"No."
"Well, I'll tell you," she said practically. "I've decided that you should marry Niamh—she's nice, and she likes you a lot. Her eyes get all happy when she looks at you."
"You think this?" Tristan asked, looking down at her as she bounced along unaware of the bearing of her words.
"Uh-huh. You're just a boy—and boys don't know stuff like that—so I just thought I should tell you, so you could do something about it."
Tristan raised an eyebrow at this, trying to decide whether or not the little girl meant to insult him or not—she was clever enough, certainly, but then, she didn't seem to be watching him for a response…She merely continued to chatter, and Tristan shook his head at his own foolishness.
"When I get big," she continued, "I'm gonna get married, too! But I'm gonna be a knight first, like Papa. Or maybe I'll be a Saxon when I get big, like Gar and Wulflaf and Offa," she continued.
Tristan chuckled a bit, amused by her despite himself.
"You will have to be trained in the ways of all Sarmatian knights, then," he told her seriously, playing along.
"Yeah, but I've already got my dagger, and one day, I'm gonna get my sword, and I'll be the best knight ever." Suddenly, Tristan was reminded of Dayn, and he smiled at the memory of a younger Dayn defiantly announcing to everyone that he was going to be a great knight when he received his sword.
"EIGHT!" Bors's voice echoed loudly around them, and Hummingbird, not to be beat, yelled back in a voice loud enough to rival her father's.
"WHAT?" she hollered.
"Stop pestering Tristan and get yourself home! You mother wants you!"
"But I was gonna help Tristan!"
"Don't argue with me, Eight!"
With an angry huff, Hummingbird stomped away, muttering to herself over the unfairness of it all as Tristan watched her go with no small measure of amusement.
"Oh, and Tristan?" Bors called out, "Vanora says to hurry it up!"
Tristan didn't reply, never having been one to yell as Bors was wont to do, and merely threw up an arm in lieu of a response as he continued on toward the Stone Hill, where he'd last seen Niamh. Hopefully, she is still there.
Reaching the crest of the hill, Tristan looked around, finally spotting Niamh not too far from the women who were seeing to the last of the preparations. He quietly came to stand behind her, about to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder when something—he couldn't say what—stayed his hand. Silently, he shifted so that he could see her better, watching her gaze upon the wedding preparations with a wistful expression on her face. Tristan frowned, wondering at her apparent sadness—she seemed happy this morning when we woke. What has changed?
Bothered that he may have missed whatever might have caused her sudden dejection, he scowled and stepped forward.
"Niamh." She spun around, startled and caught completely off guard by the sight of him.
"Tristan," she scolded lightly, "you're always taking me by surprise, sneaking up on me that way. I didn't see you—how long were you standing there?" she asked, her smile not reaching her eyes.
"Long enough. What's wrong?" he asked her, his shrewd gaze capturing her eyes as though he sought the answer to his question in the depths of her eyes.
"I'm not certain what you mean," she hedged, dropping her eyes to avoid making eye contact.
"The wedding—you watch with a longing in your eye—do you wish the same for yourself?"
"Oh," she breathed softly, "It's nothing, Tristan. Every girl dreams of a wedding, but they are childish fancies, nothing more."
Tristan was silent only for a moment before he tipped her chin up, looking her in the eyes.
"Niamh, I am not a man accustomed to speaking words of affection—such things do not come easy to me. But I will give you this," he said, nodding in the direction of the wedding, "if it is what you want."
She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with love as she hugged him tightly around the waist.
"It is enough that you asked," she cried happily. "I don't need pretty words or marriage vows—I know you love me." And with a strange easing in his heart, Tristan realized that the she spoke the absolute truth—he did love her.
"Come, we should go now. They are ready for us." With a smile and a nod, she took hold of his arm, settling her hand in the crook of his elbow as he led the way to the Stone Hill.
Niamh leaned back against Tristan, smiling softly when his arms came up to surround her. As she watched Arthur walk up the hill toward them to begin the ceremony, she was pleased to see the happiness she felt mirrored in the smiles of those around her. Dayn and Orainne stood nearby, her cheek resting against his shoulder as she nestled against him. Of the Saxons, Offa stood closest to Sæthryth and Caderyn, with most of the other Saxons grouped closely behind him. Only Wulflaf stood apart from the others, remaining on the outskirts of the crowd as he leaned against one of the large stones that formed a half circle around the crest of the hill. Why does he remain apart in the midst of such a happy occasion? Such a rigid man…Arthur suddenly started to speak then, and Niamh's attention was brought back to the matter at hand, and Wulflaf's aloofness was forgotten.
As Arthur began to speak, Caderyn looked down at Sæthryth and winked at her with a mischievous smile, eliciting a blush in her delicate features. Ignoring Arthur's significantly wordy speech, Caderyn took the moment to observe his soon-to-be wife, admiring her soft features. Her crown of golden curls fell lightly down her back, small tendrils framing her face, and a circlet adorned her head, sparkling in the afternoon sun. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with happiness, and Caderyn found himself lost in their depths as he thanked the Goddess for his good fortune.
"Caderyn?" Arthur's voice suddenly broke into his reverie, and Caderyn started, realizing suddenly that Arthur was looking at him expectantly. Glancing from Arthur to Sæthryth and back again, he bit his lip and looked back at Arthur with a guilty expression.
"Um…could you repeat the question?" he asked, giving Arthur his most convincing smile as Arthur shook his head ruefully. Laughter rippled through the crowd, and Caderyn grinned, shrugging sheepishly.
"Will you take this woman as your own?" Arthur repeated, looking on in amusement.
"Yes," Caderyn answered with a smile, looking back down at Sæthryth only to find himself once again completely taken by the happiness in her face as she smiled back up at him. "I will take this woman and hold her in my heart, to cherish her, to love her, and to protect her for always."
"And Sæthryth, will you have this man to be your own?" Arthur asked, turning to Sæthryth.
"Yes. I will have this man and take him into my heart, to cherish him, to love him, and to stand by his side for always."
"Understand you what your duty to her pertains, Caderyn?"
"I do."
"And have you a token of your intentions to present to her?" Arthur asked. Caderyn nodded, removing a pendant from around his neck and holding it in his hand. "Let this token symbolize the bond between you," Arthur continued, "the love you share, the protection you offer, and the blessings you bestow upon one another."
Arthur motioned Caderyn to step closer, and coming forward, Caderyn slipped the pendant over Sæthryth's head, lightly pressing it against her as he lowered it into place, his hand lingering as he silently claimed her as his own. Arthur was about to continue when Sæthryth laid a restraining hand on his arm.
"Artair, wait. I have a token as well," she said softly, holding out her hand to reveal a leather cord threaded through a small ring. "This was my mother's ring. My father gave it to me when she died, to wear when I was married, and I have carried it since that day. Now, I grant it to you, my husband." Standing up on her toes, she reached up and placed the cord around his neck with a gentle smile.
"Treasure these tokens as you treasure each other," Arthur finished with a nod, placing Sæthryth's hand in Caderyn's with a smile of his own.
"Is it over yet? Are they married now?"
Caderyn smiled at Sæthryth as Hummingbird's high-pitched voice interrupted the solemnity of the ceremony. Glancing over Sæthryth's shoulder, he could see Vanora shushing the excited little girl, even as Bors thumped her on the shoulder.
"Ouch, Papa, that hurt!"
"Shush, girl," Bors whispered with mild annoyance.
"Alright," she replied exasperatedly.
Without missing a beat, Arthur spoke the final words that would unite Caderyn and Sæthryth, only a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth betraying his amusement. It seemed to Caderyn as though only moments passed before the ceremony was completed and Offa stepped up behind him.
"Take care of her, brother," Offa told him, clapping a heavy hand down on Caderyn's shoulder playfully, and Caderyn grinned.
"No worries, Offa. I wouldn't want to have the Saxons after me, now, would I?"
Looking around, Caderyn spotted Wulflaf standing apart from everyone, not taking part in the celebration, despite the fair number of Saxons who were also present. Surprisingly, the representatives of the tribes—those that had been accompanying Wulflaf to his meetings with Arthur—had chosen to come to the ceremony, and the entire event had been conducted in peace, everyone apparently choosing to take advantage of the marriage in order to enjoy a few moments of relative peace.
"What are we all waitin' for? Start passing the ale," Bors yelled raucously. Laughter and shouts of agreement went up, and Caderyn felt his mind ease. I suppose I made the wise choice after all, for my gamble seems to be paying off. I get a pretty wife, Arthur gets his peace, and Bors gets a chance to drink—everybody is happy. As he looked around though, he suddenly realized that one person was conspicuously absent. I guess not everyone is happy, he thought sadly.
"Dayn!" Grabbing the younger man's arm, Caderyn pulled him aside. "Where's Gawain?"
"Gawain? Uh…he had something to take care of…and uh, he said to tell you he was sorry he couldn't come."
"Dayn, it's a wonder you've managed to stay alive all this time because you can't lie worth a damn."
"I can when I have to—I certainly hid enough from you over the years."
"Well that was pathetic—you need to practice."
"Sorry, it was the best I could come up with on short notice."
"So where is he, then?" Caderyn asked, unwilling to let the matter go.
"Ah, Cade, you know how he is…"
"I take it he's still angry with me, then."
"He's just stubborn, that's all," Dayn said easily, offering him a placating smile.
"Yeah, that's what worries me."
"Caderyn, stop your fretting—you're like a bloody woman," Bors interrupted, coming up behind Caderyn and throwing a playful arm over Caderyn's shoulder. "Have some ale—it'll make you feel better." With a laugh, Caderyn seized the proffered ale from Bors's hand and took a swig, unable to stay worried with the older knight around.
"ARTORIUS CASTUS!" The shout brought the celebration to a halt, and everyone turned to see a cadre of mounted Roman cavalry standing before them at the crest of the hill. Arthur came forward, the crowd of onlookers—Saxon and Sarmatian alike—gazing on in confusion. Hummingbird darted into the crowd before either of her parents could stop her, eager as usual to find out what was happening. She squeezed in between Gar and Sæthryth, watching wide-eyed to see what would happen.
"What is the cause for your intrusion here?" Arthur asked the captain in charge. The Roman captain dismounted, motioning for two of his men to do the same, and Lancelot slowly edged closer, his fingers itching to draw his sword as a sudden feeling of unease assailed him. Tread carefully here, Arthur, he thought as he eyed the Roman captain's grave expression.
"One of your men has not yet been freed from Roman command—we've come to see to it that he fulfills the terms of his service."
"Arthur, it's Dayn they want," Caderyn whispered, even as the Roman continued and Dayn began to step away from Orainne imperceptibly.
"By order of Rome, the one known as Dayn of Sarmatia must come with us," the captain pronounced, his eyes never wavering as he stared Arthur down
"Oh shit," Bors mumbled, stepping up beside Lancelot somewhat unsteadily, but ready to help despite being well on his way to being inebriated.
"I am through with Roman servitude," Dayn said, his voice dropping to a growl as he pulled his sword and stepped forward. "I won't be taken again."
"Dayn," Arthur said, holding up his hand and shaking his head as Dayn went to move into a defensive position.
"What?" Dayn snarled.
"Don't turn this into a fight. Not now."
"Arthur, look around you—there are only two choices here: fight or submit. And I submit to no one. Not anymore."
"You will come with us, Sarmatian, whether it is of your own will or not," the captain said grimly.
"Think you so?" Dayn asked with a sarcastic edge.
"I have no doubt whatsoever."
"Just be prepared to lose some of your men, then," Dayn told him, taking a two-handed grip on his sword.
"It won't come to that," the captain replied confidently.
"Oh won't it? And why is that?" Dayn sneered.
"Because if you fight us, the woman dies," he said humorlessly, and with a quick motion of his hand, two of his soldiers jerked Sæthryth forward, locking her in a firm hold. Caderyn started forward, but suddenly, Gawain was there, holding him back.
"Don't my friend. You'll only get yourself and your woman killed," Gawain murmured in his ear.
Gar and Dagonet kept Offa back, and Gawain maintained a firm hold on Caderyn as Dayn froze, looking to Arthur with a sudden hesitant expression.
"Brave Roman, threatening a woman merely to take one man," Lancelot said coldly.
"I do what I must. I trust you'll come with us peacefully," he the captain said, his eyes never leaving the young knight. Dayn stood motionless, his face a picture of indecision as Arthur gazed back at him, feeling as though he were watching the peace fall apart before his eyes even as his youngest knight was to be taken from him.
I cannot tell you what you must do, Arthur thought, meeting Dayn's eyes with misery in his own.
Dayn glanced down at the sword in his hand, the agony in his gaze apparent as he let his sword fall from his grasp with a sigh.
"For you, Arthur, so that you may have your peace," he said softly. He looked once at Orainne, an apology in his eyes as he slowly walked toward a fourth Roman, who held a pair of shackles expectantly.
"Dayn!" Orainne cried, trying to run forward, but Tristan caught her, holding her as she began to cry in earnest, her legs collapsing beneath her. Tristan shifted his grip to catch her, slowly lowering her to the ground as she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. Niamh looked on in silent dismay, wanting to comfort her but not certain how.
As the Roman secured the shackles on his wrists and relieved him of his daggers, Dayn looked up at the Roman captain, silently imploring.
"I need a moment to say good-bye." The Roman nodded, and Dayn turned, stepping toward Arthur, only to be waylaid by Lancelot's hand on his arm.
"We'll come for you, Dayn," Lancelot said in Sarmatian.
"No, Lance, you can't," Dayn told him firmly, shaking his head regretfully. "I always knew it would come to this. There's nothing you can do now."
"So you expect us to do nothing while they take you?" Lancelot asked incredulously, his face dark with anger.
"You don't have a choice, Lance," Dayn said forcefully. "The Romans own me, now—they always will. Don't let them own you, too," Dayn finished softly, the hopelessness in his voice mirrored in his eyes as he turned away from Lancelot to stand before Arthur.
"Arthur, if ever you loved me, don't let any harm come to Orainne," Dayn said.
"You sacrifice much for me, my friend, and I will not forget that," Arthur said. "I'll watch after her until you return to us," Arthur said solemnly.
"Do you remember what I told you, that day that Bishop Germanus granted the others their freedom?" Dayn asked, his eyes gazing with intensity into Arthur's own.
Arthur's mind raced as he struggled to recall what Dayn spoke of, and with a sudden chill, he recalled exactly what Dayn was referring to: "Dayn, will you be returning to Rome with me until you meet your new commander?" "No, Arthur. I won't wait for another commander. I served you proudly, and I always will. I'll die before I serve another Roman."
"Dayn, don't do anything rash. I won't leave you under Roman shackles, I promise you," Arthur told himearnestly.
"Arthur, you can't save me anymore…."
"Wait for us by the shore," Arthur said, gripping Dayn tightly by the shoulders. "Do nothing, do you understand?"
Dayn didn't reply, only shrugged off Arthur's hands and turned away, his head down as he went to Orainne.
"Dayn, please don't go!" she sobbed, throwing herself into his arms as he crouched down beside her. He held her close, inhaling the scent of her hair, relishing the feel of her in his arms and the comfort she brought him.
"I'm sorry, love. Sæthryth is more important than I—the peace rests on her, and I have to do this."
"I don't want you to go," she cried, clinging to him desperately.
"I know," he whispered. He knew there was really nothing more he could say, and his heart ached as he held her, feeling the sobs wracking her small frame. He looked up at Tristan helplessly, silently asking the older man for help, and with a slight nod, Tristan slowly helped pry Orainne away from Dayn, holding her as Dayn stood and turned to the knights, his throat tight with suppressed emotion.
"You have been my brothers, and I was proud to fight with all of you," he said, meeting the eyes of each one of his fellow knights, and with a nod of farewell, he slowly turned his back and rejoined the Romans who waited for him impatiently, allowing them to take hold of him as they started back down the hill.
The soldiers holding Sæthryth released her, and she ran for Caderyn, who swept her into a grateful hug, even as he looked over at Dayn with anguish in his eyes as he watched the Romans lead him away.
Wulflaf came forward, moving up beside Arthur, watching expressionlessly as the Romans helped Dayn mount a waiting horse, one of the Romans picking up Dayn's fallen sword while watching everyone mistrustfully.
"You're going to let them take your man without a fight?" he asked softly.
"No, not without a fight. But the time is not right. Tonight will be soon enough."
"Why not simply kill them now?"
"Because more would follow in their stead, and retaliation would be swift. No, we'll wait for them to reach the sea before we make our move."
"You have a plan, then?"
"Yes. But I must ask you for the aid of some of your men."
"How many do you need?"
"Ten should do it."
"I will see to it," Wulflaf said with a nod, moving away without another word as Arthur turned to address the Sarmatians.
"For those of you who plan to ride after Dayn with me, gather what you will and meet me at the stables tonight. We'll ride when the moon rises."
A/N: Sorry, as always, for the long wait, but I suppose at least this time was a bit more justified, seeing as how it's quite a long chapter. Anyways, reviews are more than welcome, so let me know what you think! BTW, if anyone wants to know what the few random Saxon words were, just let me know. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter for me!
ModestySparrow9: Ok, so I keep hearing that we're not supposed to reply to reviews on a chapter, but from what I gather, the site simply doesn't want someone uploading a "chapter" of nothing but replys. I think it's okay to respond as long as there's actually a story chapter along with it. Anyways, thanks for reviewing and let me know what you think of this chapter!
dmitchell: Those papers and readings for grad school have definitely cut into my time, but I finally got this chapter finished! It's turned into a monster of a chapter--I thought I was never going to get it finished. Anyways, thanks so much for reviewing. It's always great to hear from you.
Just a fan: Your devotion to the story is touching--thanks so much for sticking with me despite the excruciatingly long wait that I put you through. Hope you were as excited to see this chapter as you were the last--so I know you like Dayn and Orainne, but what do you think about Caderyn and Sæthryth? I'm working on figuring out the dynamic between the two, and I'd like to know how I'm doing. Anyways, thank you so much for reviewing--it's really motivating to hear from someone who is as excited about a chapter as you are--thanks.
chiefhow: If I decide to write a sequel to this one--no promises--then I have plans for Hummingbird. It won't be Gar that she marries--the age difference would freak me out, too. But let's just say that I already have an idea for who it would be. Anyways, I'm hoping to get more Caireach and Wulflaf scenes into the upcoming chapters. It's tricky, because I've realized that I have so much going on at one time and so many characters that it's starting to get difficult to integrate everything. Anyways, thanks for the review! Hope to hear from you again!
Artemis Darkclaw: Wow, I just realized that the last time I updated, you were still finishing up your senior year. Now you're in college, and it's just sad that it took me that long to get this chapter done. Oh well. Anyways, thanks for sticking with me despite the wait, and I hope you enjoy the chapter. As always, I put Hummingbird in as frequently as possible, and I got a nice Wulflaf scene to flesh his character out a bit, so let me know what you think!
camreyn: Darn it--Upon looking back at my reviews, I saw where you wrote about how you had sent me an email, but I can't find it now, and I'm so irritated because I wanted to respond to you. Anyways, I'm really sorry I can't give you a wonderfully long response to what was no doubt a long email review, but just know that I appreciate you reviewing and if you have any questions that weren't answered from the last chapter, let me know and I'll just email you a response! Thanks for reviewing for me!
spamtotz033190: Hey, I hope you glance this way--you sent me sort of a blanket review for all of the Dayn stories, so I'm assuming you read this one as well. Thanks for dropping me a line--though it's been awhile since I've updated--and I hope you'll continue to stick with me. I haven't forgotten your story, either, but as you can probably tell, I never seem to have enough time, which is why I hardly ever get to catch up on anyone's stories. Anyways, I'll get back to it, soon, ok?