Jilliand Read online

  “It is ready, Lady. I have in mind the men I would send with you. If you see evidence of Viking ships, you are to send someone here, at once. I doubt you will find any, as the raids have seldom been in that area. However, it is good to have a post there.” He smiled to himself. It had been many years since the Vikings had landed where he intended to settle Jilliand. He would have his sister close, but the lady that lit the fire in his heart, he would have closer. Best of both worlds. He toyed with the idea of sending Alexander as head of Jilliand’s command, but could not think of him being gone from court. He enjoyed Alexander’s company too much. “I should have your escort named by tonight when we dine.” He looked down at her. “You are like a little vixen, Jilliand. Will you behave if I leave you so far away?”

  Jilliand laughed. “Perhaps the king would define behave?”

  “The king does not have a need to define it, only to have you agree to it. And?” he asked, his brows raised questioning.

  She smiled up at her him, the brother she had grown to love. “But of course, Sire. I always behave.”

  “Hmmm.” He shook his head, still smiling. They walked along, while he spoke of his desire for the hand of the Spanish princess. “Ride with me in the morn, Jilliand. We will leave quite early, before the court is awake, shortly after sunrise. I’ll have a horse for you.”

  “I would love that. I will see you then.” She started to walk away, but he held her back.

  “Jilliand, you are planning to dine with me this evening, are you not? And you should think on marriage. Now more than ever. We will speak of it again after you have had some time to make your new castle into your home.” He spoke with finality. He had a look in his eyes that Jilliand had come to recognize as a command, not suggestion.

  “Of course, I dine with you, Brother. I have not ever missed our evening time together. Marriage? That I cannot in good faith promise, but I will think on it.” Her eyes were solemn.

  “That you will,” he noted. “You will marry, Jilliand,” he added.

  Gently, Jilliand responded, “I cannot, Aethewulf. I am already married. My heart is not mine to give.”

  “And that matters how? He is a pagan if he lives at all.” His voice rose. His face flushed with sudden anger and frustration; he stopped and held her back by the elbow. “Jilliand, I ask only as a courtesy to you. The choice is not yours. I am the king! I am your king. I do not ask this time. My thought is in your best interest.”

  “My best interest, Your Majesty? Where were your thoughts for my best interests while I was slowly dying at the hands of a man who was not my father? The man who forced my mother and yours into a marriage she never wanted. He was, by all I have been told, very cruel to her.” Jilliand had not intended to let these words leave her mouth, but they fled from her mind into the air, suddenly thick between them. She was unable to stop. “I think you cared not so much then. Perhaps you think to use me to secure some holding for you, some loyalty—or for whatever reason kings marry off family. I am my mother’s daughter. I am not some golden coin you can pass off at your convenience.” Then her voice softened. “If I am in your way, I will leave. I sought shelter when I came to you. I can seek it again, Brother. I would not be a burden to you. Rurik lives, I’m certain. He will come for me.”

  Aethewulf stood looking at her—the replica of the mother he knew so well. His anger dissipated instantly, and he grasped her shoulders, holding them fast. “You are not a burden, Jilliand. I will give you more time. I have carried the guilt over your life for many years now. I would be free of it.” His eyes pleaded. “I must see you happy, Sister.”

  Jilliand reached out to touch his face. “You have done well by me, Aethewulf. There is no reason for guilt. If it brings you comfort, know I forgive you any imagined harm. Forget what I said in anger. God knows what will be—not you nor I.” She smiled slowly. “I see you have my temper. Mother is laughing now.”

  Aethewulf bent to kiss her forehead. Try as he might, he had not been able to convince her to marry. At some point, he would be compelled to force her, since it was inconceivable to leave her alone. If his sons died or were killed, Jilliand would be next in line for the crown, but that could not happen if she were without a suitable husband. She knew little of life, let alone the challenges of ruling a kingdom. If Rurik were to come back for her, this land could become a battleground, unless he vowed to serve Aethewulf.

  Back in her chambers, Jilliand gathered her ladies-in-waiting to share the news of her move. “All of you must carefully consider what we are undertaking. Because the king may wed, we will not be coming back. If you feel you have ties here and would work for a queen, please say so now. I do not demand anyone go with me.”

  The room was silent, and the ladies looked at each other, digesting the news. Becca finally spoke first, “Lady Jilliand, I love the queen I now serve. I would serve no other by choice. I for one, would go where you go.” Bowing, she turned to begin preparing Jilliand’s evening clothes. The remaining ladies agreed. In the years they had been together, they had all grown close. Given a choice, they would not part with her.

  Jilliand smiled. “It is done. Shall we get ready for court?”

  Jilliand awoke the next morning to the thought, My own home. She could hardly believe it. She didn’t care what it looked like, or how big it might be. That she was to be left alone, out of the constant glare and focus of court, was the gift. When she met her brother that morning, she could not contain her eagerness.

  “One would think you rejoice to be away from your king, Lady. At least pretend you are saddened to be sent away.” His eyes twinkled.

  “Oh, Aethewulf, you have done so much for me. To place me in my own home is beyond what I could have asked for or expected. I am deeply grateful.” Her emerald eyes were alight with anticipation. The king laughed. He had gotten what he wanted, as usual. His Spanish beauty would be with him, and soon he would have another heir; his sister would be near enough to see her whenever he felt the yearning.

  Aethewulf rode with Jilliand and her attendants as they made the trek to her new home. By early evening, they were riding through a tiny settlement with many vacant huts scattered outside a large berm that surrounded the burg. Surprised and curious onlookers watched as Aethewulf and his party rode toward the courtyard. The king had come.

  A deep moat filled with water surrounded the burg, forming another barrier between the berm and an inner wooden fortress. More huts and other structures were inside the walls. Inside the courtyard, Jilliand was delighted to see she had stables, more living quarters, and several run-down but promising gardens. At the center of the courtyard was a tall, square building—the keep. Aethewulf led Jilliand through the great open door. Within the keep, rooms had been cleaned, fires lit, and windows opened. It was like a dream to Jilliand. My own place. Look Mother, can you see this? My place. I’ll make it a haven for anyone venturing this way. Impulsively, she whirled and ran to her brother, hugging him tightly.

  The king laughed. “I shall miss you, Jilliand. I plan to visit you as often as possible. Unannounced, of course.” He stood and watched her dancing around the empty room. Satisfied with the success of his plan, the king was in a jovial mood during dinner and long after. In the early daylight of the next morning, he and his men left, promising to return soon to see the “lady of the castle.” Jilliand happily waved them off on their return journey. She surveyed the area, changes flashing through her mind. She would start with the few families who remained. As soon as Aethewulf was out of sight, she walked through the gates and into the settlement beyond, a walk she would take many times in the coming days.

  Jilliand now had her own ladies, soldiers, and people to help her run the keep, including kitchen and general staff to keep the place clean and orderly. She also had stable hands and a groomsman to care for the horses Aethewulf had given her. Her people included the few living around her burg. In the first four months, she had taken in fifteen more families. They could work the land in return for
a portion of the harvest that would be saved for all so that they could survive the winter months. The gardens within the confines of the burg were cleared out and awaited the spring planting. Fruit trees were trimmed back, and the walkways were cleaned.

  Jilliand frequently rode through the little hamlet outside her walls, speaking to the people she saw there. She knew for her to be as safe as possible, the people must want to protect her. They must feel a bond strong enough to give warning should danger come into her new world. Nights, she lay in bed, thinking of Rurik. If he could see what I have done, he would be pleased. The business of caring for the people around her and activity of running the burg gave her a greater measure of peace.

  In the beginning, few travelers ventured her way. As word spread of her kind heart, more came. For added protection, Jilliand gave orders for the king’s colors to be displayed prominently in many places—from the flags over the entrance to the guards’ clothes to a large banner hanging against the wall in the grand hall. She prayed that the message she was under the king’s protection would keep her safe.

  The first months in the burg were difficult for everyone, with all the hard work, but Jilliand’s excitement and joy at finding herself unbound slowly spread. Daily, everyone became more comfortable. With the exception of the captain of Jilliand’s guard. He was young and ambitious and deeply resented being sent from an exciting life at court. He realized he could never return to service with the king if he left Jilliand, but he felt sure he could talk some of her guard into leaving with him, and they could find service with one of the other lords who held land nearby. It took some time for him to convince the rest of the guard to join him, but early one afternoon, he simply rode away with more than half the regular guard following him out the gates. Jilliand watched them leave and wondered how she would survive left with little protection. She would be forced to provide training for all the men, inside and outside the burg.

  Josh was a middle-aged man sent by the king to run Jilliand’s stables and tend the stock. He had worked quite happily for the king, and the move to serve Jilliand was not one he relished. He was gruff and made no time for nonsense, so most of the stable hands skirted him. When the guard abandoned Jilliand, Josh hoped she would give up and return to the king, thus allowing Josh to return as well. But Jilliand would hear none of it.

  Her fear that Aethewulf would call her back to court clouded Jilliand’s reasoning, and she ordered her people to remain silent about the soldiers. Her people were loyal, and not even a whisper of her predicament left the grounds or surrounding huts. What few soldiers remained began working with the young men in and around the burg. Somehow, they would provide protection for Lady Jilliand.

  Josh was the last to come to her side, and Jilliand soon found he was much kinder than he let on. Slowly but surely, they forged a tight bond, and she frequently wandered to the stables to visit with him. He became one of her most trusted friends.

  One morning, as she stood stomping to stay warm, Jilliand called to him from the door of the stable. Her breath formed clouds of white when it met the cold air. Winter had arrived in earnest. “Josh, will it snow every day the rest of this winter here? I am sorely tired of being cold. Poor animals. They must tire of this also.” Despite her heavy clothing, she shivered.

  Josh glanced in her direction. “No, Lady. Just as you change to heavier coats, so do they. They be fine, in a covered place.” He straightened up, holding his back. “Best you not stay out too long. My back warns of a coming storm. ’Tis not a good omen.”

  Jilliand laughed, looking skyward. “It is as blue as the iris of spring, Josh. Be sure you have plenty of wood though, sir. Just in case,” she teased.

  This one is too independent. Some day she is going to pay I fear. Pray tonight is not the night, Josh worried to himself. Her guard is not about, and she won’t wait. Perhaps, Sir Alexander should hear of this. Her guards, those still left, seldom accompany her these days. As time living on her own passed, Jilliand had become comfortable with the few men she had. Josh shook his head, watching Jilliand and her ladies mounting their horses. Most busy the guards are, trying to train the young men here. She has need of these young men, true enough. At least they will be men who would stay with her. Still, they be raw and untested. Josh knew the training these men were getting could not match what they would have received in the king’s own camp. It seemed he alone also recognized their numbers were far too few. The troubled stable master watched Jilliand and her ladies ride out of the compound.

  For her part, Jilliand knew Josh did not alarm easily and decided this day’s ride would be shorter than usual. Despite her resolve, time sneaked away, and fate made ready to take advantage.

  When the group finally stopped for a midday meal, Jilliand was alarmed when she noticed the youngest member of her ladies, a girl named Bethy. Jilliand watched in horror as Bethy slowly slid, limp, onto the ground. “Becca!” Jilliand called, as she dismounted and ran toward Bethy. When Jilliand reached her, the woman was already unconscious. She cradled Bethy’s head and watched helplessly as life withdrew from the young woman’s body. “Who knows about this lady?”

  “Bethy is new to us, Lady. Came only one week ago. She said she had no family,” Becca replied, kneeling next to Jilliand. Looking at the rest of the party, Becca added, “Can anyone tell more? Was Bethy ill when she came to us?” At her words, every face became grave, and the women withdrew from the girl and from Jilliand.

  One of the young men riding with Jilliand spoke up. “No, not ill, Lady. Bethy was with child. She was forced to leave when it was discovered she carried the child of the lord’s only son. She swore the son forced her, but she had no family to speak for her good name.”

  “How sad,” Jilliand murmured. Blood pooled around the dead woman. “Come, wrap her in something. We must return.” Just then, a cold gust of wind struck them. Glancing skyward, Jilliand was surprised to see dark clouds gathering. “Move quickly. I fear Josh may be right. It looks to storm.” The body was rolled into the blanket brought to spread for their meal. No one else spoke, as it was secured across the horse, and the troupe turned back homeward. The group’s mood was as somber as the weather.

  From a distant hill, two well-armed men watched the scene. The men had been following the party all day. As it left, the two riders turned and rode in the opposite direction.

  True to Josh’s predictions, Jilliand and her group barely made it back before a vicious storm hit. As many as would fit into the keep crowded inside. The fires popped and danced with the draft that was pushed down the great chimneys by howling winds. The gloom of the storm raging outside only served to further darken the general atmosphere. Even with warmth, food, and wine, the young woman’s death reminded everyone how fragile their own lives remained.

  Jilliand worked tirelessly to care for the people crowded into her keep. She also made sure that everyone, including those living outside the walls, had plenty of wood to stay warm and enough food to eat for the night, taking the supplies to them herself. When finally alone in her own rooms, Jilliand sank onto her bed, exhausted. Today was not a good day, I think. How great a price that poor girl paid for what was most probably a rape. For the first time in years, Jilliand thought back on her life with the man she had believed was her father. Her time in that life and what followed before she came to trust Rurik had taught her well. To survive, one must be steadfast and focused on one purpose: to live. Life is not easy for most of God’s creatures—certainly not for women.

  CHAPTER 28

  THREE DAYS AFTER THE STORM, a lone rider entered the gate after requesting a place to stay the night from one of Jilliand’s guards. He took meticulous note of all around him with the practiced eye of a soldier. Having spent the morning hours riding and observing the people and the huts surrounding Jilliand’s burg, he knew there were no soldiers outside the walls. Inside the walls, he could see that the burg could be taken with little effort. Though a king’s banner and colors were clearly visible everyw
here, there were no signs of anyone who looked able to take up arms for the lord of the holding. The one who takes this burg would also fight the king of this place. It is at best, a day’s ride to get to the nearest king and his help. By then, one could plunder this place and be gone. Ah, where are the Vikings when you need them? He continued to survey the area.

  The afternoon meal was attended by Jilliand’s remaining guards and a few others. Patiently waiting to see what the lord of these holdings looked like, the man stared when Jilliand entered the room. She was alone, with only her ladies in attendance. This is too easy to pass up, he thought, his plan forming even while he smiled and greeted those around him.

  There are few signs of wealth, although she must be connected, the man reasoned. Else how does she carry the king’s colors? After the meal, he wandered among the people in the room, until he came near Jilliand’s table. Inviting everyone within the burg to the grand room to dine had become something done frequently. It gave Jilliand a chance to connect with the people around her and kept her in their minds. Immediately, she saw the newcomer sitting with several of her groomsmen. He was not known to her, yet seemed vaguely familiar.

  “Becca, find out who that man is. I have an uneasy feeling about him.” Jilliand watched the ease with which he moved. He looked to be younger than her brother, but older than Rurik. He was well-built, moved with the grace of a swordsman, and his shoulders looked as though he could notch an arrow with ease. His coloring was that of one who spends most of his time outside. His dark hair hung in loose curls that just grazed the collar of his shirt. His tunic was cut well in the longer style favored by nobility at the time. His clothing appeared to have been made from a fine material that had been colored black. The cloak on his shoulder was trimmed in ermine. When Jilliand realized he intended to approach her, she quickly looked away.