Were it not for the humble look in his eyes, she would suspect him of mischief. But as she watched him, she saw a man reserved, not one out to make more trouble. “You have no enemies here.”
A shadow darkened his gaze to a deep, almost unreadable hue. “Nay, milady, you are not, but your husband most definitely is.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his hand to silence her.
“I meant no offense. In truth, you remind me too much of my own sweet Wenda for me to offend you.”
She detected the softness in his voice as he spoke the woman’s name. “Wenda is your wife?”
“Was,” he corrected, his voice strained, and his eyes as sad as if his grief still lay fresh within his heart. “I fear she died two years past while birthing our first child.”
Sympathetic pain coursed through Ariel and she reached out to touch his arm. “My condolences.”
He nodded, looking away from her. “It was hard at first, but I have long since come to terms with her departure.”
Rubbing her arms against the chill, Ariel noted the catch in his voice. It was identical to the one in Valteri’s when he’d spoken nearly the same words earlier that night.
Did all men speak denials against the pain in their souls even though it was obvious that they burned there like fires?
Did the denial help?
Nay, not likely. Men seemed to forever state the opposite of what they needed. What they yearned for most.
The Saxon took her by the arm and led her farther away from the sentry. “Milady, there’s a personal matter of which I’d like to speak.”
Instantly suspicious, she looked at him, confused by his words and what question he’d dare broach. “You ask after a personal matter when I don’t even know your name?”
He smiled, yet it did nothing to allay her fears. “Forgive my oversight. I’m called Ethbert.”
“And I’m Ariel.”
“Aye, milady. I asked after your name several hours ago.”
She stiffened her spine in apprehension. What would cause him to ask after her? “Why?”
“I…” His voice trailed off and he looked away. After several minutes, he drew a deep breath. “At first I thought you Norman, what with the way you spoke their language, but a short while ago your brother explained to me what had happened. How the Norman forced you to take his hand.”
More suspicion mixed with her fear, narrowing her sight. She could well imagine what stories her brother might tell. “And what did my brother say?”
“That the Norman demanded you marry him. That he gave you no choice.”
Fury blotted her thoughts. “’Tis a lie!”
He furrowed his brow and stepped away from her, his gaze wary. “What?”
“Aye, you heard me.” She ground her teeth over Belial’s treachery. “Lord Valteri, unlike my brother, asked me whether or not I agreed to the union. I accepted Valteri of my own free will.”
Still, skepticism shone deep in Ethbert’s eyes and he laughed bitterly. “Do any of us have a choice anymore where our lives are concerned? Since Harold fell, I doubt any of us can choose aught without Norman consent.”
The hostile fury in his voice surprised her. A deep forboding started in her soul and begged her to listen. “I hear rebellion in your tone.”
He looked at her in startled alarm. “Nay. I have accepted my country’s defeat.”
“Then why have you left your home?”
He shrugged and braced his arms against the wooden battlement before him, his gaze focused into the dark distance. “We’re traveling through, onour way to see if our sister survived the invasion. Ill rumors have passed to us of her abasement and we wish to see for ourselves what has become of her.”
Her anger failing, Ariel nodded her head. “Then I shall pray for her safety.”
