Wolf for a Lioness 8

 

Chapter 8

 

Four figures slipped into the stables, and were soon riding out, keeping to the sides of the light woodland that skirted the village to hide their silhouette. There was little noise of their hoofbeats over the soft turf over sand, and they came presently on a spinney near the leap. Sewin gave the horses nosebags with a wet mash in, so they would not dehydrate even with a long wait, having something to browse likely to keep them quiet. Wulfric showed Sewin and Father Hubert the remains of the tarred twine, and the cut to the other hawthorn tree’s trunk which Isabeau had first found. Then he spread his cloak for Isabeau to sit on, and settled down to wait. Sunset was before half past seven; that had passed by the time they arrived, the sky arrayed with skeins of purple cloud against a golden glow, fading into blue above, which deepened towards the east. There would be some light for a good two hours as yet, though only of much use for another three quarters of an hour. Wulfric hoped that his quarry would come before dark.

The muffled thudding of hoofs as the sky’s bright colours faded suggested that they were to be in luck.  A horse thundered up, foaming slightly from having been ridden too fast, and a cloaked figure almost fell off it, going to the base of the hawthorn tree where the twine remained. There was enough light in the sky to see the flash of a blade, cutting it, and actions which clearly showed mud being smeared onto the scar.

“Well, Piers, it seems that I was right to think you would want to remove the evidence as soon as possible,” said Wulfric, standing up and moving forward.

“You! You interfering Saxon bastard!” snarled Piers.

Wulfric laughed.

“But I’m not the bastard, Piers; you are,” said Wulfric. “And not just by birth, but in depriving the lovely Isabeau of her father.”

“It’s all your fault,” said Piers. “I spoke to Sir Ferrand about securing her hand, and the stupid old fool said that he intended to bestow her on you, and that he planned to tell her, and celebrate a wedding at Michaelmas when all the harvest was in. I ... I had to kill him ere he might tell her, that I might persuade her that he intended her for me!”

“Why, Piers! I had no idea that you felt so warmly for Isabeau; you have never displayed any passion for her,” said Wulfric.

“Passion? How could one feel any passion for that ice-cold hellcat?” sneered Piers. “But I would have schooled her to be the perfect, obedient wife in order to have the lands. So often the old fool spoke of me being as a son in his household, but a son of the household would have been his heir! She would pay for despising me, for being scornful of me!”

Wulfric laughed.

“Don’t you think that scorn is the right emotion for such a fool as you, who permits himself to be tricked into giving himself away?” he said.

“It is your word against mine! I will say that I followed you, and saw that you removed evidence, that you pretended you were going to look for in the morning, when others would have accompanied you. Your word is unsupported!”

“You’re wrong there, Piers,” said Isabeau. “Those of us sat in the shadows, listening, have heard every word, and if you thought I despised you before, why, ‘tis nothing on my feelings now, when you have revealed yourself to be so little, such a half-man, that you must ‘school’ a wife who will not defer to you, as I am happy to defer to my lord, Wulfric.”

Piers gave a whinny of terror, as Isabeau moved out of the caliginous gloom of the shadow, and stood by Wulfric.

Then, in a sudden move, he was on her, and seized her by one plait, pulling her head, his knife still in his hand and held at her white throat.

“I’m going to my horse,” he said. “You will not stop me. If she behaves, you may get Isabeau back alive; and perhaps intact. But my seed will rule these lands if I do not.”

“My son, do not be so foolish!” cried Father Hubert, running forward. Isabeau could not suppress a cry of pain as Piers’ knife nicked her.

“Don’t, priest,” said Piers. He backed towards his horse, a tight hold on Isabeau. He pulled off her girdle. “Loop it round your hands, bitch, or I will cut you,” he said. Isabeau swallowed hard; it pressed her throat closer on the knife, and she began to make a loop with her girdle, making a slip-knot which she might rapidly pull undone from one of the ends, as Wulfric had once taught her. She slid it over her wrists, and made sure Piers had the other end to pull tight.

And then there was a sickening, hollow, damp Poc! And Piers sagged. Isabeau stood on the end to loose herself, and her hands were free, and she pulled away from him, pushing the suddenly limp arm from her.

“Lady! My lady!” cried Arnebeort’s shrill voice. “I slinged my sling at the bad man! I followeded you, in case you needed me!”

“Arnebeort! My angel, why art thou not abed?” asked Isabeau, opening her arms to the child as Wulfric sprang on the unconscious Piers to tie him securely.

“I sneaked out,” said Arnebeort. “I knew you were going to catch him, and I was frit he might hurt you! So I brung my sling, like David and that Gol-fellow.”

“So you did!  Well done, Arnebeort,” said Isabeau. “Wulfric, be not over-tender of him. We heard his testimony. If Father Hubert will set it in writing, you and I might sign it as a true account to send into Bungay. And if he dies of his wound ... I will not be displeased. I do not want even Piers drawn and quartered.”

“Art tender-hearted, my little bird, my wren,” said Wulfric. “Let Piers be taken back to the house, where he might lie overnight under guard.”

“Let him be taken in the morning by litter to Rumburgh Priory[1],” said Isabeau. “He may recover or perish there, under the rule of the Benedict monks. They revere St. Bee, and will not take lightly his threats to violate a shamefast maid whom he had seized.”

“It shall be so,” said Wulfric. “My lady, dost feel able to ride back?”

“My lord, I am not, I think, as feeble as Piers has ever been,” said Isabeau.

“Then Arnebeort shall ride in front of me,” said Wulfric. “Today, child, hast avenged thy father, and saved thy lady.”

“Can I be a knight, one day?” asked Arnebeort.

“I see no reason why not,” said Wulfric.

 

oOoOo

 

Overnight, Piers slipped into a coma, and did not wake from it, dying three days later, shortly after the arrival of the curly-haired Roger Dispencer.

“I came to take your prisoner, but it seems he is like to die,” said that cleric. It was almost an accusation.

“Aye, and God guided ... well, if not your hand, another part of your anatomy when you left the foolish Fressenda with child,” said Wulfric. “For your natural son, in defence of his lady, used his sling to stop this man abducting the fair Isabeau, with intent to despoil her in his spite for having been caught killing his uncle and patron, Sir Ferrand.”

“I ...” for a moment, Dispencer considered denying knowledge of Arnebeort. “I am proud of the tyke, then,” he said. “You plan to rear him as one of noble birth?”

“My bride wants to adopt him,” said Wulfric. “I wait only until we have legitimate issue of our own.”

“Understood,” said Dispencer. “Thank you for not making an issue of it.”

“A man can be tempted. I was not in your shoon at the time,” said Wulfric. “And if it were a sin, it were a sin which has been cleansed by his actions. I make no issue.”

Piers breathed his last, and was taken to the chapel. He would be buried very quietly.

 

oOoOo

 

As the golden leaves of September blew desultorily from the trees, Wulfric knelt beside Isabeau to exchange their wedding vows. All the local notables were in attendance to witness it, and if Fleury and Danforth looked sour, there was nothing that they might do, and must accept a fait accompli.  And Arnebeort was a delightful and cherubic page boy, whose other weapon, an elder-stem pea shooter, Wulfric had firmly confiscated before bored eyes turned on irritating the choir.

Isabeau was also a thing of beauty, in a golden and brown damasked silk bliaut, the sleeves lined with a jewel-bright blue silk. Wulfric dressed in brown, but his own bliaut was richly dyed, a russet with embroidery at neck and sleeves in black, three browns, and gold thread.  The sun shone on his coppery locks and he looked every inch a lord. The peasantry appreciated it too; but they appreciated the wedding feast in the tithe barn more. The guests and the household servants would feast at the hall.

Isabeau and Wulfric endured the feast until Wulfric stood.

“Wife,” he said. “I am full of food, full of wine, and full of impatience. I am hungry for thee, and only thou wilt satisfy me.”

“My lord is masterful,” said Isabeau.

“You have not seen anything yet,” said Wulfric, picking her effortlessly up to carry to the solar.

He was given several drunken cheers.

Isabeau was giggling as he dropped her on the bed.

“Art ready to strip thy bride as the wind strips the leaves relentlessly from the helpless trees?” she asked.

“Art as helpless as a sack full of ferrets, my lady; I saw you tie that slip-knot, if our little Arnie had not brained Piers, I wager thou wouldst have gutted him, for he had not taken thy knife.”

“Aye, my husband, I should have done so. But before my husband, I am helpless and trembling, your wren in the jaws of a wolf.”

“I’ll remind you of that when my lioness gives bite for bite and bruise for bruise,” said Wulfric.

Laughing, they helped each other to undress, and Wulfric kissed his wife with all the pent-up passion he had been controlling, and showed her how masterful he could be in bed.

He collected a few bites, scratches and bruises along the way as his bride showed she was quite as capable as he was of initiating loving.

Pale dawn touched the windows ere they lay, satiated, dozing in each other’s arms.

“We will call a son Leofric and a daughter Wulfrun,” suggested Wulfric.

“We will call a son ‘Ferrand’ for Papa, and a daughter ‘Edith’ for the queen,” said Isabeau.

“What, not Mahaud for the Queen?” said Wulfric, startled.

“Oh, I do not need to fight about it anymore,” said Isabeau. “I concede the point to my husband. On one condition.” Her fingers suggested what the condition was.

“You’re going to kill me with exertion,” said Wulfric.

He did not sound unhappy about this.

 

---

[1] Neither Bungay Priory nor Flixton Priory had been founded at this period.

Wolf for a Lioness 7

 apologies for being lateish. I slept long after a really rough day yesterday which fortunately I scarcely remember. 

Chapter 7

 

It was pleasant to have another young woman around, thought Isabeau.  Saegifu, or Segiva, filia Ulfwinus as the parish record described her, was a merry girl, between Isabeau and Wulfric in age, and firm in her decisions. She had marked out Robert, a squire to Sir Ferrant, when she was twelve summers old and had waited until she was fifteen before she dragged him into a barn and made it clear what she expected from him. The bemused Robert had duly married his gift of the sea, as her name meant, and had provided her so far with a son and a daughter.  Saegifu employed a nursemaid, though she loved her children dearly, and did more for them than many noblewomen.

“Are you sure you do not mind staying here?” said Isabeau, doubtfully.

Saegifu laughed.

“Why, I have told you, my Robert minds not, and our house is but on the other side of the village, so he might collect me if he needs help with the disputes of Robin and Emme, for they are such ferocious petties, he might have such need.”

“Men are rarely good with children; it was a pretty thing to see Wulfric with Arnebeort, and the moreso that it saved his life. Had he not bent down ...”

“Aye, and this makes me more determined to cleave to my sister-to-be,” said Saegifu. “And Robert surely ready and willing to be your aid in tracking any villain, he without your household, and I within. I wonder if he should take the children to his mother until this matter be settled.”

“Perhaps wise; Wulfric would go at once into a trap if his niece or nephew were seized and threatened, and if I know him so well, so too might others.”

Saegifu paled.

“I must send word to Robert,” she said.

“Write and I shall have a page take it,” said Isabeau.

“I can take a message!” said Arnebeort, coming into the room.

“My child, it is clear across the village ...”

“I can!” said Arnebeort. “Father Hubert is learning me Latin, my lady. But why should I want to say ‘O table?’

“Because ‘mensa’ is an easy word to say and spell, and learn the endings for, where you might stumble over ‘ancilla,’ to whom you might say ‘O, handmaiden,’” said Isabeau.

“Oh, I see, my lady,” said Arnebeort.

“He is a hardy youth,” said Saegifu. “And he would attract less attention than if you send a known page. Here you are, Arnebeort,” she handed the child the note she had written. “Knowest thou my house?”

“Oh, yes, Lady Saegifu,” said Arnebeort. “Robin is a goodly wrestler but Emme bites.”

“I might have guessed,” said Saegifu. “Well, I will be glad if Robert takes them to safety, and I think he will accept my recommendation.”

Isabeau suspected that the happily hen-pecked husband would do as he was told without question.

“I worry about the child,” said Isabeau, uncertainly.

“Did you worry about him on his daily round before you took him under your roof?”asked Saegifu.

“Well, no, but ...”

“Isabeau, do not stifle him. He has been reared a peasant, not gently. He will resent you if you keep him too close, even if he enjoys getting more fondles than blows. Let him have the sturdiness of a peasant to help him when he learns knightly skills.”

Isabeau was much struck.

“You speak wisely,” she agreed. “I am glad you are here.”

“It is nice to have a change,” said Saegifu. “And we need to find out who has murderous designs on anyone between them and marriage to you. Which is essentially what it is about.  I wager whoever it is had approached your father, and asked for your hand in marriage. Now if your father told this suitor that he had already chosen a husband for you, killing your father and hoping to carry you off to wed was the man’s only chance to get his hands on your lands.”

“Yes, I can see that,” said Isabeau. “But how would any such man know that I purposed to marry Wulfric?”

“Who knew?”

“Fleury and Danforth; and such of my household as were in the great hall at that time, father Hubert and my cousin Piers later, for as I said to you, I told him he need not sacrifice himself in marriage to me.”

“Are you sure he would think of it as a sacrifice?” asked Saegifu.

 “Certes; for he has ever hated being bested in everything we did by a girl,” said Isabeau.  “I do not think he even likes me very much.”

“As your lawful wedded lord he could beat you into submission, you know.”

“He could try.”

“And he could threaten to have you burned at the stake for petty treason an you struck him,” said Saegifu.

Isabeau stared in shock.

“He would not!” she cried. “He is a man who dislikes violence.”

“No he is not; not if he is dealing with women, anyway,” said Saegifu. “He tried to force himself on me, once you know; and my Robert beat him and told him that if he touched me, or any of the peasant women again, he would be known not as Piers the Bastard but Piers the Eunuch.”

Isabeau was shocked.

“I ... I had no idea!  Saegifu, I am shocked, I did not know. I always thought him a bit of a nothing ...”

Saegifu gave a mirthless laugh.

“It is the nothings who must needs make themselves feel bigger by rape and by sly violence.”

Isabeau stared.

“Think you then that ‘tis he who killed my father, and who tried to kill Wulfric?”

“I do, but I hesitated to say so,” said Saegifu.

“Then we must set some trap for him, and show him up,” said Isabeau. “Though how to do so without risking Wulfric I do not know.”

“It must be a way which does not endanger anyone,” said Saegifu.

“Perhaps ... perhaps letting it be known that Wulfric means to examine the place where my sire met his death to look for signs that he was murdered, and we go much earlier and lie in wait for anyone removing the signs of his perfidy,” mused Isabeau. “I will speak of it to Wulfric, and see if he can devise some clever plan. I cannot accuse Piers without some proof, or he will say I but make up tales to exclude him from holding in my stead if I remain, for any reason, unwed.” 

 

oOoOo

 

With a knock, Wulfric entered, and Saegifu flung herself on her brother with a squeal of delight.

“You managed to speak to Isabeau of how you feel! I am so glad!” she cried.

“Now then!” said Wulfric.

“Poor Wulfric, managed by two managing women,” laughed Isabeau.

“Oh, but my wife will be obedient,” said Wulfric.

“So very obedient that I will work to persuade you that it was in sooth your own idea when I want to disobey some stricture,” said Isabeau.

“Aye, I can believe that,” said Wulfric.  “What have the pair of you been plotting? If ‘tis to make me wear white hose, cross-gartered with pale blue like that puppy, Warrener, wears beneath his bliaut, you will both be disappointed.”

“No, does he really?” giggled Isabeau. “He was wearing boots when last I saw him.”

“Aye, well, I have seen him do so when he wishes to catch the eye of those he wants put in their place, for wearing white declares that he needs not work, only supervise. But he dared not wear a light coloured bliaut in the face of your father.  See what he wears next time he comes calling.”

“We must encourage him to do so,” said Isabeau.

“What?” Wulfric was startled into the ejaculation of surprise.”I beg your pardon, but why would we want him around?”

“Saegifu thinks it was he who killed my father and shot at you.”

“Piers? That little fool?” Wulfric was not convinced.

“But consider, brother,” said Saegifu. “He expected to marry Isabeau, thinking she would turn to him as family. He was fool enough to discount you entirely.”

“Aye, he was very much surprised,” said Wulfric. “Not to say, horrified. And such a shot as was fired might be from his bow, for he is not strong, though he is accurate enough at the butts.  And to harm a horse? Well, to Master Piers, animals are there for his convenience. I ... but to kill his uncle were black ingratitude, for he was treated as a son of the house, albeit a younger son to Isabeau.”

“Piers has never been fond of gratitude,” said Isabeau. “How often have you helped him, and yet his thanks was often a scathing word.”

“I thought that because he hated to be beholden to a Saxon, one he saw as an underling,” said Wulfric. “Why, it is akin to parricide, to kill the only father he remembered, and heaven cries out in shame for such a crime.”

“Indeed, and we must trap him if we hope to have him punished for his crimes – and ensure your safety, Wulfric, my love,” said Isabeau.

“Aye, that I see,” said Wulfric. “Had you anything in mind?”

“My only thought was to say that we intended to go look for signs that my father was killed, and then lurk in wait, earlier than we said, and catch him undoing the twine.”

“That has merit,” said Wulfric. “Now, to my mind, word travels faster than an arrow; if wilt permit me to make an announcement at the evening meal, certes will I dismay the heart of Piers Warrener when he hears what I will say, and he must then act upon it. And one at least will carry news to him, I take no doubt.”

“Wulfric, I do not wish you to be in danger.”

“Isabeau, though I will claim to be ready to go alone, yet will I take the priest and another man; Sewin the ostler, who has also seen the cut on Beaujambes’ hock.”

“And me,” said Isabeau.

“I ... yes, perhaps if he is bold enough to brazen matters out, the sight of you will be enough of a shock, perhaps, to realise that the game is up,” said Wulfric. “If he thinks I am there alone, he might claim that it was he who caught me removing the twine, and I know who would be believed in a court of law.”

“It is wrong that it should be so!” said Isabeau. “But if he does not know who is there waiting, he cannot claim to have followed you; not if all the witnesses are there well ahead of time.”

“Yes; and I will go now to Father Hubert and to Sewin to ask them to hold themselves in readiness, and not to contradict me when I speak from the high table.”

“You will move to Father’s place with me at your right hand,” said Isabeau.

“I ... well, I suppose I would do so when we were married.”

“You would,” said Isabeau. “And we are together in this, even before we are wed, for it is the life and happiness of ourselves, and also of our peasants which ride upon bringing my father’s killer to justice.”

“When you put it like that, I find myself more willing to act as Lord of the Manor,” said Wulfric. “For it is my duty to draw the danger towards myself.”

 

oOoOo

 

The household was assembled to eat, Isabeau, Wulfric, Saegifu, Dame Alice and Father Hubert at the high table, and all the servants, indoor and out, below the salt at the several low tables, put together on trestles for each meal, benches dragged forward for seating. Arnebeort was technically a page, but as he was not tall enough to serve readily and so was perched on a stool, with a cushion, eating with the family. His eyes were wide, taking in the table manners of his elders. And Isabeau laid a hand on his as he was about to reach for food.

“We do not eat until Father Hubert has blessed the food by saying grace,” she said.

“Ain’t that what they do to the bread and wine in church?” asked Arnebeort, anxiously. “We will have more than bread and wine, won’t we?”

“It’s different,” said Isabeau, hastily. “The mystery of the sacrament is more important than the food we eat for temporal sustenance ... to stop us being hungry. It is to feed our spirits. You will learn more about it from Father Hubert when you are older,” she added hastily.

Father Hubert was about to say grace when Wulfric signalled to him to hold, and he stood.

“Before Father Hubert says grace, I wish to tell all the loyal servants of the late Sir Ferrand de Curtney that I have every reason to suppose that our late lord was murdered; and that his fall from his horse was engineered. Tomorrow, at first light, I purpose to go to the place where he fell and look for signs of a trip-wire, for his noble steed, Beaujambes, had a cut such as may be caused by a fine, strong twine. I will not rest, nor will I wed my lovely bride, until the killer of her father is brought to justice. This, I have sworn.”

The hall buzzed with conversation, wonder from some, sage nodding from others, and all looking speculatively at Wulfric, wondering if he knew anything to be able to make so rash an oath.

Wulfric sat down and nodded to Father Hubert.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, bless our bread as we come together to eat,” said Father Hubert. “Lay, we beseech Thee, Thy blessings upon this house of mourning, and let not this murder go un-avenged. If it were a stranger to this household, then let him fear the wrath of righteous men; and if it was one under our roof, let the filth of this petty treason be cleansed. Amen.”

“Why, Father, a master-stroke,” murmured Wulfric, his goblet held to hide his face. “Right cleverly done to remind folks that if anyone under Sir Ferrand killed him that it is petty treason.  Our miscreant almost has to kill me now, as well as getting rid of the evidence, to avoid being hanged, drawn, and quartered. A singularly horrible way to die.”

“I hoped it might help,” said Father Hubert.  “So sad when a young man is so very unsatisfactory.  When do I get up?”

“I’m sorry, Father, but I will require you to say the prayers of Matins and Lauds in situ, for we cannot know how swiftly the tale will be told, and in Piers’ shoes, I would want to be along to the scene of the crime as fast as possible; and maybe taking advantage of the long summer evenings, for their is light in the sky until easily nine of the clock. In which case, you will be back in time for Matins, and doubtless we shall join you.”

“I hope it will be a speedily-concluded outcome,” said Father Hubert. “It gives me a sour taste in the mouth which these excellent viands do not dispel.”

“Indeed,” said Wulfric.

It was hard to eat with every appearance of enjoyment, and without giving away that he would be away from the hall with his witnesses as soon as the meal was over. Of course, any informant must also wait for the meal to be over, for to slip away was a discourtesy to the lady of the hall which was not to be considered. Though if Piers’ informant was Hankin of the kitchen warren, a small affair where some half dozen coneys were kept to hand, he might slip out when he wished.

But he must get to the warrener’s house and convince Piers that he had important news to impart. And it must also depend on how much Hankin knew, or suspected, as to how important it was, and what orders he had over what to report.

Time ticked by with the drops of an imaginary clepsydra in Wulfric’s head, three hundred drops for Hankin to reach Piers’ house, three hundred back and another six hundred to the leap, if he avoided coming to the house, which he would. But Piers would not hurry himself unduly, he was too fond of his own gravitas.

He could see Hankin, getting a dressing-down from the cook. The cook had prevented the man from leaving; but when the tables were voided after the meal, he would have a chance. Wulfric caught Sewin’s eye; and the ostler nodded. He knew he must be in the stable right after the meal, saddling horses for Wulfric, Isabeau, Father Hubert, and himself.

And he would have prepared everything beforehand.

 

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