The Breaking Dawn (The Kingdom of Mercia Book 1) Read online

  The Breaking Dawn

  A Historical Romance set in Anglo-Saxon England

  Book #1: The Kingdom of Mercia

  Jayne Castel

  Historical romances by Jayne Castel

  The Kingdom of the East Angles series

  Night Shadows (prequel novella)

  Dark Under the Cover of Night (Book One)

  Nightfall till Daybreak (Book Two)

  The Deepening Night (Book Three)

  The Kingdom of the East Angles: The Complete Series

  The Kingdom of Mercia series

  The Breaking Dawn (Book One)

  Darkest before Dawn (Book Two)

  Dawn of Wolves (Book Three)

  All characters and situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  The Breaking Dawn by Jayne Castel

  Copyright © 2015 Jayne Castel. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Edited by Tim Burton.

  Cover photography courtesy of www.istockphotos.com.

  Maps courtesy of Wikipedia.

  Excerpt from the poem 'Marwnad Cynddylan' (Canu Heledd).

  Visit Jayne’s website and blog: www.jaynecastel.com

  Follow Jayne on Twitter at: @JayneCastel

  ***

  For Celia – Hoghatch Lane won’t be the same without you.

  And for Tim. With love.

  ***

  Contents

  Maps

  Historical background to The Breaking Dawn

  Glossary of Old English and Welsh words

  Cast of Characters

  Prologue – The Promise

  BOOK ONE: MERCIA

  Chapter One – Battle Lords

  Chapter Two – A Meeting at Market

  Chapter Three – The Queen’s Guests

  Chapter Four – Awake in the Night

  Chapter Five – Seward’s Shame

  Chapter Six – The King’s Return

  Chapter Seven – Ill-tidings

  Chapter Eight – Nón-mete

  Chapter Nine – Cyneswide’s Word

  Chapter Ten – Rodor Makes a Pledge

  Chapter Eleven – The Journey West

  Chapter Twelve – Travelers in the Woods

  Chapter Thirteen – An Honorable Man

  Chapter Fourteen – Temptation

  Chapter Fifteen – Drefan of Chester

  Chapter Sixteen – The Kiss

  Chapter Seventeen – Homecoming

  Chapter Eighteen – Keeping Secrets

  Chapter Nineteen – Alone in the Woods

  Chapter Twenty – Unsaid

  Chapter Twenty-one – Consequences

  Chapter Twenty-two – Newcomers to Weyham

  BOOK TWO: POWYS

  Chapter Twenty-three – The Long Ride West

  Chapter Twenty-four – Unwelcome

  Chapter Twenty-five – A Lament for Cynddylan

  Chapter Twenty-six– Dylan Swears an Oath

  Chapter Twenty-seven – A New Beginning

  Chapter Twenty-eight – Blood at Lichfield

  Chapter Twenty-nine – Healing Hands

  Chapter Thirty – Survivor

  Chapter Thirty-one – Pengwern

  Chapter Thirty-two – Heledd

  Chapter Thirty-three – Servitude

  Chapter Thirty-four – Jealous of a Dead Man

  Chapter Thirty-five – Want

  Chapter Thirty-six – Tainted

  Chapter Thirty-seven – Different Worlds

  Chapter Thirty-eight – The Prince’s Consort

  Chapter Thirty-nine – Last Words

  Chapter Forty – The Peace-maker

  Chapter Forty-one – No Friendship between Kings

  Chapter Forty-two – The Crowning of Cynddylan

  Chapter Forty-three – The Feast

  Chapter Forty-four – Truths

  Epilogue – A Spring Visit

  Historical Note

  More works by Jayne Castel

  Free Kindle Bonus: Night Shadows

  About the Author

  Historical background for The Breaking Dawn

  Although you don’t need to be a history buff in order to enjoy The Breaking Dawn, I thought a little historical background might help set the scene.

  In the 7th Century, England was not as we know it today.

  The Anglo-Saxon period lasted from the departure of the Romans, in around 430 A.D., to the Norman invasion in 1066 A.D.

  My novels currently focus on the period from 600-700 A.D. This is a significant century, sandwiched between the departure of the Romans, and the first Viking invasion in 793 A.D – a period in which Anglo-Saxon culture flourished. The British Isles were named Britannia (a legacy of the Roman colonization) and split into rival kingdoms.

  In this novel, we focus on two of them: The Kingdom of Mercia and The Kingdom of Powys. The Kingdom of Northumbria, and The Kingdom of the East Angles, are also mentioned.

  Glossary of Old English and Welsh words (in alphabetical order)

  The words below are all explained, as you encounter them, throughout the story. However, I have included a list, for reference.

  beth – What (Welsh)

  cariad – darling (Welsh)

  Cymraeg – Welsh (language)

  Cymry – Welsh (people)

  ealdorman – earl

  Englisc – English (language)

  fæder – father

  Fy arglwydd – My Lord (Welsh)

  fyrd – a king's army, gathered for war

  geburs – peasants

  handfasted – married

  heah-setl – high seat (later called a ‘dais’) for the king and queen

  hōre – whore

  Hwaet? – What?

  Maes Cogwy – the Welsh name for Maserfield, location of a famous battle

  mōder – mother

  Nithhogg – a fire-breathing dragon that lived in the underworld

  Powys – Wales

  thegn – a king’s retainer

  theow – a slave

  thrymsas – Anglo-Saxon gold shillings

  Thunor – Thor

  wealca – a tube linen dress with shoulder straps attached with broaches

  Wes hāl – ‘greetings’ in old English

  Winterfyllth – Anglo-Saxon Halloween

  Woden – the Anglo-Saxon father of the gods (Viking: Odin)

  Wyrd – fate

  Cast of characters

  Merwenna – young Mercian woman

  Beorn – Merwenna's betrothed

  Seward and Aeaba – Merwenna's brother and sister

  Cynewyn (pronounced Sinwin) and Wilfrid – Merwenna's parents

  Cynddylan (pronounced Sindylan) – Welsh prince

  Gwyn – captain of Cynddylan's army

  Owain – Welsh warrior

  Penda – King of Mercia

  Cyneswide (pronounced Sinesweed) – Queen of Mercia

  Cyneburh (pronounced Sinber) and Cyneswith (pronounced Sineswith) – Penda’s daughters

  Paeda (pronounced Peda), Wulfhere and Aethelred – Penda’s sons

  Rodor – Penda’s right-hand-man

  Caedmon – Mercian warrior

  Drefan of Chester – cloth merchant

  Heledd – Cynddylan’s sister

  Morfael – Cynddylan’s brother

  Elfan – Cynddylan’s uncle

  However long the night,

  The dawn will break. />
  African proverb

  Prologue

  The Promise

  The village of Weyham, Kingdom of Mercia – Britannia

  Spring 641 AD

  “Will you marry me?”

  Merwenna’s breath caught. Had she heard correctly – had he really uttered those words?

  “Excuse me?”

  “Merwenna.” Beorn stepped close to her, his gaze longing, his voice tender. “Will you be my wife?”

  The young couple stood alone in the woods, surrounded by skeleton trees.

  Warmth had not yet returned to the world, although it was early spring, and nature still lay dormant. They had both donned heavy fur cloaks for their walk, as the morning air held winter’s bite – yet Merwenna did not feel the morning’s chill. Joy bathed her in warmth as if she stood next to a roaring fire.

  A smile broke across her face and she flung herself into his arms. She had not been dreaming. The moment she had longed for had finally come.

  “Of course I will!”

  Beorn laughed, his relief evident. His arms tightened around her and he pulled her close. “Thank Woden – for a moment there, I thought you would refuse me.”

  The feel of his young, strong body against hers made her pulse quicken.

  Beorn pulled back slightly and met her gaze. As always, she was struck by the blueness of his eyes, and the beauty of his chiseled features.

  “Refuse you?” Merwenna stared at him, incredulous. It had taken her nearly three years of gentle encouragement to reach this point. “I was beginning to think you would never ask!”

  Beorn flushed slightly, embarrassed, and looked away. They both knew he valued his freedom highly. Like her father, Beorn served Weyham’s ealdorman. They were warriors who farmed the land around the village by day, but would ride to war with the ealdorman, if commanded. However, unlike her father, who had lived a warrior’s life for many years before wedding her mother – Beorn was young, and chafed at the thought of spending the rest of his days in Weyham.

  Merwenna gazed at her betrothed, drinking him in. Wavy blond hair fell over his shoulders and since autumn he had worn a short beard, which suited him.

  She waited for him to say something else. She expected an excuse for making her wait so long. Yet, he remained silent.

  “Beorn?” she said finally, realizing that he was still avoiding her gaze. “Is something the matter?”

  The young man looked up, and shook his head. “The thing is…,” he began hesitantly, “the handfasting itself will have to wait.”

  A chill stole over Merwenna at these words, and her joy dimmed.

  “Hwaet?”

  “The king is gathering a fyrd,” Beorn continued, the words rushing out as he gained momentum. “He intends to march north and face King Oswald of Northumbria. I’ve decided to join his army.”

  Merwenna stared at him. Her shock turning to upset.

  When she did not respond, Beorn’s face grew serious. “Merwenna?”

  “You ask me to marry you,” Merwenna replied, her voice quivering as she struggled to stop herself from crying, “and then in the next breath announce that you are going to war. Why did you even bother to propose?”

  “Because I love you.” Beorn took hold of her hands and squeezed gently, his gaze earnest. “I want us to be married. It’s just that we shall have to wait a little.”

  Merwenna took a deep breath, cursing the tears that stung her eyelids. She always cried too easily; it made her look feeble. “And I love you,” she answered, blinking furiously. “But, I have just passed my twentieth winter. At this rate, I shall be an old maid before we wed.”

  “Just a little longer,” Beorn replied, squeezing her hands once more. “Then, I will return to Weyham and we shall be handfasted. I promise.”

  “You’re going to war.” Merwenna’s tears spilled over as desperation seized her. “You can’t make that promise!”

  She ripped her hands from Beorn’s. Then, she turned, her cloak billowing, and started to run in the direction of Weyham. Dead leaves squelched underfoot and the chill air burned her lungs, but Merwenna paid it no mind. She had almost reached the outskirts of the village when Beorn caught up with her.

  “Merwenna, wait!’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her up short.

  She turned, tears streaming down her face, and tried to shrug him off. “Let me be!”

  “I made you a promise and I intend to keep it,” Beorn insisted, his gaze imploring. “I will return to you!”

  Merwenna’s tears flowed without restraint now. Sobs welled up and she had to choke them back. “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do.” He set his jaw stubbornly.

  “Men die in battle,” she reminded him, “and when two king’s armies meet there will be a great slaughter, surely you realize the danger.”

  “Penda’s the greatest king Britannia has ever known,” Beorn countered with the supreme confidence that only young men possess. “His fyrd will be mighty. The Prince of Powys is also sending a large company of warriors to join our army. The Northumbrians won’t withstand our combined might.”

  Merwenna wiped away her tears and shook her head wordlessly. She cared not if the whole of Britannia was rallying at Penda’s side. The thought that Beorn would go off to battle and might never return made her feel as if she was being buried alive.

  “Penda is a mighty king,” Beorn insisted, staring down at her with fire in his eyes. “He will be victorious.”

  Merwenna stared back at him. Her cheeks stung from the salt of her tears and it took all her self-control not to start sobbing uncontrollably. This was folly – why could he not see it? However, it was clear Beorn’s mind was made up.

  “When will you leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  Merwenna stared at him. If he had punched her in the belly, it would have hurt less. Suddenly, her world was crumbling around her. Just moments ago, her heart had been bursting with joy. Now, her future looked bleak.

  The man she loved was riding to war, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

  ***

  Beorn of Weyham struggled to tighten the saddle’s girth. He nudged his shaggy pony in the belly with his knee, until the stubborn beast exhaled. Then he tightened the girth another notch. The last of his preparations dealt with, Beorn turned to the small group of kin and well-wishers who had gathered to see him off.

  He had not been looking forward to this. Good-byes were not something he had a lot of experience in. His mother and sisters were all weeping, a sight which upset him. His father, at least, was stoic.

  “Serve the king well, my son.” Horace stepped forward and clasped Beorn in a bear-hug. “Make me proud.”

  “I will, fæder.”

  Behind him, Beorn could hear the other warriors gathering; the low rumble of their voices, the snort of their horses. It was just after dawn. A light frost covered the ground and the lightening sky promised a day of good weather ahead. They stood in Weyham’s common, a stretch of grass in the center of the village. A collection of squat, wattle and daub homes with thatched roofs surrounded them. It was the only home he had ever known, and shortly he would be leaving it – perhaps for a long time.

  Beorn stepped back from his father and took a deep breath. He was anxious to be off. Saying goodbye was harder than he had anticipated.

  Yet, first, he had to see Merwenna.

  She stood a few yards away, patiently waiting. When he turned to her, Merwenna stepped forward to speak to him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but that did not detract from her loveliness. In her build and coloring, she resembled her winsome mother – small and brown haired with startling blue eyes. However, there was a seriousness to her face that gave her some of her father’s look. One of her most startling features was her beautifully molded, rose-bud mouth.

  Beorn had always been captivated by her lips, and her breasts, which were impressively full for such a small female. They gav
e her a womanly look on an otherwise girlish frame.

  “Farewell, my love,” Merwenna spoke, her voice quivering from the effort it was taking her to hold back tears. Despite that she was swathed from neck to shin in a heavy rabbit-skin cloak, he could see she was trembling. Suddenly, Beorn felt as if his heart had lodged in his throat. She was not making this any easier.

  Although Beorn was eager to ride south-east to Tamworth and join the king’s fyrd, he was also sorry that he and Merwenna could not be handfasted first. He longed to bed her, to tear the clothes off that delicious body. He could have wed her before leaving, but she deserved better. When he returned to Weyham, victorious, their joining would be all the sweeter. He wanted to make her proud of him; he wanted to come back to Weyham sporting silver and gold arm rings, prizes from the king for his valor. He wanted to be worthy of her.

  “Goodbye, sweet Merwenna.” He pulled her against him and hugged her tightly. “Wait for me. I shall return.”

  Drawing back from his betrothed, Beorn cupped her face with his hands and stooped to kiss her, not caring that half the village was looking on.

  “I must go,” he murmured. “Wait for me, my love.”

  “I will,” she whispered back, her eyes huge on her heart-shaped face.

  Beorn moved over to his pony and prepared to mount it. He was too big for the beast, but fortunately the pony was sturdy, and it had been the only horse his family could spare. Frankly, he was fortunate to be riding at all – most of the kings’ fyrd would arrive inTamworth on foot.

  His mother started wailing then. She broke free from her daughters’ embrace and rushed toward her son. Beorn enfolded her in his arms as she sobbed.

  “My boy! Don’t go – I’ll never see you again!”

  “Enough, Arwyn!” Horace hauled his wife back. “You’re embarrassing the lad. Control yourself!”