Aetheling Twenty

[ismenin]

And why these two? Well, why not? Grins.


Hail, fellows, well met! Fol-lol, high-ho, de diddle de, as they say - or not, as the case may be.

The bright yellow orb graceth the sky (for five minutes) and I am writing my new story. Is happy. More about that, soon. :D

But here is the penultimate part of Aetheling. Only one left to go! I hope you find it satisfying, dear friends.

here it be..........



Thanks, as always, to the uber-busy ladysunrope for her beta. Hugs.


Aetheling - 20


Wulf raced up the stone stairs towards his father's rooms, unhindered by anyone. There were a few servants huddled in corners, or against walls as they passed, trying to keep out of the way of anything that was happening down below, but none were armed, so the prince sped past them, followed by his four companions.

But before they turned the corner to the king's apartments they heard the sound of weapons clashing, and men shouting. Eafa, and the guard who had previously let Lighe and Dom in to the king's presence, were desperately battling five men who were trying to gain access to the king, and the defenders were both injured.

Wulf and his friends flung themselves upon the assailants, and soon, four of them lay dead, and one had beat a hasty retreat.

Eafa leaned against the wall, panting, a bad cut on his head bleeding heavily, as the guard grinned rather weakly at Wulf and, digging in his clothing with his good arm, handed the prince the big, iron key, then slid down the wall, ineffectually trying to staunch the bleeding wounds with his uninjured hand.

Wulf opened the door with trembling fingers, and found his father and aunt standing hard against the back wall, with only a small table, held by Cerdic, between them and certain death by the sword. As the king saw his younger son, his face broke into a rare grin. He glanced at Ermyngarde, and said, happily, "See? I told you he would come!"

Then he saw the look on his son's face, and the smiled vanished. "Not...not Lighe, Wulf? He is not...dead?"

Wulf slumped on the floor by his father's chair as the king sat, heavily in it, and stared up into his face. Cerdic saw anguish there, and steeled himself for the worst. It came.

"Leofric has murdered my mother and sister, my lord," Wulf bit off the words as they left his mouth, as if he could lessen their impact by so doing, and the king seemed to shrink inside himself as the terrible news settled on his heart. His face was white, his eyes dark with pain. "Dead? My lovely wife, dead? My girl, gone?"

Wulf touched his father's arm, and then withdrew his hand. Cerdic was not used to demonstrations of affection between himself and his sons - neither giving or receiving them - and it was useless to start, now.

He could hear Ermyngarde weeping for her sister and niece as the news reached her, but she did not stop ministering to the injured men, nor did she speak. There were things to be done for the living, now - no-one could do anything to help the dead.

"How...?" Cerdic began, then put up his hand, denying the question. "No, no, say nothing more, Wulf - do not tell me - it is enough that they are gone. And it will avail me nothing to know how they died. Leofric is the evil spawn of an evil sire. I expect he took pleasure in it, whatever he did."

Cerdic's glance returned to his son's face, and there was little left of the cold, firm king in his look. Now he was an old, broken man pleading with a young one. "Go back, my son. Avenge our women-folk. And may Odin guide your knife - and that of your brother - straight into their stinking throats."

Wulf nodded. "It will be as you say, my king!" It would only be justice, after all, if they died in this fashion - if Lighe had not already killed one of them - or was dead himself...

Turning to leave, he gave a quick word of thanks to the two injured men on the bed, and the touch of an understanding hand on his aunt's shoulder, and, handing one of his friends the key, told him to stay and help with the injured, and lock the door after them.

Before he could take another step, however, Emm rushed in with one of her maids. "The servants are running away, and the guards have left my door! What is happening, my lord? Are we safe?" But Cerdic sat hunched in his chair, staring into the fire, and did not answer her, the tears running unchecked down his pale cheeks. Ermyngarde, who, with the aid of the young lord, was stitching the guard's wounds, called her over to help with Eafa, who was attempting to get up and tend to his master in his distress.

Emm wanted, more than anything else, to find Lando, and aid him in whatever he was doing. However, she realised she would be very much in the way if there was fighting, and she could best help by tending these two injured men. She smiled at Eafa, therefore, pushed him back on the bed, and began by sewing up his scalp.

***

"To the death!" Lighe shouted, and leapt towards Leofric, the curved sword in his hand, but Leofric was armed, too, and parried the blow that was aimed at his heart. He was a hands width taller that Lighe, and his reach was longer, but Lighe was consumed with utter loathing for this man, and for his uncle, and a fury - not lessened by being cold - filled his heart.

"Vengeance!" cried Dom, and sprang at Seaned, who had run to the defence of his son, and although he was fully occupied in fighting the king's brother, Dom was glad to see, out of the corner of his eye, Lighe land a disabling blow on Leofric's left arm, slicing it to the bone.

Many of Leofric's and Seaned's men had stopped fighting. They realised that the cause was unjust, and that the gods would not grant them victory. Besides, they could tell they were outmatched, if not outnumbered, by Jean's and Caspar's well-trained army. More than half their number lay already dead upon the stone floor. The heart had gone out of the fury of battle, and many of those remaining lay down their arms and raised their hands in the air. Badi, Viggo and Boyd were just herding them at sword-point to the far end of the room, when Wulf yelled for admittance.

He burst in and was just about to join his brother in attacking Leofric when Lighe called out to him. "Leave him to me, brother! Help Dom!"

"No!" Dom called, loudly, who was well-matched with Seaned. "Help the others!" and Wulf ran over to join Caspar, who was being attacked by two of Seaned's most faithful henchmen.

Lighe landed another blow on Leofric's injured arm, and the man hissed with fury, and renewed his attack on Lighe with strength born of madness. "I have seen you naked and wounded, princeling, and it will be my pleasure to have you thus again - to use you like a whore in my bed, for it is all you, and your soft body is good for!" Leofric spat.

Lighe heard a few of Leofric's men - still fighting behind him - laugh, but he had no time to feel shame. That would come later. Leofric was attacking again. He feinted left, and Lighe, more used to fighting on horseback, was struck by a surprise blow to his head from behind by one of Seaned's men, and, dazed, dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Leofric laughed - a maniacal, high screech - and plunged his sword deep into Lighe's shoulder.

Lando came rushing up, for Dom could in no wise leave Seaned to help Lighe, but Leofric was on him as he reached them, his sword narrowly missing Orleans's throat.

Badi came up, and pulled Lighe to his feet, and thrust the sword back into the Aetheling's hand, putting a curved dagger of the same design into the other. "May right give you strength, my prince," the man murmured in Lighe's ear, and Lighe, though panting, and weak from loss of blood and pain, as was Leofric, faced his mortal enemy once more.


Lando recognised, as did Wulf, Lighe's need to kill this kin-slayer, and subsumed his own need for vengeance as he looked to the men still fighting for Seaned, to see where he could best help. But as he turned, Lando was attacked by one of Leofric's men, and then another, and was relieved when Wulf killed his own opponent, then set on to help Lando, as a few more men rushed up to fight, seeing their lives were hazard by being Seaned's men, and they had nothing to lose.

Seaned was taller, and heavier than Dom, but he had not the madness within him that consumed his son. He managed to give Dom a cut to his left arm, but that did not stop Dom from fighting. Dom was just about to deliver a mortal blow to the older, and weaker man, when one of Seaned's men came rushing forward to attack Dom. Before Dom could dispose of this new assailant, Wulf, unnoticed, came up behind Seaned, and slit his throat from ear to ear.

"Justice for the weak, vengeance for the murdered innocents, peace for the land!" Wulf cried, as Seaned fell, dead, and an approving sound went up from the throats of many of the men wearied with war, and bloodshed.

Leofric and Lighe were still fighting, Leofric could not refrain from taunting Lighe further with comments on what he would do to his opponent's smooth, pale body - but loss of blood had made them both weak. Dom, dispatching another opponent, was about to go to help Lighe, but an iron grip from Badi's hand on his wounded arm made him stop.

"Let him do this alone, my friend. He will need the remembrance of it in times ahead, and you cannot still the wings of fate!"

Dom, recognising the tone of sure knowledge in the seer's voice, and the fact that Badi must know of a certainty if Lighe would live, stood back, as all fighting ceased about him, and standing holding tight to his injured, bleeding arm, watched his lover,

Lighe, fighting in a patch of his own blood was weak to the point of collapse, but Leofric, although physically weak, was filled with the strength of total madness, and lurched forward, laughing hysterically, his sword raised high to strike off Lighe's head.

Dom could not move - he was held by the elbows in Badi's vice-like grip - and drew in tight, anguished breaths as Lighe fell to his knees, loss of blood weakening him further. But he was not yet defeated, and raised Badi's sword high. Its glittering blade, studded with jewels, caught a ray of the sun blazing in through a high window, and shone into Leofric's eyes as he went to strike, blinding him for a moment.

Leofric cursed, and halted abruptly, running the back of his unbloodied hand over his eyes to clear them; but in that moment, Lighe, summoning his last strength, half rose, and lifting his other, unregarded hand, thrust the dagger held in it, straight into Leofric's neck.

Leofric fell to his knees, a look of absolute fury in his eyes. He tried to raise his sword arm, but Wulf ran up and kicked the weapon out of his hand.

It all happened in an instant. No-one could have stopped it, even if they had been expecting it. All present thought Leofric would die then, but he did not; to the watchers’ amazement, with a shuddering breath he snatched the knife out of his neck, and Dom, fearful that he could still harm Lighe with it, ran forward, and stood in front of Lighe, shielding him from the wrath of the dying man.

"No!" he cried, and Leofric, choking on his own blood, threw all his burning hatred behind one last throw. Dom looked down, stunned to see the dagger piercing his chest to the hilt.

He fell back onto Lighe, pinning him to the floor, and they lay there, their blood mingling on the stones beneath them.

"I am with you, Dominic of Amiens," Lighe whispered as the darkness came to take him. But from Dom there was no sound. He lay as one dead across Lighe's body, and the only noise in the room was the sound of strong men, weeping for their prince as if he were already dead.


*****



Swidwulf had come out of the stables when he heard the whistle, and herded the unarmed servants together, into the cellars, telling them to keep out of the way until all danger should be passed.

He had managed to kill the man who had struck him when he was captured outside his house, and that afforded him great satisfaction. Dan and Rufe, too, had come into their own, for they both had been given swords, and had used them to great effect.

"Your mother would be proud of you!" Swidwulf said, his gruff voice imperfectly concealing his emotion and his pride, and Lando, glimpsing the big man through the door of the Hall, called to him, and told him that it was all over but the buryings, and that Lighe and Dom were both grievously wounded.

Dan had run at that, straight into the Hall, and would not be sent away to have his own wound tended before he had seen his lord carried up to his bed. Lando had insisted on carrying Dom, allowing no other the task, and he followed Wulf, bearing Lighe, up the stairs to the Aetheling's room, where Ermyngarde had joined them.

"Go to your father, Wulf, and send Emm here to aid me," she ordered, and Wulf, glancing at his brother, knew that he could not be left in better hands, and went quickly.

Lando and Emm embraced outside the door, but there was no time for much talk. Quickly he told her of her father and brother. She sighed, but could not stop. Could not mourn for the men they might have been had not lust and power overcome them. There were things to be done, men to bury, wounded to tend. She went off to do Ermyngarde's bidding, and Lando returned to his cousin's side, aided by Ragno, Dom's man, who came into his own, now he was allowed once more to serve his master.


******


Dom did not know where he was. Although he could see a hazy light, his eyes were not working properly. He felt too weak to scratch his own nose, and he noticed something sharp in the region of his chest was sticking into him, and he moved to dislodge it. A searing pang made him stop abruptly, and he heard a weak cough come from his left side. He turned his head, and tried to focus his bleary eyes. He could not see his companion, but he knew it was Lighe.

They both lay in the bed in Lighe's room. It was a very large bed, fit for a prince, and Dom was so filled with joy because his Lighe lived, that he forgot his own distress and tried to touch Lighe, to make sure it was not just a dream.

Lighe took the questing hand in his, and raising it to his lips, kissed it.

"There will be time and enough, later, for such sport," Ermyngarde's voice came from beside the fire, where she was heating a posset. But although it was a firm, commanding voice, yet there was lightness in it, too, as if the dark times were finally over, and peace and joy would come again into the world.

"Lando, do you give Dom this potion, now, if you please, and Dan, give Lighe his. I cannot have them dallying together in such an enfeebled state. Sleep well, dear lads," she said, and Dom leaning into Ragno's shoulder as he drank, heard Lighe laugh weakly as sleep descended on him.

****

Jean sat near the fire, his hand propped on his chin. Ermyngarde had left him in charge, to take some well-earned rest. But he was not as optimistic of their state as was she. He had seen many men, with less severe injuries that these, die of them, and he knew no amount of prayers or fervent wishes made any difference.

Well, perhaps prayer did make a difference, he confided to Caspar when he joined him, later, but Jean knew God had his own purposes, and that they were manifestly not man's purposes had been made plain to him on many a battle-field.

Badi had been persuaded to cast the bones again, but they proved inconclusive. "There is still much uncertainty surrounding the little prince," he remarked, replacing the bones in their silken pouch.

Viggo and Boyd agreed. "The runes are still dark. His has been a troubled path," Viggo commented, as Caspar came in with some meats on a board for his partner's supper.

A groan from the bed made Jean rush over and help Lighe to a more comfortable position. "He seems very restless," the knight frowned. "He should be sleeping more deeply than this after the potion. Let us pray for a better outcome than we fear, my dear friends."

And quietly, in the dark room, lit only by the flickering fire, each man offered up his own prayers to his own god, and hoped for a better morrow.

******

Lighe could hear the sound of bees buzzing by his head. He raised a weak hand to try to brush them away, but something touched him, and then withdrew. It was something somewhat larger than a bee.

Then he realised the sound was a voice. A man's voice. "Are you well, my son?"

Lighe licked his lips and tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry. A cup of cool liquid was pressed to his lips, and he took a welcome sip. Then another. "I am well, my lord," he said, unable to open his eyes to look at the man who was his father.

"How does my Dom?" He could not help it. He could utter no word concerning their sorrow. No word of consolation. That pain had receded, for the moment, for they were both gone, and no amount of weeping could bring his mother and sister back. All his mind was concentrated on Dom. Nothing else in the world mattered to him, now, except his love.


"Dom is sleeping beside you, Lighe. He is weak, but not unto death. He is strong in spirit, like you. Do you sleep, now, also." The voice stopped, and in the silence he was able to sink into that warm place where he and Dom dwelt together, peaceful and serene.


It was night when Lighe woke again. He had no idea of the passage of time, or that he had been many days in the bed, sleeping fitfully. He felt hot, and tried to push the fur covering down, but he had not the strength. It was Rufe who did it, calling for someone in a concerned voice. A cool, masculine hand was placed on his burning brow. He tried to speak, but could not. He heard Dom's voice - he knew that voice - but did not know where it was.

He struggled to sit up - Dom's voice sounded anxious, even though Lighe could not hear the words he spoke. He must help Dom. Someone was trying to prevent him, holding him down in the bed. He had to break free. "Dom!" he cried, not knowing if the name came from his heart, or mouth, and his chest was suddenly wet with some warm liquid that smelled of blood.
He fell into a dark place, where there was no Dom, nor any comfort.


"Rufe, run and get Badi and the others," Jean breathed, anxiously pressing on the wound in Lighe's chest and watching his life's-blood darken the linen sheets. Dom, who was still sleeping at Lighe's side, must not wake to witness this.

The blood was pumping out of Lighe's wound. He would not live if it could not be stopped, but no amount of pressure was helping to stem the flow.

Badi, Viggo and Boyd did not need to ask what was needed of them. They held hands at the foot of the bed, and Badi began to sing in a slow, throbbing chant, that almost stilled the blood in the listeners' veins. Time passed as if in a dream, it was not the time of men; then the bleeding lessened to a trickle, and stopped.

"Well, we did not expect that, at least!" Viggo sighed as they sat, exhausted, on the chairs Jean had had brought in, and drank, gladly, the mulled wine that Caspar handed to them.

"Not everything can be known, my friends. It is not meet that it should be so. He will be very weak, now, and we must get liquid into him," Badi murmured as he filled his cup with water, taking it over to Lighe despite his own weakness, and holding it to the Aetheling's lips.

Quietly, he told Lighe to open his mouth and drink, and although it was apparent to all present that Lighe was deeply unconscious, Jean was not surprised in the least when he did as Badi ordered, and drank. He had witnessed it too many times on the battlefield to be shocked by the man's arts.

Quietly, the man spoke to Lighe, telling him what to do - how to mend, within himself, the parts that were broken. Rufe, who was sitting crouched by the fire, did not understand what the tall, black- skinned man was doing, but he recognised magic when he saw it, and this was good, healing magic, too. He smiled and closed his eyes. The man's voice was sending him to sleep.

*****

Dom woke early the next morning, feeling a little better. He had heard nothing of the drama of the night before. He was pleased to see Jean sitting beside the fire, staring into the hot coals, sipping a cup of mead. He closed his eyes again.

What were they to do, now? He had heard Cerdic talking to someone - perhaps it had been Lighe? Cerdic wanted someone to take on his kingship. He felt unfit to govern, he had said. He had lost the heart for it.

Was he asking Lighe to take over his appointed duties, early? How could Lighe do so, lying injured in bed as he was? Where would he...? Dom knew his father would expect him to go home, if only to tell him what had happened. But Dom did not wish to go anywhere without Lighe. His life was where his love was, and nowhere else.

****

It was two days more before Lighe had been well enough to talk to him. Lando had said that Lighe had had a fever, but Dom had been too sick himself to have noticed this. Quietly, the lovers talked together, side by side, holding hands and smiling at each other. Dom thought Lighe looked very pale, but both Badi and Ermyngarde assured him that the Aetheling was better than he looked. Dom was mightily glad to hear that - for Lighe looked far from well.

"My father has asked Wulf to rule in his stead, until the Witan can be called upon to decide what should happen next. As Seaned had already summoned them here, it should not be many days before the lords arrive." Lighe smiled at Dom, and squeezed his hand, tighter.

"He has been talking to Jean, it seems - the king, I mean. He said he needs somewhere where his spirit can regain its peace. I hope he finds it. Too long he has lived his life in the shadow of his brother's ideas and wishes. Now it is time for him to be himself, as I must be myself."

Lighe opened his mouth to speak further, but Wulf came in to ask his opinion of a lord whom Wulf wanted to take charge of the soldiers in the keep, and after that Lighe was weary, so he slept, Dom still clutching tight to his hand.

****

Five days later, the men from the Witan came riding up the road. Dom was sitting beside the fire with his feet on a stool, but Lighe had not yet been allowed to leave his bed. In truth he was so weak, he did not want to.

He had seen his father, briefly, the day before, and Cerdic seemed to him to be indeed a broken man, not concerned with anything except that his son should get well, and take over the duties that he had given to Wulf, who was organising those things which were necessary to make living in the keep comfortable and safe.


The dead were buried with as little ceremony as possible, Wulf allowing two priests amongst the Company to join with them at the gravesides and say a few words, commending the souls of the departed to whichever gods they worshipped. The priests had buried too many heathens and infidels to cavil at that. Men died and went wherever they believed they would go - Heaven, Paradise or Valhalla - it mattered not.

Over Seaned and Leofric they said little, merely commending their souls to the mercy of God - "for, by God! They shall need it!" one priest said to his fellow helper as they brushed the grave dust from their hands.


It was Dan, sitting on a low wall outside the main door of the keep who first spotted the twenty riders coming over the rise. He called to the guards, who stood, weapons at the ready, until they saw the red and blue pennants of the Eorls of the Witan carried by two guards at the front of the group.

One ran to find Wulf. "The lords of the Witan have come!" he panted, finding Wulf beside his brother's bed, feeding him soup he could very well have fed himself, the Aetheling had argued, smiling fondly at his brother.

Wulf handed the bowl to Dan, and smiling apologetically at his brother, left to greet the guests. "Do not worry, my brother. I shall not let them rush you into the kingship. Not until you are well again," he said lightly from the doorway, and Dom saw a shadow rest on Lighe's face like a bird of ill-omen. Then Lighe's eyes met his, and there was true sorrow in his gaze.

"I love you, Dominic of Amiens" he said, softly, as if there was some doubt that he truly did. Dom did not doubt it. Those eyes could not lie.

Lighe would become king - and where would he go? Back to France and to his father, the king? Back to the warm summers and gentle breezes of the ripe fields of home - alone?

For it would be no home without Lighe. Nothing would be the same unless they were together. Dom sighed and watched Dan feed Lighe the rest of the soup. What will be, will be, he murmured to himself, but his heart was heavy within him.

Badi had cast the runes again, and told him, grinning widely, that the bones were happy, and that Lighe and he were destined to live long and useful lives. But his life, if it was to be lived without Lighe, would mean nothing to him - he sighed again.

The thought gave him no pleasure, no pleasure at all.