Viking Dragon Knotwork
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“My lady, what news?” Aethelred asked as he approached her at the head of their retinue. The king stood in his finest regalia with his hair neatly combed and his face freshly shaved that morning.
He was handsome but not overly so; a man who would not cause women to sigh or men to envy him too much for having such a woman on his arm. His eyes were warm brown and held the same compassion they had since the moment he had seen her last night. She knew she was safe in them.
He wore his crown atop a short beard that framed his chin like he did often; it made him seem younger. But then again, he hadn’t yet reached fifty summers and there was little sign he ever would. In truth, he seemed more like thirty-five instead of forty.
She sighed, letting the weight of all these thoughts weigh down upon her shoulders. “I am tired of being away from home.”
“You have been gone four months,” he said gently as if trying to ease her concerns.
“Four months, my lord? Four months! It has only been two weeks since I arrived here, and yet it feels like an eternity!”
He chuckled. “You will be back before you know it.”
Aethelred leaned over and kissed her cheek. As always, the touch made her feel better than anything else could. She felt his love through every fiber of her body. And she returned it.
“We will make our way across the sea soon enough, my lady,” he told her. “And when we arrive there we shall see your father and brothers again. We shall return to England.”
“Yes. Yes. Of course.” She smiled and took a step back. Then she turned to look out at the city behind him. “But this is where my life begins now, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “This is where our future lies.”
They sat together on a large stone wall overlooking the city, watching the sun slowly set. It was a beautiful place, she thought, but still nothing like the green hills of home. Nothing ever would be until she brought them home.
And even then she doubted anyone would truly understand how different things really were in those lands. They had lost the Saxons. That was obvious. Their people were starving and frightened while their enemies enjoyed feasts and plenty, knowing no one dared challenge them anymore.
No one except perhaps the Scots. And they were just about defeated themselves. Her father had sent her with a dozen ships full of supplies to help, but the Scottish fleet sailed off without a care in the world. They had never faced such terrible odds.
They might have fled to France, and perhaps England’s troubles would be forgotten there. But that wasn’t likely either. She imagined her father was planning something along those lines already.
It was strange though. When she saw her father again, he would hardly recognize her as his daughter. How could he? She had grown up so quickly in her travels.
“The Scots are not a threat to us any longer,” she reminded her husband. “That should please your father.”
“Not exactly. He doesn’t trust the French.”
“Then it seems our problems will continue,” she murmured sadly.
As she looked at the setting sun she noticed the dragon symbol painted onto a building that was visible from their vantage point. She squinted and studied its shape, wondering if someone might have carved it on the wall by mistake.
But she knew they couldn’t be mistaken. She had seen that very symbol on the prow of a ship during one of her voyages to the east. It was unmistakable. “Do you think we can find them?” she asked.
“There must be a reason why we haven’t heard anything from them yet. Perhaps the weather is keeping them from returning,” he suggested. He was right. There was no doubt about it. If the dragons wanted to communicate with her father, then he would have heard from them by now. Unless he didn’t want to hear from them. It could be that simple.
She sighed. “Well, if that is the case, then we will have to wait. My father is not getting any younger.”
Aethelred nodded. “Indeed, he does not.” He reached into his tunic and retrieved the silver amulet she had given him last year. It hung around his neck and glittered in the dying rays of light. “This means you belong to me,” he told her. “Just as I am bound to you.”
Their faces came close and the warmth of their love enveloped them. “I would do anything for you, my lord,” she whispered as she placed her hand atop his.
His face softened and he cupped the side of her head with his palm, pulling her closer. His kiss tasted sweet as honey and she found herself lost in his embrace, forgetting all her fears and worries.
In fact, the entire world fell away around her as they kissed and embraced each other, sharing a private moment that only the two of them shared. It was almost like time stopped in its tracks as they gazed into each other’s eyes and felt the softness of their lips against each other.
It was a moment that seemed timeless, a moment that neither had experienced with anyone else in a very long while, but now it seemed it was coming back to her now that she was married to a king.
When they finally broke apart she stared at him lovingly, her heart still beating rapidly and her breath labored as though she had run ten miles.
“Let’s go inside and get ready for bed,” he suggested. “We need some rest.”
***
“Your Highness! Your Highness!” A messenger ran into the hall of the palace carrying an important message. He nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw King Ethelbert sitting there and hurried to kneel before him.
“What is it?” Ethelbert asked as he leaned forward eagerly, eager to hear what news the messenger might bring. “Speak, man.”
The messenger bowed his head as he handed the message to the monarch. “This arrived for you this morning, your majesty,” he said. “The queen of Scotland sends greetings and asks if you can meet with her soon.”
The messenger glanced at the young woman who sat next to him, waiting anxiously for the king’s response. She too was a pretty girl in her early twenties, with long black hair tied back into a knot that hung down her back. Her blue eyes shone with excitement as she watched the exchange between her husband and his aide.
Ethelbert smiled proudly at his wife. “How kind of them to send me a letter and ask a favor. Of course, we will make a journey to see the queen.” He paused and then spoke in a softer tone. “But let me take care of this first, my dear. You know how much I hate being away from you.”
He took the parchment and held it up to his nose as if to inhale the scent of the ink. “Perhaps we can leave tomorrow,” he said, handing it off to a page so he could read it.
The messenger returned with a reply. His eyes grew wide as he delivered his news. “It seems as though Lady Margaret wishes to invite you to visit her estate in the Highlands and perhaps stay with her until you depart from the area.”
Lady Margaret had always been kind to Aethelred. They had met years ago when he and the queen were still betrothed to one another. The young woman had taken an interest in him, especially after they married and his duties as a prince began.
When she found out she was pregnant, Lady Margaret offered her assistance in raising the child, which Aethelred gratefully accepted. She was a gentle soul and cared deeply about the well-being of others.
Margaret was the sister of King Duncan of Scotland, but she had come to England years earlier for a different purpose. She had hoped to find a man who was loyal to her brother, but she never did. Instead, she found a young nobleman in love with her who married her anyway.
Now she thought maybe he might be able to fulfill her desire, but she also knew that if he did, then he would have no choice but to join the Scots. So she had sent a letter asking Ethelbert to meet her in Edinburgh, promising him safe passage through her lands.
King Ethelbert frowned as he read the letter again. “That doesn’t seem possible,” he muttered quietly. “You cannot expect us to travel such a great distance and spend days riding on horses.”
“There are many ways to reach Scotland without riding on horses, your majesty,” Lady Margaret countered. “We will not be far from the coast, where ships await. We will cross the seas in style and return home in comfort.”
“If there were any ship left to sail,” the messenger protested. “With the plague and all…”
“Don’t worry, I’ve made arrangements,” Lady Margaret said. “We shall ride by land and sea, just like we planned. Come along, your majesty. Let’s get dressed and leave for Edinburgh.”
She rose from the chair she was sitting in and gave a curtsey. As she walked past her husband, Lady Margaret turned on her heels and gave him a quick hug.
As usual, Lady Margaret seemed more concerned with her own plans than the needs of his own people, Aethelred grumbled inwardly. But he couldn’t very well refuse now. It wasn’t as though the kingdom was thriving under his rule, anyway, despite his best efforts to provide aid to those in need.
Without his father’s guidance, he was lost. Yet as much as he despised having to give up time with his wife, he was desperate for help, so he consented.
When he had been a boy, he dreamed of becoming a warrior and fighting alongside his grandfather, Alfred the Great. That dream had died in battle, leaving him to become nothing more than a figurehead for his father and his father’s men.
Ethelbert looked around his study and saw the old tapestries, most of them tattered and worn. One was ripped right in half, revealing the dirty, wooden boards beneath. The fire in the hearth was almost out. No one had been here in a few days, which was unusual since Ethelbert’s men usually kept watch. The only light was from the small window near the door.
And then he remembered something else. His hands fell to the hilt of a sword hanging on a wall rack. There was enough light coming in from the hall outside to see the weapon was missing, but he hadn’t seen it in some time.
Was it stolen? He felt a surge of rage flow through him as he realized the thief must have taken it while he was out visiting the palace grounds or stables. Why did this keep happening? His men were supposed to protect the king’s belongings at all times.
He strode out into the hall and called out, “I know you’re in there! Come out!”
His voice echoed throughout the dark corridor, making him feel vulnerable as a single candle lit the way before him. He reached a doorway and peered inside. A shadow moved across the room, but he had no idea what it might be. Then suddenly a tall form appeared beside him, and his heart lurched as he recognized Gytha.
The princess smiled at him as she leaned against the door frame. She was wearing a loose, white robe that clung to her voluptuous figure. Her hair was unbound and fell over her shoulders in thick waves, which she tossed about as she chuckled.
The End