wolf for a lioness 6

 

 

Chapter 6

 

“I have to say that I do not think that Fleury fired that arrow,” said Wulfric to Isabeau when they had returned to the fortified manor house. . Arnbeort had cried himself to sleep and had been duly bedded down on a palliasse hastily filled with straw, in the corner of Isabeau’s room.

“Why is that?” Isabeau asked.

“Do you doubt me?”

“Of course not: I would hear your reasoning, for I have no knowledge of the arts of war to understand how you are able to see this,” said Isabeau. “Art as prickly as an urchin[1], Wulfric.”

“I see,” he said, mollified.  “I feel ... defensive.  Wilt truly defer to me and call me ‘husband’ or ‘sire’ to our people?”

“Certes, for it will be more comfortable. In private? We shall be equals as we always have been, since I broke you of always calling me ‘lady’. Now explain to me what hast seen that I have missed for lack of knowledge.”

Wulfric nodded.

“I am sorry, Isabeau, I am not behaving well,” he said. “I am more than happy to have a clever, educated wife as mine equal.  The arrow, fired from yonder copse, flew no more than two hundred yards ere it struck Leofric in the eye.  And yet, though it hit him in the eye and penetrated into the brain, it did not go far, for most of the yard of arrow still stuck out. An arrow from so close a distance should have penetrated to the back of the skull if fired by a skilled archer. Fleury, whatever his faults, is a skilled warrior in all respects, and can pull a goodly bow. I should expect an arrow from his bow to kill a man at that distance, no matter where on the skull it struck. The eye is a weak point for the skull behind the eye is parchment-thin.  Had that arrow struck Leofric anywhere else on the head, he might have lived.”

“Garnet would say it was guided by Providence.”

“Garnet has to deal with Leofric’s daily depredations and sly avoidance of his duties almost as creative as Torulf’s,” said Wulfric. “I thank Providence that my life was preserved by bending over, for sitting on a horse, I trow that it would have struck me in the neck or body, and no man may expect to survive a wound to the neck.  Indeed, I fancy that was where it was aimed. A skilled shot, but not a strong one. A man who practices, as all must, at the butts, but not one who has trained himself on other days than Sunday after church.”

“So, we have a most contradictory villain; for Danforth would likely baulk at hurting Beaujambes, yet Fleury likely did not fire the arrow.”

“Aye; ‘tis a puzzle. Unless Fleury used a light bow not made to his strength, that he might throw it away if any came close to him.”

“That I can believe most readily,” said Isabeau. “I am going to the chapel to light a candle in thanks for thy deliverance; wilt join me?”

“Right willingly will I do so, aye, and light mine own candle in thanks too,” said Wulfric. “And make prayer, too, to the end of rearing a small child.”

“Methinks he will soon forget his time as a thief’s son and will make a good page,” said Isabeau. “Though he can hardly be sent into another household for his low birth.”

Wulfric sniffed contemptuously.

“He had not those curls from his mother, nor yet from the man he called ‘father’,” he said. “It is my belief he was sired by ...” he looked uncomfortable, “... by Roger Dispencer.”

“But he’s a priest in Bigod’s household!” said Isabeau, shocked.

“Not all priests are as Godly as they should be, my sweet innocent,” said Wulfric.  Isabeau was too shocked to take exception to either the endearment or being called innocent.

“How did Leofric agree to that?” she asked.

“Leofric married Fressenda when she was several months gone,” said Wulfric. “Which is not unusual; a man who has land to work needs to know that his wife is fertile ere he take on another mouth which is not giving sons to work his land.  But Fressenda had been very religious whilst Roger took his survey for Bigod’s convenience. And you could not describe her as clever; I cannot think that she had much idea where babies come from.  Uh ... you do know where babies come from, do you not?” he asked, blushing.

“Yes, Dame Alice explained it to me when I first commenced my courses,” said Isabeau, also blushing. She gave him a mischievous look. “She also taught me how to ensure conception by pleasuring myself in case I found a husband who could not please me, so I would be able to absorb his seed through my pleasure when he had left me. I hope it will not be necessary.”

“Woman!” said Wulfric, pushing her against the wall, and kissing her hard. It was a less violent kiss than their first, even so, and Isabeau felt her mouth surrender to his, and found her hands sliding up his back to touch the short lengths of hair at the nape of his neck. The feelings within her were even more intense than in the first kiss. Her body melted against Wulfric’s, and fire coursed her veins as she felt his arousal against her.  She opened her mouth under the pressure of his and surrendered herself to the wonderful sensations.

A throat clearing saw them jump apart.

Father Hubert stood there, his eyes twinkling.

“The Good Lord expects nuptial pleasures but He expects some of them to wait until after marriage,” he said. “I trust you will not go too far! Now, were you looking for me?”

“We were coming to light candles to give prayers of thanks for a fortunate deliverance, father,” said Isabeau, finding her voice first.  “And we ... strayed ... in our conversation.”

“I am glad that you are both happy with Sir Ferrand’s design,” said the priest.  “But what is this deliverance?”

They told him what had occurred.

“And I will ask you to teach Arnbeort as much as he wishes to learn,” said Isabeau.  “If indeed he hath a man of good birth as his real sire, he must be prepared as befits his birth.”

“Ah! So it was Roger Dispencer?” said Father Hubert. “I had my suspicions. A man who has taken orders only to further his ambitions, and would renounce his vows in an instant if he might achieve more without them.  I have heard it said that he would also be willing to come courting, an he thought he might win your suit, Isabeau.”

“And he would not have as strong a pull to a bow as a warrior,” said Isabeau.  “If I had not Wulfric, in sooth I should be glad of a man who proved more courteous than Fleury and Danforth, though if I knew him for a priest I might be too shocked to accept, even so.”

“But he does not know that,” said Wulfric.

“No, he does not,” said Isabeau. “But I scarcely know this Roger Dispencer. He stayed at the hall while he took his survey but I was nought but a child. How then would he know that I purpose to wed you, Wulfric?”

“I do not know, unless it is that disappointed men gossip in their cups like old women at the market cross,” said Wulfric. “It may be that he could have heard the same from Fleury or Danforth.”

“Aye, it is possible,” said Isabeau.  “But I have had no embassy from him, seeking my hand. I do not know.”

“It could be,” said Wulfric, curling his lip slightly, “That there are other suitors who have also not sent embassy, having more delicacy of feeling than either Fleury or Danforth.”

“Aye, that I do not disbelieve,” said Isabeau. “And I fear they will be doomed to disappointment, for we shall be wed.”

“Certes we shall be wed an you kiss a man like that, he must consider himself thine or must think thou’rt nought but a jilt,” teased Wulfric.

“This kiss I am permitted to remember,” said Isabeau. “And I am glad to say that it compares favourably to the one I have forgotten.”

“Truly, hast a wonderful imagination to compare what you have forgotten with what you have not,” said Wulfric. He took her hand to lead her into the chapel and Father Hubert smiled benignly on young love between two people he loved dearly. Nobody might mistake this for a soulless marriage arranged by an insensitive father!

 

“Saegifu!  How wonderful to see you!” Isabeau jumped up as Wulfric’s sister was shown into the solar by Perrin, her chamberlain. Perrin was a dour man in his late thirties who had been even more dour since Isabeau had announced that she intended to marry Wulfric. He looked as though he was holding his temper with difficulty. 

“Goodwife Rushside, lady,” said Perrin.

“Saegifu, go through to the inner room; you know the way,” said Isabeau.  “A moment, Perrin,” she said to her chamberlain. He bowed and waited and Isabeau went up to him, well out of the earshot of Dame Alice.

“Tell me, Perrin, what canker of thy soul eateth you and maketh you so sour?” demanded Isabeau.

“Is it my lady’s wish that I be frank?” asked Perrin.

“It is,” said Isabeau.

“Then I must tell you that I cannot like the idea of a noble Norman lady marrying a Saxon!” declared Perrin.

“Ah?  You think the king improper to take a Saxon wife?”

“Nay, he does what he must for politics, but he is a king, and might take a civilised mistress ...”

“That is close to treason, Perrin,” said Isabeau. “It is good politics also to join the line of the former lords of this land with the current line. Moreover, I trust Wulfric implicitly. Moreover, I did not realise that you were in the habit of disrespecting my father’s wishes?”

“Lady! I have never disrespected your father’s wishes, and fear what he might think an he knew your purpose!” said Perrin.

“Apparently you were less in my father’s council than his chaplain,” said Isabeau. “It was my father’s wish that I should marry Wulfric. Such I discovered, and consequently gladly do his bidding.”

Perrin paled.

“Y... your father’s wish? I did not know.  I ... I hoped that if you picked a member of your own household that ... that you would consider ...” he spluttered to a stop.

“Why, Perrin, I had no idea your son was even in this household for me to have considered,” said Isabeau. “I cannot call him to mind.”

“No, lady,” said Perrin, woodenly, chagrined that whilst the lady might have considered a son of his, she plainly considered him too old as a suitor. “May I go, now?”

“Of course, Perrin, now that you know that I have acted according to my father’s wishes and am not guilty of disrespect to his memory.”

Perrin exited, more at a stumble than his usual majestic gait.

Isabeau shook her head. Surely he did not really expect a young woman, some years shy of her twentieth anniversary, to consider cleaving to a man easily old enough to be her father? Especially when she might have a handsome man but a few years her senior, like Wulfric!  Apparently he had done so, and Isabeau was glad she had been able to preserve his countenance by pretending to believe he made petition on behalf of a non-existent son. If he had declared himself it would make his position very uncomfortable.

She went through to the inner chamber where Saegifu embraced her.

“Is it true that you will be my sister?” demanded Saegifu.

“It is,” said Isabeau, embracing the Saxon woman back.

“Oh, I am so glad!” said Saegifu.  “Wulfric has been in love with you, I swear, since he was no more than a boy, and first in your father’s household.”

“He has?” Isabeau was surprised. Saegifu chuckled.

“Oh, yes; every other sentence when he visited included something about you,” she said. “It was why I was so eager to get to know you, and why I am going to stay and make sure you have a proper tiring woman to get you ready for your wedding. Dame Alice means well, but she deserves a quiet life.”

“She does,” said Isabeau. “But I will not let you take over my life, Saegifu, it is my wedding.”

Saegifu laughed.

“I concede that.  And I am too used to having my own way now I am married. I told Robert that I was coming to stay with you, and he gave in gracefully.”

“Saegifu, there is some danger,” said Isabeau.  “Someone has already tried to kill Wulfric; and I do not know who, but it is because I chose him.  And I believe – we believe – that it was whoever killed my father. For that was a deliberate act.”

Saegifu gasped.

“Then all the more do you, my goodsister and my brother need another pair of eyes to look out for danger,” she declared. “Do you have no idea who it is? Surely you know who wants to marry you?”

“I know those who have been overt and premature, Sir Hugh Fleury and Sir Gilbert Danforth,” said Isabeau.  “And there are reasons each one might not be the one – unless they are working together. And that is a possibility I had not considered, but it is one to think about.”

“And no others?”

“I ... I do not know. Others might be more discreet and be holding back.  One has been suggested, Roger Dispencer,  who may have sired the child supposedly of the man who died by mistake instead of Wulfric.  I do not know what to think.”

“And no others have asked your hand?”

“Not those who may be taken seriously,” said Isabeau. She giggled. “Perrin started to intimate how much better his suit would be than a Saxon; I pretended to think he put forward a son of his. Imagine! He is old!”

“Aye, you should have a young lover,” said Saegifu. “And that is all?”

“Oh, my cousin offered marriage to preserve me from Fleury and Danforth, but I was able to tell him I had already chosen to wed Wulfric.”

“I am sure he was delighted,” said Saegifu.

“Oh, he was jealous as always, just because he has never been able to compete with Wulfric, but he teased me about always turning to my hero,” said Isabeau. “He was but mortified that Wulfric had thought to rescue me first; he is very young for his age and needs to grow up.”

“Indeed,” agreed Saegifu.

 

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[1] hedgehog