"And our child!" Madoc burst forth. "My child has surely been born by now, and I know not if I have a son or a daughter. I know not if my wife has survived the rigors of childbirth or if the child was stillborn from the shock of their abduction! I am Madoc of Powys! A prince of the great family of Wenwynwyn, but for all my magic I cannot find my wife or my child! What good are these powers I possess if they cannot return to me that which I treasure the most in this life?"
"All is not lost, my lord," Einion told Madoc. "You must have patience. Your destiny will not play itself out any quicker for your impatience."
Madoc stared at the big man, and then he laughed. "Einion, Einion! How is it you are so wise? I am a man used to having what he wants when he wants it, for I am the prince of Powys-Wenwynwyn; but in this instance I seem to be no better off than a common peasant laboring in my fields."
"Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned here, my lord," Einion said, smiling back at the prince.
"Perhaps," Madoc agreed thoughtfully.
"We will continue our search, my lord," Einion said.
"Send more men out," Madoc told him.
"I would not advise it, my lord, lest anyone become unduly suspicious of our activities," Einion replied. "Although King Gruffydd's wife is English, the Saxons are not really our friends. England is not a stable place at this moment. Edward may be king, but Earl Harold has gobbled up most of the land, if not for himself, then for his equally greedy brothers. Only Mercia remains out of his grasp, although he has bitten off that chunk of it called Herefordshire. His only bishop, Ealdred of Worcester, has been consecrated Archbishop of York; although that wily cleric is being forced to give up his bishopric in Worcester to Wolfstan, Ealdred still remains the lord of Oswaldstow. He is the most important landholder in southwest Mercia, and he is Earl Harold's man, having given his sacred oath."
"Bishop Wulfstan is also," Madoc answered, "though his first loyalty is to his God, but you are right, my good Einion. Harold Godwinson has no love for the Welsh, and King Gruf-fydd in particular. Should he learn that Gruffydd's cousin is a slave prisoner in England, Wynne and our child could be in even greater danger. We must proceed with caution, as hard as that is for us all. If I am eager to find my wife and bring her home, then too must Wynne be as eager to come home." He thought a moment and then said, "Has the slaver's route been traced past Worcester yet, Einion?"
"Aye, my lord. He traveled onward to the coast, where he took passage with about twenty slaves for Brittany."
"Send someone to follow in his path asking after my lady. If they cannot obtain any information," said Madoc, "then they are to continue on over the water to Brittany. Find Ruari Ban and question him. Bring him back to Raven's Rock if necessary, but find him! In the meantime we will continue combing the countryside on the other side of Offa's Dyke for Wynne and our child."
Madoc turned away from Einion, and knowing that he had been dismissed, the big man hurried off to carry out his lord's new orders. Although Madoc could not know it, Einion understood his pain. Megan had recently given birth to their first child, a daughter, whom they had named Gwynedd, meaning blessed one. Einion knew that if his wife and daughter had been lost to him, he would find it difficult if not impossible to go on with his life. He admired Madoc, whom he knew loved Wynne totally and to the exclusion of all women. He realized what strength of will his prince must be imposing upon himself in order to remain calm in the face of this crisis. Like Madoc, Einion knew in his heart that Wynne was not dead; but he questioned whether they would find her again. And if they did, Einion considered, could these lovers be successfully reunited? Having suffered enslavement, Einion knew the fate of a beautiful woman far better than did his lord. Time was very much of the essence.
The year deepened, and England, for centuries wetter and colder than most places upon the earth, had begun to enjoy a period of sunny, warm summers. The fields were lush with ripening grain hurrying toward the harvest. Aelfdene was a prosperous estate with a good master who was canny enough to keep adding land to his holdings as it became available to him. Technically, Eadwine Aethelhard could not claim unconditional possession of his lands. He held lands at the pleasure of his lord, who in this case was the Mercian earl, Edwin. Aelfdene and its original land grant had been in his family since the days of the great Mercian king, Offa. Local legend said that it had been Eadwine Aethelhard's ancestor who had given King Offa the idea for his famous dyke and earthworks, which stretched for seventy miles along the border between his kingdom and the Welsh kingdoms, notably Powys. The original grant had been seven hides of land. By the time he had inherited Aelfdene and been confirmed in his inheritance by the previous earl, Aelfgar, the estate had grown to twelve hides of land. Eadwine Aethelhard had industriously added an additional six.
There was a distinct social order at Aelfdene, as there was all over England in the year 1062. Slaves and serfs were the lowest order. Slaves possessed nothing and owed their very lives to their masters. Serfs were only slightly better off, owing everything to their lord's bounty and bound to his land from birth to death. They, however, might accumulate a few possessions. There were few slaves at Aelfdene, and those who came as slaves were usually quickly elevated to the rank of serf if their behavior merited it. Troublesome slaves were as quickly sold off, for no thegn tolerated sedition upon his own lands.
Above the serfs were the cottars. Most of the cottars at Aelfdene were craftsmen. Among them was a blacksmith, a potter, a miller, two sawyers, and a tinker. Each was given a cottage by the thegn as well as a few acres to farm plus the tools and equipment with which to practice his craft. They owed Eadwine Aethelhard in return one day's work each week, and an additional three days a week during the harvest, when they were expected to go into the fields to reap the grain. Still in all, they were free men, and if they found themselves unhappy, they were able to move on to another village or another estate.
Every cottar aspired to become a gebura. Geburas could hold twenty acres of land from their lord. In general a man raised up to such a rank was given a good start by the lord in the form of livestock, tools, seed, and even some furniture for his home. A gebura was hardworking and reliable, a man upon whom his lord could totally depend. When a gebura died, his possessions, of course, reverted to the lord, but they were usually given back to the gebura's heir provided he was as reliable as his predecessor.
In exchange for his status, the gebura gave his lord two days of work each week as well as an additional three days a week during both the spring planting and the harvest seasons. He had to help with the plowing of the common land. He owed his lord tenpence at Michaelmas; two sacks of grain and two hens at Martinmas; a lamb at Easter; and one pig each year in exchange for the right to keep his pigs in the lord's forest, where they fed on whatever they could find. It was a great responsibility, and most geburas had large families to help them with all of their duties.
Eadwine Aethelhard was relatively free from agricultural duties, thanks to his cottars and his geburas. As thegn of Aelfdene he had other, more important duties. It was up to him to feed, protect, and escort any of Earl Edwin's messengers passing through his lands. Had the earl himself come his way, it would have been up to the thegn of Aelfdene to offer generous hospitality to Edwin and any who traveled with him. The thegn had not seen Earl Edwin since he was a very small child, when Earl Aelfgar had come with his son to see Eadwine Aethelhard. Aelfdene was not as easily accessible as other manors, nor was it on any heavily traveled track.
But nevertheless, Eadwine Aethelhard took his duties to his earl most seriously. He looked after the earl's hunting rights, hunted down and most vigorously prosecuted any poachers he could find, and saw that fences were built and maintained where they were needed. There was one stone bridge on Aelfdene lands that crossed a stream and led to a narrow track that ran down the hills to a main road. The thegn kept that bridge in good repair.
Once each month the thegn of Aelfdene sat in judgment with two other thegns in th
e local hundred court, where petty crimes and minor disputes were settled. Twice a year it was his duty to sit upon the bench in the shire court in Worcester, which heard more serious crimes and meted out judgments in the name of the king. Eadwine Aethelhard never shirked these duties, for he was a man of honor.
The most important duty of a thegn, however, was his military service. For two months of each year Eadwine Aethelhard was on call to Earl Edwin and to King Edward. His sons were on call as well. Men like these were the backbone of the fyrd, which was the army that the king or his earls could call upon to defend England. In times of strife the thegns would raise small troops of armed men to bring to the aid of their overlord. They provisioned them and supplied their men with everything they needed. Once each month the men at Aelfdene would have weapons practice upon their village green. Offa's Dyke did not always prevent the Welsh from cattle raids and general mayhem.
Usually, however, one year passed another without the people of Aelfdene ever seeing a stranger but for the king's tax collector, who always arrived regularly to collect the two hundred seventy shillings owed by Eadwine Aethelhard to the crown. Each hide of his lands was assessed at fifteen shillings. He raised the monies for his taxes from his rents, the sale of his extra produce and livestock, and from his mill, which for a fee ground grain belonging to some of his smaller neighbors without mills.
Aelfdene was, like all English manors, fairly self-reliant. They grew their own food, raised their own livestock, spun their own wool, brewed their own beer, made their own butter and cheese. It was not a very different life than Wynne had lived at Gwernach, and she had not lived at Raven's Rock long enough to become used to its luxuries. It was not difficult for her to find herself becoming more and more comfortable as each day passed.
When she had first come to Aelfdene, she had thought of Madoc constantly. Now she found that her mind was full of Arvel, and Eadwine, and her duties as Aelfdene's mistress. Madoc, who had followed her through time and space to make his peace with her, could not seem to find her on the other side of Offa's Dyke. Perhaps he did not want to, or perhaps it was their destiny to be separated now that they had resolved the past. She could not seem to reach out to him, nor he to her. Wynne did not understand why, but she knew that life would go on nonetheless. She owed Eadwine some measure of happiness for the love he was lavishing upon her and upon Arvel.
He was a most passionate man, and it constantly astounded her that a man in his forties could be so intensely amorous. And he was thoughtful as well. On Beltaine, when he had told her most firmly that her healing period was now past and that he intended to exert his rights over her, she had been hesitant for a number of reasons, but she had told him she would comply with his wishes. There had been no one else but them at the high board that evening, to her puzzlement. The meal was a surprisingly delicate one and not at all what she had instructed Heall to prepare.
A basket of raw oysters had been served to Eadwine along with a goblet of heavy, rich-spiced wine. At her place, however, had been set a dainty breast of capon poached in white wine, as well as a goblet of the spiced wine. With a broad grin Ealdraed placed a platter of boiled asparagus and a dish of chestnuts which had been cooked with a single leaf of mint. Wynne flushed, embarrassed. The menu before them was one intended to arouse their passions and increase their sexual activity. She could barely nibble at the food, although Eadwine ate with gusto.
"I must bathe," she said finally when she could sit no more. "I have spent the day out of doors and am rank with my own sweat."
"The tub awaits you, my lady," Ealdraed cackled.
From the corner of her eye Wynne saw Gytha, Arvel in her arms, slipping from the hall. "Gytha!" she called sharply. "Where are you going with my son? It is much too late for Arvel to be out."
"I am taking him to the cottage that my lord Eadwine has given me," Gytha said brightly. "Oh, lady! Tis such a fine cottage, with its own fire pit and a sleeping shelf with a featherbed!"
"I want no one else privy to our privacy, Wynne," the thegn said firmly before she could protest. "I would not put Arvel in any danger." Then he turned and smiled at the young wet nurse. "You may take our son and go, Gytha," he told her.
With a smile the girl curtsied and departed the hall. Ealdraed, too, seemed to have suddenly disappeared. Angrily Wynne arose and ran up the stairs to the Great Chamber. How dare he separate her from Arvel? Then entering the room, she saw it. A bed! A great, large bed with brass rings and brocade hangings! A bed with a mattress, and a featherbed, bolster pillows, and a down coverlet!
"Ohh, " she gasped, surprised, and felt the tears springing to her eyes. "Oh."
"You have spoken of a bed ever since your arrival here," he said, and she was surprised again, for she had not heard him come. "I know that you are uncomfortable with our simple sleeping spaces."
"But where did you find this?" Wynne asked him, touched that he cared for her that much, yet angry that his kindness made her own ire seem petty by comparison.
"I have traveled a bit in my life and knew what a bed was," he told her. "One of my sawyers is particularly clever at making furniture. I explained to him what it was I wanted, and together I think we have managed to get it right. The springs are deerhide for strength. They will not break beneath our combined weights. The mattress has been stuffed with a mixture of hay, straw, rose petals, and lavender. The featherbed and the coverlet will keep us comfortable, I promise you."
"And the pillows? Where did you obtain pillows?" she asked him.
"In Worcester when I went to serve in the shire court last month," he said with a grin. "I have surprised you, haven't I, Wynne?"
"You have indeed surprised me, Eadwine," she admitted.
"There will be other changes to come too," he promised her. "Two days' journey from Aelfdene is the manor of Aelfleah, whose lord is my distant cousin, Aldwine Athelsbeorn. His home has always been thought odd by all, for where the Great Chamber should be, Aldwine has instead built several rooms for privacy's sake. We will journey there one day soon and see exactly how he has done this. Then we will do it here at Aelfdene. Would that please you, Wynne?"
She nodded. "Aye, it would."
"Good! Now let us bathe, sweeting. I am anxious to try out our new bed. I have sent our nosy old Ealdraed off" to spend her night with Gytha, so if you need help, it is I who will maid you."
The big tub stood awaiting them in its corner. Wynne undressed quickly, pinning her hair atop her head, and stepped into the warm water. Over the winter she had made several cakes of a fine soap which she had scented with lavender, that being the only dried herb she had that appealed to her in her pregnant state. She washed her face and was lathered and rinsed when he finally entered their tub.
Taking the soap from her, he turned her about and said, "Let me wash you, my love," and his lips nibbled lightly against the back of her damp neck.
He pulled her back against him, and immediately she could feel his persistent maleness against her. He was already engorged with his passion. His big hands, well-soaped, cupped her breasts and began to fondle them. His rough thumbs rubbed sensuously against her very sensitive nipples, even as bending over her his tongue licked about the shell of her ear.
"Do you know how much I desire you, Wynne?" he whispered softly to her.
"Aye," she said low. Oh, why were his hands so gentle and yet so provocative against her skin?
"I want you to desire me," he told her, and his tongue pushed into her ear to tickle it.
"No," she replied, but there was little conviction in her voice.
"Yes," he murmured, and while one hand grasped one of her breasts, the other slid lingeringly down her torso, his touch fiery and intimate. His lips kissed the side of her neck while a single finger slipped between her nether lips to find that sentient little pearl of her sex. Slowly, insistently, the tip of his finger stroked her, setting wildfires ablaze throughout her whole body.
Her upper teeth gnawed at her lower lip as she strove
to maintain a control over herself; but her hips began to rotate seemingly of themselves, and she could not prevent a small groan from escaping from between her lips. She could feel him, hard and demanding, against her buttocks. "We will never finish our bathing," she managed to protest faintly, "and the water grows cold."
"Then wash me," he growled low, and turning her about, he kissed her with a hard kiss. "All of me!"
He held her in a light grip, an arm about her waist, as she began to soap him. Her breath was coming in short pants, for although she wanted to deny it, she was greatly aroused by this man who called himself her husband. Her breasts just touched his muscled, furred chest, and she blushed to see how thrusting and pointed her nipples were. "I cannot wash you properly if you do not release your hold on me, my lord," she finally said in an effort to regain some measure of self-control, and he instantly did.
"I do not want to impede you in your wifely duties," he teased, and chuckled at the pink flooding her cheeks.
Wynne tried to work with some sort of order. Unsmiling, she washed his chest and his arms, his shoulders and his neck. Taking her cloth, she washed his face and his ears, scolding him roundly as she did so. "Men! You are no better than little boys! Look at these ears, my lord! When on earth was the last time you washed them? Ears must be washed along with everything else!"
He chuckled at her, and his eyes were warm as he gazed down on her. This was what he had needed in his life. A young wife who scolded him, and whose passion-for despite her denials to the contrary, she was passionate-would keep him warm of a winter's night. He snatched the cloth playfully from her. "Let me see your ears, my lady wife! Ahh, yes, they are most perfect." He nipped at an earlobe and she shrieked.
"My lord Eadwine! You must behave yourself or I shall never get this done. The water is practically icy! Turn about that I may wash your back."
"Be gentle this time, lady," he begged her, remembering the last time she had washed his back.
A Moment in Time Page 37
