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

A nightmare? Part of her dream had been delicious, erotic, exciting. Not something she could tell her dad. Leave it as nightmare. She finished with three xs and pressed send before she could change her mind.

She wanted to ask him about Asser’s version of events and the horrible old man’s obvious bias against Eadburh. About Pavia and why Eadburh would have chosen to go there. And what happened to the lover she was caught with in the convent.

Emma’s thoughts skidded to a halt and between one moment and the next she knew what had happened. The lover was described by Asser as a man ‘of her own race’. He was from Britain. Would Asser, or his gossiping informants, have known whether he was Anglo-Saxon or Celt? Would they have cared or even guessed that he was a prince in disguise? Somehow she knew it for certain. Eadburh’s last wild wonderful moments in the convent had been with the man she loved above all others, and Charlemagne had had him murdered.

Val came downstairs half an hour later to find her daughter sitting in the kitchen sipping a mug of coffee. Emma jumped guiltily. ‘I’ve been revising. I needed something to keep me awake.’

Val put her arm round her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Don’t get too tired darling. Shall I make you some breakfast?’

Emma nodded. ‘That would be nice. Then I must get back to my notes. Would Dad mind if I borrowed a few books from his study? There’s stuff there that fits in with my history.’

‘Of course he wouldn’t mind.’ Val was relieved that Emma was working. It never occurred to her that the syllabus Emma was following at school was unlikely to include the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms that formed the core of her husband’s research and that were now the focus of her daughter’s full attention.

*

‘Simon!’

Bea had answered the knock on the door with extreme caution. She did not really expect Sandra to return, but there was always that chance.

‘Can I come in? I’ve something to show you. Sorry. I should have rung first.’

She showed him into the snug. ‘Mark is out at a Chapter meeting.’

‘You can tell him about this later. I’ve just been up Coedmawr. Your librarian lady, Jane, has some amazing photos of the ancient chronicle now. Fresh angles with far more information, and I was so excited I had to tell someone.’ He gave a sheepish grin.

‘It must be quiet without Emma and Felix.’

‘It is. Partly a relief, but partly not.’ He heaved a deep sigh.

‘Have you heard from Emma?’

He nodded. ‘She asked after you.’ There was no point in mentioning the nightmare, so he changed the subject. ‘Sandra Bedford turned up while Val was there,’ he said. ‘Amongst the various poisons she dripped in my wife’s ear was the possibility that you and I might be having an affair.’

Bea stared at him incredulously. To his relief he saw her smile. ‘She really is a piece of work, isn’t she. I suppose she assumes a man and a woman can’t be friends. Or perhaps it’s wishful thinking. I am fairly reliably informed that she fancies Mark. I trust your wife didn’t believe her.’

‘No. She didn’t.’ Probably because she thought him too boring to have the energy for an affair. Simon kept the thought to himself. He reached into his pocket for his phone. ‘Let’s forget about Sandra Bedford. Let me show you these new photos. Jane is making me a set of prints for my records, but in the meantime this will give you an idea. Take a look – it mentions Eadburh.’

Bea glanced at him sharply. ‘What does it say?’

He pushed the phone towards her but she shook her head. ‘You know I can’t read Anglo-Saxon. Tell me.’

‘It seems to confirm she died in Pavia. The chronicler echoes, or prefigures, the disgust at her behaviour that we see in Asser. But then he adds something. Look.’ He scrolled the screen and enlarged it. ‘Some say her lover was a Welshman. He uses the word, just like that. And that’s interesting because Asser calls him a man from her own country, and he would know Eadburh was Mercian. On the other hand, Asser himself was Welsh and he may not have wanted to admit her lover was a fellow Welshman. Anyway, our chronicler here goes on to say, and Charlemagne spared his life,’ he glanced up, ‘because, he said, no mortal man could avoid her …’ he hesitated, frowning. ‘This word is wiles, I think. No mortal man could avoid her wiles. The next bit is hard to read in every sense: He ordered that the man be castrated then he turned him out into the snow to live or die according to the will of God.’

Bea sat down abruptly. ‘Oh no.’

Simon slipped the phone back into his pocket and sat down facing her. ‘It’s a nasty outcome. A touch of Heloise and Abelard.’

‘You mustn’t tell Emma.’

‘No. But what if she dreams it?’

‘We must hope she doesn’t. If Eadburh never learnt the truth, if that is the truth, then we can only be happy for her that she had some more time with him before it ended so badly.’ She sighed. ‘Actually, I know some of this, Simon. I’ve had more dreams since I saw you. I meant to try to stop myself, like Emma, but it’s hard to stop wanting to know what happened.’ She gave him a quick look and was relieved to see he appeared interested rather than sceptical. ‘I dreamed her lover was Elisedd, but it’s good to have it confirmed. Eadburh thinks, thought, he was killed after they dragged him from her bed. She was thrown out into the snow and escaped with a slave girl called Cwen and Ava, the dog Charlemagne gave her.’

He laughed. ‘How I wish I could use this stuff in my book. So, how did she reach Pavia?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You haven’t got there yet?’

She smiled. ‘I’m trying to resist,