“Yea. Gyda must be sorely overtaxed having all those children about. Should I bring the orphans here?”
“Nay, you cannot,” Tykir advised quickly, “not with the threat of Steven abounding. And another thing, Eirik. Rain says Emma is beginning to regain her voice, and her memory. There may be hard times ahead for her when she recalls all that happened to her and her, mother.”
Eirik inhaled deeply with understanding. “Will you return with me to Jorvik, Tykir?”
Tykir nodded. “I will ready the horses. Can we depart within the hour?”
“Yea.”
Eirik went back to the kitchen and awakened Bertha, giving her instructions, telling her he expected to be back by nightfall. Then Eirik returned to his bedchamber where Eadyth still slept deeply. He laid the trencher on a table and dressed quietly.
He considered waking his wife and telling her about his daughter and his concerns. But he knew Eadyth would want to travel with him, or leave this bedchamber in his absence. They needed to talk before he could allow either, and there was no time for that. So he kissed her lightly on the lips, and locked the bedchamber door after him.
* * *
Eadyth awakened later that morning, stretching lazily. She was not surprised that Eirik no longer lay at her side. She could tell by the slant of sun through the arrow slits that it was already well past dawn. Blessed Lord, she had not slept this late since her childhood, Eadyth thought, yawning widely.
She donned the beekeeper veil, grimacing at her only choice of garment. Well, she would get her other clothing back soon, after she broke her fast. She noticed the trencher of food on the table then, and smiled at Eirik’s consideration.
After she ate, reliving in her mind the wondrous events of the night before in Eirik’s arms, Eadyth walked to the door, hoping to slip to the next room unseen and gather her garments. The door did not open. She turned the handle again, to no avail.
Realization dawned slowly on her. The bastard had locked her in his bedchamber.
She would kill him. She would throttle him with this damn beekeeping gown. Oh, the humiliation of it all! After all she had “surrendered” willingly to her husband yestereve, he still intended to enforce his loathsome rules.
She began banging on the door, shouting shrilly. When the door finally opened, Bertha stood there, hands on hips. A guard stood behind her in the hall, barring Eadyth’s exit.
Eadyth scooted behind the door to hide her sheer gown. Then she peered around at Bertha. “Where… is… my… husband?” she demanded, spacing her words evenly. Rancor gave a sharp edge to her voice.
“He went to Jorvik,” Bertha informed her.
“Jorvik?” Eadyth had not expected that. “Why?”
Bertha shrugged. “How would I be knowin’? He said he would be back by nightfall, and he said to keep you locked in his bedchamber ’til he has a chance to talk to you. Said ye should rest a mite.” Bertha leered with her last words.
“Tell me what you know about Eirik leaving so suddenly for Jorvik,” she ordered sternly.
“I already told you, I know naught of his intentions.” Her eyes widened with sudden insight, though, and she ducked her head sheepishly.
“What? What is it you have thought of?”
“Well,” Bertha said reluctantly, “his mistress Asa does live there. Mayhap he felt a sudden inclination to visit with her.”
Like ice water dashed in her face, sudden and devastating realization swept over Eadyth. She shook with the impact.
Closing the door on Bertha and the guard, she listened, uncaring, as the key turned in the lock. A raw and overwhelming grief flooded her, and her throat ached with defeat.
Betrayal! Again! When will I ever learn? First he puts me under his thumb with his lustful sorcery. Then he tosses me aside like yesterday’s porridge. How will I bear the pain?
And, most important, how will I escape?
Eadyth spent exactly two hours feeling sorry for herself. She knew because one of her costly 24-hour candles that Eirik had lit the night before was still burning, wastefully.
She wept.
She berated herself for being a fool.