A Man of Value (12 page)

“She’s right,” said one of the men, a black-haired giant, who seemed to be the leader. “You need to keep warm.”

The three had pulled bundles of dry clothing from their saddlebags, and were stripping off their wet clothing as they headed to the trees. Agneta turned away and looked at Caedmon, her face grim. “You scared me to death, silly man, taking such a foolhardy risk for a fish.” She whispered so the lad couldn’t hear. He was busy building up a fire.

Caedmon grimaced. “I have to admit, I scared myself.”

When the three Welshman returned, Caedmon proferred his hand to their leader and said hoarsely, “We’re in your debt, sirs. I’m Caedmon Woolgar. Agneta is my wife.”

The giant took his hand. “Good thing we came along when we did. I’m Rhodri ap Owain, Prince of Powwydd. These good men with me are Aneurin and Andras. And this bright lad is my son, Rhys. We’re part of a band paused in yonder copse. We heard the commotion.”

“You’re Welshmen then?” Caedmon asked.

Rhodri nodded. “We are. And you’re Scots?”

“No, we’re Saxons.”

The Welshman arched his brows as he crouched by the fire. “Where are you bound?”

“My late father was the thane of Shelfhoc Manor in Ruyton. I’m returning there to take up residence. I was raised in Scotland.”

Rhodri looked surprised. “Ruyton? Isn’t that a protectorate of the Earl of Ellesmere?”

“Aye. Do you know him?”

The Welshman smiled. “Yes, we’ve met. My wife, Rhonwen, is a friend of the Countess, Mabelle de Montbryce. In fact, we named our daughter Myfanwy Mabelle. Rhys has been to Ellesmere Castle several times.”

The Welshman winked at his son. Rhys nodded and returned his father’s enigmatic smile, but she paid no heed, busy as she was trying to strip off Caedmon’s wet clothing and tend the wound at his temple, which had stopped bleeding. “It shouldn’t scar,” she said. “It’s not deep.”

The tree branches in which he’d become entangled had left livid scratches along her husband’s calves and thighs. She wrapped a blanket around him and rubbed his arms to warm him up.

The Welshmen turned their backs and walked away while Caedmon held a blanket around Agneta and she removed her clothing. They wrapped themselves in their blankets and huddled together by the campfire Rhys had built. Agneta couldn’t stop trembling, but felt calmer after she’d eaten some of the delicious fried fish Rhodri’s men caught and shared with them.

“You don’t have dry clothing?” Aneurin asked.

Caedmon shook his head. “The others are carrying some of our goods. They should be here soon. None of us are carrying much.”

“A good idea. The less you have, the less can be stolen from you in this land the Normans boast of having made safe,” Andras remarked sarcastically.

“Aye, that’s the sum of it,” Caedmon agreed.

The Prince of Powwydd gave an imperceptible signal to the others, and they all rose as one and started to mount their horses.

Caedmon asked, “Won’t you stay and meet the rest of our group? My mother would surely like to thank you for saving my life.”

“No, my Saxon friends. We thank you, but we never tarry long in England. Too many Normans. We’ll follow this river
Afon Dyfrdwy
back into Wales this day,” Rhodri replied with a chuckle. “I bid you farewell, and good luck in Ruyton. Your mother, you say? Woolgar? Yes, I recall the name now. Strangely enough, Ruyton is where I first met the good Earl of Ellesmere. You remind me of him somewhat. Give him my regards if you see him.”

Caedmon got to his feet. “I will. Farewell, and our thanks again, Prince of Powwydd. There will be a welcome for you at Shelfhoc Manor.”

Rhodri smiled and the Welshmen disappeared into the forest as quickly as they had emerged.

“That was a strange look he gave you as they rode off,” Agneta remarked.

“Aye. Who knows with the Welsh?”

They clung together in silence by the fire, waiting for the others to arrive.

“I’m sorry, Agneta. You’re right. It was foolhardy.”

They didn’t speak for a while, then he quipped, “And now we have no fishing line.”

He was trying to cheer her, but her heart broke when he murmured, “Thank God I have a courageous wife. You tried to save me despite your fear of the water.”

“You’re all I have. What would become of me if I lost you?” she whimpered. She would be haunted by the fear she’d seen in his eyes. It was a rare glimpse of vulnerability in him and he was aware she’d seen it. The depth of her love for him struck full force, confusing her to the point of total exhaustion and she was asleep when the rest of their group arrived to be told the tale.

Caedmon cursed over and over to Leofric as his friend helped him unpack their dry clothing. “I’m a fool. The great warrior, Caedmon Brice Woolgar, almost drowning and having to be rescued by his wife, and a bunch of wandering Welshmen, who were no doubt outlaws.”

On the other hand, he was in awe she’d risked her own life to save his. “How could I have been stupid enough to endanger her safety that way? I must be more cautious. It’s no longer acceptable to behave like a fancy-free youth with only myself to consider. I’m a married man now, with responsibilities. What are you laughing at?”

“I’m not laughing, my friend,” Leofric smirked. “That’s the way my face is now.”

Caedmon would never forget the terror in Agneta’s eyes as she struggled to keep hold of his slippery hand.

But her fear wasn’t of the water. It was for me.

Perhaps she did care for him. He’d all but resigned his fate to a watery grave and had been on the point of avowing his love for her when the Welshmen had ridden to his rescue.

~~~

Their lovemaking after his near drowning took on a new intensity. He was happy that making love to him excited her, and she seemed always to be eager for him. They made love when they had privacy, only falling asleep when their bodies’ cravings were completely satisfied. On the last night of the journey, as she lay in his arms, he whispered, “On the morrow, God willing, I shall bring my bride to my estate and she’ll become the lady of Shelfhoc Hall, Lady Agneta Woolgar.”

“I like the sound of that, Sir Caedmon Woolgar,” she replied sleepily. “It’s difficult to grasp that a short time ago, I was completely alone in the world, with no prospect for the future outside the convent. Now I have a magnificent man to share my bed. Who knew such a wanton lay buried deep within? Goodnight, Sir Caedmon.”

“Goodnight, Lady Agneta,” he whispered, feeling smug about his magnificence.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Early in the afternoon, they clattered into the courtyard of Shelfhoc Hall, after apparently satisfying the visual scrutiny of a handful of men-at-arms as they passed through the fortress gate of the rampart.

They were given an indifferent welcome by the Earl’s steward. He was the third steward to be assigned there since Ellesmere took over protection of the lands and had no idea who these unusual travellers could be. The man at their head shared a horse with a woman, whose alarmingly short hair was uncovered. The group looked like they’d travelled for days in the same inferior clothes. There was something vaguely familiar about the man, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“I’m Sir Caedmon Woolgar. Who are you?”

It had been so long since any Woolgars had lived at Shelfhoc the name didn’t resonate with the steward at first, but then something reached in and tickled his memory.

“Woolgar?” he queried.

“Aye, Sir Caedmon Woolgar, son of the late thane of this estate,” the knight declared as he dismounted and helped the woman. “And this is my wife, Lady Agneta Woolgar and my mother Lady Ascha Woolgar. We’ve come to take up residence.”

Tybaut’s mind went blank. “But, my lord, if I’d only known you were coming. We could have prepared chambers, food, a hot bath. Forgive me, I’m Tybaut, your steward.”

The knight laughed. “Don’t worry. A bath sounds good if you could organize that. Fresh linens will do for this night, and a light meal, then, on the morrow, you can set about doing the rest.”

“
Oui
, my lord. We’ve a small staff here, only my wife and I, and the stable boy, but we can meet your needs if you have but a little patience. On the morrow, I can go into the village to procure more servants.”

“We’ve all the patience in the world, Tybaut,” Sir Caedmon smirked as he took his wife and his mother by the hand and led them into the house. “Perhaps you could give us a short tour after you’ve settled our companions in their chambers? Sir Leofric Deacon will require a chamber, and perhaps Lady Coventina Brightmore can share one with her mother and aunt?”

“
Oui
, my lord,” Tybaut said, trying without success to solve the enigma of who it was this man reminded him of. Perhaps it was the Scottish burr confusing him?

~~~

Caedmon knew nothing of the house, but now he savoured every lime-washed panel, every stair, every chamber. His mother wandered off, Enid at her side. It was a grand house, two stories high, built from stout split and planed timbers, fastened together with iron nails. The interior was elaborately decorated with ornamental wood turnings, the wooden floor softened with wattle mats. The roof was well thatched. The sturdy outbuildings were framed with large timber uprights, filled with wattle and daub and chinked with moss to keep out the winter cold. The stone kitchen was set apart from the wooden house.

“This used to be the weaving shed,” Tybaut explained, as they entered a long, narrow building. “Perhaps the ladies might start up the use of it again? I’ve kept the old looms well covered.”

“Perhaps,” Agneta agreed. “I like to weave.”

“I didn’t know my mother did weaving,” Caedmon said. “How hard it must have been for her to leave all this.”

Agneta said nothing in reply, probably lost in memories of her home, destroyed with his help. He silently cursed himself for his insensitivity.

There was a modest Great Hall where Caedmon imagined his father had conducted business, enacted justice and spoken judgments. Had his father sat in the massive thane’s chair on the dais, his wife Ascha by his side, and signed contracts, praised good deeds, eaten with his men? The Hall was long and narrow and had two doors, one at each tapered end. The four windows had wooden shutters for defence and to keep out the cold. He felt proud of his sire who’d died at Hastings, proud to be a Saxon. He was relieved he’d not brought Agneta to a ruin.

“Imagine my parents here, Agneta, in the days before the Conquest, watching the smoke make its lazy way up from the hearth here in the middle, out through the hole in the roof.”

“We had a great hall similar to this in Bolton,” she replied coldly. “It had alcoves on the sides, like this. Of course, you only saw the outside.”

Tybaut looked at Agneta curiously and Caedmon was relieved she said no more about Bolton. “You’ve done a fine job of maintaining the manor, Tybaut, and you’ve been meticulous in sending my mother her revenues from the tenant and church income. Why is it the Earl never takes a commission or percentage of the revenues?”

Tybaut scratched his head. “That’s been the way of it since the outset. I wasn’t here then, of course.”

“The Earl’s generosity amazes me, I must confess,” Caedmon said sarcastically. “There has never been any charge levied for the services of the stewards nor for these Ellesmere men-at-arms who guard the manor house. Perhaps Normans aren’t as greedy as I thought, or perhaps there’s something I’m missing. There has to be some reason for the Earl’s uncommon generosity to a Saxon family?”

Tybaut shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously ill-at-ease. “I’ve found the Earl to be a reasonable and honourable man, sir. As I say, I wasn’t here in the beginning.”

Caedmon and Agneta continued their tour, and came at last to the largest chamber, where they were standing when Lady Ascha entered.

“This must have been your chamber, mother, yours and my father’s? It’s only fitting you have it now. Agneta and I can—”

“Absolutely not,” Lady Ascha exclaimed. “This is the chamber for the lord and lady of the Manor. That’s you, Caedmon and Agneta Woolgar. There’s another chamber I’ll be perfectly happy with.”

“Thank you, mother,” Agneta said, clasping Ascha’s hand. Caedmon wondered if his wife was aware she’d used the word
mother
. He sensed there was something about Agneta’s own mother she’d never told him.

Tybaut’s wife soon had water warming for baths. The stable boy carried up the buckets of hot water and poured them into the ornate wooden bathtub, which had been brought to the lord’s chamber.

“My parents must have used this chamber, but I find I’ve no sense of them together. Of course, I never met my father.”

Agneta sat on the edge of the bed, testing the mattress. “Your mother seems nervous about being back here.”

He nodded. “Too many memories, I suppose.”

~~~

Caedmon savoured making love to his wife for the first time in their own home. As they lay together naked, her back snuggled against his chest, his body wrapped around hers, his hands cupping her breasts, his face in her hair, he felt content and mused about the future.

“I’ll become familiar with the tenants, and Tybaut will help me with that. You’ll need a lady’s maid and we can deal with procuring her and other servants when Tybaut goes to the village. We’ll need a cook—a good one. And clothes for you.”

“There’s plenty of time, Caedmon. We don’t have to do everything in the first sennight. We’re both tired from the eventful journey. You could have drowned. And we’ve Yuletide to plan in the next few days. I’m surprised we made it here in time.”

“You’re right. It will be good to celebrate Yuletide here for the first time. However, I can’t take too long before I must travel to Ellesmere to confirm my allegiance to the Earl. Much as it galls me to serve a Norman, after all Montbryce has done for the Woolgar family I’m sure I’ll be expected to provide some kind of service, now I’ve returned to claim my birthright. Perhaps I’ll have to patrol the border against the Welsh. I’ll need to recruit and train my own men-at-arms—men who are loyal to me. They say the Earl is a fair man, hard but fair.”