Return of the Exiles by Anna Markland
Author:Anna Markland [Markland, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anna Markland
âCaedmon, forgive me.â
He took his motherâs hands and pulled her back to her feet.
âThereâs nothing to forgive, mother. Come, sit with me.â
Ascha sat in the chair by the hearth, facing her son. âBut I lied to you. It was my wantonness and lies that almost destroyed you.â
He leaned forward and took her hand. âI understand why you did what you did. My father told me what happened after Hastings, what it was likeâfor both of you. I humbly beg your forgiveness for the way I treated you.â
She looked away. âI deserved it. I was weak.â
He squeezed her hand. âLook at me.â
Ascha lifted her eyes.
âYouâve never been weak. Your courage has made me the person I am.â
She choked back a sob.
âWhat was your husband like?â
Aschaâs eyes widened with surprise. âHe was a brute,â she whispered.
âHe beat you?â
She shifted uncomfortably and looked away again. âSometimes, when he was angry. He was a difficult man to please. I found it hard. My father was a warrior, but he was never a violent man. I wasnât used to it.â
Caedmon rose, drew his mother up from her chair, put his arms around her trembling shoulders and embraced her. He suspected her husband had not cared much about pleasing her either and his heart ached for her. He understood why his mother had lain with Ram de Montbryce.
âDonât cry. I should have known brutality is not solely the purview of Normans. Iâm glad Iâm not the son of such a man. Better he died at Hastings.â
Ascha nodded. âYouâre a son to be proud of. Iâve never regretted your birth for one moment.â
He put his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him, smiling. âAnd youâve no doubt taken secret pleasure from my middle name.â
She too smiled and blushed. âIt was wicked of me. I wanted some small part of you to bear a trace of your real father.â
âIt means more to me now. Thereâs something else you probably arenât aware of. The thirteenth day of November is Saint Briceâs Day.â
âI donât understand.â
âThatâs the day the Battle of Alnwick took place.â
âOh, Caedmon.â
He sensed his mother still loved Ram de Montbryce, and he grieved for her that it was a hopeless love. He silently thanked the saints he was a man whose deep love for his wife was returned in full measure.
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