Chapter Eleven Deorwine’s Ruse
Chapter Eleven
Deorwine’s Ruse
AELFWYN WATCHED THE sky lighten to the east and knew her doom had come.
She stood in the yard at the heart of the monastery while around her monks moved about, their hoods pulled up as if they were all trying to avoid looking at her— faceless ghosts amongst the shadows.
Although it was not cold, Aelfwyn was shivering.
Grateful she still wore the monk’s robe on top of her woolen dress, she drew it close about her.
Nearby, a goat bleated as someone led it out of its enclosure for milking.
Aelfwyn inhaled deeply in an attempt to steady her nerves, breathing in the scent of wood smoke from a nearby hearth.
Life went on as usual upon the Isle of Lindisfarena this morning.
It was as if last night had never happened.
Yet it was not so for her.
Last night had dashed her hopes, leaving only despair in its place.
Leofric and Deorwine emerged from the church, where the prior had spoken to them in private. Deorwine was ashen and looked close to tears, whereas Leofric’s usually sanguine face was serious, his jaw tight.
Despite her fear for her own fate at the hands of Ecgfrith, she was sorry that she would also bring his wrath down upon these two men. They had only tried to help her. She hoped the king would show them mercy.
Aelfwyn shuddered, shoving aside thoughts of Ecgfrith.
The two monks approached her. “Come, Aelfwyn,” Leofric said, his voice gruff. “We must go now.”
Wordlessly, she followed them out of the complex and down to the shore. It was an irony that they walked the same route they had attempted to flee down in darkness. This time no one tried to stop them, for this time they were not running away but doing the prior’s bidding.
They walked in single-file across the sands, with Leofric leading, Aelfwyn behind him, and Deorwine bringing up the rear.
The Pilgrim’s Way—the route all travelers used to cross from the mainland to Lindisfarena—was the only safe place to cross.
Otherwise, you risked stepping into soft sand or mud that had sucked many unwary travelers to their deaths.
They had gone a short distance across the wet sand when Aelfwyn spoke. The manner of their departure from the monastery bothered her. “Why has Cuthbert not sent an escort of monks with us?” she asked quietly. “Does he not fear we’ll try and flee again?”
Ahead, Leofric gave a bitter laugh. She watched his shoulders tense.
“Worry not, he has already dealt with that possibility,” he replied.
“If Deorwine and I are not back before None, he will send an emissary to the king with the next low tide, with his permission to hunt Deorwine and me down and kill us.”
Horrified, Aelfwyn glanced over her shoulder at Deorwine. The young man’s gaze was bleak, telling her that his friend was not lying. “But the prior is a man of God,” she gasped. “He abhors violence.”
Deorwine shook his head, avoiding her eye. “It appears we’ve stretched his patience too far this time.”
“This time?” Leofric gave another humorless chuckle. “Aye, poor Deorwine. His friendship with me has cost him dearly. I have a habit of getting myself into trouble—only I managed to drag him into it this time.”
Aelfwyn did not reply, although the situation now made more sense to her.
She realized that both young men were still postulants—they were undergoing a trial period before taking their vows.
Neither had tonsures, and they wore fawn-colored homespun robes, unlike the other monks whose robes were a deep walnut brown.
“I’m sorry,” she said eventually, keeping her gaze upon Leofric’s broad shoulders so she would not stare at the bulk of Bebbanburg to the south as they crossed the sand flats. “I’ve brought trouble upon you.”
Deorwine snorted at this. “When Leofric’s around, trouble finds you. You’re not to blame.”
Leofric glanced back then, hurt flashing across his handsome features. He opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it and turned away once more. Watching him, Aelfwyn wondered at Leofric’s decision to become a monk; unlike Deorwine, he seemed wholly unsuited.
They walked the rest of the distance in silence.
It was a still, mild morning, and the air was humid and briny.
Try as she might, Aelfwyn could not remain focused on Leofric’s back.
Soon Bebbanburg towered over the surrounding lands like a red stone king of giants, the fort resembling his jagged wooden crown.
The closer they got to the beach, the sicker Aelfwyn felt.
Now that she had stopped conversing with the monks, there was nothing to distract her from what lay ahead.
She could not bear to meet Aethelhild’s eye again, not after what the king had done.
She could not stomach the idea of standing before Ecgfrith and pretending as if nothing was wrong, as if he had not taken everything from her.
Nausea rose within Aelfwyn, bile stinging the back of her throat. Her legs started to feel weak and her stomach churned. Images from two nights earlier resurfaced.
His hot breath on her cheek.
His hand pressing down on her mouth, suffocating her.
They reached the edge of the wide stretch of sandy beach.
The fortress lay to the south, at least three leagues distant, separated from them by a jutting spit of land edged in silver sand.
It was still a way off, but the sight of Bebbanburg brought back every terror Aelfwyn had felt while Ecgfrith trapped her beneath him.
Her stomach convulsed, and she dropped to her knees on the wet sand, throwing up the broth and stale bread she had consumed before departing Lindisfarena.
She was aware of the monks stopping nearby, their gazes riveted upon her—but she was past caring.
Sending her back to Bebbanburg would be the end of her—they had to know the truth before they delivered her to the Ecgfrith.
“I can’t …” she gasped. “I can’t go back there. Not to him.”
She was aware of her companions approaching and hunkering down next to her.
“Who, Aelfwyn? Who are you so afraid of?”
She looked up into Leofric’s concerned eyes. She had to tell him; she had to let this out before it was too late.
“You were right,” she choked the words out. “Someone raped me …” She paused to gather her courage. “It was Ecgfrith.”
Silence met her words. For a few horrible moments, Aelfwyn thought her fears were about to be realized—that despite their earlier kindness these two monks would turn on her, blame her, or call her a liar.
Yet Leofric’s face did not show any such disdain. He stared at her, a muscle in his jaw feathering.
“The king raped you?” he finally ground out.
She nodded. “Queen Aethelhild would not lie with him. He was angry.” The words came out in breathless gasps. “She and I are close—I think he wanted to punish her.”
Behind her, Deorwine muttered an oath under his breath.
Aelfwyn’s belly contracted once more, but t his time she managed not to be sick. “It was just one night,” she told them as she got to her feet, wretched and trembling. “But it was only the beginning. If you take me back to him, it will never stop.”
Leofric continued to watch her, his lean frame rigid. He looked toward the towering bulk of Bebbanburg before glancing over Aelfwyn’s head at Deorwine.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Deorwine replied, “and you’re right—we cannot deliver Aelfwyn to him.”
Aelfwyn straightened up, shocked. She glanced at Deorwine’s serious, determined face and then looked at Leofric’s angry one.
“They’ll track us down and kill us,” Leofric reminded him. “I might deserve that, but you don’t. I’ve ruined things as it is for you.”
Deorwine smiled, his face suffusing with warmth. “You haven’t—for I’m not going with you.”
Leofric’s gaze narrowed. “But Cuthbert will punish you for letting us go.”
“Not if he thinks you didn’t give me a say in the matter.” Deorwine’s smile faded. “Take Aelfwyn south—to Streonshalh. The nuns will take good care of her there.”
Aelfwyn noticed that Leofric still did not look convinced. Meanwhile, her heart was starting to pound against her ribs. Fate had snatched freedom from her grasp—was it now handing it back to her?
“Cuthbert won’t believe you,” Leofric pointed out. “He’ll know you let us go.”
“Then we need to find a way of convincing him.” Deorwine walked up to Leofric so they stood only a couple of feet apart. “Roughen me up a bit; blacken my eye and give me a split lip. Make it look like we both put up a good fight.”
Leofric stared at him a moment before he threw back his head and laughed. “I’m going to miss you.”
Deorwine grinned back. “And I’ll be pleased to be rid of you—spoiled, selfish turd. Now give me a beating!”
Leofric snorted. “You’ll have to insult me better than that if you want me to lash out in anger.”
Aelfwyn stepped toward them, alarmed. “Is this really necessary?”
Leofric nodded, his gaze still on the blond monk before him. “He’s right. If the prior suspects Deorwine let us go, he’ll cast him out of the order.”
Aelfwyn pulled her robes close about her and backed off, her earlier nausea resurfacing. She hated violence. It was selfish to involve these two brave men in her dilemma, especially after all they had done for her.
I should go now while they’re distracted.
Aelfwyn took another few steps backward and stopped.
Go where?
Aelfwyn’s shoulders slumped as the truth hit her. She needed Leofric’s help, or she would not get far. She would not survive a day on her own.
“Come on then,” Leofric said with a sigh. “You’ll make this easier though if you throw the first punch.”
Deorwine blanched. “I can’t hit you.”
“Holy Mary’s tits, Deorwine. Stop being such a maid!”
Deorwine’s mouth compressed. “Don’t blaspheme—you know I hate it.”
Leofric gave him a wolfish smile. “By Christ’s cods.”
“Stop it!”
“By Saint Joseph’s stinking arsehole.”
Deorwine lashed out with his left fist, landing a punch in Leofric’s stomach, before striking him in the mouth with his right.
Leofric staggered back, blood gushing from his lip.
He glared at Deorwine, the look of shock on his face almost comical.
Aelfwyn slammed a hand over her mouth to stop herself from breaking into hysterical laughter; the world had gone mad.
It was like watching a show put on by mummers for her benefit.
Leofric gave a roar and charged at Deorwine.
Aelfwyn turned away. She wanted no part in the ridiculous game these two were playing. She cringed at the sound of fists pounding against flesh and covered her ears with her hands to block it out.
When she turned back, Leofric was climbing off Deorwine. His friend spat out a gob of blood on the sand and took the helping hand Leofric offered him. Deorwine got to his feet, clutching his left eye. Both men had split lips and Deorwine’s nose was bleeding.
“Good,” he mumbled before attempting a smile and wincing. “I should have a black eye by the time I get back to the isle.”
Aelfwyn approached him, horrified at the sight of his bloodied swollen face. She cast Leofric an angry look before focusing once more on Deorwine. “Are you hurt?”
He gave her a bloody half-smile. “Nothing that time won’t fix, Aelfwyn.
” He then turned back to Leofric. “The tide’s coming in now, so I won’t go back to Lindisfarena until it ebbs.
That will give you time to gain a head start on the king’s men.
They won’t be able to start hunting you until this afternoon. ”
Leofric nodded. “We’ll make sure we’re as far south as possible by then.” He stepped forward and clasped Deorwine against him in a bear hug. “I’ll never forget this. You’re a true friend.”
Deorwine’s eyes were shining as he pulled away. “And you’re a boil on my arse—but I’ll miss you all the same.”