Killer Queen by Jayne Stone

Author:Jayne Stone [Stone, Jayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2018-04-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five — King Peada

March 655 A.D.

Royal Centre of Tæmwerth, Kingdom of Mercia, Isle of Britain.

The first day of March brought a wild wind, one that dried out ditches and hollows as it cleansed the air, making it fresh for the season of rebirth. I welcomed it, thinking of home and opening my shutters to take long, deep breaths. Looking out, I could see just a few mounds of dirty snow, with purple crocuses brightening the greys of winter. I longed for the wind to blow away all evil things... godless dogmas... pagan creeds... perverse priests. I shivered, thinking of all the wicked words and ugly deeds that had plagued us since my father first negotiated with old king Penda, five (long!) months ago, by wedding me to his son.

My eyes brimmed with self-pity.

Peada... my lifelong husband.

Marriage, in my opinion, was not even close to the description in the Scriptures, about how a man and his wife become one flesh. I twisted the band on my heart-finger as I fiddled with the heavy ring on my girdle-hanger, grimly torn. My father could order his death at any time... or not. It was beyond crazy. But king Oswy had proven himself as unreliable as father Oswy, begetting family after family, never mind the consequences... did I owe him loyalty?

I admit there were perhaps some things I liked about my husband, but it was hard to put into words. He was... understated. He didn’t try too hard.

Perhaps the wind will sweep the world and make it clean...

My face twisted. I needed cleansing. I carried my sins with me, and I knew I should seek out Father Chad for confession. But I just... couldn’t.

Especially now.

His image—grappling atop me—played over and over in my head, like my brain punching itself, overwhelming with shame... and guilt. I tried to tell myself I had dreamt it; he was a man of God. Men of God didn’t do such things... and my head still ached, off and on. My sleep was fitful, and I continued to search my soul as to what I’d done. I still didn’t know, and—not knowing—feared I might do it again.

My father said I must trust Father Chad. Accept his counsel and obey his commands as if they were his.

It was easier not to think.

So instead I thought about how this bleed wasn’t like my usual: it was light, and seemed to be finished now, so I didn’t know whether to worry or celebrate. I was impatient to be a mother—something so simple, so basic a practise for any woman, and yet here I was, my body still unwilling or unable to perform as it should. Motherhood and the ability to bear sons proved a woman's worth, and so far, I was failing.

Was I barren?

I knew it was in God’s hands, but evil thoughts swirled in my head like wisps of fog... was it my fault... was it my husband’s... was it my humours, or was I too old, or too thin, or

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