The Innocent (35 page)

***

Snow.
This was bad, Ranulf thought irritably. He had wanted to send Sim to Gwynfr to tell Merin ap Owen that he had returned, and would comply with his demands as quickly as a buyer could be found for his livestock. There would be those who would wonder at his selling his flocks and his herd. Some might even take advantage of him. It was a difficult problem, but he would solve it. He wanted his wife home safe.

The storm finally stopped, and as it had not been a hard snow, Sim set out for Gwynfr. He arrived with the first day of January. He rode up the hill to the castle, his eye scornful of the ruin and the neglect he saw.

"What do you want?" the man behind the portcullis demanded.

"To see Merin ap Owen," Sim replied.

"He don't see strangers."

"I have come from Ranulf de Glandeville, the lord of the manor of Ashlin, and your master will indeed see me," Sim snapped.

"Wait." The gatekeeper disappeared, returning several long minutes later. Without a word he raised the portcullis halfway, allowing Sim to duck beneath it as he rode into the courtyard. "Through there," he said, pointing toward one of the two towers that still stood.

Dismounting, Sim did not bother to thank the porter. He headed straight for his destination. He came into an entry and was met by a villainous-looking fellow who signaled him to follow, leading him into the great hall. There at the high board sat Merin ap Owen himself, and on his right was the lady Eleanore, looking pale, but otherwise unharmed. On his left, sweet Jesu, was Isleen de Warenne! Now, Sim thought, there is the real cause of all our troubles. Sim bowed.

"My lord, I have been sent by my master to tell you he has returned to Ashlin. He will follow your instructions, but he would be certain that his lady wife is safe and will indeed be returned."

"You can see your lady for yourself," Merin ap Owen said. "I am an honorable man, even if my ways are a bit unorthodox. When may I expect the ransom for the lady Eleanore?"

"My master must be cautious in selling his livestock," Sim began. "If he appears anxious to do so and sells them all in the same place, there are apt to be questions. He would obtain the best price for his sheep and his cattle, for he holds his wife in the highest regard."

"What is this delay, and why do you prevaricate with us?" Isleen suddenly demanded. "Your mistress has been gently treated to date, but she could find herself in the dungeons if your master should make any attempt to trick us!"

"Be silent!"
Merin ap Owen thundered. "You are not mistress here!" He turned his glance back to Sim. "A delay does seem odd to me. What is the reason for it other than what you have told me? Does the lord of Ashlin not want his wife back?"

"My lord, if my master appears to be in need or in distress, the merchants will take advantage of him. He will get no more for his cattle and sheep than you would have gotten if you had simply stolen them in the first place," Sim explained in practical tones. "You took the lady for ransom because she would bring you more, did you not?"

"This serf is too clever by far," Isleen said. "Kill him!"

"If you kill me, who will take your words back to my master?" Sim asked quietly. "Oh, you might bring my lifeless body back to Ashlin, but is that really the message you wish to deliver to my master, my lord? That will not tell him that his lady is well and safe, will it? Only my voice can speak the words that will reassure him, and keep him from coming down upon you with all the wrath of a wolf on the fold."

Merin ap Owen chuckled. "You are no simple serf, are you?"

"My name is Sim, my lord, and I am next in command after Captain Fulk" was the quiet reply. "My master would show you the respect of sending someone of stature from Ashlin, and not some widess clod. May I speak with my lady, please, my lord? A few words to reassure her husband?"

Merin ap Owen nodded. "But here, for all to hear, Sim."

"I bring you greetings from all at Ashlin, lady. We pray daily for your continued safety and for your return. Father Oswin said I was to tell you that everyone is well and thrives, and all who love you would have me speak their names. Cedric, old Ida, Willa, Simon, Orva, and Fulk. Your husband says he will secure your release as quickly as is humanly possible, my lady Eleanore. Have you a message for him?"

"Tell my lord," Elf said, "that I am safe, and have been well treated by Merin ap Owen. Tell my lord that I send him my love." She smiled broadly at him, nodding.

Sim bowed politely. He was pleased with himself for having been able to tell the lady her child was well without the Welsh lord and his whore understanding. He knew his lady would want to learn that her son was safe, but all at Ashlin believed that her captors did not know of the child, else they might have taken him, too.

"Go back to your master," Merin ap Owen said. "Tell him my patience is not endless, but I understand his caution. Return in a month with the time and place of the exchange. It must be a neutral spot, however. Tell your master that if he should attempt to betray me, or regain custody of his wife without paying the ransom, I shall kill her," Merin ap Owen said with emphasis. "Do you understand, Sim of Ashlin?"

"I do, my lord, but you need have no fear. The lord of Ashlin wants nothing more than the safe return of his wife, for he holds her in high regard and great esteem," Sim said quietly. Then he bowed first to the lord of Gwynfr Castl, then to Elf.

Merin ap Owen nodded. "Go, then," he said.

Sim bowed again, and departed the hall.

"Impudent bastard!" Isleen sniffed. "You should have killed him, and sent him back in pieces to his master."

"You are too quick to rash actions," Merin ap Owen said quietly. "There is no profit in killing an unimportant messenger. When I kill, it is for a good reason, not for the pure joy of it as it is with you, my pretty bitch." He turned to Elf. "You will be home by spring, my lady Eleanore. Will it please you?"

"Aye," she said honestly. How good it had been to see Sim. She had so very much desired to speak to him privately, but how clever he had been in allowing her to know that Simon was well. And Ranulf. He had returned safely. His return would mean that King Stephen was dead, and that England had a second Henry upon the throne. The word had yet to filter into Gwynfr, not that it made any difference.

"You must finish your tapestry before you leave us," Merin ap Owen said. "I shall hang it here in the great hall over the fireplace so all may see it, my lady Eleanore."

"It is a small enough price to pay for my keep, my lord," Elf answered him. How his eyes looked at her. He struggled hard to mask his longing, but she now knew it for what it really was.
Dear God,
she silently prayed,
get me home safely!
It had gotten to the point where she could hardly look at him, and she frankly feared the nights. She made it a point to hurry to bed immediately after the evening meal so that when he entered his bedchamber, she, in her little stone alcove, was long asleep.
Although she really wasn't.
She did not dare to sleep until she heard him snoring. His desire for her frightened Elf. Worse, she was curious of that desire. This was temptation such as no nun at St. Frideswide’s had ever faced, and she prayed to resist it daily.

And Isleen. She was no fool. Surely she saw where her lover's interest lay. If she became jealous, and she was easily jealous of Merin ap Owen, what course of action would she take? That thought in itself was frightening.
Oh, Ranulf!
she silently cried.
Please hurry! I want to go home! I want to feel your strong arms about me, and taste your mouth upon mine. I want to hold our son in my arms. Oh, Ranulf! Hurry.
Hurry!

H
e had a heart as hard as flint, Isleen thought as she sat next to Merin ap Owen at the high board. He didn't love her. She had deluded herself into believing that he might one day, but that day was never going to come, Isleen had finally admitted to herself. Not that he was incapable of love. Oh, no! Where Eleanore de Montfort was concerned, Merin ap Owen had a heart that bloomed like a rose.
The bastard!
And her rival, who had developed a tongue as sharp as any thorn, sat meekly by the lord of Gwynfr Castle’s side, sipping delicately from her cup.
I wish it were filled to the brim with poison,
Isleen thought viciously. The pious little bitch!

She was, Isleen decided, going to have to begin to consider herself for a change. While she had to admit that the Welshman was the best damned lover she had ever had-and she knew that she was certainly the best lover he had ever had-it was simply not enough. For the first time in her life, Isleen knew she needed more than just a good lover. She was, it seemed, like other women after all. She needed to be loved, and if she could not be, then she needed to be in complete control of her own fate. Why was it that no man had ever loved her? She was beautiful.

Richard de Montfort had said that he loved her, but the truth of the matter was that he had only lusted after her like all men, and he had been in awe of her beauty. He became quite boring. After they had been married awhile his ardor had cooled. He had expected her to function as a housekeeper, to be someone who dressed the putrid sores, and dosed the disgusting coughs of his serfs. She shuddered with distaste at the memory. She was not that kind of a woman, and she had tried to explain it to him. She needed admiration, and she needed others to wait upon her. To take special care of her. The manor should have had servants to do the menial tasks that Richard expected her to do. Oh, her mother did them, it was true, but her mother was an old-fashioned woman.

And then there had been her cousin, Saer de Bude, who had seduced her first when she was a child; although, if the truth had been known, it had been she who had really seduced him. She well remembered when her father had made the match with Richard de Montfort. Saer had no lands, no home to take her to live in. Then there was that silly matter of consanguinity. At first she had been so upset by the thought of another match. But Saer had calmed her, promising no matter what happened, they would be together again one day. However, until she had taken matters into her own hands and begun to poison her husband, then called him to come, he had quite disappeared from her life.

When he finally came back into it, he claimed to have been off attempting to become more worthy of her.
The liar!
She and she alone had been his only means to gaining an estate and becoming respectable. From the way he had behaved at the end, she strongly suspected he wouldn't have killed Eleanore de Montfort at all, but rather kept her for his lawful wife and Isleen for his mistress. She was glad now their plot had failed. It would have been a terrible betrayal, too great for her to bear.

But it was nothing to the betrayal of Merin ap Owen.
What did he see in Eleanore de Montfort?
By the rood, he was actually pining over her like some lovesick boy. And he hadn't even had her!
Or had he?
Was he really telling Isleen the truth about that, she wondered? How could he be in love with a woman he had not joined his body to yet? She didn't understand it, and was seriously beginning to believe he was lying to her. As for her rival, she was a sly puss, Eleanore de Montfort! She wouldn't want anyone, least of all Isleen, to know of any adultery. She surely had to be Merin ap Owen’s lover! Why else did she always look so calm and serene, the little bitch! Well, Isleen would no longer be fooled!

Now, what was she to do about it? Merin ap Owen watched over his precious captive like a mother hen over her chicks. When he wasn't there, that damnable old serf, Gwyll, was at Eleanore’s elbow. As much as Isleen wanted to harm Elf, she faced the fact it was unlikely she would ever get the chance. So how was she to revenge herself on those who had hurt her so deeply? She knew very well that Merin ap Owen, while he enjoyed her sensual nature, was becoming bored with her. He would toss her aside as easily as he would any peasant wench. And then what was she to do?

She had only begun to organize and refine Clud’s whorehouse; she was in no position yet to push the whoremonger out and take it over. She had not the funds, nor did she think she could obtain the strong support of Merin ap Owen at this juncture. He would very much enjoy throwing her out and leaving her to fend for herself. Bastard! But a woman couldn't fend without gold, she knew.

And then she realized the solution to her problems was right before her very eyes. She would steal the ransom Ranulf de Glandeville was to pay for his wife before it even got to Gwynfr. With that ransom and a good horse, Isleen de Warenne could go wherever she chose, set up the finest whorehouse England had ever seen.

London. She would go to London!
Merin ap Owen would never find her. He would think Ranulf de Glandeville had betrayed him. He would rape Eleanore de Montfort before he killed her so that in the end Isleen would indeed be revenged! It was a foolproof and a perfect plan! Isleen’s color was high, and her heart beat wildly with excitement as she considered her victory.

"You have the look of a cat that has just cornered its prey," Merin ap Owen said to her. "What are you thinking about, my pretty bitch?"

"Of how Ashlin, and all its people who were unkind to me will suffer and be destroyed when Ranulf de Glandeville must sell off all his livestock to regain custody of his wife," she lied, looking directly into his dark eyes. "They will starve without cattle to sell at the Lammastide Fair. There will be no wool, either, without sheep. How will they buy what they need for the coming years? How will they afford seed and other supplies that are not manufactured at Ashlin?"

She laughed meanly. "Ranulf de Glandeville will not think he has gotten such a bargain after all, and the serfs will curse his name. It is really quite delicious to contemplate," she finished, and the truth was it was a wonderful thought. A bit of a bonus, Isleen considered. She wondered if Ranulf de Glandeville would come to avenge his wife. Would he kill Merin ap Owen, or the other way around? Her thoughts kept getting better and better.

"You have such a black heart, my pretty bitch," he said. "I think I must have you before too much more time has passed. Your wickedness excites me very much, Isleen." He turned to Eleanore. "It is time for you to seek your chamber, lady. Do not wait up for me," he mocked her, knowing his words would cut into Isleen, "for I shall be very late."

"And should you hear noises coming from my apartments above you, lady," Isleen said, "do not be disturbed. My lord is most vigorous when he is in my bed." She smiled a feline smile.

"All men, I am told, are vigorous in your bed, lady," Elf replied sweetly She arose and curtsied to them, then left the hall.

Merin ap Owen laughed softly. "She is a true spitfire," he said admiringly. "By the rood, I'd like to get between her legs!"

"Do you expect me to believe that you haven't already?" Isleen snarled, all pretense of civility gone. "Do you think I believe for one moment that you haven't had her again and again since you brought her to Gwynfr, and ensconced her in your chambers? She may look like a little saint, but I doubt she is any longer, and you certainly are not!"

"You know me not at all, my pretty bitch," he said in a soft, deadly voice, "if you think I would dishonor myself by dishonoring my captive. All women are not like you, Isleen. Most may be to a certain extent, but not all. Eleanore de Montfort is a good woman."

"You love her!"
Isleen accused.

For a long moment his dark eyes bored into hers, then he smiled an inscrutable smile at her. He would admit nothing to this bitch who railed at him. What he felt for Eleanore de Montfort was the purest feeling he had ever had. He would not spoil it by saying aloud what was in his heart to this harridan. He arose. "Come along, my pretty bitch. There are better ways to amuse me than you are now doing. I believe your bottom is in need of some correction. A good strapping to begin with, then I shall burnish you to a fine glow with a bunch of birch twigs. And then, my pretty bitch, you will take me into your hot, wet sheath, so we may truly pleasure each other," he said.

"She cannot give you what I give you," Isleen murmured breathlessly as she followed him from the hall.

"No," Merin ap Owen agreed with a smile. "She cannot."

Elf heard them passing by as they made their way down the narrow corridor and began to climb up to Isleen’s chamber. Isleen was giggling, and Merin ap Owen’s dark laughter followed her. It was at times like this, Elf realized how truly wicked her captor was. And yet he had never really been unkind to her. Indeed he was just the opposite with her as he was with Isleen. Why was that? Alas, she had no answers because of her inexperience. How much longer would it be before she saw her husband again?

***

It would not be long now, Ranulf thought, as he counted out the coins that John had brought back from Hereford, where he had sold off half of Ashlin’s cattle. The other half had been sold in Worcester. The sheep had gone to the bishop, who had been apprised of the situation and agreed to purchase them. He had been generous, much to Ranulf’s relief. A churchman was not above taking advantage of a desperate noble. Now, Ranulf realized, he must decide upon a time and a place for the ransom to be paid. Only when it was delivered would Merin ap Owen free Eleanore. God! It had been so long! Looking across the hall at his son, Simon, crawling about, pulling himself up whenever he could, he realized how much she had missed.

Sim departed for Gwynfr in a heavy winter rain. There was just enough time for him to reach Wales and offer a choice of meeting places. Merin ap Owen greeted him, Isleen de Warenne at his side and looking sour. There was no sign of the lady Eleanore.

"I'm to see the lady is safe still, my lord," Sim said politely.

"Gwyll," Merin ap Owen called. "Go and fetch the lady Eleanore so her man may see she is unscathed."

Gwyll moved quickly off.

"What suggestion does your master have for a meeting place?" the lord of Gwynfr asked.

"He offers you two choices, and if they do not suit, he will accept your choice, my lord. Just over the English side of the border are the ruins of an old hall. We call it Briarmere. Or we could meet atop the verge, on the border itself," Sim said.

Merin ap Owen thought for several minutes on the selection. He knew Briarmere well. The ruined stone hall was a place from which an ambush could easily be set. He had himself attacked hapless prey from there. If he could get there first… on the other hand, if the lord of Ashlin got there first… no. This time Briarmere would not suit. On the other hand, atop the verge was an excellent site. Out in the open there was no place for anyone to lay in wait. He smiled. Ranulf de Glandeville had thought the same thing, else he would not have offered so obvious a choice. "The verge, in ten days' time," he said.

"Agreed," Sim responded. "I will bring the gold, and you will bring my lady in exchange."

"Nay. You will bring the gold, and then you will wait until the gold has been brought back to me. I must ascertain that your master has been honest, and not filled the ransom bags with small stones topped by gold pieces. When the gold is all in my hands and counted out, then the lady will be brought to you. I will bring her myself to be certain she is delivered safely into your hands. The verge is but a few hours' ride from Gwynfr."

Sim’s instinct was to protest the method of exchange, but he knew he had not the authority, nor did he have any real choice in the matter. Merin ap Owen was absolutely in charge.

"In ten days' time my courier will be awaiting you" came the reply. "There will be no one with him. He will be alone as must you."

Sim nodded.

"Sim!"

He turned, and saw the lady Eleanore had entered the hall. "My lady!" He bowed to her, but she took his hand and asked, "How are all at Ashlin? My husband, old Ida, Fulk, Willa, and Simon?"

"They are all well, lady, and eager for your return home," he told her. She looked well, if pale, and perhaps a bit drawn.

"How long?" she said.

"I shall bring the ransom in ten days' time, my lady, and then once the lord Merin has satisfied himself that all is right, you will be brought to me, and I will escort you home."

Elf nodded. Then she sighed. "The end seems so much longer," she said, "now that I know the end."

"As you see, your lady is in good condition," Merin ap Owen said. "Now, go, and tell your master so you may return quickly with the ransom."

"Aye, my lord, I will," Sim replied, bowing. Then he quickly left the hall.

"So," Isleen sneered, "your husband was willing to give up what small wealth Ashlin had for your return. He must be in love, but he will not think so highly of you come next winter when you all starve."

"We will not starve, Isleen, although I will admit with our livestock gone, it will be harder for us; but God will provide," Elf responded. "I cannot help but wonder where you will be next winter."

"What does that mean?"
Isleen snapped, her blue eyes blazing.

"I have not the experience, of course, but it does seem lord Merin might be growing bored with you. After all, what can you offer him that other women cannot?" Elf smiled tauntingly. What was it about Isleen that brought out the worst in her?

Isleen flew at Elf, her claws bared, but Merin ap Owen jumped between the two women, laughing.

"You hitch!"
Isleen hissed.

"Whore!"
Elf returned angrily. "Do you expect me ever to forget my brother, and what you did to him?"