Osana heard snorts behind her, as the men escorting her choked back laughter. Only Cerdic did not look amused.
Osana had forgotten how much her aunt disliked Raedwulf. The pair of them had only met twice, and on both occasions, Raedwulf had named her a scold. “No wonder no man would have her,” he had grumbled. “Her shrew’s tongue would have sent them all running.”
“Raedwulf died,” she answered after a brief pause. “Over a year ago now.”
Hagona watched her. She did not say she was sorry, and Osana was grateful for that. Her aunt was not one to say things she did not mean. She would not pretend to grieve over the death of a man she had never liked. A long pause drew out between them then. It became clear that Hagona was not going to be the one to speak next.
Inhaling deeply, Osana gathered her nerve. “I’m no longer welcome in Hagustaldes,” she said quietly. “Raedwulf’s brother is ealdorman now, and his wife hates me.”
Hagona straightened up, brushing soil off her hands. Her thin face had hardened, as the reason for Osana’s arrival dawned on her. “So you thought you’d be welcome here?” Her voice was clipped. “You thought your old spinster aunt would look after you.”
The words stung. Osana clenched her jaw. She hated prostrating herself like this. Yet she could not lose her temper, for the alternative was to take the veil.
“I will earn my place under your roof,” she replied evenly. “I would not ask this of you if there was any other choice. My parents are dead, and my sisters all live in cramped homes with barely enough room for them and their families. Please, aunt … you are my only hope.”
Lora descended the steps into the yard outside the Great Tower, a load of dusty furs in her arms. A balmy spring morning greeted her. The sun kissed her face, and she noted that blossom had now appeared on the branches of the apple and pear trees in the neighboring orchard.
Osana would have liked to see that, she thought with a pang.She spent a lot of time in the orchard.
Just over two days had passed since Osana’s departure, and Lora already missed her terribly. She missed sharing an alcove with her and chatting together at night in the darkness. It had been wonderful to have a space that she only had to share with one other. With Osana gone, Lora had been forced to give up her alcove. She now slept upon the rushes in the Great Hall.
She did not sleep well out there. The night before, one of the warriors lying next to her had tried to grope her. She had slapped him before wriggling away, yet the incident had unnerved her. She would sleep in a different place tonight, but how long till another man tried his luck?
Frowning at the thought, Lora strode over to a long railing near the stable complex and hung up the furs. She then picked up a long wooden paddle. Now that the weather had started to warm, it was time to clean out the alcoves. During the long, cold months furs became the home of mites and rodents. Now these unwelcome guests needed to be turfed out.
Whack. Lora hit the furs with her paddle, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
I should have made Osana take me with her.
Whack.
I don’t belong here either.
Whack.
Anger rose within Lora as she beat the furs, her movements growing increasingly savage.
Osana’s all I have left, and now she’s gone too.
Tears pricked Lora’s eyes as she continued to beat the furs. Never had she felt so lonely.
“You keep beating that fur like that, and you’ll rip it to pieces.”
A male voice, edged with wry amusement, intruded.
Lora halted, panting from exhaustion, and straightened up, pushing a stray blond curl out of her eyes.
Cerdic stood behind her, next to his horse. The small group of warriors who had accompanied Osana west were dismounting behind him.
“You’re back,” she said before cursing herself for being a goose. Clearly he was back—here he was standing before her.
Cerdic raised an eyebrow, observing her. “Aye.”
“Osana … how is she?”
“Well enough. We left her in the company of her aunt.”
Lora frowned. There was something in his tone that put her on edge. “Is something amiss?”
