Читать книгу Bound to the Warrior - Barbara Phinney - Страница 9

Prologue

November 1066 A.D.

Ediva Dunmow had been told she was blessed to have her husband’s body returned. For at Duke William’s order, the English who’d died at Hastings were to remain on Senlac Hill.

But the only reason she had sent Geoffrey, her steward, for the body was to prove the vile man had actually died.

Now, as she stood over her husband’s grave, the wind turned raw and rain threatened. The villagers and tenants had just paid their last respects to their fallen lord and then gathered to hear her speak. Anxious for security, they needed to know that Duke William’s army wouldn’t ride into Essex to kill them all, a punishment perhaps for Ediva retrieving Ganute’s body.

And perhaps they, too, needed to know that Ganute was truly dead and gone. He may have reserved a special brutality for Ediva, but he’d been cruel to all. And his cousin Olin, now standing beside her, showed hints of the same temper.

Enough was enough.

Stiff-shouldered, Ediva lifted her hand and the murmurings fell silent. Her veil and long, blond braids billowed in the strong breeze, as did her cloak. But she stood resolute, refusing the wind its due. “I will protect you. I will allow no one—not even Duke William himself—to plunder this land.”

Cold, chapped faces showed disbelief like the trees showed bare branches.

“I will!” She pulled in a breath, and then, finding her cloak cumbersome, threw it off. It sailed off like a crispy leaf, and with a cry, Margaret, her maid, rushed to retrieve it.

“How can you keep us safe?” a male voice from deep in the crowd called out.

“Have I not survived all these years?” She shot the chaplain a biting glance, but from where he stood within the keep’s shadow this short, raw day, his expression was hidden from view.

He’d often said ’twas her penance to endure a harsh husband, for she was a sinful woman. Well, that ability would prove to be her strength. She knew how to survive. She’d kept herself alive through all the abuses of her husband and had protected the maids from similar attacks in her stead. And now that Ganute was gone? She’d cower no longer.

Ediva faced her people. They dared not believe her yet. But that would change. “I promise that I will protect you. You won’t be hurt in any way, even if it costs me my life!”

Some of the more superstitious gasped, but Ediva ignored them. She may be tempting God, but frankly, what could He do to her that was more horrible than all she’d endured these past five years?

Nay, she refused to temper her words. She would protect her people. “Think of what I had done when your lord was alive!”

When several women began to cheer, her decision, like her newborn will, was mortared in place.

Aye, she would always protect her people.