Love’s Sweet Sting
Anna Markland
LOVE’S SWEET STING
The FitzRam Family Dynasty~Book II
by
Anna Markland
©Copyright Anna Markland 2012 & 2020
Cover Art by Dar Albert
Contents
More Anna Markland
Prologue
Disbelief
Brood Mare
New Realities
Atonement
Sopping Wet
Memories Of Happier Days
To Market
Narrow Escape
Weary
Face To Face
There's A Woman In The Oxcart
Swarm
Beestung
Help Her
Is It Love?
I Have Failed
Trickery
A Weight Lifted
No More Wheezing
Flight
Preparing For A Siege
A Man In Love
Under Attack
All Is Well
A Little Death
An Uninvited Guest
A Bedding
Epilogue
Recipe For Mead
About Anna
My son, eat honey, because it is good,
and the honeycomb, which is sweet to taste.
So shall the knowledge of wisdom be to your soul.
When you have found it, then there shall be a reward.
~Proverbs 24:13/14
"Just as bees make honey from thyme, the strongest and driest of herbs, so do the wise profit from the most difficult of experiences." ~ Plato
For Jane Lockie McIntyre Kincaid
~a true Scot
Love’s Sweet Sting by Anna Markland
Book Two, The FitzRam Family Dynasty
© 2012 & 2020 Anna Markland
www.annamarkland.com
All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
For permissions contact: anna@annamarkland.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Heartfelt thanks as always to my beta reader, Maria McIntyre.
More Anna Markland
If you're intrigued by Ingram Maknab, his story is Maknab’s Revenge.
* * *
The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition (2018-2019)
I Conquest—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen
II Defiance—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla
III Redemption—Caedmon & Agneta
IV Vengeance—Ronan & Rhoni
V Birthright—Adam & Rosamunda, Denis & Paulina
VI Star-Crossed— Robert & Dorianne, Baudoin & Carys
VII Allegiance—Rhys & Annalise
VIII Crescendo—Izzy & Farah
IX Infidelity—Gallien & Peridotte
X Jeopardy—Alexandre & Elayne
XI Forbidden— Bronson & Grace; Rodrick & Swan
XII Finale—Barr & Hollis
The FitzRam Family Dynasty
The Black Knight’s Captive—Blythe & Dieter
Love’s Sweet Sting—Aidan & Nolana
Wild Viking Princess—Ragna & Reider
Series featuring the stories of the Viking ancestors of my Norman families
The Rover Bold—Bryk & Cathryn
The Rover Defiant—Torstein & Sonja
The Rover Betrayed—Magnus & Judith
* * *
Novellas
Maknab’s Revenge—Ingram & Ruby
Passion’s Fire—Matthew & Brigandine
Banished—Sigmar & Audra
Hungry Like De Wolfe—Blaise & Anne
Unkissable Knight—Dervenn & Victorine
The Marauder—Santiago & Valentina
* * *
Caledonia Chronicles (Scotland)
Book I Pride of the Clan—Rheade & Margaret
Book II Highland Tides—Braden & Charlotte
Book III Highland Dawn—Keith & Aurora
Book IV Roses Among the Heather—Blair & Susanna, Craig & Timothea
* * *
The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty (medieval Europe)
Book 1 Loyal Heart—Sophia & Brandt
Book 2 Courageous Heart—Luther & Francesca
Book 3 Faithful Heart—Kon & Zara
* * *
Myth & Mystery
The Taking of Ireland —Sibràn & Aislinn
* * *
Clash of the Tartans
Kilty Secrets—Ewan & Shona
Kilted at the Altar—Darroch & Isabel
Kilty Pleasures—Broderick & Kyla
Kilty Party—Shaw & Caitlin
* * *
The House of Pendray
Highland Betrayal—Morgan & Hannah (audiobook available)
Kingslayer’s Daughter—Munro & Sarah
Highland Jewel—Garnet & Jewel
Highland Rising—Gray & Faith
* * *
Link to Amazon page
Prologue
The Narrow Sea,25th day of November, 1120 A.D.
The doomed vessel splintered on the jagged rocks of Quilleboeuf, tossing screaming revelers into the snarling sea.
Sir Caedmon FitzRam grabbed his wife when he felt the first shuddering groan of the floundering ship, but she was torn from his arms as they plunged into the dark, frigid depths.
“Agneta,” he shouted when he surfaced, gasping for air, choking on salt. “Agneta.”
Heads bobbed, people screamed in the seething darkness, but he could not find his wife. A cold wave swamped him and a piece of wreckage struck the back of his head. He had a vivid recollection being severely wounded on the bloody battlefield at Alnwick thirty years before. Agneta had rescued him, nursed him back to health.
Dazed and panting for breath, he groped for the piece of the broken ship that had hit him, and snaked his arm around it.
“Agneta,” he shouted again, treading water. He shoved hair off his face, and peered into the darkness. His frantic heart feared they were doomed, but his beloved must not die alone.
Even amid the screams, he heard her choking cough. Her illness had robbed her of breath before this. “Agneta.”
“Caed....”
He caught sight of her flailing arms just before her head disappeared beneath the waves. Clinging to the wreckage, he struck out with one arm. Fewer bobbing heads were visible now, many drunken victims claimed by the sea.
He exclaimed with relief when Agneta struggled back to the surface, amazed she had found the strength. Willing his already numbed legs to kick, he put one arm around her ribs and dragged her to the wreckage. The sodden winter cloak twisted about her frail body worked against him. Shivering uncontrollably, she spluttered through the hair plastered to her face, taking in great gulps of air. “I want to die with you, Caedmon. I’m…frozen.”
He held her tightly, smoothing back her hair, but every wave forced the grey strands over her eyes.
He tried to keep his fear for her out of his voice as his numbed hand sought to free the ties of her cloak. “Hold onto the wreckage.”
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She clamped a death grip on his shoulders, gasping for breath. “Caedmon...we are going...to die.”
Another swell hit them. He struggled to breathe, the salt burning his nose. “No, we are not. Hold on to me. I have you. I’ll never...let you go.”
With a last desperate surge of determination, he clenched his jaw and forced Agneta against the wreckage. Chilled to the bone, he protected her body with his own, lacing his clumsy fingers together around the wood. His lungs were on fire; his useless legs would no longer tread water.
They drifted, clinging to the flimsy piece of splintered wood. The current carried them away from the rock that had torn La Blanche Nef apart. Soon, there was only terrifying silence. Caedmon prayed they were being carried to shore, but had no sense of how long they’d been in the water. The salt blurred his vision.
“Agneta. Stay awake. We will...be rescued.”
“I cannot, Caedmon...I’m freezing. I want to sleep.”
“No. Talk to me. Stay awake.”
“I love you...Caedmon...there’s no better place to die...than in your arms. Hold me. Hold me fast. Death has stalked me for many a month.”
Her words tore at his heart, but she was right. Better to die together. There would be no rescue. He thought of his children and bade them a silent farewell, heartbroken that he would never see them again. He had done his best to be a good father, to set them on the right path. Six years after their eldest daughter’s marriage to a Saxon count, Agneta had finally agreed the rest of the family should make the long journey to Saxony to meet her son-by-marriage and Blythe’s three children. It was a blessing she had seen for herself how happy their daughter was with Dieter.
Praise be to God he and Agneta had taken their children’s place on this voyage home. In consideration of their mother’s worsening illness, his eldest son had suggested he and his siblings cede the coveted opportunity to sail aboard the luxurious White Ship with Crown Prince William and his horde of young friends. Ragna had talked of nothing else but accompanying the Crown Prince and his retinue, but even their wilful daughter had uncharacteristically agreed to Aidan’s proposal—and the exchange had saved their children’s lives.
Now, Aidan, Edwin and Ragna would not die with the hundreds of other doomed noblemen and women aboard the famed vessel. They were hopefully safe aboard King Henry’s older, less comfortable longboat.
The reassurance brought him peace. He and Agneta had lived long, happy lives. It was fitting they should die, and not their children. He prayed the captain of their ship was not a drunken sot like the White Ship’s commander. He’d had a bad feeling about the voyage from the moment Crown Prince William had provided the crew with copious amounts of wine and then urged the captain to overtake the king’s ship.
Caedmon wondered fleetingly if the heir to the English throne had drowned. Last he had seen of William, he was frantically trying to haul people into the only lifeboat. Pray God he had survived. King Henry would be devastated at the loss of his only son. And what of England, if the succession were put in jeopardy?
That could not be Caedmon’s concern now. He thanked God he and Agneta would die together. He would not have lived long without her. “I love you, Agneta. Thank you for the love and passion we have shared.”
She pressed her cold lips to his, loosened her grip on his shoulders and put her arms around his neck. “Caedmon.”
“Agneta,” he rasped in reply, drifting into sleep. When he awoke, his beloved had slipped from life. He kissed her. “Even in death you are beautiful, my Agneta.”
He tipped his head back to look at the stars before letting go of the debris. He had come close to drowning twice before, once in the River Dee and again in the Balkans during the Crusade. The manner of his death was preordained. Holding Agneta to his body for the last time, he allowed the icy waters to carry them to the resurrection in which they firmly believed.
Disbelief
“I don’t understand why the king declined Thomas FitzStephen’s offer of sailing aboard La Blanche Nef,” Ragna declared. “It’s a more modern vessel than this old longboat and would have been far more comfortable for him.”
Aidan prayed for patience as he looked out over the waves of the Narrow Sea. His sister hadn’t directly expressed her annoyance at giving up their chance to sail with the crown prince, but her constant disparaging remarks about King Henry’s boat insinuated it. “There’s no point whining about it now,” he replied. “We’re aboard this ship, and our parents are enjoying a more comfortable voyage.”
“How much longer before we reach Portsmouth?” she asked, still pouting.
“I’d say we’re about half way,” Edwin said. “Another four hours, maybe.”
“Godemite! I’ll be frozen to the bone by the wind before then.”
Edwin rolled his eyes. “Without the wind, we’d be dependent on rowing and it would take twice as long. Besides, you’ve got more blankets than Aidan and I put together.”
Aidan was surprised by Edwin’s remarks. It wasn’t often his shy brother took on their sister.
However, his admonition seemed to do the trick. Ragna drew the blankets over her head, apparently resigned to sailing the rest of the way in silence.
They arrived in Portsmouth in the late afternoon. The king had already made provision for all the passengers on board his ship to accompany him inland to his court in Winchester.
As Aidan and his siblings boarded one of the carriages, they overheard the king’s chamberlain speaking jovially with another man. “I’m surprised La Blanche Nef didn’t overtake us at sea. Prince William was boasting to his royal father that he would arrive in Portsmouth first.”
“Hmm,” came the reply. “I don’t see any sign of them. Perhaps, they’ve been delayed.”
“His Highness is leaving some of his men-at-arms here to make sure William and his young revelers get to Winchester safely,” the chamberlain explained. “No doubt many will be throughly foxed.”
“Mother won’t be pleased if she’s been forced to make the crossing with drunken sots,” Ragna whispered.
“She’ll be fine,” Aidan replied. “Father will take good care of her.”
* * *
Obliged to share a damp chamber at Winchester with three young women she didn’t know, Ragna didn’t sleep well. When Edwin and Aidan joined her in the castle’s crowded Great Hall the next morning, they looked tired and she suspected they hadn’t slept well either. After the long voyage from Normandie and the seemingly interminable trek in the dark to Winchester, she wasn’t looking forward to the journey north on horseback to Shelfhoc Hall.
As soon as she stepped into the hall, Ragna sensed something was amiss. “It’s too quiet,” she whispered.
“Strange the king isn’t here,” Edwin added. “Nor Prince William.”
Ragna scanned the hall, disappointed not to see her parents. A glance at Aidan’s frown showed he was equally puzzled.
“Perhaps they intend to rise later than usual,” her brother suggested. “I expect Mother was worn out.”
Ragna had never known her father sleep late, no matter how exhausted he was, but she followed her brothers to the servery where they helped themselves to fresh bread and jellied eels.
Finding three seats together proved to be a challenge, but they eventually settled in at a trestle table with four knights Ragna didn’t recognize.
“Seems quiet,” Aidan said to one of the knights.
“Everyone is waiting anxiously.”
“For what?” Edwin asked.
“More news.”
Ragna bristled, struggling to keep silent. It was typical of men to be evasive, but they wouldn’t welcome any comment she might make.
Aidan stopped eating. “News?”
“La Blanche Nef didn’t arrive in Portsmouth.”
Icy dread crept up Ragna’s spine.
“A bird arrived late last night,” another knight explained. “From the king’s nephew, Stephen of Blois.”
The knot in Ragna’s stomach eased. She knew Stephen of Blois intended to sail aboard La Blanche Nef. If he had sent a message…
“Seems an attack of the flux forced him off Prince William’s boat just before it sailed.”
Ragna could no longer stay silent. “And?”
The four strangers glowered at her for a moment, then one spoke to Aidan. “He reports the ship is missing.”
Ragna stared at the jellied concoction on her trencher, horrified that the eels had suddenly come alive and were writhing, writhing…
She rose abruptly and dragged her gaze to Aidan’s pale face. “I’m going to be sick,” she managed before fleeing the hall.
* * *
The next three days were the longest of Aidan’s life. When news came that wreckage of La Blanche Nef had been found near Barfleur, he consoled his weeping sister. “We must keep hope alive,” he insisted, though despair lay like a stone in his gut. He didn’t know what to say to Edwin who sat staring into nothingness for hours.