The Innocent (34 page)

"Had there been an attack on the convent?" Ranulf asked.

"Yes, and no," the priest said, and went on to explain the rest, concluding, "When we realized the lady was gone, we were frantic."

Fulk, who had hurried into the hall, took up the tale. "I rode with my men through the night to reach Ashlin when I realized we had been deliberately drawn away, and that the swineherd had been sent by the Welsh themselves to lure us off. It rained for the next three days, my lord, and we could not search because there was no trail to follow. Finally, when the weather cleared a bit, I sent Sim out to find the lair of the bandit, Merin ap Owen, for I was certain it was he who had stolen the lady. Sim was gone for almost three weeks, but when he returned we knew for certain that it was indeed Merin ap Owen who held the lady captive. Sim had seen her, well guarded, walking on a hillside by the bandit’s castle. It was much too dangerous for Sim to attempt to steal her back, so he returned to tell us what he had seen."

Ranulf nodded, the red mist was fading slightly, but now there was a fierce, burning anger centered in the middle of his broad chest.

"Soon then, a ransom demand was delivered by one of the Welshmen’s men. Merin ap Owen was aware that you were away. He says he will keep the lady safe until your return. You are then to sell all the cattle and the sheep that you possess to ransom her. When you have the monies, you will make a signal by lighting pitch torches all around the perimeter of the walls. Someone will always be watching, and when the signal is received, Merin ap Owen will come in several days' time to make the exchange with you. We were forced to allow his messenger to return to Wales to say that we understood his wishes, my lord."

"It was well thought out," Ranulf said slowly. " I would not have believed a bandit so clever."

"He is of noble blood, my lord, but wicked, rumor has it," Fulk replied. "I am so sorry, my lord! It is my fault! I should not have let the lady send me to St. Frideswide's!"

Ranulf shook his head. "Nay, Fulk. You obeyed your mistress as you should have done. Had the girl, Arwydd, not betrayed my wife, none of this would have happened. Even if you had been here, there would have been no help for it. You know how you like your food and drink, my friend. With your appetite, you might still be sleeping. Praise God you were not, and knew what to do afterward." Ranulf clapped his captain comfortingly on the shoulder.

"What are we to do now, my lord?" Fulk asked him.

"First we will keep Christ’s Mass," Ranulf said. "Then I must decide, after speaking with Sim, what our chances are for rescuing my lady wife. The better course might simply be to pay the ransom. I find it interesting that I am instructed to sell all my sheep and cattle in order to ransom my Eleanore. This was well planned, my friends. The Welsh could have stolen my flocks and herds. Instead they stole my wife, for they knew I would get more for my livestock than they would. Aye, this was no spur-of-the-moment decision on the part of Merin ap Owen. It was cleverly conceived and well executed."

"But if you sell the sheep and cattle, my lord," Father Oswin said, "how will the manor survive in the coming year?"

"Merin ap Owen may have set a watch on us," Ranulf said, "but that watch will only be near enough to see the signal on our walls, not near enough for us to discover and catch the watcher. Tomorrow is a feast day, but on the day after, we will move the sheep from the far meadows where they now are to the near meadow. While we are doing that, we will cut the ewes from the flocks that are close to lambing. We will hide them in the barnyards, where they are not easily seen. That way we will have the beginnings of a new flock of sheep. The Welsh will be none the wiser, for their interest in us will disappear with the gaining of the ransom. The harvest should have been good enough for us to feed the sheep over the winter months," Ranulf said.

"There are several cattle with calf," John the bailiff said, for he, too, was now in the hall.

"We'll keep them, too," the lord of the manor decided. "There is a quarter moon tonight. Have the cowherds take them from their pastures and put them in the barns. I will not lose my wife, but neither will I allow this bandit to beggar us, either."

"Will you kill him, my lord?" Fulk asked.

"Eventually, but first we must regain custody of the lady," Ranulf said quietly. "When we do, however, I shall do the king a service by ridding the border of this man and his rabble."

"Amen!" Father Oswin exclaimed.

"Come to the table, my lord," old Ida called. "The meal is here, and you have traveled far. My lady would want you well cared for, I know."

The elderly woman’s words pleased him, but Ranulf de Glandeville could not help but wonder if his wife was as snug this night in her captivity as he was. Seating himself at the high board, he thought how lonely it was without her.
Eleanore!
he cried in his heart.
Ma petite, je t'aime avec toute ma coeur.
Outside the hall the wind began to rise.

***

Elf started in her place by the fire as she wove. She could have sworn she had heard Ranulf’s voice. The wind moaned outside the shutters, and she shivered. It was the eve of Christ’s Mass, but there was nothing different here at Gwynfr Castle: no priest to celebrate the Mass. She had learned from Gwyll that the priests considered Gwynfr, its inhabitants, and its lord cursed and the devil’s own. On the solstice there had been much celebrating and drunkenness. Isleen had brought her whores into the castle to entertain the men.

"You must remain in my apartment," Merin ap Owen said, "and not come out lest you be harmed." Then he had locked Elf inside, pushing the key back beneath the door to her for safekeeping. That way, he had explained to her, no one could take the key off his person when he was drunk. They both knew he meant Isleen. "When I return here, I will be sober, and I will request the key from you," he said. Then he had gone.

Below in the hall she heard the shrieks and shouts of the drunken debacle. There was a tray upon the table with food and drink. Elf ate, then sat by the fire sewing. Once or twice she thought she heard footsteps in the passageway outside the apartments, and once the door handle was rattled strongly. Elf sewed on, a poker by her side. She did not expect anyone to be able to break in, but she would be able to defend herself if they did. Eventually the noise below died away, and fully dressed she lay down in her little chamber, the poker next to her pallet.

In the hall Isleen cajoled her lover. "Let us give her to the men tonight, my lord. I want to see her debauched."

"I shall give you to the men instead," he said. He was drunk, he knew, but not without his wits. Isleen might want revenge, but he wanted the ransom she would bring. Besides, if he could not have her, certainly no other man here would. The thought of anyone despoiling her exquisite beauty or breaking her brave spirit angered him. He stood up, dragging Isleen with him. He tore her gown from her, and hauled her up upon the high board, naked for all to see. "Here, lads, is my own private whore for your pleasure this night, but no other night, for I am a jealous man! Who will be the first to have her right here upon the high board? She'll make you a fine feast!"

"You devil!" Isleen spat at him as the men-at-arms crowded about the high board, leering up at her, their hands pulling her down upon her back so they might fondle her full breasts. They spread her wide, and then Isleen found herself mounted successively by a group of eager men who used her vigorously. She didn't really care. None could arouse her like Merin ap Owen. She responded to please them, and retain her reputation as a passionate woman. Turning her head, she saw Merin ap Owen with a red-haired wench in his lap. The girl was as naked as she was, and riding the lord energetically, her head thrown back, the muscles in her throat straining as she screamed her pleasure.
Bitch,
Isleen thought. Tomorrow she would have every peasant in Gwynfr humping the red-haired whore. She wouldn't enjoy that half as much as she was enjoying Merin ap Owen.

The night wore down, and eventually all in the hall, filled to capacity with food, drink, and pleasure, lay sprawled in sleep. Merin ap Owen looked about him and, standing up, sought for Isleen. She was asleep beneath the high board, two men sprawled over her. He reached down and pulled her out to her feet.

"Come on, my pretty bitch," he growled at her. "You are not done yet; and it would seem my randy cock cannot be truly satisfied until it has visited your hot and wicked sheath."

Fully aware now, Isleen smiled at him. "Bastard! I am used raw by your men thanks to you, and now you are ready for more? What’s the matter? Didn't your little red-haired whore please you? Or was it because she was not your little captive?" Then she laughed seeing the look of surprise upon his face. "Did you think I haven't noticed those languishing looks you give her when you think no one is observing you? You are like a cowherd with his first maid!" And she laughed scornfully, but in her heart Isleen was darkly jealous.

She had caught him off guard for a brief moment, but then he slapped her lightly as he drew her up the stairs. "If I treat the lady Eleanore differently than I do you, my pretty bitch, it is because she is a lady and a truly good woman. You are an evil whore with a soul as black as night. I fear you are the perfect match for me."

***

On Christmas morning, while the snow swirled outside Gwynfr Castle, Elf sat as usual weaving at her loom. After her morning prayers she softly had sung a little carol she remembered from St. Frideswide's. It saddened her that there was no Christmas here in this place. The tapestry was beginning to take shape. As this was no place for a religious theme, she had taken her inspiration from the hills about them, weaving a pattern of green mountains, a blue sky, and a field of flowers. She intended to set a pair of deer in the landscape as well.

Elf shivered with the cold. Her cloak was not enough over her simple tunic and skirts. Despite the fact she huddled by the fire, the chill always came through the stone walls whose mortar was either worn with age or gone entirely. She thought of her own warm hall at Ashlin. How was her little Simon? Had Ranulf returned yet from Normandy? When was she to be released from this terrible captivity? It was Christmastide, and yet there was no Yule log here as there would be at Ashlin. There were no scented beeswax candles, roast boar, or Ashlin folk singing carols in the newly restored church. It was Simon’s first Christmas, and she would not be there to see her baby wonder at it all. For a moment a black anger came over her, but she fought it off remembering that the Christ Child had come to bring peace on earth. She let her thoughts return to her home. She missed her querulous old Ida, Willa, faithful Cedric, stalwart Fulk. She missed her bed and the good food her cook prepared. Here at Gwynfr the meals were dull. There was hardly a green to be seen unless she asked.

Outside the wind howled mournfully. Elf shivered again, then started as a heavy fur cloak was dropped over her slender shoulders. Surprised, she looked up and found herself face-to-face with Merin ap Owen. Their lips were almost touching. Startled, she flushed and drew back, unable to speak. The look in his eyes! She had recognized that look. It was the same look that Ranulf had for her, and in a flash she realized what it was.
Ranulf loved her!
Her heart soared with the knowledge, then plummeted as quickly.
Merin ap Owen loved her, too!
He looked away.

"Gwyll has pointed out to me that you have few garments, and now that winter is here, you might be able to use a heavier cloak," he said in a quiet voice.

Elf swallowed hard. "Thank you, my lord," she answered, bending low over her weaving.

"It is wolf. The cloak. I hunted them down myself last winter," he continued.

I must look at him, or he will think something is wrong, Elf thought. She glanced up again. "I am grateful, my lord. I already feel warmer. I shall use it on my pallet at night as well."

"Why did you not say you were cold?" he demanded.

"It is not my habit to complain."

"Ask for what you need in future, my lady Eleanore. Granted our situation is unique, but it is not my intent to make you uncomfortable or harm you in any way. I am an honest man, and give value for the coin I gain. I would return you to your husband in good condition."

Elf giggled. She couldn't help it.

He smiled, for he had never heard the sound of laughter from her throat. "What amuses you, lady?"

"You are an honest man?
You are a bandit, a thief, Merin ap Owen!" Elf chortled.

He laughed. "Aye, but I am a honest bandit, an honest thief."

"I wonder if the nuns at St. Bride’s thought that of you," she said softly.

He flushed at her words. "Blood lust is a difficult thing to control, lady. Never before had I ravished or murdered like that; but that day I was driven to it by a she-devil. I was weak. I am ashamed of it, but it is done and cannot be undone."

"You could pray for those you wronged, Merin ap Owen," Elf told him gently. "A wrong can be undone by a right. If you are truly contrite and ask God’s forgiveness, He will give it to you."

He smiled wearily at her. "I am past salvation, my lady Eleanore. Perhaps if I had met you earlier in my life, but I did not." Then with a small bow to her, he turned and walked away.

Elf’s hand returned to her loom, but she felt a great sadness for Merin ap Owen. What had he been before Isleen had come into his life? Gwyll said his master was a wicked man from birth, but had he really been wicked, she wondered? Probably yes, she admitted to herself, for Gwyll loved Merin ap Owen and was completely loyal to him. He but spoke the truth, as harsh as it was. What a world this was, Elf considered, and she should have known none of it had she remained in her convent. There would have been no Ranulf or Simon. In the world one had to take the good with the bad, she realized. The good, she thought hopefully, far outweighed the bad. The rising wind rattled the windowpanes.