Enchantress Mine (57 page)

The spring came, and toward the end of May the queen was brought to bed of a fine son who was baptized Edward on the very day of his birth. It was on that same day that Josselin de Combourg arrived in Edinburgh to reclaim his stolen wife. He had gone almost mad when he had returned to his tent that Christmas Day to find Loial dutifully and unknowingly standing guard over his empty dwelling. The young squire had wept with shame when Mairin’s loss was discovered. The slit rear of his quarters told Josselin how the kidnapper had entered and removed his wife. The snow, only just beginning to fall then, had not yet obliterated the place where Eric Longsword’s horse had been tethered and waiting.

Eric Longsword.
He knew without a doubt his wife’s kidnapper. Had Mairin not seen the man behind them in church that morning? He went at once to the king and explained his plight. William was sympathetic, and over a dozen knights volunteered to help Josselin seek his wife. They divided themselves into several search parties, and each went off in a different direction, for Josselin really had no idea of where to look. By now the snow was falling heavily, and so the searchers were forced to return to York by nightfall. No trace of Mairin or her captor had been found. After the storm had subsided they had searched again, but in the desolated, and now devastated, countryside surrounding York, few people could be found alive, and those who were found were not overly willing to cooperate with Norman knights. Pressed, they admitted to having seen nothing, and certainly no one of Mairin’s description.

Josselin had returned to Aelfleah, for he thought that perhaps Eric Longsword was still affiliated with Eadric the Wild. He would go home first, and then into Wales to seek Eadric. Eada was horrified to learn of her daughter’s kidnapping.

“How could you leave York?” she demanded of Josselin.

“There was no trace of her there,” he said. “I have to start looking somewhere, and Eadric the Wild seems like the logical place to begin.”

“Perhaps,” Eada mused, “but I suspect Eric Longsword is long gone from Eadric’s service, for Eadric was not overly pleased to find that he had lied to him about his position with Mairin and Aelfleah.”

“If she is not there, I do not know where to go,” said Josselin.

“Ask Eadric,” replied his mother-in-law. “He may know something, and I think he may be getting ready to swear his fealty to King William.”

“Why do you think that?” Josselin asked her.

“His rebellions have come to naught, and the lesson of Northumbria cannot have gone unnoticed by Eadric. His allies have melted away. He must either swear fealty to William, or face the same fate as Earl Edwin. Offer him friendship in the king’s name as well as your own. It will salve his pride, which is great, and give him the opening he seeks to come to the king with his honor intact.”

Josselin smiled at Eada, and then he gave her a hug. “How did you get so wise, mother?”

“By living so long,” she answered him with a smile. “Now go and find my daughter, and bring her safely back home.”

He had taken Eada’s advice and gone with a small nonthreatening force to the stronghold of Eadric the Wild. He had been received with cautious hospitality at first, but that hospitality had become openly friendly and cooperative when he had extended his hand in friendship. Eada had been correct. Eadric the Wild was anxious to make his peace with William. Josselin assured him he could arrange to have his neighbor—for were they not good neighbors now?—received with honor and friendship by King William. The purpose of his visit, however, was a sad one. Eric Longsword had come to York in December where he and his wife, Mairin of Aelfleah, had been called to the king’s Christmas court, and Eric had stolen the lady Mairin away. Did Eadric know perchance where Eric Longsword might be?

Eadric was horrified by Josselin de Combourg’s news, but then he said, “I cannot help you, my friend, for I have not heard from that cowardly bastard since I sent him from my service. Do not fear, however, for your wife is a brave woman. If she does not escape him, she will find a way to send you word as to where they are. I do not believe he would dare to come back to me, for I do not take kindly to men who lie to me. I think the fellow is mad. With Tostig dead, Eric might have gone north with Edgar the Atheling’s people to Scotland. Have you looked there?”

Josselin had returned to Aelfleah dispirited, but Eada had agreed with Eadric’s analysis of the situation. The winter was severe, however, and Josselin would have to wait until spring before he might venture north again. In his first and immediate concern to retrieve his wife, Josselin had not considered the fact that Eric Longsword was Mairin’s rejected erstwhile suitor. As the winter wore on, that nagging thought crept into his mind, and he could not exorcise it. He knew that Mairin would not willingly accept Eric as her lover, but how could his wife hope to overcome a determined man’s strength? He knew with certainty that Eric had forced his wife, and try as he might, he was unable to accept the fact despite Mairin’s innocence in the matter.

Still he owed it to her to find her, and bring her home to Aelfleah. Until he did, this terrible matter, not of their own making, could not be resolved, and it must be if they were to go on with their lives. First though, Eric Longsword must die, for he had besmirched the honor of Josselin de Combourg by kidnapping and violating his wife. Josselin found that as images of his beautiful wife struggling within the embrace of the other man grew, so did his thought of Eric Longsword struggling in his death throes at the end of Josselin’s lance grow as well.

Dagda sensed the violence within his lord, and said, “You cannot hold her responsible.”

Josselin turned agonized eyes to the big man. “I do not. Not really.”

“Yes you do, my lord, and if she knows it you will kill her love for you. She will never forgive you. Her greatest weakness is that she has a long memory for an offense.”

“God have mercy on me, Dagda! How can I put these terrible thoughts that plague me from my mind? Eric Longsword has used my wife in a way that is my right alone. I forgive her, but how can I forget it?”

“You
must,
my lord. Perhaps if you thought more like your Celtic ancestors you would understand. Our bodies are but shells to house our souls as we go through our lives. As we end each life we live, we shed those shells as a snake sheds its skin. It is not the body’s shell that is important, it is the soul. A hundred men might possess my lady Mairin’s body, but none would touch either her heart or her soul, for they are yours alone. Will you allow your pride to destroy your love, my lord? Think on it.”

He did as he rode north with the messenger who had arrived at Aelfleah in mid-May to bid him come to King Malcolm’s court in Edinburgh, where he might find his lost wife. Dagda had insisted upon coming with them, and Josselin had not dared to forbid him, for there was something about Dagda’s strength that he felt he needed, and he was ashamed of his own weakness, for in his heart he knew he loved her yet, and always would. They arrived in Edinburgh to learn that the queen had just that morning given birth to a lusty son.

Along their way Josselin had learned that his wife had come to the Scots court in early January, and upon being presented to the queen, she had thrown herself upon Margaret’s mercy. Her tale had caused quite a stir amongst the court, and Queen Margaret had taken the lady Mairin into her household under her protection, much to the anger and chagrin of Eric Longsword, who claimed she was his wife. That news in itself offered a certain relief to Josselin. Mairin had been in her captor’s custody a relatively short time. Considering their flight, and the severe winter weather through which they had traveled, perhaps she had escaped ravishment by her captor.

As Mairin ran toward him, her beautiful face alight with joy, his hopes plummeted, for she was obviously with child. He almost groaned aloud. His beautiful and exquisite enchantress violated by a man little better than a savage beast, but for her sake he would accept her bastard even as his father had accepted him. It was ironic that he be faced with such a situation, but still it could not be easy for her either, he realized. She was forced to carry and bear the fruit of her shame.

“Josselin, my love!”

He opened his arms to her, enfolding her within his embrace. He felt tears pricking at his eyelids unbidden, and he buried his face for a moment in her neck to hide them. “Sweet Jesu, enchantress,” he said, “I feared I should never see you again!”

“I am with child,” she said, and her voice was happy. “It is a son this time, Josselin. Our son, William, who will be born by Michaelmas at the latest! It was a blessing that I did not lose him before we reached Edinburgh.”

“Our son?”
His voice sounded stupid in his own ears.

She pulled from his embrace, and stared him in the face. “Aye, my lord. Our son,” she repeated, and now her tone was sharp.

They had met within the courtyard of the king’s house, and as they entered the Great Hall so that Mairin might bring her husband to the king, Eric Longsword was suddenly before them, and he grinned sneeringly.

“What think you of your fine wife, my lord de Combourg, and of the son I’ve put into her belly?”

With a savage roar Josselin leapt forward, reaching out as he did so to grasp his antagonist about the neck. Before his fingers might close about his enemy’s throat, however, two men put themselves between the warring parties.

“My lord, no!” he heard Dagda say.

Slowly the red mist that had risen up before his eyes subsided, and although his anger was as hot as it had been moments before, at least his reason had returned. As his eyes focused he saw Eric Longsword being held at swordpoint by a tall, lanky man with a large nose dressed in a knee-length dark wool tunic, a blue-and-green length of cloth with narrow bands of red and white thrown across his shoulder, and held by a silver-and-enamel pin.

“Angus Leslie, laird of Glenkirk,” drawled the man with a smile that went all the way to his eyes. “Dinna gie our
friend
here an easy death, my lord. We’ve been waitin’ for ye to get here so we might watch ye destroy the turd at yer leisure.”

Josselin felt the laugh bubble up, and he opened his mouth to release it. “On reflection, Angus Leslie, I believe I shall enjoy slowly slicing this wife-stealing rogue to ribbons.”

“Verra guid, man, for the king’s planned to make a festival of it.”

“Let him go,” said Josselin. “I’ll not kill him yet.”

Angus Leslie lowered his sword, and sheathed it.

Eric rubbed the spot on his neck where the weapon had pricked his skin, and then looking at Josselin he said softly, “Ye’ve not answered me, my lord de Combourg. What think you of the babe with which I’ve filled Mairin?”

“Liar!” Mairin spat at him, and her eyes were blazing with anger. “I will not deny ye kissed me, and ye fondled me, but never once did ye do that which would put a child in my belly. The child is my husband’s child, conceived in York before you stole me away. I would swear it on the True Cross!”

Those within the Great Hall of the king’s house turned as the voices rose, and listened avidly at the exchange going on between the two men and the woman. Most believed Mairin, for Margaret believed her, but there were those doubting Thomases amongst the members of the court who, believing that Eric Longsword had raped his captive, thought that surely the child Mairin carried must be his, and that she lied to her husband to protect that baby.

“Mairin, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss this,” Josselin told his wife.

“I disagree, my lord,” came her answer. “Either you believe me, or you believe Eric Longsword.”

“I believe that you believe what you say, enchantress. I know you would not deliberately lie to me.”

“This child is your own true child, my lord. If you will not accept it then you no longer accept me, for without trust between us, we have no real marriage.” Before he might answer her, Mairin turned and left the hall.

Eric laughed. “The child is mine,” he said, “for I fucked her first the same day I took her back from you. You may kill me, Josselin de Combourg, but it is my son who will inherit Aelfleah. Even if he does not look like me, you will know he is mine, and if you do not want to lose her, you must accept my bastard for her sake.” He laughed again, and it was an eerie and high-pitched sound that came forth from him. “I do not care if you kill me, for without Mairin I have nothing for which to live, but I shall not really die, shall I? I will live to haunt you in my son.

“Shall I tell you how your wife writhed and moaned beneath my cock? How she begged me not to stop? How she begged for more, and how her sharp claws spurred me onward to satisfy her as you have obviously never satisfied her? She is a glorious fuck with that white skin and that flamered hair of hers. I cannot remember ever having enjoyed a woman more. Shall I tell you what she said to me after I first took her?”

Dagda’s big fist shot out, and Eric Longsword crumbled into a heap at Josselin’s feet. Josselin did not think he could move, and even Angus Leslie was stunned by the viciousness of Eric Longsword’s words.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, the laird of Glenkirk said, “The man is totally mad, ye know. His words are cruel, but ye must nae believe him.”

“Would you if Mairin were your wife?” asked Josselin.

“If Mairin were my wife, I would trust the lass if she told me nay. Yer a lucky man, my lord de Combourg.”

“We are speaking about my wife, and the possibility that she carries a son. Is he my heir? Or is he not?” Josselin said stiffly.

Angus Leslie nodded slowly. “Aye, ’tis hard,” he said, “but ye’ll have to make peace wi’ yerself for her sake, and there is always the chance ’twill be a lass.”

“Are you enamored of my wife, Angus Leslie?”

The laird grinned his quick grin. “I might have been, but that she would nae let me be. Instead she turned my mind and heart to the bonniest maiden I could have ever dared to aspire to, the queen’s younger sister. We are to be wed, and I hope both ye and Mairin will be here still to share in our happiness.”