An Encounter in the Woods

[This excerpt comes from the beginning of the usurping of the crown of Affynshire. The queen has been caught behind enemy lines. Her persistent admirer, the Breton lord Elerde, has sided with the usurpers in order to have his revenge on the king, her husband, and to have access to her. They find each other in the woods some short distance from Keito Uxello.]

"Lord, cart tracks," Lagu said as he pulled his mount alongside Elerde's. He rode ahead of the small troop of soldiers carefully examining the rough track that was wide enough for simple carts. Riding back, he turned to point out the spot where someone had carefully kicked the dirt about to cover their tracks.

"Fresh enough," Lord Elerde confirmed. "Come with me." Calling to the rest of the troops, he commanded, "Stay here and watch the path. Stop anyone who passes, and if we flush the quarry, hold them." He and Lagu urged their horses forward into the woods, unhurried.

Though the forest floor was thick with old leaves and underbrush, it was not difficult for an experienced tracker to assess where a cart might have been able to pass. Though leaves were kicked back to cover any sign of wheels, the dry leaves bore the marks of pressure and were unnaturally disturbed and torn. As slowly and quietly as possible for riders, the two picked their way along, pausing frequently to listen. The breeze rustled through the branches and occasionally a small animal scurried through the brush. The canopy was thick enough here that what birds were about mostly flew between neighboring trees and no further. The air was thick with verdure and the smell of life poised to reawaken.

"Hold," Elerde called in a whisper. Lagu stopped to listen. The breeze favored them momentarily. It brought the sound of a small child's crying, if only for the span of a respiration. "Dismount."

Elerde and his lieutenant tied their horses and advanced on foot towards the direction of the child's voice.

Lagu put up a hand to signal his lord to stop. Elerde followed his gaze and saw it—the glimpse of a person moving stealthily towards them. Lagu and his lord crouched to watch. The figure was joined by another.

Elerde signed to his lieutenant to circle around and hold the second figure. He began to move crouched low, towards the first.

Josephine spun as she heard the rustle of leaves on the ground and the briefest cry of surprise from the man who had come with her into the woods. She saw, to her dismay, that the man was held from behind by a man in mail. The man, who resembled someone she had seen before but whom she could not place, held a dagger to the young man's throat. The servant's seaxa was dangling from his hand, useless.

"Drop it," came an all too familiar voice from behind her. The servant dropped his weapon and was pulled away from it by the man who held him.

Josephine, her face paling, slowly turned, her seaxa in her hand. She looked directly into a view of the legs of an armed man standing on a slight hillock. Her gaze rose to see Elerde standing, sword drawn, smiling.

"My lady, you have a skill that methinks you did not have last time we met." He nodded at the weapon in her hand. "It looks well on you."

Josephine stared. The man looked different, more hardened since she had shared her love of Roman verse with him on a bench in her garden. His brow was set but his lips were soft and smiling, as were his eyes.

"Elerde! What are you doing here?" After her momentary shock, she cast a glance back at her servant. "What is the meaning of this, sir?"

Elerde gestured with his head for Lagu to take the servant off to the side. He sheathed his sword. After a moment's hesitation and a glance at the queen's weapon, Lagu stepped away, pulling the servant along by his neck.

Elerde walked past Josephine to retrieve the servant's weapon. To do so, he had to pass within easy striking distance of her own seaxa. He betrayed no fear. But when she moved her arm to ready the weapon to strike, he spun, pulling his dagger, and confronted her.

"Will you kill me, sirrah?" she shot at him. "Did you think my skill charming but not sufficient to defend myself?"

The Breton relaxed, but did not sheath his dagger. "I see well that the seaxa is not ornamental. I bid you put it away, or I shall take it from you. You may be fast, but, lady, I am faster. Care for a demonstration?"

She glared at him but, realizing if she sheathed the weapon she would at least still possess it, she did as he suggested, sliding the blade home into the scabbard at her left shoulder.

Elerde put away his dagger. "I did not expect to find you out wandering in the woods, my lady."

"You have not yet explained your own presence here, sir. Are you part of the force that has taken my uncle's fortress?" Her eyes did not leave his.

"So you know about that." The warrior cast his eyes around. "Someone saw and warned you, and, mayhap, your cousins are on their way to try to take the fortress back or..." He looked back at her considering, "or they are sizing up the situation, and will be back here soon enough."

Josephine stood with her hands at her sides, her right hand flexing, longing for the feel of the hilt of the seaxa in it. She made no reply, realizing that she had already given him information she wished he did not have, the intelligence she had let fall from her own lips.

"I will answer your question, lady. I owe you that at least. Aye, I am more than part of that force. I am that force. Keito Uxello is in my hands. Your aunt and uncle are unharmed. I intend to let them remain, particularly as your uncle the earl is clearly not well."

Josephine's hand went to her throat. "Not well? What has happened to him?"

Elerde looked at her a moment. "He was better before I arrived. Aye, he must have been, or you and your cousins would not have left him alone and gone... wherever it is you are returning from." He continued to assess the situation. He cast down his eyes. "I regret to say that my arrival has apparently caused him to lose ground in his recovery. Is it his heart?"

Josephine's eyes flashed. "If he dies, know that I shall deem it as being at your hands, sirrah. You shall have killed my own kin. If you ever held any regard for me, I hope you will feel the regret of doing a grievous harm to me and mine own."

He shot back at her, "'Twas one of your own who tried to dispatch me to the gates of hell, my lady, a twelve-month past."

Josephine shook her head, replying, "Nay, sir. That is a fiction you have yourself invented to justify your actions, whatever the purpose of these actions may be."

Elerde suddenly reached with his right hand and pushed aside the mail shirt and padded brigandine beneath it. He exposed a red and evil looking scar to the upper left breast. "Is this a fiction, lady?" His eyes burned into hers so intensely she had no choice but to avert her own fiery gaze. She felt an urge rise to go to the man and touch the angry scar and soothe him. She hastily shoved the urge down.

"He did not mean..."

Elerde stopped her with a bitter laugh. "So he would have you and all else believe. I saw the look in his eyes, my lady. If he was a better shot, I should not be here to speak with you. And did he tell you that, failing to kill me with that shot, he threw himself upon my prone body and tried to finish the job?"

Josephine said nothing, afraid of betraying too much in her voice.

He stared at her. He pushed the brigandine and mail back over his scar. "Your good Saxon lord has two reasons to be ever in my mind."

Josephine lifted her eyes to his and something of her regard for him was reflected there. "Oh, Elerde, what is it? What have you done?"

He stepped towards her. Stopping before her, his eyes downcast to meet her gaze. He saw a softening there that warmed his heart, but at the same time he saw her fear and anger. "Your kingdom, my dearest lady, is returned to its Briton masters. Since your noble brother has relinquished his claim on the throne in favor of your Saxon husband, it has reverted to its next rightful king, earl Maegwig."

"Maegwig? That buffoon? Through my mother's line, any one of my cousins have more claim than does he. His right is all in his head."

Elerde replied superciliously, "But your cousins are too closely allied with the Saxon, my lady, and your people look to the pure Celtic line for reclamation of their honor and pride."

"So Ratherwood is fallen? And the governor-general?"

Elerde continued to look into her face, though her gaze was averted to the side ***. He felt her closeness with every cell in his body. Her breathing betrayed that she felt his as well. "The man no doubt has met his eternal reward. We have Ratherwood, Hucknall, and Matlock Hall, as well as, of course, Horsfort, Cross Gates, and Keito Uxello."

"Horsfort? Ah, earl Malcolm! I cannot imagine he would not find it tempting to be part of this infamy."

Elerde laughed in spite of himself. "Part of? Leading, more like."

Josephine glanced up at him. "So you are not at the heart of this." There was a hint of relief in her eyes.

He firmed his mouth and jaw. "Heart is exactly where I am, my love." His voice was softer than his expression seemed able to produce.

Josephine's eyes grew hard. "I am not your love, sirrah."

Elerde smiled wistfully. "Nay, 'tis that I am not yours. You shall e'er be mine own."

Josephine turned her back on him. She did not want him to see what thoughts and emotions she could not hide. Even so she fought to keep her voice even. "And what are you going to do with me? I suspect I would make a magnificent hostage."

Elerde replied, "Aye, that is the one part of the Saxon's great love for you that is to my own advantage." She waited for him to go on. "I beg you to consider coming back with me to Keito Uxello. You can remain with your kin there. I am your champion, my lady. The other conspirators... that is, the new lords of this land, may not have the same concern for your well-being that I most ardently do. I can protect you."

Josephine turned slowly back to him. "You... you beg me? Does that mean I have a choice?"

Elerde was the one to avert his eyes. "Aye, I have no desire to harm you. I will let you go, though 'tis with misgivings beyond measure. I would keep you... safe."

In a quiet, steely voice she replied, "Sir, I shall never willingly go with you. Not even to the gates of hell."

Elerde nodded sadly. "Oh Josephina, you are a rare one. You make me adore you all the more." He looked up into her eyes, which were full of pain and defiance. "You should go. Go far away, hide yourself. Malcolm will not stop his hand at anything to take possession of you. He will sell you dearly to the Saxon."

Her eyes flashed. "The 'Saxon' you refer to is the rightful king of this land, and my dearest lord, and the father of my children."

"Do I not know that? Though 'twas the Witan that made him king—the Saxon Witan—which your own people reject. We Celts, as you know well, though only half a one, respects its royal lines. It does not give over to a council to select its kings." He instantly felt regret for his emphasis on "half."

"You forget, sirrah, that we Celts also respect the female line. The 'Saxon' may be king, aye, but I am the queen of this country, by right of birth. By your own reasoning, you are committing treachery... to me."

In spite of himself he flinched.

"What will you do with my kin? My cousins?" she pursued

Elerde looked up again. "We will let them pass today... if they do not take arms against any of my men. Thereafter, I cannot vouchsafe their passage. If they are captured, they will be held. If they take up arms against us, they will be killed." He looked hard at her. "As will you, my lady. I cannot prevent it."

"And my lord, Lawrence, do you believe he will sit idly by and watch you and the other blackguards do as you will with us and our land?"

She was startled to see Elerde's lips curve in a smile. "I count on him to come blazing across Críslicland to rescue you. His haste will make him unwise. I shall have, I hope, the personal pleasure of catching him up. I am owed a debt."

Josephine glared at him with all her might. "Are you that bitter, Elerde? Where is the soft-spoken, gentle lover of verse and of walks in the country?" There was a hint of her own longing in the question.

"He took an arrow in the shoulder, my darling. Now go. I will go back to the fortress and let you and your people escape. I will not send a man to follow you. On my honor," and here he glared at her amused response," On my honor I shall not uncover your hiding place... yet, call it foolish sentimentality, call it folly, It is my choice."

He took her hand and kissed it. She did not resist. He turned and called to his lieutenant, "Lagu! Release the boy. Come."

Josephine stood shaking, watching Elerde and his lieutenant go. She watched until she could not detect the glint of light on mail. She thought she heard a horse snort and quiet sounds of hooves in the leaf mould. She turned and went back to the others, the servant walking at her back.

[See what happens next in Nan Hawthorne's An Involuntary King: A Tale of Anglo Saxon England.]