Anon: Thank you very much for your feedback, especially as you were one of the only two readers who cared to comment, though every week an increasing number of readers has been following this story so far. That makes writing a very lonely process.

And that is also the reason why I will quit posting once this story is finished. I'm simply fed up with seeing that hundreds of people are reading the new chapters every week but do not bother to write a comment, however short it may be.

Finish it I will (there are only two more chapters to come), for I'm one of those old-fashioned bints who believe that one has a kind of duty to finish what one has started, but having done so, I will turn back to writing for friends and family only.

A big "THANK YOU" goes to Lady Bluejay, who helped me with the language.

Clouds Over Isen

Chapter 21

Trapping the Vixen

When Éomer and Erkenbrand arrived in front of the small gate that led to the herb garden of the burg the next morning, Éothain and Botild were already waiting for them, accompanied by two men of the king's guard. The night in prison had visibly taken toll on the woman. Her hair was unkempt, her normally pristine dress was stained and crumpled and the deep shadows under her eyes showed that she had found little rest. And yet she held her head high, meeting his gaze. Furious with himself, Éomer realized that he could not but admire her bearing. And what irritated him even more was the fact that despite her dishevelled appearance she still looked pretty.

Éothain cleared his throat. "The healer is sure that Wulfrun's mind is clear at the moment, though her body is weak and likewise might be her voice. As Botild will have to close the door behind her, not to raise Wulfrun's suspicion, the three of us will have to stand right below the open window. If we are quiet, Wulfrun will not realise that we are there, as the window is right behind the head of the bed and quite high in the wall. The only fly in the ointment is that we won't be able to see her face."

Erkenbrand shrugged. "That can't be helped." He turned to Botild. "If you think she has spoken too quietly for us to hear, try to make Wulfrun repeat what she had said. You know this is your sole chance of getting your head out of the noose and Eanfled's too."

Botild nodded, and silently they entered the herb garden. The infirmary lay in the far corner and consisted of a row of low stone cottages, obviously former store-rooms, their backs against the outer wall of the burg. Several doors and small windows high in the walls opened towards the garden. Éothain steered them towards the one at the left and then nodded to Botild. The woman was pale, but her mouth was set determinedly. For a moment she hesitated, breathing deeply, her hands clutching to fists, and then she entered.

As he was taller than the other two, Éomer could just peep over the window sill. The small room was dim, but Botild's figure could be made out clearly as she approached the bed. For a moment she just stood, staring at the woman Éomer could not see, and when she finally spoke her voice trembled audibly.

"Why did you say that Eanfled poisoned you with death cap, Wulfrun?"

There was no answer, and Botild repeated her question after a while. From the bed Éomer now could hear a wheezing sound and then Wulfrun answered, her voice strained and hoarse.

"Because that's what she did."

"She never knew that it was death cap, and you know that."

"Do I?" Wulfrun broke into a cackle that soon turned into coughing.

"I asked you for something to give the king the runs, not for deadly poison."

Again there was no answer. His eyes having adjusted to the dimness of the room, Éomer was able to make out Botild's features. The tension was clearly showing on her face, but there also was only barely controlled fury. Éomer smiled grimly. There was no doubt that Botild would do everything she could to convict Wulfrun. Right then she raised her hand accusingly.

"You are responsible for Eanfled's death."

Again there was the nauseating cackle. "If only I knew that they would really hang her, it would make my own death easier to accept."

His face in a furious grimace, Erkenbrand raised his beefy fist, but Éothain put a hand on his shoulder, silently shaking his head. The marshal nodded, though he visibly needed all his willpower to stay quiet. Botild's lips started to tremble. She swallowed and then she blurted out: "But they did! And you damned old hag are to blame for it!"

Quite a clever feint! Surprised, Éomer moved a little closer, seeing Éothain nod approvingly out of the corner of his eye as he did so. Had his friend instructed Botild how to proceed?

A sound like a hiss came from the bed. "When?"

Botild drew a ragged breath and turned her head away. "Today at sunrise."

Éomer hoped devoutly that Botild would not get tangled in her own lies. But obviously Wulfrun was too delighted to become suspicious, for her voice clearly showed her glee.

"Good! That conceited hussy should have felt the rope around her neck long ago. She's to blame that my son left, that he died." There was a pause and then the voice sounded again, surprisingly clear and sharp this time. "But why did they hang her so fast? That dumbshit Botolph did not believe I ate death cap and nor does the silly cow that calls herself a healer."

Curse the crone and her damned cleverness! Éomer almost hit his nose on the windowsill in his anger. He felt someone grab his elbow and slowly but relentlessly pull him back. For a moment his gaze met Éothain's and then his attention was caught again by Botild's answer.

"For tainting the king's food. And it's your fault they did."

Béma, she really knew how to bait the crone! With a nod to Éothain he moved back to the window, but the captain's hand stayed on his elbow, and when Éomer looked at him quizzically, Éothain grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"The king's food?" There was a sly undertone in the crone's voice.

Botild nodded hesitantly. "I… I made two pies. You said that he would not notice anything, but you probably lied about that too, for he ate just one and I was afraid that he might have tasted a difference. So I told Eanfled about everything and she gave you the pie that had not been eaten by the king."

For a while Wulfrun did not answer to that and Éomer feared that she might be able to find a fault in Botild's report, but then she spoke again.

"But he did eat the first pie, didn't he?"

Botild nodded. "Yes, and he was green in the face yesterday they say, and… "

Wufrun laughed. "Oh, he will turn yellow all too soon! And then very, very pale."

Botild's hand's clutched the folds of her dress. When she finally spoke again, her voice was far from steady. "He's feeling better today. But they blamed Eanfled to have tainted the food. And…"

Raspy and nauseating, there was the chuckle again. "And I will have the joy of telling them that you put death cap into the king's pie."

Botild took a step back, her face turning even paler. "I did not! You gave me the mushroom-pulp and told me it would give him the runs."

"And it did, didn't it?"

Éomer found the sneering almost unbearable, but Éothain's firm hold on his elbow reminded him to stay quiet.

"But I never wanted to kill him!" Botild's exclamation resembled a sob which only boosted Wulfrun's gloating.

"No, you didn't, stupid. But I did. And you can do nothing about it or I'll give you away. They hanged that dumb slut for tainting the food, they will not be so merciful with you if I tell them you put death cap in the king's pie." Again she coughed spasmodically.

"But I did not! Not knowingly!" Botild's voice seemed breathless with fear, and for a split second Éomer wondered how much of it was real and not just feigned. "You told me you knew a mushroom that would turn his bowels to water without him knowing what hit him for he would not be able to taste it amongst the golden horns."

Despite her breathing problems Wulfrun almost crowed out her triumph. "And you were stupid enough to believe me. What a dolt you are! You told me yourself that there is no toadstool like that for they all taste nasty. And still you believed me."

A low, angry hiss could be heard from Erkenbrand as the Marshal of the Westfold lost his fight to keep his anger mute and Éomer felt Éothain's grip on his elbow tighten. He nodded to his friend and captain, assuring him that he would stay quiet. Botild who had been staring at the crone drew a deep breath, and then she voiced what they all thought, her voice a mere whisper.

"You lied to me because you wanted to poison the king from the very beginning!"

"And you were cheese-headed enough to become my tool. Give him the runs! Was that all you could think of! But he'll die, slowly and nastily."

Botild stepped closer again and raised her clenched fist, her face in a scowl.

"If you are telling the truth, you will die too."

Again there was a raspy chuckle."But not like him."

Surprised, Botild exclaimed. "You know an antidote?"

"No, but a better way to die." Wulfun's voice was low now, and there was an icy determination in it. "You, Botild will kill me. Now. Use a knife or strangle me, I don't care, for any death will be better than what will happen otherwise."

Now it was Botild's turn to laugh. "How daft do you think me to be? They'll get me for killing you."

"They surely will, unless you beat it fast enough, and that adds to the fun for me. But it's killing me now or I will tell them that it was you who made the pies, not that moron of a cook. You who put the deadly poison into the king's pies. And given how thoroughly he bawled you out for being the stupid whore you are, everybody will believe me. Nobody will suspect me, and you know it. You have no choice."

Éomer had heard enough. Shrugging off Éothain's hand, he strode to the door and yanked it open, his captain at his heels.

"Enough!" Éomer pointed at Botild. "Stop this farce and get yourself back to prison."

Botild opened her mouth, but he waved her down. "Justice will be administered in your case tomorrow."

"Justice!" The sneering voice from the bed made him slew round - and stop in his tracks. The crone's face was taut as if the leathery skin had been drawn over the bare bones of a skull, the dehydration of the last days showing clearly, but what shocked him most was the deep yellow colour of her skin.

"Justice!" Wulfrun spat again.

Éomer shuddered at finding her eyeballs the same yellow hue. So that was it what she had meant when she had said that he would turn yellow!

The crone tried to prop herself up on one elbow but her body was too weak and she sank back into the pillows, gasping for breath. Her yellow eyes compressed to angry slits, she glared at Botild.

"So you tried to do the dirty on me, did you? You bloody, stupid bitch! Serves you right that Oslac left you, having made enough coin out of your whoring. And now you try to get your foolish head out of the noose with the next man that fucked you. But you'll get nothing out of it, for I know what the likes of him call justice."

"Just let her be and shut up, Wulfrun. Your rambles have lost their bite."

Surprised, Éomer turned towards Erkenbrand. Engrossed in the crones deteriorated features, he had not even noticed that the marshal had followed him. But Wulfrun was no way impressed.

"So you join the party, Erkenbrand? Enjoying what you see? Drawing comfort from my misery to boost you poor ego?" She cackled. "The mighty marshal! All I see is a twat who has not enough balls to produce a son. A living son, mind you, Marshal!"

Unable to contain his fury any longer, Éomer reached for the crone, but Erkenbrand's hand stopped him. "Don't Éomer. Can't you see through her? She would only gain if you strangled her." His voice even and calm, the Westfolder addressed Wulfrun. "You know how to bait people, have done so for all your life, but that comes to an end now, as does your life."

"What do I care for a life, stripped of my lands, my pride? Though at least I have my son's sons..."

Erkenbrand raised his eyebrows. "Those grandsons you cared so little for that you did not deem it necessary to warn them of the raid as Frithuhelm had ordered you?"

"Frithuhelm!" The crone almost spat the name. "That nobody! And still he's the apple of your eye! You big fool! You could not even keep the one boy alive who survived his birth."

To Éomer's utter surprise, Erkenbrand's face showed no anger and his low voice stayed absolutely calm. "No, you are right, I could not. But could you? Two sons you had, and both are dead now because of your pride and greed."

Wulfrun glared at him hatefully. "You are one to accuse me! I was there when they returned your son's smashed body to the slut you had fathered him on. How proud she had always been to be the marshal's whore! But the gods paid her evenly for prancing around in embroidered shawls, showing off her rings and silver bracelets."

Still at least outwardly composed, Erkenbrand shook his head. "Leave the gods out of this, Wulfrun. For all your life you have been but a demon crow, feeding on people's sorrow. But that will stop now, for this I tell you, Wulfrun: Whatever kind of death the king deems right to sentence you to, I will have your carcass burned on a pyre of yew, making sure that your evil spirit has no chance to leave your body. And even your ashes I will not tolerate to defile the soil of the Mark, but I myself will take them, mind you, every single grain of dust that remains of you, to Bót Fen. And there I will lower them into the hallowed depth, to bind you there forever."

Turning on his heel, the marshal made for the door, leaving not only Wulfrun speechless. How could the man stay so calm when that hateful crone ripped open his deepest wounds? Éomer felt a cold shiver pass over his nape as he realised how different this talk might have developed had Erkenbrand not opened his heart to him in the hours before dawn, had the marshal faced the crones taunts and accusations being under the terrible pressure he had felt then.

His gaze went back to the yellow face on the pillow. Two people who had been governed by false pride, two people who had lost what they loved most because of that pride, that hybris… But only one of them had realised his guilt, had accepted his fate, had tried and managed to overcome his faults, to change his attitude…

"Éomer King? Sire?"

Éothain's voice jolted him out of his musings. His gaze met Wulfrun's.

"Éomer King! King of the Mark!" She laughed. "You are nothing but thirds, offspring of an Eastfold upstart. And who knows what that Stoningland queen of yours will give birth to, with her ancestor having mated with one of those witches from the woods! Curse..."

Éothain's huge hand clamped down on her mouth. "Shut it, you damned hag! One more word from you and I'll have you skinned alive." Letting go of her again, the captain walked to the door and whistled with his fingers. Immediately the two guards they had left behind at the gate of the herb garden came running.

"Take Wulfrun to the dungeon. And bind her, for I do not want her to give us the slip by killing herself to escape the death she brewed for herself," Éothain commanded.

Wulfrun opened her mouth, but a glare from Éothain made her shut up. "And should her rambles bother you, you can gag her."

Éomer jerked his head at Botild. "And take her back to prison too. But she may stay together with Eanfled if she wants to."

A faint smile appeared on his friend's face. Patting Botild's shoulder, Éothain shoved her towards the door. "Do so, Botild. The poor woman is probably beside herself with worry and will be delighted to hear the news you have to tell her."

"She lives?" Wulfrun stared at them aghast.

With grim satisfaction, Éomer looked down at her. "Yes, Wulfrun, she lives. And it is your vicious confession that Botild wormed out of you that will keep her alive, while you will die the slow and gruesome death you had meant for me."

Screeching with hatred, the crone tried to rise, her hands clutching the air like claws. His stomach twisting with disgust and anger, Éomer left the cottage. Behind him he heard his captain give detailed orders to the guards, and then he and one of the men appeared outside, leading off Botild while the other stayed behind to keep an eye on Wulfrun.

Abreast of him, Botild stopped. "Éomer King?"

Was there nothing to shut that brazen hussy up ? He glowered at her but she did not back down. "Éomer King, I did as your captain bid me, and I managed to convict Wulfrun of an attempt on your life..."

"So what?"

Beside him, Éothain cleared his throat. "She's right, Sire. And I promised her that it will be considered at the verdict."

"That will be seen tomorrow." He turned his back on her, indicating that he was not inclined to say more, but Bothild did not give up.

"I'm not asking for myself, but please, what will happen to Eanfled? Does not Wulfrun's confession prove that she had nothing to to with the whole matter?"

Before he could give her the harsh answer he intended, Erkenbrand, who had been waiting for them near the gate, intervened. "It proves that she did not intend to murder Wulfrun, but she nevertheless handed out tainted food in the name of her lord and lady, and she'll have to answer to that. Wait till tomorrow, Botild, when the King will pronounce his judgement."

The guard took her arm, and reluctantly she let herself be led away. Feeling Erkenbrand's gaze on himself, Éomer could not help the feeling of embarrassment. Béma, how could that woman make him go off at the deep end like this? But before the Westfolder could say anything Éothain joined them.

"I'm afraid the crone is too weak to walk the way to the dungeons and therefore I ordered two men with a stretcher to come and carry her, but Béma be my witness, that's the last thing I will do for that fiend! And to think how close you and the queen escaped her assault."

Éomer suppressed a groan. And how delighted he had been the previous day to find that Lothíriel had managed to pinch a pie from the kitchens! How glad he had been that she liked the taste! If that hapless cook had come just a moment later she would be dying now. Three complete mushrooms… enough to kill the whole party on the dais!

Willing down the cold lump that conglobated in his stomach, he turned to Erkenbrand. "I'll meet you in an hour to go through tomorrow's procedure." With a nod to the marshal and his captain he left, almost colliding with the two servants with the stretcher on the other side of the gate. He shook himself with disgust at the thought of having to watch Wulfrun being carried to prison. He needed to get out of here, needed to be alone… He breathed deeply, trying to fight the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him. In Edoras he would have gone for a good long hack to clear his troubled mind and calm the turmoil of his heart. To have a moment to himself here meant that he had to retreat to the cage of his private rooms. Grimacing in a mixture of disgust and despair, he made for the royal quarters.

A slant beam of sunlight was flowing in through the narrow window, painting fluttering patterns on the cushions of the window seats when he entered the room. He had known that Lothíriel would not be here but in Lady Egefride's solar, had come here to be alone, and yet he could not help the odd pang of regret at not finding her sitting in her favourite nook, looking at him with that incredible smile in her eyes. And to think that he had almost lost her because of a vengeful hussy!

Walking up to the window, he stared out into the yard. What would he have done had Lothíriel eaten that cursed pie? Since the moment they had found out that it had been tainted this had been revolving in his mind, pushing him to the brink of madness. His wife - his child! He pressed his lips into a hard line, to stop himself from groaning with despair.

There was a knock at the door and then Éothain entered the room. Could the man not leave him alone? Not even trying to hide his annoyance, Éomer glared at the captain. "What is it this time?"

His friend simply shook his head. "I really don't know what to think, Éomer. I've seen you behave in all kinds of stupid ways, but never unjustly on purpose."

How could that man make him feel like a small boy being caught at throwing stones at a puppy? Trying to hide his embarrassment, Éomer turned his back on the captain. "Just stop making noises, Éothain. You may not like it, but you cannot deny that if Bothild had not tried to taint my food none of all this would have happened. She endangered my wife and my child and I will not forgive her for that."

Éothain just shrugged. "True, Botild tainted the pie, but have you not heard yourself that she never meant any serious harm? And the moment she realised that the queen would eat the pie meant for you she did what she could to stop her. If you look at it from that angle you'll have to admit that she risked blowing her cover to keep the queen and the child she's carrying from harm. She never meant the king, Éomer, she…"

Blazing fury swept through Éomer like wild-fire. "I know. She wanted to embarrass the man. Has not the queen said so? Have you not conspired behind my back with her to tell me so again? Don't you take your orders rather from her than from me? Isn't she sharing her thoughts with you?"

Even before he saw the utter shock on Éothain's face, Éomer knew that he was spouting nonsense, was hurting his friend just because he needed someone to vent his anger and self-consciousness. For a moment they just stood, staring at each other until finally Éothain broke the silence.

"I assure you that there never..." Éothain's voice petered out and then he started a second attempt, his voice brittle. "I never interfered with your private affairs, Éomer and you know that. But you happen to be the king of this bunch of madmen and I'm the captain of your guard. So yes, your wife informs me on things she deems important and vice versa. She's your queen, Éomer, and the dealings we have are those of your captain and the Queen of the Mark."

Feeling dead-tired all of a sudden, Éomer shook his head. "I know, Éothain. I know and I'm sorry. I'm simply at my tether's end. What if Lothíriel..." He was not able to finish the sentence for fear that his voice would fail.

Éothain nodded. "I can very well imagine how you must feel. It's always the ones we love that give us strength and at the same time are our weak point."

For a while Éomer did not answer, still not sure about his self-control, but finally he shook his head. "To tell the truth, I can even comprehend that Botild wanted to get back at me, though I'm not ready to tolerate it, but how could she endanger the queen the way she did?"

With a sigh, Éothain shrugged. "Botild never meant to endanger the queen, Éomer. She simply did not expect the queen to turn up in the kitchen, pilfering food. At Meduseld nobody would have wondered as the queen's nightly visits to the kitchens have become a standing joke, but here? It simply had not entered Botild's mind, but when it happened, she acted at once and as we know now not because she thought she would poison the queen but because she feared that a laxative might endanger the unborn child."

Again silence fell until Éothain spoke again. "You have to consider that, Éomer."

Agitatedly, Éomer started to pace the room. "I know, Éothain. I know... but I can't." He stopped and faced his friend. "You say Botild wanted to hit the man not the king – and Béma, she managed to hit the man, Éothain!"

"I see..." Thoughtful cerulean eyes held his own, and then Éothain averted his gaze, shaking his head. "But tomorrow your people need the king to speak justice, Éomer, not the man. And before you go cuckoo again: Yes, I know these were the words the queen uttered when we left to question the cook."

Éomer grimaced. "It's not that easy. I may be king in the first place tomorrow and yet, Éothain: What a husband would I be in the eyes of the Eorlingas if I suffered my wife to be nearly poisoned by a woman who had warmed my bed before my marriage? If I even forgave her?"

"He's right, Éothain." Slipping into the room, Lothíriel closed the door.

Surprised, both men slew round. Engaged in their discussion, none of them had heard the door open. Nodding a greeting to Éothain, she walked up to Éomer, looking at him with a sad smile.

"I have been in council with Lady Egefride this morning, for she is very concerned about the cook's fate as is Erkenbrand, and she told me that as far as rumours go, most people expect you to punish Botild severely for endangering your wife and child, even if you forgave her the assault on yourself."

Feeling oddly embarrassed, Éomer shook his head. "Nobody wants the cook to be punished, except perhaps Erkenbrand's wife, but..."

His wife did not let him finish the sentence. "I've just talked with Erkenbrand. He informed me that you wanted to go through the trial with him in an hour and that you probably had retired to our rooms. I thought it sensible to talk about everything between the two of us before we face him and his counsellors." She gave Éothain a wry smile. "Though I did not expect to find you here."

The captain cleared his throat. "I had better leave then. I..."

But the queen raised her hand. "Don't. If we go through with Egefride's plans you'll have to play a role in the trial, if only to make Leofwaru see some sense and leave the cook in peace."

This talk about the cook was getting on his nerves! Grumpily Éomer faced his wife. "Tomorrow's trial is not about Eanfled in the first place, Loth and…

"And that's why we need to talk now." Taking his hand, she drew Éomer to the window nook and motioned to Éothain to sit down in the opposite seat.

"As I've said: People expect you to be furious and sentence Botild to death. There are wild assumptions as to how she'll have to die, and burning at the stake is not the most gruesome version." Lothíriel grimaced. "There are but a few sober minded who point out that it was Botild herself who made sure I did not eat the tainted pie, but even amongst the ladies they are outnumbered by the vengeful who want to see the woman die."

Shaking his head, Éothain scratched his whiskers. "I promised her that if she managed to convict Wulfrun it would be considered."

Éomer heaved a breath. "I may grant her a clean death, but that is all you can ask from me. I already told you so yesterday, and things have not changed over night."

"What has changed is that we know for sure now that Wulfrun was the one dealing out the poison." The queen's voice was firm. "Egefride told me that according to the traditions of the Mark, I, both as your wife and your queen, can appeal to you to spare Botild."

Éomer stared and then he nodded reluctantly. "That's right."

"And as your wife is with child everybody would see it as a bad omen if you did not give in to her demands," Éothain added, hope resonating in his voice.

Éomer looked from him to Lothíriel and shook his head. "Curse the Mark's superstitions, but he's right. People would be afraid that it might put the child's health at risk if the father caused the expectant mother serious grief."

A grin flitted into his wife's features. "I might even make my peace with their odd beliefs, I think. Well, as it is, Egefride suggests that you would rather win people's sympathy if you sentenced her to die but they would be beside themselves with delight if you then gave in to my plea."

Éomer almost jumped up again. "You cannot mean to let her get away without punishment!"

His wife met his gaze evenly. "I never said I meant to. And therefore we'll have to agree on what would be a fitting sentence, and one the people would accept as just to boot. They want a strong and valiant king, Éomer. They even adore you for your temper, but they also want you to be just and reliable."

He clenched his fists, averting his eyes. "I cannot be just in this case, Loth. I simply want to get rid of her."

Beaming with satisfaction, his wife nodded. "And rid of her you shall get, if we follow Egefride's plan. Listen..."

Annotations:

Yew wood: Not only in Germanic mythology the toxic yew was referred to as a hallowed tree that symbolised both death and resurrection and was seen as a connection between the worlds of the living and the dead. It was believed to be a protection against demons and a means to purify the dead.

Who's Who? (Thanwen universe)

Éomer: King of the Riddermark, said to have a tendency to fly off the handle

Lothíriel: Queen of the Riddermark, for good reason called scipflota cwen (pirate princess) by her husband

Éothain: the king's friend and captain of the royal guard

Erkenbrand: Marshal of the Westfold

Egefride: his mother, a clever old woman, knows Dunlendic

Leofwaru: his wife, a sweet-tempered lady, but not the brightest candle on the cake

Botild: servant/assistant cook at the Hornburg; eager to serve and service if the coin is right

Eanfled: cook at the Hornburg, has quite a special recipe for mushroom pies

Frithuhelm: a young farmer (widowed), the gentle giant of the Mark who can get quite ungentle if need be

Osláfa: his second wife ( Acwuld's widow ) has three children and is some years older than Frithuhelm

Wulfrun: (in "Winds" her name was Arild, but I changed that ) Acwuld's mother; not the most lovable contemporary, to say the least