The Wolf and the Dove (56 page)

Her mare stood some distance away, the reins hanging beneath her head. She made to approach the horse, but it shied, frightened by the pain where the cruel thorns had raked her chest. Aislinn crooned and tried to quiet her. Just as she would have succeeded there was a crashing in the brush behind her. The mare snorted and fled as if the very devil dogged her heels.

Aislinn turned and saw a great boar thrusting its way through the shrubs toward her, snorting and squealing as it found the scent of those who had of late forced it to run. And here it smelled the helplessness and fear of one afoot. He seemed to sense her pain and turned its beady eyes to stare at her, its white tusks gleaming. Aislinn backed away and flung her gaze about for some haven from the beast. She saw an oak with a branch that she could reach and made her way to it. The boar followed her with a vengeful gleam in its eyes. But Aislinn found that she could not raise on her injured leg high enough to grasp the limb. She tried to jump but her fingers would not hold and she fell against the huge trunk and there lay still as the beast halted, no longer seeing a movement before him. He snorted and tore the ground with his tusks, hurling great chunks of moss and grass into the air. Suddenly, on shaking his head from side to side, he saw the bright color of her cloak. He squealed in anger and began to move forward,
thrusting his tusks against the branches that brushed near him, tearing the leaves asunder.

Aislinn felt her panic rise. She had no weapon, no way to defend herself. She had seen before long gashes in dogs and in the legs of men made by those ravening tusks. She drew back against the tree, seeking what shelter it could offer and as the boar came forth in the glade she could not suppress a scream. Her voice rang in the trees and seemed to anger the swine more. She pressed her hands against her lips to still another that would follow.

There was a sound in the forest behind her and the boar swung its head to see what new thing menaced it. Wulfgar’s voice came low and soft.

“Aislinn, do not move. As you value your life, do not move. Hold still.”

He swung down from the Hun, bringing the spear with him. He crouched low and eased forward, his every movement closely watched by the boar that now stood silent, waiting. He eased forward until he was beside Aislinn but several yards away. She made a movement and the boar swung his head toward her.

“Be still, Aislinn,” Wulfgar’s voice warned her again. “Make no move.”

He crept forward until the spear was some two lengths away from the boar. Then he braced the butt against the sod and put a knee upon it, keeping the point carefully aimed. The boar squealed in anger and thrust back upon its hind legs. It tore again at the turf with his tusks and it began throwing up clumps of dirt with its forelegs, then lunged back upon its haunches and charged. Wulfgar, with his great shout ringing in the forest, held the point of the spear full against the snout. The beast screamed in pain as the long, slim iron head pierced its chest and it was impaled on the lance. It nearly broke the barb and almost jerked the haft of the weapon from Wulfgar’s hands, but he held on, bearing his weight upon it and the two fought, thrashing across the glade until the life blood of the great pig had run out. He quieted, gave one last jerk and died. On his hands and knees, Wulfgar dropped the spear and knelt there for a moment, panting with the strain of the fight. Finally he turned his head toward Aislinn
and she, with a tearful gasp, struggled to stand but fell full length upon the ground. He rose and hurried to her.

“Did he strike you? Where?” He bent to her anxiously.

“Nay, Wulfgar,” she assured him and smiled. “But I fell from my horse. It ran into some brush and was frightened and I fell. I bruised my leg.”

His hands lifted her skirt away from the injured thigh and his fingers gently traced the growing bruise. His eyes raised slowly to meet the deep violet ones holding him softly, and her parted lips gave breath short and fast. She stretched her arm to him and slid her hand behind his head, drawing him close until their lips could meet. Her arms went around him and his around her and they lost themselves in the fierceness of their embrace.

He drew her up, the bruise forgotten, and bore her to a leafy copse where he spread her mantle and lay beside her.

It was much later when the sun had lowered in the sky that there were voices from afar and much crashing in the woods, then into the glade thrust Sweyn and Gowain. They glanced about and found Wulfgar and Aislinn lying together beneath the great oak tree, resting as if the day was meant for lovers. Wulfgar raised on an elbow.

“Where go you? Sweyn? Gowain? What hies you through the wood in such a rush?”

“My liege, your pardon,” Gowain swallowed. “We thought the Lady Aislinn had come to harm. We found her mare—”

Another thud of hooves and Gwyneth came on the scene. She took one look and fought with a frown then tightened her lips and whirled away.

“Naught is amiss,” Aislinn smiled. “I but fell from my steed. Wulfgar found me and we—rested for a bit.”

The last harvests were under way and October’s frosty nights had sapped the brilliant hues of autumn and drawn a darker cloak of brown upon the forest. Since the boar hunt Gwyneth had given up her constant baiting of Aislinn and to the amazement of all, carefully held her tongue and at times was almost charming. She made it her habit to come to the hall for her meals and would sit sewing at her tapestry while listening to the light flow of conversation about her.

Kerwick and Haylan were familiar figures in the village, but whenever they came together harsh words were exchanged. It seemed as if neither could pass the other without making some biting comment. They bickered endlessly over trifles and their battle became so renowned the children came running whenever their angry voices sounded to dance about them and mime their rage. With her skill in cookery, Haylan was given authority over the food and its preparation. She gathered wool and flax in her private moments and labored hard to learn the finer points of weaving and sewing. She even sought to learn French and did very well in the language.

It was of considerable happiness to Aislinn that Maida now bathed regularly and garbed herself in neat, well-cleaned gunnas. When she thought others were not about, she would venture forth from her cottage to play with Bryce and always brought him toys she fashioned from discarded remnants of cloth or wood. Once she even came to Aislinn’s side and sat quietly watching the babe as he nursed at his mother’s breast. She would not speak but kept her silence, yet every day she became more the old Maida of Darkenwald.

The boy had Aislinn’s fairness of skin and his hair faded to a light reddish gold. The only mark upon the days was that Wulfgar held himself aloof from the child and seemed to regard the lad as a necessary demand on Aislinn’s company. Still the babe thrived on his mother’s love, and Miderd, Hlynn, even Bolsgar saw that he was little wanting for attention.

The days wore on, the nights grew colder, the bounty of the land swelled the graineries, and the castle wall neared its last stone. Only the central keep was not complete and here the work was slow. The huge blocks of granite were hauled from the quarry and careful measurements laid upon them. They were shaped on the ground and hoisted into place by teams of horses straining at heavy cables.

Then late one morning in early November, a messenger came with news that brought a frown to Wulfgar’s face. Rebellious lords of Flanders had made a pact with the deposed English lords of Dover and Kent. They had landed troops between the great white cliffs and marched to take the town of Dover from William’s men, but the castle the King had ordered built on the heights had held them at bay. William led a force from Normandy north to Flanders to set the rebellion aside at its source, but the Atheling Edgar had escaped and joined the Scottish kings in the North to stir up trouble there.

The worst of the news was that broken bands of men from the invading Flemish force were fleeing inland and might soon come to lay waste to the country in anger at their defeat. William could send no help now but bade Wulfgar to stand ready to defend himself and if possible to close the roads to retreat.

Wulfgar surveyed his resources and with little delay set all hands to work. The castle would serve as it was for the time being, for there were other matters to be tended now. The land was to be stripped so that any band would find no provender here. Herds of goats, swine, sheep and oxen must be brought near the fortress. Graineries and storehouses must be emptied and all brought to the castle to fill the huge bins and cellars that lined the inner wall and lay beneath the keep. Cregan first would yield its larders, for it was more distant and thus hardest to defend, then Darkenwald if time permitted. While Wulfgar with his knights and men patroled the reaches against attack until all was done, the men of the village had to form the castle’s garrison. Beaufonte and Bolsgar were given the task of seeing to these preparations in Wulfgar’s absence. When all of Cregan was withdrawn to the castle, two bridges near the town would be felled to block the roads.

Thus set, the labors began. Every cart, wagon, mule and horse was bent to the task and Cregan gave of its stores until there was an endless stream of coming and going between the town and the castle. Items of value were brought and entered in Kerwick’s books then placed in a vault in the keep. The outlying farms were shuttered and the families came to the castle. They formed the first compliment within the walls. The women went to the marsh and cut straight willow and yew branches, bringing them to the yards while the men made bows, spears, and arrows from them. Large barrels of the black, odorous fluid that oozed from pits in the swamp were carried within the walls and lifted to the battlements. It was easily fired and once alight could be poured down upon the heads of attackers. Gavin’s smithy rang day and night as he and his sons hammered out the heads for spears and arrows and made crude but effective swords. Everyone worked. Everyone served.

Aislinn gathered blankets and linens in the keep and assured the looms of Darkenwald worked throughout the day on more. The cellars and stalls of the castle took all of Cregan’s stuffs and still seemed almost empty, but they had been built to carry several years’ bounty and what lay within them now would see the people of both towns through the winter and more.

Finally trouble came. A tall plume of smoke rose near Cregan, and Wulfgar roused his men from their breakfast and rode out to meet the foe. Not far from Darkenwald, he came upon a column of people who had refused to leave their town. Now they choked the road and were shocked at having been driven from their homes by this new enemy. Wulfgar learned that a small band of knights and bowmen had set upon the village at first light and though the townsmen had tried to defend it, they were soon put to rout. The raiders had fired the houses as they came and seemed more bent on destroying the town than gaining plunder. They had brutally cut down all who had come in their path.

Friar Dunley brought up the rear of the procession, pulling a small cart which held his beloved crucifix and other relics from the church. He paused as Wulfgar approached him and wiped his brow.

“They have fired my church,” he gasped. “They had no mercy even for the things of God. They are worse than the Vikings. Those thieves were after loot, but these brigands seem more bent on simple destruction.”

Wulfgar shaded his eyes toward Cregan as he spoke. “If your church is gone and we survive, sir priest, you shall have the old hall of Darkenwald for your worshipping. ‘Twill be a fitting place to wait the Lord’s day out.”

The monk murmured his humble thanks and bent again to his cart as Wulfgar gave orders for Milbourne to take a few of the men and form a guard for the people to see them safely to Darkenwald.

When Wulfgar came to Cregan, the town still smoldered but was little more than a pile of rubble. There were a few bodies scattered about, those who had sought to defend their homes or had not fled fast enough. As Wulfgar gazed about him he was reminded of another day he had viewed another scene of slaughter and another village littered with dead. His scowl darkened and his heart grew hard. Who had laid this town to waste would surely suffer for the deed if he must pursue the ones at fault to the ends of England.

With a heavy heart he motioned for his men to follow and they returned to Darkenwald. He entered the hall and met both Aislinn and Bolsgar awaiting his return. Quietly he answered the unspoken question in their eyes.

“We found the rebels gone, but I think we have not seen the last of them. They got little from Cregan and one of them was killed with his mount and both were lean and well starved. The raiders will not go far until they gain some food for themselves and fodder for their horses.”

Bolsgar nodded in agreement “Aye, they will lay up and let their steeds graze on our rich lands and then hunt game for themselves until they are fed and able to move on. We must be wary lest they find our flocks the easier picking.”

Aislinn called for food to be brought as Wulfgar took his place at the table, and Bolsgar seated himself nearby to continue their discussion. Haylan came with a huge platter of meat and bread then returned to fetch pitchers of foaming ale. A cold draft swept them as Sweyn entered the hall and made his way to the table. He made no comment but seized a whole rib of mutton and filled his mouth. He sighed at the taste of food and seated himself while he chewed happily and washed the whole down with a horn of ale. The breeze of Sweyn’s entry had not died when the door was again flung wide and the three knights came into the hall. They attacked the remaining food and set about devouring it with gusto and washing down their meal with large amounts of ale. Wulfgar was left staring at the empty dish before him in some bemusement.

“Would I be the king, my hearties, I fear I would yet starve with you as companions.”

The men roared in loud glee and Aislinn laughed and called for more food. The sound of their mirth brought Gwyneth down to join them although she had dined earlier. She sat quietly at her tapestry as was her manner of late and seemed to enjoy the company. Kerwick soon joined them also, looking somewhat haggard and harried. He complained of the mess this affair had made of his books, and held up his hand with the fingers stiff and twisted as though deformed.

“Why look!” he exclaimed. “I’ve taken a cramp from clutching my pen all day and making changes and corrections in the book.”

There was a round of laughter at his play and when it stilled, he turned to Wulfgar more soberly.

“ ’Twas with some pain that I entered the deaths of eight from Cregan,” he said sadly.

The hall grew quiet as the horror of the day was brought home to all who sat at the table.

“I knew them all,” he continued. “They were friends. I would put aside my books for a space and join you as you hunt the vandals down.”

“Rest easy, Kerwick,” Wulfgar bade him. “We will see them brought to justice. Your value lies much more in staying here to make some sense of this confusion.”

He turned to the others and spoke more firmly, giving them his plans.

“The watchers will be set as before.” He turned and directed his words to Bolsgar. “Choose the men who know the signals and see them well hidden in the woods and hills. They should go out tonight that they will be ready at the morrow’s first light.”

He faced the knights.

“We will stand to ride if the rebels show again. When we go, we will signal the castle of our path and will be informed of the raiders and their whereabouts. Beaufonte, you will stay and continue to prepare the castle for possible attack. Did all go well there today.”

Beaufonte nodded but frowned as he gave his report. “The castle is being armed and the men are directed in the defense of the walls. But there is one matter I would bring to you.” He paused, unsure, then continued. “The people of Cregan find themselves much crowded in the bailey and many have built huts close against the outer wall. ‘Twould bode ill for us if there should be an attack.”

“Aye,” Wulfgar agreed. “On the morrow see them moved beyond the lower moat. With the watchers out we will have warning aplenty for them to get within the walls.”

He looked questioningly about the table and met no other problems.

“ ’Tis done then.” He raised his cup high. “To the morrow. May we send them all to their maker.”

All joined the toast but Gwyneth and as she sat somewhat aside; no one even offered her a cup.

Unnoticed but by one, Haylan entered and brought wine to fill the cups and a fresh platter of steaming meats, bread and a large bowl of hot gravy to dip them in. Kerwick boldly seized a piece of meat and as he tasted it he wrinkled his nose.

“Ugh! There is too much salt on this meat.”

His voice was louder than those at the table needed and all watched him as he took another piece and tasted it also. He threw it down in feigned disgust.

“And not enough salt on this one. For shame, Wulfgar. At least you could find someone who knew how to flavor meat.”

He laughed at his own prank and turned to speak to Aislinn, at the same time reaching for a piece of bread. Haylan leaned over the table and turned the platter so that the steaming gravy was beneath his unwary hand. He squalled in pain as his fingers sank into the hot stuff and jerked them quickly back to plunge them into his mouth to ease the hurt.

“Is that meat flavored more to your liking?” Haylan asked innocently. “Mayhap it needs more salt.”

She lifted the small salt cellar up invitingly and laughter rang about the table. Even Gwyneth smiled.

The next morning a young serf who had gone out to gather the last of his crop wakened the manor as he loudly beat on the door. When Wulfgar threw open the door, the peasant gasped out his story as his lord rapidly dressed.

Late on the evening past a group of knights had approached his farm. He was wary of strangers and had fled to hide in the woods nearby. After burning his house and scattering the grain he had labored so hard to gather, they had withdrawn but a small way and made camp near a brook.

When the lad had completed his tale, he was given a hearty meal while Wulfgar and his men mounted and rode out to seek the raiders. They approached the camp from a sheltered gulley but found only blackened scars where the campfires had been laid. The remains of a young oxen, a stray from one of the herds, lay near the camp. The rebels had taken only the choicest parts and left the rest to rot. Wulfgar shook his head as he stared down at the carcass. Gowain neared him and was bemused at Wulfgar’s concern for the slain animal.