“The Orkneys—’tis where Eric Bloodaxe has been gathering forces since your other uncle, Haakon, expelled him from Norway, is it not?” Oswald asked.
“Yea, and a bloodthirsty bastard Eric is. Even so, many see promise in him.”
“Will you come with us tonight? Will you answer your king’s summons?” Oswald finally asked.
“I still do not understand. What does the king think I can do to avert the Norse threat? Troops already gather throughout Northumbria, day by day, even from across the seas, just waiting for the king’s death afore springing into action.”
” ‘Tis because you are both Saxon and Viking that the king thinks you may intervene. Even though he has Malcolm’s pledge of loyalty, he mistrusts him mightily. Edmund would have you go to Malcolm and try to divine his true feelings, find out if he plans betrayal once again. In truth, the king wishes to avert fighting, and, with Malcolm behind him, that is still a possibility. If Malcolm reneges on his oath, a bloodbath will surely follow.”
Eirik saw the logic in their words but still he resisted being the emissary.
“Come back with us tonight and give Edmund a chance to plead his case,” Oswald urged. “Let him explain the details to you.”
The cleric stood then and walked wearily over to Eirik’s side where he handed him a leather-wrapped article. “Edmund sends you this gift,” the priest said softly. “He said you would know how much he needs your help when you see it.”
Eirik’s shoulders sagged wearily when he recognized the crucifix inside. Ever the collector of relics, King Athelstan had cherished this one more than any other since it contained the eyelashes of his favorite saint, St. Cuthbert. He had bequeathed it to Edmund on his death. In giving it to Eirik, Edmund was telling Eirik of his high regard. But, more, Eirik knew Edmund would not part with this precious remembrance of his brother unless he felt his life or his kingdom depended on it.
In that moment, Eirik accepted that he had to obey his overlord’s wishes. Even if it meant abandoning his new wife to celebrate their wedding feast alone.
God’s Bones! he thought ruefully, smiling to himself, if the wench was shrewish before, she would be furious now. Mayhap he would ask his brother Tykir to break the news of his departure to her. Nay, he decided immediately, it was not a task he would push on any other.
He stood abruptly. “Please rest and help yourselves to more mead. By your leave, I go to prepare myself for our journey.”
Outside the room, he told Wilfrid, “Send my squire to help me prepare for my departure. And tell Sigurd and Gunner they will accompany me with six other hesirs of their choice.”
“And Lady Eadyth? What shall I tell her?”
Eirik rolled his eyes. “Tell her to come to my bedchamber.”
* * *
Eadyth was decidedly uncomfortable in the great hall once Eirik had left. Oh, she knew that with the wedding she should now consider herself the Lady of Ravenshire, but the fine guests made it more than obvious that they did not regard her as such.
Eirik’s knights and housecarls showed no disrespect. In fact, some appeared ready to jump to her defense if the noble guests offended her further. Apparently, Eirik had given orders after the disastrous betrothal feast that his retainers must treat her with the respect deserving of his lady wife.
His high-born visitors suffered under no such obligation. As she moved among them, replenishing their goblets of mead, attempting light conversation, Eadyth was shown too clearly that her scandalous past would never escape her.
“Lady Eadyth, will you be attending court now that you are wed?” Aldgyth, daughter of Earl Orm, asked snidely, looking at the other gentle ladies who sat next to her, snickering behind coy fingers. Her father was off to the side, talking animatedly with Anlaf and Archbishop Wulfstan, along with the knights who husbanded the visiting noblewomen.
Eadyth shrugged. “I have no particular inclination to participate in King Edmund’s court, though ’tis said the scholars and artisans he gathers there from afar are very interesting.”
One lady commented, “Yea, ’tis said you are fair bookish for a woman.” The remark was not made in a kindly fashion, and several of the women giggled as if they shared a private jest.