The following day, Léofe was putting away her spare clothing when Alfrida barged into her room. Léofe looked up, startled to see the lady looking most discomposed.
"There is to be a hanging," Alfrida said without preamble, rushing over to the little window and pulling the heavy drapes across. Darkness descended on the chamber. "I do so hate hangings! I wish Théodred —" she paused. "A man tried to knife the prince this morn."
"No! Surely not?" Léofe gripped a frock tightly, not wishing to drop it on the floor.
"Yes," Alfrida said, peering quickly between the drapes before closing them again with a grimace. "I am horrified that such a thing has happened, and so close to Yule! Théodred has been careful for many years, since the first attempt on his life."
This flood of new information was making Léofe feel rather ill: her stomach was rolling and her heart was hammering. "I did not know," was the only comment she could force from her dry throat. Théodred had almost been killed? This morning?
"I did not want you to happen to look out your window and see," Alfrida said, turning back to her. "It's a gruesome business. Did you truly not hear the noise below?"
Léofe strained her ears, and could indeed hear a clamor from the courtyard that seemed far louder and angrier than normal. And above it, Théodred's bellowing voice, though she could not make out the words. Alfrida closed her eyes, breathing deeply.
"He is pronouncing the punishment," she explained. "The man will swing soon enough. Let us retire elsewhere!"
Léofe laid the remainder of her clothing on her bed to put away later, before following Alfrida out of the room and to find a place where the horror of the execution would remain far away.
Supper that night was a subdued affair. There were only a few murmurs from the long tables, and the overloud clinking of cups and knives echoed through the hall strangely. Léofe found she could not eat; though Théodred sat a few chairs down from her, she could still feel his radiating wrath as he attacked his meal with ruthless abandon. She had never seen him in such a state before, and it frightened her, turning her stomach and making her mouth dry. Even Erkenbrand was not speaking, though he kept one hand on Alfrida's leg in a protective manner. Alfrida likewise was silent.
Though it seemed like an age, supper was eventually dismissed and some of the tension dissipated as men trampled from the hall. Théodred stalked away through a different door, followed soon afterwards by Erkenbrand.
"I am glad that is over," Alfrida said, slouching in her chair. "That was, by far, the worst meal I have ever experienced. If I do not get indigestion, it will be a miracle!"
"It was most unpleasant," Léofe agreed.
"To make matters worse, I stopped by the kitchen on my way up before supper. Fourteen of the sculleries quit after the day's events."
"Fourteen!"
"Aye," the lady said, her tone and expression grim. "Well, Erk and Théodred probably will not appear again for some time, and I will not find help on such short notice. I must prepare tomorrow's supper. I do hope you will assist me."
The empty kitchens seemed desolate and looming; without so many extra bodies of maids and cooks it was strange to just house two people. It added to the peculiarity of the day, and Léofe felt detached as she rubbed butter into flour to make pastry. Alfrida sighed several times over a big pot, where she was cooking meat with spices.
"Tomorrow will be better," Alfrida said after some time. "I do hope Théodred will come out of his rage."
Léofe did not know what to say to this. She had not thought Théodred capable of rages at all, but could she truly claim to know very much at all of her prince? Rolling out the dough, she wished for something more engaging to distract her. Cooking was very fine and Alfrida found it restorative, but Léofe needed more. She idly wondered if she could visit Brego before retiring.
"Alfie." A gruff voice interrupted her musings, and Léofe saw Erkenbrand standing in the doorway, looking weary but holding his gaze on his wife. Alfrida rushed to him, grasping his arms and speaking in a low voice. Obviously not meant to hear the exchange, Léofe blushed and ducked her head, returning to her task.
"Léofe, I will return shortly," Alfrida turned to address her. "See that the meat doesn't burn."
And so she was abandoned; the footsteps of the lady and her husband echoing down the corridor at a hurried pace. Léofe sighed and fetched a dozen huge pie moulds, beginning the very arduous task of setting the pastry. What a rotten day! Despair was picking at her heart, and she wondered if peace would ever come again, or if they were doomed to suffer until the end.
"Léofe."
Her skin prickled, and not having heard the soft footfall of her intruder, she still discerned his identity. But she could not look at him so easily, not after today.
"Dear heart," he said. His voice was all that was gentle, not at all the vengeful man she had witnessed all day. "My patrol is leaving at once. I needed to see you." He approached her, daring to lift a lock of hair from her face with a long finger.
Léofe did not speak, and her vision blurred with hot tears. She rested her floury hands on the table, keeping her head turned.
"No kiss for your departing beloved?"
No matter how complete her misery, she still smiled to think of herself as his love. She turned; Théodred's rueful, half-smile twisted her heart, and Léofe wiped her hands on her apron before surrendering herself into his embrace, releasing a long breath.
"A terrible day this was," he murmured, unknowingly echoing her thoughts from earlier. "I am sorry you have been alone."
"I have not been alone!" Léofe contradicted. "I was with Alfrida. It is I that is sorry that you remained uncomforted."
He chuckled. "It is not often that I am angry, but it does last quite some time."
"I was worried about you," she said. "Not just because of your anger, but for your life! I could not have borne it if you died. How could you have put yourself in such a situation?" Léofe scolded, pulling herself away to frown at him.
Regret lined the prince's face. "I had known the man for years," he said quietly. "I did not think him a traitor."
"Oh, Théodred!" Léofe felt like crying again, and she put her hand to his face to satisfy herself that he was well.
"Consider this a double warning: Léofe, you must be safe! I only risked seeing you here alone because all the men are either in the courtyard or the barracks and the servants are gone."
"I do not want you to go."
"But I must! Fie on the patrols; I would ride to war to keep you safe!" At once he laughed, and in a self-deprecating tone, continued, "The well-being of my people have always been of paramount concern to me, but you are personal. I love my people, yet it is you whom I ache for. I would die in battle tomorrow if it meant you would never see disaster increasing across the Riddermark."
"Hush!" Léofe said, putting a finger to his lips. "I have already seen tragedy; please do refrain from such talk. You will not die if I have any say in it! Go, if you must — but be safe! My life, safe as it would be, would be dark without you."
He kissed her then, gripping her tightly across the shoulders. Then he drew her nearer, and lowered his lips to her neck, breathing in deeply and causing goose pimples to race across her skin. "Farewell, dear heart," Théodred said, and at the removal of both his warmth from her body and his body from the kitchens, Léofe sat down on a stool and wept.
.
.
Waiting was by far the worst pastime invented, and within two days of Théodred's departure Léofe felt drained and anxious, and inclined to kicking over chairs in frustration. Alfrida held up better; Erkenbrand had left on a very short trip and once returned, would stay in the Hornburg for the present time. Théodred had assigned his uncle with the running of the Keep, as two more éoreds were to take up residence after Yule. And so the lady hummed to herself as she went about her duties and chores with a waspish Léofe in tow.
"Chin up!" Alfrida said, once she noticed Léofe's dark scowl. "I shall be able to hire more help again soon!"
She thought that the extra chores was the issue! Léofe could have laughed in derision, but she liked Alfrida far too much to hold it against her. It was the thought of Théodred—far away and in danger—that was wearing on Léofe. Worry followed her every step: rarely could she think of anything apart from Théodred, and rest evaded her, the night bringing anxieties and fear instead of sleep.
Every day there were more people seeking refuge in the Deep, having been forced from their homes. Orc bands were becoming much more common, travelling through the Mark with apparently no fear of the éoreds that guarded it. It was during this time that Léofe came to admire Alfrida tenfold: even under these circumstances, the lady of the Keep was able to stay relatively calm, feeding as many people as they could and finding bedding, clothing and other necessities to those that needed it. Léofe was glad she only had to take orders—she would not have known at all what to do, nor could her spirit have borne it.
.
.
Erkenbrand had returned. Léofe knew this because, as she was carrying a load of dirty linens from the kitchen to the laundry, the sound of the front gate reached her ears and Erkenbrand's not-really-dulcet tones filled the courtyard. She peeked through the pillars on the wall, and sure enough, he was dismounting his horse.
"Alfie!" Erkenbrand bellowed. "No, Cerol, I won't." This last part was directed towards the soldier next to him, who seemed to be pleading with the much larger man.
"But, my lord—" The other man's voice was not quite so robust, and Léofe did not hear all he said.
"Alfie!" Erkenbrand's roar echoed in the courtyard. Léofe imagined that Alfrida, who likely could not help but hear, would not be pleased about being summoned like a servant. Perhaps she was staying away on purpose. Erkenbrand continued to his companion, "Shut up, man! I am done listening to lectures. I want my bed, and I want my wife. ALFIE!"
Finally, Alfrida's piqued face appeared in a corridor across from Léofe, and the lady glared down at her husband. "Do cease your bellowing, sir," she called. "There is enough senseless noise around here without you adding to it."
Erkenbrand grinned up at her, and still shouted, though quieter, "I missed you, Alf!"
She smiled back. "I missed you as well, Erk."
The rest of the éored was now clamoring in the courtyard, and Léofe ducked away to finish her errand, tears burning in her eyes. The easy friendship and love Alfrida and Erkenbrand shared made her enormously sad. If only Léofe could be married to Théodred, and they enjoy the comforts of matrimony! She would be far less lonely. Suddenly Théodred's stern voice filled her mind: You would be less safe! You must be safe. Léofe scowled at his imaginary scolding.
"Safe and utterly miserable," she muttered to herself, depositing the sack of linens by the laundry door.
As if Léofe was not unhappy enough, that night over supper Erkenbrand announced that the normal Yule celebrations would be postponed. She had looked forward to the celebrations so, not least of all because Théodred had planned to be there, which, according to Alfrida, he no longer intended to do.
"It is a shame that so many must be kept away from home and their families, especially during the holiday," Alfrida sighed, after Erkenbrand had finished his spiel and the meal was served.
"It is more important to be safe than to be together," Erkenbrand said gruffly, taking his wife's hand and causing Léofe to glower.
"Why be safe if we cannot be together?" she muttered to herself, then blushing as Alfrida looked her way.
"All will be well," the lady said, smiling. "You shall see."