Eda’s lips twitched as she said this. Kristen grinned, and then they both burst into laughter. Kristen’s amusement fled just as suddenly when she found her shackles draped over Eda’s arm after the clothes were handed to her. She said nothing, however, and snapped the iron onto her ankles herself. She had accomplished nothing in resisting Royce. She would accomplish nothing in continuing to show her abhorrence to this last part of her apparel. If she would never be free of the fetters, so be it. With them would eventually come the hate she needed to truly resist the Saxon’s hold over her.
The hall was nearly empty when Kristen and Eda went below. Most of the women were readying chambers for the King and his party. Royce and his men had gone hunting to supplement the store of meat. The men servants were working outside, moving most of the stabled horses to pasture to make room for those of the guests, bringing in extra hay and fodder, and rolling new barrels of ale into the hall.
The two women who had been working frantically by the cooking hearth left as soon as Kristen and Eda arrived. Kristen was so amazed that she did not even flinch as her other chain was secured.
“Are we expected to prepare food for everyone by ourselves?”
Eda chuckled. “They will return with the others as soon as Lady Darrelle is done with them above. She is always undone by royal visits, and has her women running hither and yon, but getting little accomplished. More would get done, and quicker, if the lady would take herself off to bed.”
“Eda!”
“Well, ’tis true,” the old woman insisted.
Kristen smiled to herself as they began to work side by side. Eda had revealed a new facet of herself this morn—humor. Other than what Kristen managed to see herself, which was slight, humor had been lacking in her existence since her arrival on these shores. It made her appreciate Eda all the more, and realize just how fond she had become of the old woman. With her gruffness, her ofttimes unwanted advice, and her care, she reminded Kristen of old Alfreda at home, who had been as bossy as a mother—not Brenna, but the mothers of Kristen’s friends—but a very dear friend too.
Not a few minutes later, Eda’s churlishness returned to the fore. “Would you not know it! Not a wench back yet to serve those three with a smile of welcome. ’Tis left to an old woman to do, as if I do not have enough else.”
Kristen followed her frown to the door, where three young men had just entered. “The ones who brought news of the King’s arrival?”
“Aye, and young lordlings from the look of them.”
The three men were laughing among themselves over some jest the tallest of them had made. They removed their short mantles, but not their weapons, as they made straight for the large barrel of ale across the room. Eda hurriedly swiped up tankards to take to the men, returning with an even deeper frown crossing her brow.
“I thought I had recognized that smooth-faced stripling. ’Tis Lord Eldred. Nay, wench, do not look!” Eda warned sharply. “You do not wanthisattention.”
Kristen already had his attention, and that of the other two as well. With the hall so empty, it was only natural that they would glance toward the only two women about. And once she was seen, it was difficult to ignore Kristen. She was just too different from what Saxons were accustomed to: too tall, too striking in appearance, and certainly too noble of bearing for an ordinary serf.
Kristen kept her eyes lowered as warned, but wanted to know “Which is he?”
“The yellow-haired one. ’Twas known he might be with the King’s party, but I wonder at his audacity to come here in advance, without the King’s protection. I wonder if Lord Royce knows he is here. Nay, he must not,” she answered her own question, “for he would not trust that one alone in his hall.”
Kristen wondered herself as Eda pushed her to the end of the table so she gave only her back to the hall. It was too soon for her to have forgotten what Eda had told her about Lord Eldred. He was Royce’s enemy. Why indeed would he ride into his enemy’s stronghold nearly alone? To show he did not fear Royce? Or was he counting on the King’s coming to prevent any altercations from arising? Eda had said they were at a truce, these two, because of the Danes’ threat. But how secure could that truce be if animosities ran deep?
She pictured Lord Eldred in her mind’s eye as she had seen him from across the hall. She imagined that if he came close, she would find him to be as tall as herself. That made him not a small man, except in comparison with Royce.
He was mayhap a year or two older than his adversary, but not nearly as powerful in build. Yet he was still a man in fine condition from the rigorous training for war. And he was by far the most handsome man of face she had ever seen, save for her own brothers. But it was men with bodies like Royce’s that pulled the string of attraction in Kristen, so she felt nothing but a mild curiosity toward Eldred and his companions.
“You have lost the wager, Randwulf. ’Tis not a man in woman’s garb, but a woman indeed.”
Kristen gasped at the first word and swung around. Eda would have warned her of their approach, but she had so hoped the three men would change their minds. They did not.
“’Tis a wager I do not so much mind losing,” the dark-haired Randwulf replied.
He flipped a gold piece to Eldred, but did not take his eyes from Kristen. The coin fell to the floor, for Eldred too was fascinated by their find.
“Tell us, wench, why do they chain you?” Eldred asked her pleasantly enough. “Is your crime so great?”
It was the wrong thing for him to mention, for instead of making Kristen wary of them, it made her ire rise. “I am a dangerous woman. Do I not look it?”
“Oh, aye,” one of them replied, then all three began to laugh.
“Tell us true, wench,” Eldred persisted.
“I am a Norsewoman,” she said stiffly. “What more explanation need there be?”
“God’s breath, a Viking!” the third man exclaimed. “I can well see the need for chains.”
“Too bad she is not a Dane,” Randwulf lamented. “Then I would know how to treat her.”
