Thank you! Here’s some Skin Deep except it’s 7th century England.
They were a small kingdom, a marchland surrounded by much larger kingdoms on all sides. The king, her father, didn’t have the men to protect them from the countless raids from the heathens in the north.
Hiring heathens to protect them from other heathens was madness, the ealdormen had all agreed, but they needed help from somewhere. At least this heathen was a fellow king who hadn’t yet attempted to invade their kingdom.
They had arranged a meeting and her father intended to see it through. Her father and his council met with the heathen king in a field that overlapped their shared border.
The first thing she noticed about the heathen king, was that he didn’t look like a heathen king. Belle had heard that they were ugly, fearsome brutes. They wore their hair and beards long, braided them with bones and smeared dirt on their faces. This man had long hair, but no longer than a number of her father’s men, and he had no beard at all. He was certainly fearsome, she could imagine how formidable he was in battle, but he was far from the realms of ugly.
He was handsome, in a rough sort of way.
Her father’s men had called him déaþscúa and déor on their ride there, but Belle couldn’t see anything dark or beastly about him. The only thing that really set him apart, that proudly let everyone there know he hadn’t been converted like they had, was the hammer pendant hanging from his neck.
His dark leather armour creaked as he walked forward, his hand rested on the handle of a black dagger. Belle was there as the only child of the king, but she wasn’t permitted to speak. She had to stand quietly behind them and listen while the men spoke. Which suited her well for the moment. It gave her a chance to observe the heathen king for herself. He didn’t address her father with any title, and silently listened while her father made his offer. The offer of gold in return for the heathen king’s protection didn’t seem to please him, even when her father offered to increase the weight.
Then, for the first time since their arrival, the heathen king’s eyes snapped across to hers. It was him, while he held Belle’s gaze, that suggested something else.
“A deal like this calls for the bond of blood, not gold,” he said.
Her father didn’t understand the other king’s meaning, but Belle heard it clearly. He pointed out that the heathen king had no son. The heathen king smiled.
“But you have a daughter,” he reminded. “And I am a man.”
Outraged mutters ran through her father’s men, and her father’s face turned red. The heathen king laughed.
Belle moved forward quietly. She couldn’t let them see that her heart was racing or a blush was starting to burn at her cheeks. But the heathen king saw, even if no one else did. He watched her as she clutched the little gold cross around her neck, and slowly stepped towards him.
Her father turned to his men, agreeing with them that marrying his daughter to a heathen was out of the question. She’d been promised to an abbey, and would one day found an abbey of her own and become an abbess. It wasn’t the life she had wanted for herself, but women couldn’t rule.
“Lady Ælfflæd,” he greeted. She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the name. She much preferred the name Belle, the name her Frankish mother had given her.
“Will you shield our kingdom,” she said to the heathen king, “if I go with you?”
He hadn’t expected that, she could tell. Whether he was surprised she spoke to him so directly, or that she spoke at all, Belle couldn’t tell. She met his eyes without flinching and let go of her pendant. Something told her that the support of a little cross wouldn’t help her with him.
Collecting himself, the heathen king looked her up and down, and then nodded.
“And give you a plot of land of your own,” he promised. All men were expected to give their wives something of worth when they married, and he had offered her land without her having to ask for it. Land could offer her a lot of freedom, and her father’s kingdom would still be protected.
“How much land?”
He shrugged, waving a hand as if it was no matter that he was offering her something so valuable.
“150 acres,” he said. “And two pounds weight in gold.”
Her mouth nearly fell open. Protection and complete freedom. It almost seemed too good to be true.
She eyed him, and he didn’t seem quite so fearsome or sure of himself when she stood directly in front of him, unflinching and firm as she considered his offer.
“What is your name?” she asked.
He moved towards her, and Belle willed herself to stay still and not shiver when he whispered in her ear. His warm breath touched her skin, and she ducked her head to hide her deepening blush.
“Then you have my word,” she said quietly, daring herself to look up and meet his eyes again. He smiled.
“We have a deal,” Belle said, loud enough to interrupt the bickering of the men behind her. “I will go with Lord Rummund and be his wife.”
