The Dream Weavers by Barbara Erskine (books you have to read txt) 📕

happened to them, she wondered? Both had been loyal, both ready to lay down their lives for her. She hoped Nesta had escaped the furore that must have followed the death of Beorhtric and her departure. Too many people would have guessed the poison came from her; too many people feared the cunning woman who was the queen’s adviser and friend. Once they would all have gone to Nesta for her services, revered her for her healing skills and for her glimpses into the future, but increasingly they had abandoned her, frightened of her reputation of service to the hated queen. Without the protection of the queen they would all have turned on her and she would have paid with her life for her loyalty. Hilde, her friend of many years, had set off obediently, like so many others, at her request to find the prince she still dreamed of and she had never returned. She would never now know what happened to either of them.

She glanced up at the man sitting opposite her and realised he was watching her. Could he read her thoughts? She profoundly hoped not. She smiled at him. No! She wouldn’t let him win. Never. Reaching forward she whisked his piece off the board and set it aside. An expression of frustrated anger flashed across his face, then it was gone and his smile returned. He enjoyed a challenge, and this woman intrigued him more and more. ‘Next time I shall win,’ he said softly with a chuckle. ‘I always do, in the end.’ Behind them the attendant women clapped and laughed. The brothers finished their song. A servant brought a tray of drinks and they sat back watching as the new puppy played with a toy one of the boys who brought in wood to fill the baskets by the hearth had carved for it. It growled furiously, shaking its little head. She had called the dog Ava.

The summons to the king’s presence came several days later. For the first time she followed his messenger up the broad staircase to his private quarters. As she entered, his entourage was waved away and withdrew to the far side of the chamber. She felt their eyes following her as she made her way towards him and took the chair beside him. It was far smaller than his. Carefully she arranged her skirts, aware that her attendants had remained in a group in the doorway. The atmosphere was tense and she began to feel nervous. Straightening her shoulders, she moved on the seat to face him. His eyes were narrowed and he was studying her intently. ‘I have a question to ask, lady.’

He folded his arms and she found herself gazing down at his hand, counting his array of gold rings.

‘I have it in mind to give you in marriage to my son, Louis.’

Her heart leapt but she schooled her face, careful not to react. She had come to know him well enough to suspect there would be a catch.

‘Normally such matters would be discussed between your father and myself or in the case of your widowhood, your son or your brother, if you had one still living. It appears you have very few surviving male relations, madam.’ She saw the trace of a smile behind his eyes.

She bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘Hardly my fault, sire.’

‘And your female relations, such as there are, all appear to be in nunneries.’

‘My daughter?’ Her sangfroid almost deserted her.

‘Is being raised by the Abbess of Wareham.’

Eadburh closed her eyes in relief.

‘It may be that the Church is the best place for a woman without connections,’ he went on, his tone thoughtful.

She frowned. Looking up, she saw that he was smiling again. He was playing with her.

‘On the other hand, you have reigned as a queen and acquitted yourself well I gather, apart from the unfortunate error of killing your husband.’ He fell silent, seemingly deep in thought, then he looked up again. ‘Of course, I myself am without a wife.’

She froze.

He put his head on one side, seeming to consider. ‘I am left with a quandary. You have a choice. Would you marry me and become Empress of the Western world or would you marry my son?’

He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, waiting.

‘Do you offer such a choice in good faith, sire?’

His eyes flew open. ‘How would I not? Choose.’

‘Then, sire, I would choose your son. You do me too much honour to offer me an empire.’

Too late she realised the mistake she had made. His look of fury lasted only a moment but there was no gainsaying her words.

‘You have made the wrong choice.’ He rose to his feet. Behind them everyone in the room stood to attention, watching and waiting. Had they heard the conversation? She thought they probably had, every word.

‘Had you chosen me, I would have offered my son; but you show no discernment. You are not fit to rule an empire, nor the kingdoms I have apportioned to my sons. As I said, the Church is the best place for a woman with no connections. There they are prevented from meddling. So, to the Church you will go. The abbess of one of my most favoured foundations has recently died. You will take her place. You shall keep your dowry – to give to the abbey. Then you will make your peace with God. Perhaps you can explain to him how you came to poison the husband you were given in his presence.’ He raised his hand and beckoned his attendants forward.

‘Sire, you misunderstood me,’ she cried frantically. ‘I only chose your son because you did me too great an honour. I did not think myself worthy—’

‘You thought me too old to be your spouse. So, don’t be afraid. You will not have to lower yourself to accommodate an old man in your bed. You will leave Aachen today. Your belongings are already packed and loaded onto wagons.