Nightfall till Daybreak (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 2) by Jayne Castel

of Eni of the
Wuffingas. These are my brothers, Aethelhere and Aethelwold. We are Raedwald
and Eorpwald’s kin – and the kin of Sigeberht.”
    Annan turned then to the woman, who stepped forward and
lowered the hood obscuring her identity. She was an older woman, although still
handsome, with a mane of red hair, threaded with white. She regarded Aidan with
cool grey eyes.
    “I am Seaxwyn.” Her voice, although quiet, held the power of
one who was used to commanding others. “And I wish to see my son. Take us to
Sigeberht.”
     
    ***
     
    Freya placed a ewer of apple wine on the table, Hilda laid out
cups for the guests, and Hereric brought out a platter laden with cheese and
fruit.
    The quiet inside the hall was unnerving and Freya was grateful
to move away from the table. She and Hilda went to the fire pit and continued
the chore that Hilda had been busy with before the party’s arrival – kneading
bread. Freya would have to finish cleaning the furs later. Now, with guests
that evening, they had extra food to prepare.
    Sigeberht, after greeting the party, had seated himself at the
end of the table. Aidan stood a few steps behind him, while the guests sat at
the other end of the table.
    Freya had never witnessed such a cold reunion between mother
and son. There had been no hugs, no tears and very few smiles; just strained
greetings and an awkward moment when Sigeberht had knelt to kiss his mother’s
hand.
    It was as if they were strangers – which, in fact, they were.
    Freya kneaded a lump of dough and flattened it into a disc
with the heel of her hand, watching the conversation at the other end of the
hall surreptitiously as she did so.
    “‘It has been a long while mother,” Sigeberht rumbled,
steepling his fingers in front of him and regarding Seaxwyn with an iron-grey
gaze. They had the same eyes, Freya realized; the color of storm clouds.
    “I’ve lost count,” Seaxwyn admitted. “You were hardly out of
boyhood when Raedwald banished you.”
    “Old enough to be a threat.” Sigeberht’s mouth curled.
    Freya noticed that the three warriors: Annan, Aethelhere and
Aethelwold, all stirred uneasily at this comment. King Raedwald had been their
uncle, and they did not appreciate anyone speaking ill of him.
    “I have often thought of you Sigeberht,” Seaxwyn continued
softly, leaving the cup of wine untouched at her elbow. “I have wondered how
you fared in Gaul.”
    Sigeberht’s mouth pursed.
    “And is that why you are here? To hear tales of my life in
exile?”
    Seaxwyn smiled, ignoring her son’s frosty sarcasm.
    “No Sigeberht. I have come here for your crowning.”
     
    ***
     
    Warriors jostled elbow-to-elbow within the Great Hall, the
rumble of their voices filling the air. Two sides of venison roasted over the
fire pit and the aroma of roasting meat and root vegetables drifted across the
wide space. The long tables had been pulled back, allowing the crowd to fill
the center of the hall.
    On a dais, at the far end, stood Seaxwyn. She was widow to the
late King Raedwyn and mother to the late King Eorpwald – and also mother to the
man who stood in the doorway to the hall, waiting for the ceremony to begin. At
the front of the crowd were Sigeberht’s three step-cousins. In high spirits,
after a few cups of strong ale, Annan was deep in boisterous conversation with
Aidan.
    Hilda and Freya stood before the fire pit, slowly turning the
spits.
    “According to folk, Seaxwyn was wed before marrying King
Raedwald,” Hilda whispered conspiratorially to Freya. “To a Saxon lord. The
tale is that she stabbed him for beating her so he divorced her and sent her
back to her father. Seaxwyn took their son, Sigeberht, with her.”
    Freya glanced across at Seaxwyn with interest. The woman did
possess a certain strength. She was tall and curvaceous, and wore a fine green
gown that complemented her pale skin. Even though she was now in her sixtieth
year, she was still an attractive woman. Freya imagined she