How much more slowly could the days pass?
Somehow—despite the massive influx of chores—each day felt like a lifeage. Léofe dragged herself through preparing meals, seeing that the refugees had something to eat, delegating other duties to the last few servants, and caring for Alfrida, who was becoming more ill as tensions rose higher in the Deep. Even Erkenbrand was beginning to show strain; his face now seemed permanently lined with worry. Somehow the last months had completely transformed the Hornburg from a bustling, cheery place into a full-on barracks with anxiety thick in the air. Every day begun with Léofe hoping to hear from Théodred or to see him riding through the gate—and everyday she was bitterly disappointed as he remained absent.
Almost she wished the wizard would get his invasion over with; the waiting was by far a far worse punishment than open war, or at least as she understood it.
The day that Théodred did return felt like both a relief and deepening dread at once. With him came Elfhelm, and about three extra éoreds, called from their homes across the Mark. That was the difficult sight, but receiving a smile from Théodred as she lingered in the courtyard, watching as he dismounted Brego, was a welcome balm to her soul, and the past days of misery seemed to evaporate in an instant.
And by the evening, the lump of heavy misery had returned to her heart once more, for she had no chance to speak to him alone.
A table had been set up in the hall for the closest of Théodred's advisors; Elfhelm, Gamling, Erkenbrand, and an old man called Grimbold who had been overseeing the extra soldiers in the barracks. Alfrida had sent a loitering stablehand to take travel rations to the men, and recruited Léofe to help her to prepare something better for them to eat later. The lady explained in forceful words that she was not going to bother to serve any better food until the following day.
"Ungrateful, unthinking men!" she said, throwing lumps of fresh goat meat into a large pot on the iron stove, Léofe watching in bemusement as she scrounged around a few barrels for extra vegetables. "If they had wanted a hot meal, they would have warned me! They cannot be so distracted as to not send word ahead, and then demand victuals as soon as they return! I cannot conjure food out of thin air!" This was in reference to Elfhelm, who had done the folly of asking Alfrida upon his arrival, when the next meal would be served.
Léofe privately did not think very well of Elfhelm; not only because he was demanding upon Alfrida or because he always seemed to arrive at the inopportune times to take Théodred away from her. She had seen very few recommendations for his character—no kindness, no humor—only a gruffness and a never-ending flow of expectations. As she considered it; a few wrinkled parsnips and potatoes busying her hands but not her mind—she decided that she could forgive him a little, for those very qualities probably made him indispensable to her Théodred. Anyone whom Théodred trusted, she could too. But she could certainly still think Elfhelm an imbecile.
Bread-making kept her up until past midnight. A few hours earlier, Alfrida had deflated from all her work and Léofe had sent her to bed, promising to finish with the meal before she herself turned in. In the silent kitchen, with nearly everyone in the Keep asleep, she could hear echoes from the hall, though she understood none of the words. But the tone was clear—it was not a pleasant conversation, and as the hours crept by she felt that the stone walls were becoming tighter around her, and not in a way that made her feel safe.
When she did sleep that night, her dreams were full of dark, whispering shapes that reached out cold, shadowy fingers towards where her heart beat frantically in her chest.
.
.
Dawn was announced by the awakening of people in the Deep and their activities, rather than the sun. Léofe did not feel rested when she finally pulled herself out of bed, the covers mussed from her tossing and turning.
Alfrida was already in the kitchens when Léofe entered, yawning as she tied an apron round her waist. "There is bread for our breakfast," the lady said. "I also fetched a jelly from the cellar; I think we deserve a little reward for our work! Though it was you that carried most of the load."
"I am sure I did not," Léofe protested, though she was very grateful for the fresh bread and tea which they ate together, sitting at a low table.
Alfrida was quiet as she stirred her own tea. "The men have been awake all night," she said at last. "It makes me ill to think of the growing threat that keeps them from seeking their rest."
Léofe tried hard to swallow past the lump in her throat, having to resort to a sip of scalding tea to force the bread down. "If they were awake all night, then surely they have prepared enough to keep the land safe."
"We can only hope. Now, the stew has been simmering all night, I think even that tough old goat should be edible at last. Let us take it up!"
"Up?" Léofe asked. "Are they not in the hall?"
"No—they moved to Théodred's study. I believe they found the hall far too public to be discussing their plans there."
Léofe followed Alfrida into the study on the pretext of carrying more refreshment, and once she was there, she saw no reason to leave. Afrida was staying, after all, and with the passionate and angry conversation carrying on, Léofe was not noticed. A half-dozen armored and riled up men were unlikely to see a slip of a girl anyway.
It was an unrecognizable room. Once tidy and sparse, several extra tables had been brought in which were now covered in maps, various parchments, empty tankards and crumbs. There was even a dog snoozing by the fireplace, belonging to Elfhelm. He was the loudest of them all, but the dog did not stir.
Léofe did not like it. It seemed like Théodred's space had been invaded. Though from the conversation, it seemed as if far more was about to be invaded. She sunk into the shadows, listening intently.
"No! I need you to fetch reinforcements," the prince was saying, trying to speak over Elfhelm's protests. "Alert Éomer and gather the éoreds which are available."
"I should be there with you," Elfhelm growled.
"You are to follow orders, Elfhelm! Ride back to the Deep with all haste; there will be instructions waiting for you."
"Can you be sure of that, lad?"
Théodred's face was set in stone. "If there is no message, go straight to the Fords. Erk will be on the lookout for my scouts."
"You need me at the Fords!" Erkenbrand burst out, his face turning red. "I beg of you, do not leave me here to play housekeeper—"
Léofe caught sight of Alfrida's face, which was one to behold! The lady looked as if she wanted to give her husband a good rap on the knuckles for that comment, but as she was currently pouring ale for Grimbold, she settled for a black scowl, which went unnoticed.
"You are not playing housekeeper," Théodred cut in. "You overseeing the reinforcements to the Deeping Wall, and you are the last defense of the Keep. I trust it to none other."
Erkenbrand's lips disappeared into a thin line, obviously still unhappy about his assignment.
"That will leave Grimbold and I," the prince continued. "I will take the vanguard, Grimbold the rear. Three éoreds under my command, Grimbold, you have three as well. There will be two éoreds left for you, Erk. Then again, you may have the easier task, Béma willing." A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, which was returned by none of the company present. Léofe felt slightly ill. "Grimbold and I will attack at the first opportunity; Elfhelm, you will be our reinforcement. As long as my message is delivered to Éomer, he will come as well, barring any interference from Edoras, and we may have a chance to keep the Fords. We shall have to hold for several days, at least." Grimbold was nodding, looking grim. Erkenbrand was still furious, and Elfhelm looked frustrated.
"You do not have enough soldiers to hold for several days," Elfhelm said, his voice rising. "Erkenbrand and I should ride with you!"
"No! These are my orders!" Théodred barked, his hand a fist on the table. "If we all go now, what if we lose? The wizard's army will meet no resistance, and our lands will be razed. First the Deep, and then Edoras. We cannot leave our people so vulnerable."
Alfrida was looking pale, but Léofe could imagine her relief that for now, Erkenbrand would be safe. If only Léofe could claim such comfort as well!
"We must ride through the night. We will camp about five miles south of the Fords; that will leave us with enough space to sleep safely tonight, and close enough that our attack in the morning may begin swiftly."
Léofe covered her mouth, willing her tears to stay in her eyes. It did not work.
"This is our best chance at beating the wizard," Théodred said intently, his tone lowered. "We could perhaps hold him back here, or at Edoras, but I do not like the chances. And I do not like bringing the battle to our homes and our families." His eyes darted to Léofe, and she blushed before he quickly looked away. Obviously she had not been invisible as she had hoped.
"Aye," Erkenbrand grumbled. "It will be as you say."
"As you say," Grimbold echoed.
"As you say." Elfhelm remained exceptionally displeased.
"Théodred," Alfrida interrupted. "Do you have orders for us?"
Théodred looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time, and caught Léofe's eyes again. "You ought to prepare for the wounded. Hundreds, probably. I might also suggest enlisting the help of the refugees."
Alfrida nodded. "So it shall be."
He continued to study her, his brows creased. "I am sorry for turning your home into a barracks, Aunt," he said.
"It was built to be a barracks, you dolt! I will certainly manage my own feelings about it, especially if it means that we are safe," Alfrida said, and then she paused. "Do you truly believe that we will be attacked here?"
"I pray that our defense of the Fords will be enough, but we must prepare for any eventuality." Silence descended on the room, and the dog snorted in its sleep. Théodred cleared his throat. "Eat up then, I ordered the Riders to be ready at noon. Grimbold, you may have to ride out first; my mount may not be finished getting reshod at the smithy."
"Léofe," Alfrida said as low talking broke out, and the food began to disappear. "Will you fetch all the healers available? You might also spread word through the refugees; we may be fortunate enough to be hosting a few others."
No! Léofe wanted to shout. She wanted to remain, to perhaps to speak to Théodred. But his attention was already monopolized by an arguing Elfhelm, and so she forced a smile, ducking out of the room.
It must have been very close to noon; lines upon lines of soldiers were already in the courtyard, though they were a mess. Still unmounted, most were surrounded by women who were offering greenery strands, weaving them into the horse's saddles and manes for luck. Being winter, flowers were in short supply, and wild spruce and pine branches were poor substitute. But it was all that the people had to offer, apart from many tears, and possibly even more kisses. No better time to tell someone you love them, then when they are about to die, Léofe thought bitterly. She saw one man holding his pregnant wife close, a small child on his shoulders as his wife wept. Léofe turned her head away, unwilling to watch as her stomach turned in knots.
There were three healers in their brown robes, eating a sparse luneon in the infirmary just off of the kitchen. Trunks were spread out and thrown open, an inventory apparently already begun. Léofe informed them that they were to meet with the lady as soon as the armies rode, and asked them as well to search out any more healers among the refugees. She did not wish to do such a task at all, not since the lice debacle.
Léofe wandered back to the courtyard, hoping to see Théodred again before he departed. The wind was brisk, and she tightened her shawl around her shoulders. She watched as Grimbold mounted his own horse, the foremost éored already having done so. Quite a crowd was gathering, and more wreaths were being thrown to the Riders. The front gates groaned open, and horns begin to whine in the still air. The hot breath of the horses was rising in clouds, and at Grimbold's order, the first éored marched through the gate. Cries from the watching refugees joined the horns. The second éored rode.
Léofe saw with interest as Elfhelm came hurtling down the stairs from the living quarters, looking put out. He bellowed for his horse, which a squire brought posthaste. He was accompanied by only a half-dozen riders, presumably for speed, and they passed through the gates in front of the third éored at a gallop. She began to bite her fingernails, wondering what was keeping Théodred. Should she try to find him in the smithy? The last éoreds were beginning to mount their horses; the last of the women and well-wishers filtering out of the ranks to watch the exodus.
At last murmurs began to hum through the crowd, and she stood on her toes to see Théodred, fully-armed and looking solemn, leading a tired Brego. Léofe frowned as a heavy woman stepped in front of her, and she shouldered past to the front of the line, her lip beginning to tremble.
The last of the éoreds still had their loved ones lingering nearby, as Théodred made final adjustments to Brego's saddle and gear. Léofe took a breath, and walked forward. After all, Brego had been her horse, it was not completely out-of-line for her to farewell the stallion. She could sense Théodred stiffen as she stroked Brego's ears and kissed his nose.
"Once again, I find myself rather jealous," the prince said quietly.
Léofe felt a lump harden in her throat, and she could not respond; a squeak being the only sound she could manage. Théodred turned to her, and smiled. She ducked her head away, unable to meet his eyes. A horn sounded, and she heard him sigh before mounting Brego, who stamped his feet as Léofe lost her hold on his bridle. She heard wailing from the crowd.
"Well," Théodred said, and Léofe met his eyes. "Well."
She swallowed, still unable to articulate what she was feeling. "Farrr…" she tried. "Farwe…."
He sighed again, and held out his hands. "Well, come on then." Léofe took his proffered hands, and to her astonishment he grasped her arms and hauled her upward and across Brego's back, until she rested on Théodred's lap. She was tucked snugly in his arms, and before she could recover he planted a very long, very passionate kiss on her lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her dizzy mind could only comprehend how badly she wished to never let him go.
Théodred broke away, his breath warming her chilled cheeks. Dimly she heard nothing from the people nearby and wondered why. His nose nuzzled hers, and she whimpered. "I should have married you long ago," he said. "I am sorry, dear heart. If I had known…"
"Yes, you should have," Léofe tried to scowled at him, but felt far too tired.
He was frowning. "What say you...to when I return? I think it is time we disregard any danger; after all, you have been unsafe enough. When you are my wife I might protect you better."
"The minute you return," she said. "Not a moment later!"
"Dear heart…" A half-smile crossed his face, the very one that made Léofe's heart skip every time. "I love you."
"I love you, Théodred! Be safe."
He kissed her again, and then helped her to slide from Brego's back. She retrieved her fallen shawl, bundling herself again as she caught sight of flurries in the air. Once again the horns sounded, and Léofe stumbled backward as the horses began to move. Théodred lifted his hand to farewell her, and then turned away to the gate, leading his men into the grey mist below.
One voice, and then another, picked up an old song that sounded familiar but that Léofe could not quite place in her memory, and her ears burned.
Oh, now I am a soldier,
My captain's gone before;
And I hear the trumpet sound in that morning.
He's given me my orders,
And bids me never give over;
And I hear the trumpet sound in that morning.
Through grace I feel determined
To conquer, tho' I die,
I shall hear the trumpet sound in that morning.
And all the valiant soldiers
Eternally shall live,
I shall hear the trumpet sound in that morning.
Farewell to life and sorrow,
I bid them both adieu!
As I hear the trumpet sound in that morning.
And O, my friends, prove faithful
And on your way pursue.
As I hear the trumpet sound in that morning...