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to
Raedwyn.
    “This is
my son.” Ceolwulf’s voice lightened for the first time since their meeting. “He
was but a boy when I was exiled, but he remembers your family’s treachery
well.”
    Raedwyn
turned to the cloaked man. He pushed back his hood and looked directly into
Raedwyn’s eyes. 
    “Milady.”
His voice was low, soothing like the drumming rain.
    The impact
of their gazes meeting was like a hard punch to the stomach. Raedwyn smothered
a gasp and tore her gaze away from his. Gathering control of herself, she
looked back at him and tried to fathom what it was about this man that affected
her so.
    Caelin was
dark like his father but the similarity ended there. He was tall, long-limbed
but without Ceolwulf’s heaviness of stature. Long wavy black hair surrounded a
sharply featured face and aquiline nose. He, like a few of the men surrounding
them, was clean-shaven. He had piercing dark eyes that were unusual in these
parts; more reminiscent of a Roman than a Celt or Saxon. He was a handsome man
but there was a quiet, brooding power in him; a sensuality that made Raedwyn’s
skin prickle. Her reaction to this stranger appalled her. Here she was, her
husband not yet cold at her feet, and she was lusting after one of his
killers. 
    Caelin
stared back at her, his face giving no hint as to his thoughts. 
    Raedwyn
looked down at the ground and squeezed her eyes shut. It seemed so long ago now
since her world had been innocent and light-hearted – just two days and yet a
lifetime ago.
    She wanted
her mother. She wanted to open her eyes and find herself in her father’s hall,
watching the flames dance in the fire pit while Raedwald and his men sat around
drinking mead and swapping stories.
    Raedwyn
opened her eyes to find the outlaws all staring at her. The rain enveloped them
all like a great curtain. Tears leaked down Raedwyn’s already wet cheeks.
Rendlaesham was lost to her.
                                  
    ***
     
    The
outlaws took her into a dense, dark wood where the trees swallowed all trace of
the band. They had bound her wrists, for it was clear Raedwyn would try to
escape the moment they turned their backs on her. The ragged group led their
horses through the densely packed trees, on and on until the oaks, beeches and
elms gave way to a wide clearing. A shabby hamlet filled the glade. A
collection of low, thatch roofed timber dwellings; it was a makeshift
settlement and there were no women in sight, just lean-faced, hungry-eyed men.
    They
welcomed Ceolwulf back into the fold like a king. Raedwyn bristled at the sight
of them fawning over the gigantic, wild-haired man. The East Angles already had
a king – and it was not this bloodthirsty brute. Raedwyn smiled inwardly at the
thought of her father’s rage when he heard of this treachery. There would be no
wood large enough for Ceolwulf and his minions to hide in when Raedwald learned
of this.
    Ceolwulf’s
son led Raedwyn through the center of the hamlet, towards the largest of the
thatched huts. Ever since she had locked eyes with him back by the river,
Raedwyn had avoided looking in Caelin’s direction. Even so, she could feel his
presence next to her, his hand on her back, steering her through the leering
crowd. His hand burned through her sodden clothing and warmed her chilled skin.
    Raedwyn’s
mouth went dry and she walked a little faster. She had to distance herself from
this man. She ducked under the low doorway, entering a narrow hall with a small
fire pit in the center. Two curtains made of rabbit pelts sewn together, hung
either side of the doorway that led through into separate anterooms. Caelin
pulled the right hand curtain aside and steered her into a small, sparsely
furnished bower. A pile of furs lay in the center of the room and there was a
clay washbasin and a privy in the corner. The tiny window was bolted shut.
Hanging from the exterior wall, a torch burned steadily. Flickering shadows
played across