Conquests: Hearts Rule Kingdoms (19 page)

Shaking her head to rid her mind of such malevolent thoughts, Avis went to her usual place at the top table, and began to pile her plate – but the absence of Melville, usually eating well before her appearance, troubled her. Where could he be?

Avis gestured, and immediately a servant appeared by her side.

“My lady?”

“Please bring Robert to me.” Avis gave the name of the only retainer that she had seen Melville trust totally. The servant scurried down the hall. Avis expected him to go straight to Robert himself, but the servant unexpectedly left the hall. Craning her neck to try and see where he had gone, within a moment he had returned and hurried back to Avis.

“Well?” asked Avis, sharply. She was not accustomed to her orders being disobeyed, and surely this one was not difficult.

The servant was clearly nervous. He licked his lips, and pushed back his dishevelled hair.

“My lady,” he began, “I am afraid my lord Robert is unavailable.”

“Unavailable?” repeated Avis. “Just what exactly can keep him from his lady’s bidding?”

Avis knew that she was being unreasonable, but the whole world seemed unreasonable today. Why would Robert not come, and where was Melville?

The servant’s eyes were scanning around the room, but could see no one to rescue him from Avis’ ire. She sighed.

“Tell me the truth. There shall be no retribution for the truth.”

This calmed the servant, who finally explained.

“Robert left early this morning, without breaking his fast, with my lord Melville and several others.”

“Left? I was not aware of any judicial court meetings that required Melville’s presence this day.”

“That is because there aren’t any, my lady.”

Avis blinked. She nodded the servant away, and then turned to her food.

Melville was gone. And clearly no one was entirely sure where. At this time of danger, he had left her unprotected, and without warning her that he would be absent. What could be so important? And when would he be returning?

An angry flush rose throughout her entire body. Melville was so volatile – how could she ever learn to truly trust him?

Avis worried in the only way that she knew how; by pacing. As soon as the morning meal was over, she left the hall intending to make her way across the bridge to her favourite tree. Passing the stables, she noticed that the majority of the horses were no longer there – and none of the packs, which contained the belongings of the riders and were always strapped carefully to the side of their mount – were in their boxes. They had all gone.

But there was no time to wonder about such things. Increasing her pace, she raced across the bridge until she reached the tree. She immediately began pacing, pulling off her veil and running her hands through her long hair. Recollections of her conversation with Melville underneath the same tree kept crowding her mind, but she pushed them away as she tried to concentrate.

Melville had gone. That much was certain. But where to? There was no business to be taken care of, and no news from York that had to be addressed. York, then, was not his destination. What about the village they had passed the day before on their ride? Avis was almost tempted to saddle a horse and ride to the hill that they had been to yesterday, but she knew deep within herself that he would not have returned there without her. There would be nothing to be gained. But then where could he have gone, and with so many people?

And so many supplies. Avis, with a flash of horror, realised why so many horses had disappeared, and why there were no packs left. Melville had left for a considerable amount of time, taking as much food and water with him as he could carry.

Her mind worked hard, and she thought. She tied it all together, and was devastated at the conclusion that she had no choice but to come to.

Melville had not waited to discuss the matter with her. He had made his own decision – and he had decided to run without her.

Tears crept to the front of her eyes as she tried to argue against this dreadful idea. But the trouble was, it made too much sense. Had not Melville himself told her that taking too many people would slow them down? She herself was not a long-distance rider, and he had seen many examples of that on the long trip northwards after their marriage. He had asked her whether she knew anyone in the area, and she had been honest and said no! Perhaps he knew a local Norman lord; a man who would be willing to protect Melville and a small retinue, but would not want to shelter an Anglo-Saxon woman from the anger of his King.

Despite the valiant fight that Avis gave them, the tears won and they fell across her face, staining them white with salt. Unable to continue walking, she threw herself down on the ground and stared into the river, full from the snow that had melted in the highlands of Scotland. Melville had abandoned her, right at the moment when she had most needed him. And she did need him, she realised. As much as she was strong, and proud of that strength, she was not this strong. Once again, she had trusted. Once again, she needed a protector. Once again, she was left alone.

Avis surrendered herself to tears for several minutes, but after a while she calmed herself. If her experiences had taught her anything, it was that nothing could be gained from self-pity. And she was not alone. The entire village had remained, and they were Anglo-Saxon. They were much more likely to help her than Melville ever was.

Avis rose determinedly. Whether Melville was scared enough to run away or not, she would not run so easily. She knew what she had to do.

Picking up her skirts, she flew down into the stable yard almost as quickly as she had previously left it.

“Listen, everyone!” Avis cried. “Everyone into the Great Hall, now!”

The stable men turned around, shocked at the impressive tones from their refined lady. But with a glare from Avis, they began to move.

A message was sent down to the kitchens, and out into the grounds, and within minutes the Great Hall was filled with muttering voices, unsure why they had all been sent for but fearful of something that they had all done that required punishment. Clusters of Norman retainers and Anglo-Saxon servants carefully avoided each other. Avis marched to the front, and without any aid, stood on the large table.

The room quietened at the unusual sight of their lady standing on a table. Every man, woman and child turned to Avis, and she swallowed. This was it.

“My people,” she began in Anglo-Saxon. “I feel that it is only right to warn you of a terrible event that is soon to happen.”

She spoke the same words again in Norman, so that all of her people could understand her. The silence that had heralded the beginning of her speech gave way to murmured panic as they waited for the terrible news that she was about to bring them.

“Please!” Avis tried to keep the calm in both languages. “Please let me finish, and then I will answer any questions that you may have.”

The room became soundless once again, and Avis took in a deep breath. Her skin was pale, and those closest to her could see her rocking slightly on her toes as she tried to take her own advice.

“King William and his army are on their way.” Avis was trying to be as brief as possible – she knew that any extra details would merely increase their panic. “Not to visit us, but to visit death upon us. Others have displeased him, and he has decided to punish all.”

The differing reactions of the people in the room did not surprise Avis. The Anglo-Saxon servants began to well up but did not allow the tears to fall; they knew exactly what type of punishment William would bring to them. But surprisingly it was the reaction of the Normans that wrenched most at Avis’ heart. Their eyes were wide open, and their mouths agape. They could not believe that their King, their William, the man that they had sworn to honour and protect, who they had already fought for and defended, was now coming to destroy them. This was betrayal, on a royal scale.

“Please,” Avis began again, “please do not be afraid.”

“Easy for you to say!” shouted out Bronson, his face red and oil dripping from his hands. “My lady,” he added hastily. “You will be protected!”

“I am to have no special treatment!” Avis spoke over the uproar. “I am one of you.”

“Where is my lord Melville?” called a Norman man whose name Avis did not know. “Where is our lord?”

That is a good question, thought Avis. She hesitated. She had not considered what she was to tell everyone about Melville's apparent disappearance. With no wish to lie, it was not possible for her to tell the whole truth. Though her blood boiled against him, she could not dishonour him in front of his people. She was his wife, and she had a duty to him – even if he had ignored his duty to her.

“My lord Melville has departed,” she said slowly, “to fulfil a promise. He has not forgotten us, and,” her voice caught in her throat, “he will return to us.”

All of the people in the room gazed on her suspiciously. If Avis did not convince them of her honesty soon, they could rise up against her. She would be powerless against such hordes. But there was one more thing for her to say.

“The village.”

This simple phrase from Avis wrought a silence that she had never heard before. The Anglo-Saxons immediately fell quiet, and their sombre faces fell even further. The Normans too became quiet. They may mock the simple village folk, but they had grown to know them, to recognise them. They had become part of their landscape, necessary to their existence.

Avis saw the sadness, and it strangely raised her hopes, low as they were. Perhaps they would agree to her plan.

“I want to protect the village,” she continued. “This place is more than big enough for us all. I intend to clear rooms, and invite the villagers in. They will be safer here. We can all face this together. Anglo-Saxon and Norman.”

Avis was not sure what she was expecting, but she had certainly not expected the silence to continue unabated. All seemed unsure whether to trust the other side.

And then Edith stepped forward. She left the close circle of Anglo-Saxons, and walked across to the Norman men, who took a pace back away from her. A couple of the Norman women chuckled, and Edith coloured.

“I know that you despise us.” Edith said quietly in Anglo-Saxon. Avis began to translate for the Normans, as Robert had disappeared with Melville. Their faces turned white at Edith’s words, but none of them interrupted.

“I cannot quite say that I do not despise you,” resumed Edith in her lilting tones. “But if we are to survive this, we must survive together.”

Her eyes lifted from the floor, and gazed sharply at the closest Norman man. He blinked repeatedly, as if to wipe her image from his eyes. But she would not disappear. He turned to Avis.

“We will help,” he said gruffly. “We must protect each other.”

Avis translated his short speech to the Anglo-Saxons, and a few of them nodded in appreciation.

Avis breathed out a sigh of relief. This may even work.

Hands from both sides pulled together throughout the day, and shouts across rooms were always followed by a brief translation from Avis. Never before had she felt the lack of a translator so much, but signs were created to indicate basic ideas, and a couple of the cleverer among them had learned a few important words.

Noise and dust and the sweet sound of working songs from both Anglo-Saxon and Norman tongues filled the building. Avis had no time to do anything herself as she was constantly needed to translate between the two groups. She smiled, watching the kitchen women scold Felix as he dropped a tray of bread. There were chuckles behind her, and when she turned she saw that Edith and another Anglo-Saxon girl had been trying to lift a table – now carried on the back of a retainer, who was strutting around to the amusement of many.

There were still arguments: all had the perfect plan in which to make living quarters, and no one seemed particularly happy with compromising. A few of the Normans had originally refused to help, but had been shamed into clearing a chamber of armour after a tiny Norman boy of about five years old had tearfully asked for assistance. As Avis left to go down to the village, she smiled. Her desperate speech from the table had been the only point of action that she could think of, but she had secretly never expected it to change things this much! Everything had worked out better than she could have ever expected, and been more successful than she could ever have hoped.

As she closed the heavy entrance door, snow began to fall. Avis shivered; rushing without thought, her cloak had been left behind. Quickening her pace, she rubbed her hands to keep warm and tried to imagine where Melville was at that moment. Probably warm, and filling his belly, she thought bitterly.

She strolled down the path. Birds were singing in the trees, unaware of the fear and commotion beneath them. One of the birds Avis did not recognise. Perhaps it is one of the birds from Melville's homeland, she mused – but the remembrance of that intimate conversation with Melville increased her anger. How dare he leave her! What sort of a man would open himself up to her, and then just when she needed him most depart without saying a word or leaving a message. It was incomprehensible.

By this time, Avis had reached the outskirts of the village. Cries of, “
éadesburg
!” or ‘lady’ from the children rang out as they ran towards her, beaming. Barefoot, they didn’t seem to notice the cold. She was always welcome with them because few people took the time to play with them. There was always so much work to be done, and little time for frivolity.

“
Gambeóda
!” She replied, dazzling them with a broad smile. “Children!”

They swarmed around her, hugging her knees, and she giggled. Instructing them to gather their parents and all the other big adults here, she watched them scamper off, and her smile faded. Avis would do anything to prevent those children from suffering the way that she did. For some of them, it would be a return of the same pain.

The villagers began to appear, dragged by the hand by the children. They looked confused, but fearful. Being summoned by the lady could never mean a good thing. Dirty hands mopped sweating brows, and some women were bringing their suckling children. They could guess that the only reason for Avis to gather them all together was to relate bad – and dangerous – news.