Free Shattered Vows by Carol Townend

before and she’d never speak to him again.
    Alfwold reached for Rosamund’s hand. ‘I know about the flowers.’
    Aeffe reached for her ale-cup. ‘Oh...?’
    ‘They were an offering. I saw them on the shrine where Rosamund put them. She has made a vow.’
    Slowly, Rosamund exhaled. Maybe it would be alright...
    ‘A vow?’ Osric held his cup out for more ale. ‘What nonsense is this?’
    ‘I haven’t told my family, Alfwold.’ Rosamund looked an appeal at the grindstone dresser. ‘It’s a secret.’
    Alfwold’s eyes searched hers. It was difficult to meet his gaze but she managed it. ‘I’ll honour your secret, lass. It will be safe with me.’
    ‘What’s going on?’ Osric’s voice was testy as he rattled his cup against the board. ‘Would you mind telling me what you’re talking about?’
    Alfwold slapped her father on the back and winked at his betrothed. ‘Nothing, Osric. Just a private matter between Rosamund and myself, you understand. More ale?’
    Osric gave a derisive snort. His nose was red with the quantity of ale he’d already drunk, and no sooner had his cup been filled than he was tipping it down his throat.
    Rosamund glanced guiltily at her betrothed. Thank God someone had put that posy in the shrine and that he’d noticed. He’d assumed that she’d put it here. She didn’t want to deceive him but better a little deceit than have Aeffe sour her marriage.
    I never intended to meet Oliver at the beach...
    Dear God, it was bad enough to have to marry Alfwold but the alternatives were worse. At least with a husband to stand by her she might have a half-decent life. She wasn’t going to allow Aeffe to wreck that.
    While she’d been thinking, Osric and Alfwold had been talking softly together. They seemed to have firmed up on their arrangement over the paying of the bride fine.
    ‘Right then,’ Osric lifted his cup. ‘You’d best come with me to see Sir Geoffrey. We’ll go in the morning.’
    ‘Agreed.’ Alfwold grinned. ‘The sooner we’re wed the better.’
    A trickle of ale ran down Osric’s chin. ‘If you want the wedding to be soon, you’d best visit Abbot William in the morning.’
    ‘Why’s that?’
    ‘Our village priest Father Cedric died some weeks back. Dropped dead while working his field strip. We’ve been waiting for the bishop to send another priest and in the meantime Abbot William is handling church affairs.’
    Alfwold grinned and looked at Rosamund. ‘There’s no need for me to go the monastery, the new priest’s arrived – I’ve met him.’
    Rosamund’s heart, which had risen at the thought of a reprieve, however temporary, sank like a stone. ‘Where did you meet him?’
    ‘He was in the alehouse. Name of Father Eadric. The bishop’s given him a parchment to mark his appointment.’
    Rosamund’s eyebrows lifted. ‘I didn’t know you could read.’
    Alfwold leaned back and the bench creaked. ‘I can’t, lass, but I saw the seals on the document. Bright red they are, dangling on blue ribbons.’
    ‘So Father Eadric will wed us?’
    ‘That he will. All we need is the lord’s permission and Father Eadric will wed us at the church gate.’ His eyes brightened and he jerked his head at the jug of ale. ‘That new priest can certainly put away his ale. I’ve never seen a man of the cloth sink a jar so fast.’
    Rosamund pinned on a smile and took the hint. She passed the brew over to her betrothed.
    ***
    Three evenings later.
    Rosamund’s head was pounding, but at least it was over. She and Alfwold were married and she was walking home from church in her pink gown. Her husband had her by the arm, and her father and stepmother were walking alongside.
    Father Eadric had rushed the ceremony, gabbling the words, and for that mercy she was thankful – the ordeal hadn’t lasted long. It was over. She was married and it was Alfwold rather than Osric whose authority she must now heed.
    She thought about the rushed ceremony. It was likely that Father