Chapter Twenty-two Lincylene
Chapter Twenty-two
Lincylene
AELFWYN’S FIRST GLIMPSE of Lincylene was of a stone wall and a cluster of thatch and turf roofs rising into the pale sky.
The town perched atop a hill and commanded a view of the surrounding fields and woodland for many furlongs distant.
A crumbling dun-colored stone wall encircled it, built centuries earlier.
“My grandfather told me the Romans called it Lindum Colonia,” Leofric told Aelfwyn as they rode by a small lake and up to the town gates. “They built a legionary fortress at the crown of the hill.”
Aelfwyn craned her neck to the top of the town. She could see a high thatched roof, possibly that of a great church, but no sign of the conquerors who had occupied Britannia for many centuries before returning to their homeland.
It was a golden evening, that rare quality of autumn light when every detail stood out in sharp relief. The setting sun stained the town walls the color of rich honey, and the scent of wood smoke laced the cool air.
They rode into Lincylene through a magnificent stone archway and into a roughly cobbled street that led up to the top of the hill.
Folk thronged the streets at this time of day.
An old man roasted chestnuts on a brazier and sold them to passersby.
Children chased each other through the crowd, their cries echoing above the chatter of women who gossiped together on their way home after working in the fields outside the town.
Aelfwyn breathed in the life, the vitality of this place, and instantly loved it. She was glad Leofric had brought them here.
They turned off the main thoroughfare and onto a narrower, unpaved street, dominated by a long, windowless building. Leofric brought the horse to a halt in front of it.
Leofric swung down from Windraes, leaving Aelfwyn still seated upon his back. He met her eye. “If anyone asks, our names are now Lenred and Aeaba.”
Aelfwyn nodded, appreciating caution.
Leofric winked at her. “I’ll ask about lodgings at the mead hall—won’t be long.”
Aelfwyn watched him disappear inside the mead hall.
The ripe smell of fermented honey drifted out onto the street from the open doorway, as did the sound of drunken male voices and singing.
It was the domain of men; Aelfwyn had never set foot in one.
She remembered her father returning from Rendlaesham’s mead hall many an evening, his breath reeking of ale as he sang songs of brotherhood, valor, and reckoning—warriors’ songs.
Aelfwyn glanced about her, at the men who came and went from the hall.
Some of them cast curious or appraising glances in her direction, but none approached her.
Before entering the town, she had brushed her hair out of its two braids, a look that marked her as a maid.
Instead, she had twisted it up and pinned it high on her crown: a married woman’s hairstyle.
Leofric did not linger inside long. “They have stables out the back where we can house Windraes,” he announced with a grin. “There’s an annex at the rear of the hall where we can spend the night.”
He led Windraes through to a yard behind the mead hall.
A row of stalls faced the yard, and after Aelfwyn had dismounted, Leofric stabled the gelding there.
Their lodgings for the night were little better than Windraes’s—a flimsy lean-to with a dirt floor that had been hastily attached to the back of the mead hall.
However, after sleeping rough for so long, Aelfwyn nearly wept at the sight of a dusty straw pallet up against one wall.
“Cynn who runs the hall says we can stay here for free tonight,” Leofric told her. “He seemed like a man who might be able to help us. I’m going to go back in, get us some food and drink, and bend his ear.”
Aelfwyn turned away, rolling her eyes and hiding a rueful smile. That was the poorest excuse she had ever heard. It was obvious Leofric was angling for a cup of mead. “Off you go then,” she said lightly. “I think I’ll lie down for a bit.”
She glanced over her shoulder, but he had already disappeared outside. Aelfwyn’s smile widened. With a jolt, she realized it was the first time she had smiled properly in a while … since before Ecgfrith.
Her smile faded, and she sank down onto the straw pallet with a sigh.
She tried to think of the king as little as possible these days, and the thought of him did not make her heart pound with terror as it had initially. Time and distance were gentle healers.
Aelfwyn lay on her back and gazed up at the roof. It had been shoddily thatched; she could see large gaps of sky through it. Dusk was settling over Lincylene. Smudges of pink and gold shaded the darkening sky.
Yawning, Aelfwyn closed her eyes. She was bone-weary after the day’s long ride. There was time for a nap before Leofric returned with supper.
Aelfwyn’s rumbling stomach awoke her. She opened her eyes to find herself shrouded in darkness, and looked up to see the star-sprinkled night sky twinkling back at her through the gaps in the roof.
She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Where was Leofric?
A moment later, she heard footfalls outside the lean-to.
Her first instinct was fear. After everything she had suffered recently, she trusted no one.
Drunken men filled the hall next door; all it would take was one of them to stumble in here in the darkness.
Since taking Thunred’s weapons for himself, Leofric had gifted her his boning knife.
Heart hammering, Aelfwyn reached down and slid the blade free of its sheath at her waist.
The wattle door crashed open and a tall, broad-shouldered figure, his shape illuminated by starlight, lurched inside.
Aelfwyn shrieked and scrambled backward. She crouched on the straw pallet, brandishing her knife, teeth bared. “Get out!”
“Aelfwyn—it’s me, Leo,” Leofric answered, his voice sheepish.
“You nearly frightened me half to death.”
“Sorry, I should have knocked first.” There was a pause as he set something down on the floor. “I’ve brought us some supper, only I forgot we don’t have a cresset burning in here—wait while I fetch one.”
Aelfwyn resheathed the knife and sat down shakily on the edge of the pallet. Her nerves were still a mess.
Leofric reappeared a few moments later bearing a small clay cresset filled with oil that burned brightly. He cast her a contrite grin and sat down, cross-legged on the floor next to the wooden platter he had brought earlier. “Dig in.”
Aelfwyn’s mouth watered when she saw a loaf of fresh bread, salted pork, and a chunk of cheese sitting next to two cups of what smelled like ale. She pushed herself off the pallet and sat down on the floor next to Leofric.
“My new friend Cynn can talk,” Leofric said, tearing off a chunk of bread and passing it to her. “This cost me our last thrymsa, but it was worth it.”
Aelfwyn stuffed the bread into her mouth, followed by a chunk of cheese. She had never tasted food so good—still they now had no coin left.
“What will we do?” she asked when she had swallowed her mouthful. “How will we survive?”
Leofric gave her the roguish grin that she had come to know well; one that usually meant he had news for her.
“Cynn tells me that there is a hut in the woods not far from town. It sits near the banks of the river and until a year ago belonged to a woodcutter. The man lost his wife and children to fever and turned strange afterward. One day he left home and never returned. The mead hall keeper says the hut requires repair, but it is livable. He insists that no one has claimed the dwelling and that Lincylene needs a new woodcutter.”
Aelfwyn held his gaze, realization dawning. “You mean we can live there?”
“Aye, for the bitter months at least, while we decide what to do next.”
Relief flooded through Aelfwyn, making her feel weak. She had not realized how much tension she had been carrying until this moment.
Leofric held her gaze, his expression expectant. “What do you think?”
Aelfwyn grinned back at him and raised her cup of ale in a toast. “I think that’s the best news I’ve had in a long while.”
A crisp morning dawned over Lincylene as Leofric and Aelfwyn rode out of town. The smoke from cookfires stained the sky; the aroma of baking bread wafted through the narrow streets.
Leofric nodded to a merchant who led a goat-drawn cart full of turnips into town.
No doubt, the man was heading for the market.
The mead hall owner had told him that there was a busy market evening morning at the top of the hill, in between the church and the King of Lindesege’s Great Hall.
Leofric would have liked to have stopped at the market this morning, but with their purses now empty, there was little point.
Aelfwyn sat before him. Her pale hair was piled high on her head, revealing her long, slender neck.
It was a different style for her, now that she was pretending to be a wife, and one that made her look older.
Leofric focused on the nape of her neck, resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss her gently there.
How would she react?
Badly, most likely.
Traveling with her had become exquisite torture. He was not teasing the day before when she had asked him why he had stayed on at Streonshalh. He had not wanted to admit it to himself, but the longer they journeyed together the harder it became for him to deny his true feelings.
He wanted her.
Sitting this close to Aelfwyn, he could smell the sweetness of her skin and feel her warmth and softness pressed against him. It caused his insides to knot in a wanting so strong it took all his self-control not to pull her against him and bury his face in her neck.
She was lovely—so poised, warm, and gentle. He longed to put a smile on her face, to make her forget her past. He wanted to lie with her and teach her how it should be between a man and woman. He yearned to worship her naked body, to—
Stop it.
Leofric shook his head and gave himself a mental slap. His groin now ached, and he inched himself backward slightly so that Aelfwyn would not feel his rock-hard cock.
He tried to think about things that would deflate his erection—of a rotting sheep’s carcass or of Prior Cuthbert sitting on the privy—anything to distract himself from the young woman sitting in front of him.
Leofric had never known frustration like this before. Before his exile to Lindisfarena, women had been easy to come by. Not one had ever denied him.
Only Aelfwyn. She had built an invisible wall between them that he was finding near impossible to breach. He knew why, and he understood her reticence. He just hoped that with time she might trust him, might let down her guard.
For the first time in his life, he was willing to wait.