‘I did not want you to... Too soon.’ His gaze trailed off across the room, as if he were lost in his thoughts of the time. Tenderness swelled in her chest at how he had shielded her from what would have been a painful thing to handle at that time.
Cedric gave her a warning glance, both of them aware of how dire the consequences could be of upsetting Wilfrid, and he reached over and placed a hand on Wilfrid’s shoulder, his touch lingering. ‘Eat, Wilfrid, while the food is still warm.’
Wilfrid’s food had already been cut into tiny pieces before being served to him. It spared him the indignity of having it cut and prepared in front of him. He could no longer use a knife, nor could he chew anything too large or too tough. His meat was specially chosen for him, so he received only the tenderest morsels. She hated that Rurik would be a witness to Wilfrid’s weakness, but he hardly seemed to be paying attention as he ate his own meal with enthusiasm.
Wilfrid took a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully. She wanted to give him time to eat, but she did not want to let this moment of lucid reminiscing pass. It was not often that they were able to speak of the past so openly. Waiting for him to finish chewing another bite, she finally asked, ‘What else did Jarl Eirik say of a marriage?’
‘Tell her,’ Wilfrid said to Cedric, already showing signs of strain around his eyes. His voice was fading as well. It was evening and his interrupted sleep the night before had taken its toll.
‘He wanted you to marry one of his Danes, to assure our allegiance,’ said Cedric. ‘Things in the south were still unsettled. He did not want to risk you marrying a Saxon enemy and the fight for control that would result from that. He was inclined to arrange a marriage for you. Someone from Alvey in Bernicia, but I cannot remember the names he put forth. It hardly matters. Wilfrid told him that he would not agree to such a marriage. At least not until you were out of your mourning. Harsh words were spoken and Jarl Eirik left soon after.’
‘And he has been pressing for my marriage ever since?’ She knew it was true, but she wanted the rumours confirmed. The look that Cedric gave Wilfrid substantiated them.
‘We can speak of it later,’ said Cedric.
The urgent sound of his voice made Wilfrid pause with his fork raised. ‘Speak now.’ His tone left no doubt that he still felt himself Lord here.
Sighing, Cedric set down his fork in favour of his chalice. ‘Every year he sends an emissary. I kept it from you, but he says that you are not to wed unless he approves the match. It seems he still intends you to marry a Dane. It is likely that he has men in the village making certain that you do not wed without his permission.’
‘You have kept this from me?’ Wilfrid asked.
Cedric opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it and took a drink of his wine. Annis knew then that Wilfrid had known, had likely been a party to these meetings. It was simply that he had forgotten.
Wilfrid trained his gaze on Rurik. ‘Are you here to marry her?’ Only the last words were clearly intelligible.
She gasped aloud before she could help herself.
‘No.’ Rurik’s voice was calm, immune to their family strife. ‘I was told of no marriage and have brought no messages about that.’
Wilfrid seemed to relax, but he asked, ‘Then why has Jarl Eirik sent you here?’
Silence descended over the table. When Wilfrid stared at her, she repeated the question in case Rurik had not understood, though it nearly killed her to do so. ‘He wants to know why you’re here.’
Several moments passed until Rurik finally broke it. ‘King Sigurd of Maerr was murdered. Word has reached us that someone here might have knowledge of the crime.’
Annis wanted to hide her face from the world. Their plan to not upset Wilfrid had not worked out as she had hoped.
Chapter Nine
Rurik stared at Wilfrid as his words settled over the room. He was looking for any sign that the man was surprised, any hint that Wilfrid remembered the part he had played in what had happened in Maerr. The man went still, his cloudy brown eyes meeting Rurik’s as his brow furrowed. ‘You will find no one here with that knowledge.’
The words were somewhat garbled and Wilfrid’s face was drawn tight with strain and fatigue. Whether he was lying or if he truly believed that, Rurik could not tell. Frustration made him drop the last of the leg bones so that it fell with a clatter on to the pile.
‘I am weary,’ said Wilfrid, turning subtly to Cedric.
This spurred Annis into action. Though she had barely eaten anything, she pushed back from the table and rose. ‘Let us bid you goodnight. I will see Rurik settled for the evening.’
She made to leave, grabbing his arm none too gently to prod him from his seat. He wanted to refuse—though his belly was full, his wine had not been finished—but then changed his mind and grabbed his chalice as he rose from his seat to follow her. Not knowing how dire Wilfrid’s physical health was, he decided that it was best not to chance the man having another attack, thus potentially robbing Rurik of the chance to ask any questions at all. He would work on getting the information from Annis until he was given the chance to talk to Wilfrid again.
‘I should send you back to your cell.’ Annis spit the words out through her clenched teeth the moment they left the hall. They were standing in a wide corridor with faded and chipped frescoes of some long-forgotten Romans on the walls.
‘You
