News At Last
Shelfhoc Hall, Salop, England
“Agneta! Aidan! At last! News of Blythe.” Caedmon’s voice rang through the seemingly deserted manor house. He clutched a parchment, brandishing it high above his head. “Where is everybody?”
At the age of two score and seven, Caedmon was still an active and virile man, though he suffered from rheumatism in the winter—a legacy from his father—and his black hair had turned completely gray. He teased Agneta it was she who kept him young and healthy. However, there was little doubt Blythe’s disappearance had taken a heavy toll on both of them. The missive in his grip had eased the uncertainty lodged in his gut.
Ragna came running. “We are in the solar,” she panted. “My sister has been found?”
Arm-in-arm they burst through the door, both shouting at once.
Agneta stood quickly and Caedmon put his arms around her, laughing. “It’s news of our girl, at last.”
His wife clasped her hands to her mouth, tears trickling down her cheeks. “Blythe,” she whispered.
Caedmon was aware he was shouting, but the relief surging through him was so overwhelming, he couldn’t seem to do otherwise. “She’s in Cologne! Of all places! I was in the town during my misbegotten journey to the Crusade.”
Aidan jumped up from his chair to grab the parchment from his father’s hands. “What’s she doing there?”
Caedmon clamped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “As you see, my boy, she’s said to be a guest of a man named Count Dieter von Wolfenberg. I’m assuming he’s a Saxon. We’re invited to retrieve her, which is an odd choice of words. The whole epistle is ambiguous. There is no outright mention of money, but—”
Aidan scowled. “You mean someone is demanding we pay ransom to free her? Is she a prisoner?”
Caedmon scratched his head. “I’m not sure. The letter has taken a while to get to us through convoluted channels, finally ending up in the hands of the king’s chamberlain and thence to my brother, Baudoin, at Ellesmere Castle. The English phrasing is flawless, but it was obviously written by someone whose native tongue isn’t English. It’s too perfect. I wonder how she came to be a “guest” of this count? The last we heard from our King Henry, she was taken forcibly from the cathedral at Trier during an attempt to kidnap Matilda. Now, this count, perhaps the abductor, wants us to retrieve her.”
“Will we all go, Father?” asked sixteen-year-old Edwin.
Caedmon tousled his youngest son’s hair. “No Edwin, the empire can be a dangerous place, but I’ll certainly go to retrieve my daughter.”
“And I will accompany you,” Aidan said with authority.
Caedmon was about to argue, but it was Aidan’s right as Blythe’s brother to aid in her rescue. His son had been in a restless torment since his twin had gone missing. No one had uttered the terrible possibility, but they’d all believed she was dead.
Ragna folded her arms across her chest and sulked. “I won’t even ask. I’m never allowed to go anywhere, or do anything.”
Edwin snorted. “You do nothing but complain, Ragna. If I’m not allowed to go then you’re surely not going. You’re just a little girl.”
Seething like a volcano about to erupt, Ragna clenched her fists and fled. Meanwhile Agneta had slumped into a chair, sobbing. Caedmon went down on one knee at her feet. “At least, we know she’s alive and safe.”
She gripped his hand. “But Caedmon, Cologne is far away. I was terrified for you when you journeyed through Germany all those years ago. Poor Blythe, she’s so compromised now, no man will want to marry her.”
The truth of her words sickened him. Blythe’s whereabouts had been unknown for many months and now she had turned up in the hands of a foreign count. Her reputation would never recover. He grieved for his beautiful, spirited daughter. However, she was courageous and had obviously survived the ordeal of being abducted. He was determined to bring her home, no matter the cost.
It took a sennight to organize men, horses and provisions for the trek. He offered his men-at-arms the choice as to whether they wished to accompany him and Aidan. He did not want to take too many men and give the appearance of a belligerent force, but the security of an armed escort was vital. He made it clear they were not going for plunder or for gain. It would not be an easy journey and, in all likelihood, they would not be home in time for Yuletide. However, he assured them he had influential contacts along the route from his days on crusade.
On a chilly November day, Agneta, Edwin and Ragna gathered to bid a tearful goodbye to Caedmon and Aidan, a score of Shelfhoc men and some from Ellesmere, contributed by Baudoin.
Caedmon held his wife in his embrace for long minutes. Neither acknowledged it might be the last time they saw each other, but they were both keenly aware of the dangers that lay ahead.
“Baudoin has already sent word to our brother, Robert, in Normandie,” he said when they broke apart. “We’ll lodge at Montbryce Castle for a day or two after we cross the Narrow Sea, perhaps gather more men and provisions there. Robert will be anxious to help us and is probably arranging assistance as we speak. I know it’s pointless to tell you not to worry, but never forget that Blythe will be with us when we return.”
He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “Before you know it, I’ll be back in your bed, touching all those places you love me to touch.”
Agneta laughed through her tears and blushed, pressing her mons against his arousal. “You’re going to have an uncomfortable ride, my Lord.”
He glanced at his son’s stern face as they rode away. Almost without his being aware of it, Aidan had grown into a courageous young man. “I’m proud to have you at my side,” he said.
His reward was a solemn nod.