Chapter Fourteen #2
“I think you’re right,” she said, pointing to the overlapping layers of rock. “That looks like the base of a domed wall.”
“We definitely seem to have some kind of structure here. What do you think?”
She nodded, “I agree, it looks like a stone-built cairn, and there should be an entrance to the chamber. There are several examples that I have read about that were uncovered in East Anglia with what are believed to be Anglo-Saxon burials inside ancient stone tombs. What if it is one of those? From the period after their conversion to Christianity? The cross certainly indicates a Christian influence.”
“Celtic Christian rather than Roman Catholic. Bede references the struggle for power between the two factions.” He frowned in an effort of memory.
“I think that all came to a head in the reign of King Oswy of Northumbria. If that is the case, given its location, shouldn’t this burial predate Oswy? Eighth century?”
“Seventh century, early to mid-600s was his floruit.” She grinned. “This is so exciting!”
“It is.” He caught her hand. “All the more so for sharing it.”
She reached up on tip toe to kiss his chin which was all she could reach. “Thank you.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Thank you.” His voice had dropped to a husky note that made her heart race. In the next instant his arms came around her, almost lifting her off her feet, and he kissed her full on the lips.
Her heart thudded and heat flooded her body as she wrapped her arms round his neck and kissed him back.
Held securely in his arms, his great chest pressed close and the scent of his maleness made her dizzy and glad of the support of his strong frame to cling to.
His mouth explored hers with increasing boldness, and she responded, parting her lips and pressing closer against him, quite forgetting they were standing in the middle of a field in broad daylight where anyone might see them.
He broke the kiss all too soon for her, setting her gently away from him.
She was reminded of him pushing her away last night.
She gazed up at him, dazed. He cleared his throat, his color high, and said gruffly, “I’ll help you with the sieving and start clearing the rest of the base of the mound after lunch.
And tonight, we can take a look at the inscription. ”
She looked away and nodded, swallowing the irrational lump in her throat.
Her body was a battleground of desire and need.
She wanted to fling herself back into his arms and seek the comfort only his kisses and caresses could offer.
But she could see that he was trying to do the right thing.
If they continued kissing like that out here—well, it wouldn’t be appropriate.
He caught her hand and kissed her dusty fingers, seeming oblivious to the dirt on them. “Later, Em, hm?”
She nodded and forced a smile. “Yes, please, Deo.”
“Emily Frances, you are killing me,” he said, agonized.
“It’s mutual,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest. His shirt was slightly damp with sweat and his skin felt hot through the fabric.
“Em!” It was halfway between a groan and a warning. “Work, please!” he begged.
She nodded again and returned to her sieve.
In a few minutes they had set up a rhythm, working through the soil he had dug up.
The tension dissipated somewhat as they worked, replaced by the joy of companionship, of a shared task that both of them loved.
They found several pieces of pottery, a couple of coins, and a copper pin. None of which were ancient.
Heading back to the house for luncheon, they discussed possibilities of what they might find next. She couldn’t suppress a skip of excitement.
*
Over luncheon, it was agreed the viscount would help Deo clear the base of the mound and Annis offered to help Emily sieve.
The children went, too, and played chasey around the stones with Kester.
It was a pleasant afternoon of camaraderie, and Emily felt for the first time like she was truly where she belonged.
She and Deo shared some intimate glances, and when he came over to check on how she was going, his hand squeezed her shoulder and he murmured, “Well done,” quietly in her ear.
His warm breath made her shiver and sent a tingling heat to settle between her thighs.
She was still overwrought from last night’s kisses; this morning’s kiss hadn’t helped.
By four o’clock the men had cleared three quarters of the exploratory arc at the base of the mound on the western side. The eastern side was dominated by the old tree, as if it stood sentinel beside the mound, protecting it.
Surveying what they had accomplished, Deo said, “No sign of the entrance yet. I thought we would have uncovered it on this side.”
“Perhaps it is on the side sheltered by the tree?” offered the viscount.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. If it is, the tree roots are likely to have spread into the structure and we will have a much bigger problem to deal with.”
Emily listened to the men discussing the engineering problem of the tree.
Deo had put the dislodged stone back in situ to prevent any creatures getting into the barrow and also hopefully to prevent water getting in.
They needed to find the entrance urgently and remove any finds before the weather damaged them.
England, even in summer, was not known for its dry weather.
They had been lucky to have several dry days in a row, but it wouldn’t last.
Deo and the viscount concluded that they would need to examine the extent of the tree’s root system and figure out how to complete the search for the entrance tomorrow under its spreading branches.
“The trouble is that we have no way of knowing how far and deep the roots go into the mound,” said Deo.
Wiping his face with his handkerchief. “We know they are spread quite wide, on the side sloping away from the mound because there are a lot of them exposed on that side already. But if they have penetrated the stones of the barrow, it will be impossible to get them out without wrecking the barrow itself. I fear we may have to cut the tree down.”
*
Deo was painfully conscious all afternoon that he had promised Emily more kisses that night, and he was in a lather trying to decide how to proceed.
He was adamant with himself that the marriage could not be consummated until he was sure that they were indeed legally married.
Therefore, nothing they did could progress past kisses.
But kisses were so tempting. Surely it would be more sensible not to risk temptation?
They only needed to wait a few days, a week at most. He would explain it to Em—it was for her protection after all . . .
After dinner, he and Em repaired to their sitting room with the inscription and the books they had brought with them. With the rubbing spread out on the desk and as much light as they could manage with the candles and lamps, they sat and stared at it for a while in silence.
HIC IACET ___GYN C_____ __ C_____ FILIUS WIG____
“HIC IACET—here lies—someone with a name that ends in GYN . . .” mused Deo aloud.
“If the first C word is comes,” said Emily, “and this preposition looks like it has two letters. What are our choices? AD, DE, or IN.”
He nodded. “So, at, of, or in or on. At or of would make most sense and would mean the second word is a place name.”
“Yes.” She leaned closer to the rubbing and pointed. “I think it’s DE—of—see here, that looks like a D to me.”
He pushed his glasses up his nose and peered closer. “Yes, I agree. So, we have someone with the second part of his name ending in GYN who is a comes or earl—”
“Like you!” she quipped with a grin.
“Well, earl is an Anglo-Saxon title, so perhaps this fellow is English rather than British?”
“Most likely, given the location, Leicestershire was Middle Anglian territory prior to being absorbed into Mercia.”
“So something GYN COMES DE. GYN, Earl of something starting with C . . .”
They stared at each other blankly. Then Deo pointed to the last name. “This should be his father’s name, ‘Wig’ sounds Saxon to me, but ‘Gyn’ sounds British. Do you agree?”
“Yes, but this period was a melting pot for Saxons and Britons, particularly in this part of the country. If you’re right, and this burial is say sixth or seventh century, this might be the last remnant of British occupation on this area.”
“If the son has a British name, but the father was Saxon, it’s likely his mother was British.”
“Yes, that makes sense! I do love this!” She bounced a bit in her seat, and he put an arm around her, unable to resist her enthusiasm.
“Em, you make everything a pleasure,” he said. “I love it, too—I just thought I was strange. Even my friends think I’m odd.”
“You’re not odd,” she said, placing a hand on his thigh and making his semi hard cock jerk to attention. “At least no more odd than I am.”
“Emily,” he murmured and kissed her, because he just couldn’t resist any longer.
She snaked a hand around his neck and kissed him back.
Her lips were warm and soft, and tingling pleasure exploded through his veins like it always did every time he kissed her.
Reluctantly he broke the kiss and pulled back.
He cleared his throat. “So, any ideas about this place name?”
She let out a breath slowly and bent over the rubbing. Her other hand was still on his thigh. “It should be something local if he was buried here, you would think.” She chewed her lip, and he swallowed a groan.
“Do you think this is perhaps Caer something?” she said.
“Yes. Yes, most likely, but there are dozens if not hundreds of Caer place names.”
She got up and rummaged through the pile of books they had brought with them.
Pulling out a slim volume, she came back to the desk brandishing it.
“I haven’t had a chance to read this, but I was glancing through it and grabbed it to bring because it’s newly published and it relates to the post-Roman period. ”
He glanced at the cover: Nennius’ Historia Brittonum, translated by Gunn. “Oh God, I’d forgotten I ordered that! An excellent idea. I haven’t had a chance to read it yet either.”
She sat down and opened the volume. “I’m sure I saw a list of Caer place names—yes, here on page 3, and there are notes in the back.
” She turned to the back of the book and scanned until she found the list of place names with their modern locations.
“Oh, gosh. Look, Deo, Leicester! ‘Caer Lierion’ is listed as being Leicester. Could it be . . .?”
“I’m not sure if there is enough space for that . . .” He leaned over the rubbing. “I think this is a y. Yes, it could be ‘lyr,’ Caerlyr perhaps? A variation in the spelling. Medieval spelling is notoriously unreliable.”
“Yes, yes! It must be, surely! Oh gosh, Deo, we did it!” She bounced up and danced round the room, and he swung around in his seat to watch her, a smile curving his lips. He got up and captured her, pulling her close.
“You did it,” he said, lifting her off her feet and kissing her. She flung her arms round his neck and clung to him as they shared a warm, tingling kiss.
“We did it,” she said, breathless and flushed.
“We still have to figure out the full names, but we know his title and location, and that is a lot,” he said, setting her on her feet gently but not letting go. He couldn’t. Holding her was so addictive.
Kes, who had been watching their antics from the fireplace, got up and ambled over to paw at his leg.
“Need to go out, do you?” he said, reluctantly letting Emily go. “All right, I’ll take you.” He glanced at Em, suddenly feeling awkward. He had promised her kisses and more tonight. He was both eager and nervous at the prospect.
“I’ll just take him out,” he said.
“Yes, of course.” She flushed faintly and began tidying up books and papers. “We can write it up tomorrow and maybe continue the search for the names?”
He nodded and held the door for Kes.