The Wolf and the Dove

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Go to him, Bolsgar,” she begged in her distress, tears coming to her eyes. “Ride hard and warn him. There is yet time as he ventures slowly awaiting word.”

  Without another glance to his daughter, Bolsgar snatched up his mantle and helm and hastened from the hall.

  Wulfgar had left the hall and ridden out of sight to the west then swept around and joined his men. There was no haste and he flung riders wide to guard the flanks and search out any ambush. He dallied on the way, pausing often to scan the hills and the road behind.

  The first hint of a rider was a small cloud of dust that rose to the rear and they halted to wait. Wulfgar’s brows lifted in surprise when he saw that it was Bolsgar who approached them. The old man reined to a skidding halt beside him.

  “Ragnor leads the vandals,” he panted. “And it was Gwyneth who betrayed us. The Flemish set a trap for you at Cregan. Let us ride and I will give you the news as we go.

  Wulfgar set spurs to his horse as Bolsgar began to relate the events at Darkenwald. The younger man’s brow had clouded and now as Bolsgar ended his tale, he rode in silence, musing on Gwyneth’s treachery. A column of smoke began to rise from beyond the forest and gave more weight to Bolsgar’s warning. When they came to the edge of the forest, Wulfgar halted the men. His commands rapped out in quick succession.

  “Bolsgar! Sweyn! Stay with me. See to your arms. Gowain! Milbourne! Take half the men and ride deep in the forest. Place yourselves behind the spot and when you hear my call, charge with lance and sword. We will drive them to the open and see the game met there.”

  The forest was quiet and eerie. It seemed the slightest noise echoed from every tree. Great oaks with moss festooned trunks stood on every side. Fallen trees blocked the way again and again, but above all the game had fled. There were no hares bounding to cover or birds singing or startled deer fleeing with graceful leaps. There was only silence and the men.

  Wulfgar’s force rode away from the path and deep into the brooding darkness where only spots of sunlight dappled the shadows and lightened the gloom, Now they turned and paralleled the path until the light of the farther side could be seen and the ruins of Cregan were glimpsed through breaks in the brush. They turned again and went stealthily forward until they could hear the hushed murmurs of men ahead. The first charge would be with all men mounted and once the foe was flushed and in the open, the archers would dismount and hurl their barbs into the fray.

  They waited. Nerves grew taught. Wulfgar decided the others had had time enough to take position and his wavering war call shrilled through the forest. As one the men leaned forward and urged their mounts into the charge.

  The mad chaos of battle was joined and in the tangle of the wood it seemed a thousand men charged. The mottled shadows lent to the confusion as men on horseback appeared everywhere and on every side. The Flemish, seeing the hopelessness of a stand here, fled further to the open fields before the ruined town.

  The one knight who led them bade them stand and hold their shields up into a wall. He brought a few within the circle to bend their bows and give some protection. Their horses had been left in the forest and now the raiders stood boldly exposed.

  Wulfgar dismounted his archers at the edge of the woods where cover was plenty and full. He brought his five knights into view, Bolsgar on his left, Sweyn on the right and Gowain and Milbourne at either end. He raised his pike with its standard and called out.

  “Yield yourselves,” he offered. “The day is lost.”

  The single knight shouted back. “Nay. We’ve heard of William’s justice to raiders. Better we die here than under his ax.” The knight raised his shield and sword and shook them. “Come to the killing, Norman.”

  At the last words, Wulfgar glanced to his left then to his right. He couched his lance and a shower of arrows fell among the enemy. He set spur to the Hun and charged. His long lance reached past the shorter spear of the man before him and bore him to the ground, opening the wall of shields. They crashed through the defenders and whirled to charge again. The lone knight labored to form the men again, but Wulfgar and his knights were on them. This time he struck not the center but the corner of the square. He peeled the foe back and opened the way for the others. Dropping the lance he swung his long sword out and hacked a path about him as the Hun thrashed forward. Half of the Norman archers drew swords and with spear and blade joined the battle. The others held back and let slip an arrow when an opening was presented or a foe sought to flee.

  The field lay silent but for a moan here or there and only the single knight still stood. As Wulfgar drew his men back, the knight rested his arms on the hilt of his sword with its point upon the ground. Without a word Wulfgar dismounted and with shield and sword met him fairly. It was no match but the knight died with honor.

  Sweyn and Bolsgar searched the fallen for Ragnor or Vachel and found neither. Three of the Normans were slain and six were wounded but able to ride. The Flemish were stripped of arms and armor and laid together to await a grave. Wulfgar scanned the horizon and sat the Hun uneasily, wondering where Ragnor and Vachel were.

  Aislinn paced the hall, her mind in a turmoil. Wulfgar was in danger and all because of a woman’s folly. She whirled on Gwyneth in a temper, intending to berate her sorely, but she found the woman’s eyes fastened intently upon the door. Aislinn followed her gaze but could see nothing. She returned her gaze to Gwyneth who now sat looking at her hands folded in her lap. Aislinn frowned in puzzlement and went to sit at her sewing, setting a stitch now and then as she watched the other. Gwyneth sat quietly, but her eyes continually went to the door as if she waited.

  “We knew a traitor was in the hall, Gwyneth,” Aislinn said with deliberate care. “Wulfgar rides slow and waits for word from us. ’Tis far more likely your Ragnor will be the one to meet his end today.”

  Gwyneth only stirred slightly and returned, “Ragnor will not die.”

  “The men rode out early but only to wait upon Wulfgar beyond the hill,” Aislinn further needled and watched Gwyneth carefully. There was no reaction, only the words calmly spoken.

  “Ragnor will not die.”

  Aislinn clapped her hands to the arms of her chair and came to her feet abruptly, bringing Gwyneth’s eyes sharply to her.

  “Ragnor will not die,” Aislinn repeated, “because he comes here!”

  By the triumphant look on Gwyneth’s face Aislinn knew she had struck the truth. She wasted no time but called up the tower for the sentry there to fetch Beaufonte and any men with him. The man went off to do her bidding as she returned to watch Gwyneth, her hand on her small dagger. There was a rattle of hoves outside and Aislinn drew her blade, ready to do battle with the slim weapon if Ragnor burst into the room. To her relief Beaufonte entered with one man running at his heels. The knight glanced about the hall and seeing nothing amiss, turned questioning eyes to her.

  “My lady?”

  They turned as Kerwick came running into the hall, gasping in his baste with the watchman close behind. Now the men all stared at her.

  “Ragnor is on his way here while his men seek to ambush Wulfgar,” she informed them. “We must secure the hall against him.”

  They all ran to close shutters and bolt them, then Beaufonte threw the heavy bar across the door. Aislinn remembered well the night Ragnor came and could almost hear the crashing of another bolt being splintered beneath the pounding of a heavy, ramming log. It was well her mother was safe in her hut. Her mind could not bear a repeat of that horrible night. Aislinn chafed further, wondering at what more could be done to see them safe, then thought of the obvious.

  “Beaufonte, the watchers! Send a signal to Wulfgar to return to Darkenwald and let us pray he sees the message!”

  The knight called up the tower well and the lookout climbed down to him. They were discussing the message when there was a heavy pounding on the door and Ragnor’s voice called for entry. Before anyone could stop her, Gwyneth leaped to the portal and threw the bar to the floor. The stur
dy oaken panel was flung aside and two strange men surged through followed by Ragnor, Vachel and two more. They were all dressed in Norman trappings, yet Beaufonte drew his sword and confronted them. One of the men behind Ragnor threw a spear and the watchman died with the shaft in his chest. Beaufonte’s man joined him, and the two battled valiantly, but Vachel took that man on his blade and laid him low. Beaufonte stood alone and engaged Ragnor and the others while Kerwick pushed Aislinn up the stairs to her chamber. Vachel drew aside and worked behind Beaufonte. Taking his sword in both hands, he swung it upon the brave knight’s back, hewing through the links of mail and biting deeply into his neck. Beaufonte fell with a cry of warning then sank to his back and stared at the huge timbers of the ceiling as his eyes dimmed and his breath stilled.

  Kerwirk thrust Aislinn into the chamber, closing the door behind her then snatched an old shield and sword from the wall beside the door. He stood ready to meet the foe and delay them as long as possible. Two of the raiders came forward with Ragaor close behind.

  “Saxon dog, give up this play,” Ragnor beckoned with a confident grin. “What have you to gain in defense of the lady? She will be taken anyway when you are dead.”

  Kerwick held his stand. “If my life is all I have to give for her, then so be it. Come, Ragnor, I’ve longed for this since you first took my betrothed.”

  “You too, Saxon?” Ragnor childed. “Is everyone smitten with the wench?”

  Kerwick brushed aside a spear thrust and plunged his blade into one of the men’s stomach. He fell but Ragnor’s sword struck the one Kerwick held and snapped it near the hilt. The neat blow fell upon the shield but the other raider’s spear caught the Saxon’s arm. Ragnor swung again and passed Kerwick’s guard to strike him down. Blood streamed from his head and he rolled beneath their feet as Ragnor rushed by to throw open the door to the chamber.

  Aislinn whirled with a gasp and Ragnor grinned, advancing into the room.

  “I said I would have you, dove,” he laughed. “And the time has come.”

  Aislinn’s eyes flashed but she gave no outward sign of her fear. A stirring from the cradle made Ragnor pause and he stepped to it, raising his sword. With a cry Aislinn threw herself upon his arm, but Ragnor struck her free of him with the back of his hand, flinging her to a heap against the foot of the bed. She came to her feet in an instant, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

  “You would slay your own son?” she taunted him.

  “There is that possibility, but also some doubt,” he calmly returned. “He is better dead than Wulfgar’s.”

  He turned and raised his sword again.

  “Nay!” Aislinn screamed.

  There was something in her voice that gave him pause and he looked to her. She held the blade of her dagger against her own breast and in her eyes he saw the threat.

  “Touch the babe and I will kill myself. You know Wulfgar and you know there will be no corner of hell for you to hide in if I am dead.”

  He laughed cruelly. “That bastard is of no worry to me. Even now my men push the dirt upon his grave.”

  “Have care, my love,” Gwyneth’s voice came from the doorway. She had sought him out, unwilling to leave him alone with Aislinn for long. “Wulfgar is warned. They found me out and my father rode to him. They knew of someone here and have set their own trap.”

  Ragnor sheathed his sword and for a moment was lost in thought. “Now that bodes ill for us, my pet,” he mused aloud. “If I know the bastard’s luck, he will survive the day and while I had thought to hold the rest at bay with his wife as hostage until we ruined his lands, now I am afraid we must flee. I spent what few men I had to buy his death.”

  He looked at Aislinn now holding Bryce in her arms and knew he could not easily separate them now and the moments had become precious. He turned to Gwyneth.

  “Fetch foods from the cellars. We will seek out Edgar with the Northern Scots and pledge to him. Hurry, pet. Time grows short.” He whirled to face Aislinn. “Bring the lad! He will be as much a hostage as you, though I doubt Wulfgar finds him more than a hindrance.” Then he spoke sharply. “But I warn you, my dove, if you would see the babe live, do nothing to delay or mark the trail.”

  She sneered an answer to his threat. “You will mark your own trail wherever you go. My babe will be no hindrance. Still, I could leave him here. There will be those who come.” She tried to speak casually. “Wulfgar thinks the babe is yours and does not value him highly though he will see him cared for.”

  Ragnor looked at her narrowly. “Dear Gwyneth says otherwise, that he named the child his and dotes upon him of late. I think we will take him, too.”

  “That bitch has seen to you well,” Aislinn hissed.

  “Speak not harshly of her, my love. She has served me faithfully,” replied Ragnor.

  “Yea,” Aislinn choked in rage. “But she has served no one else and I think not even herself.”

  “She would have the world at her feet,” he laughed. “And who could deny that tender blossom anything?” The tone of his voice belied his words and now he straightened and became harsh. “Enough of this dawdling. Bring what you will, but quickly. I grow weary of chatter.”

  Aislinn threw clothes in a bundle for Bryce and snatched up her fur-lined cloak to keep them warm.

  “That’s all,” he commanded. “This will see you through.”

  He followed her out of the chamber, pushing her past Kerwick as she would have knelt to him and led her out of the hall, giving her little time to pause beside Beaufonte.

  Gwyneth was already mounted on Aislinn’s dapple-gray mare. She wore a fine gown, one she had finally purchased with the money Wulfgar had left for her and her father when he went with William. The small punch was led up for Aislinn, and Ragnor placed her upon it as she clutched the baby to her. Gwyneth eyed them suspiciously as Ragnor set her foot to the stirrup. His eyes raised to Aislinn’s.

  “Remember well, dove, I’ll kill the babe if you give me cause.”

  Aislinn swallowed and nodded then he swung up on his own steed. Gwyneth delayed the party for one more petty gambit. She seized the woolen cloak from her own shoulders and made Aislinn trade her fur-lined one for it. Ragnor casually sat the back of his horse and waited, amused at the exchange. Gwyneth took a place beside him and smiled.

  “Am I not a fine figure now, my love?” she questioned coyly.

  As they set off Ragnor laughed but bent his eye above Gwyneth’s head toward Aislinn.

  Wulfgar scanned the hills again and it was as if he heard voices in the back of his mind. He canted his head to listen better and the words came clear. Ragnor! Aislinn! Bryce! Darkenwald! The names came together and of a sudden he knew where Ragnor was.

  The Hun snorted in surprise as he jerked the reins, wheeling the steed about and he bellowed to Bolsgar.

  “Stay here and see these men into the ground. They fought bravely. Milbourne, stay with him and hold ten here to dig. The rest who can ride, come with me.”

  Sweyn, Gowam and fifteen or more mounted, some of them wounded, but all eager. They rode apace, giving their mounts no rest until they thundered into the courtyard and brought their horses to a halt before the hall. Wulfgar noted briefly that no shout rang from the tower to mark their approach and that Aislinn was not out to meet him. He dismissed the worst of his thoughts as he swung from the saddle and threw the reins to Sweyn. He ran into the hall and the scene that greeted him was far from his expectations.

  Wulfgar’s blood ran cold as he surveyed the damage. The main hall was a shambles and the watchman lay slain at the door to the tower. Beaufonte was sprawled in a pool of blood, staring with sightless eyes at the ceiling. Propped on the stairs, where Haylan carefully tended a gash that ran down the side of his head from hairline to chin, was Kerwick. He still grasped in his hand the shattered butt of an ancient sword. A stranger lay near the head of the stairs with the other part of the blade buried in his gut. Miderd wrung her hands and Maida cowered in a dark corner.
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  “ ’Twas Gwyneth!” Haylan half screamed. “That bitch, Gwyneth, opened the door for them. And she has gone with them.” A sob of anger shook her. “They have taken the Lady Aislinn and Bryce.”

  Wulfgar was calm, indeed quiet. But his skin grew pale and his eyes took on the hue of polished steel. Even Maida, where she crouched by the empty cradle, read death in them.

  Haylan blubbered on, crying and sobbing. “They took the babe and I heard him say he would kill him if she gave them any trouble.”

  Wulfgar’s voice was soft and almost gentle as he spoke. “Who, Haylan? Who was it who spoke?”

  She stared at him for a moment in surprise, then answered. “ ’Twas the one who came with the king—Ragnor. He was with another knight and four men. Beaufonte killed a man before he was slain and the other stayed Kerwick’s sword. The rest took Aislinn and the boy and fled.”

  Haylan turned away and bent to carefully fold a fresh cloth against Kerwick’s wound. All the while Maida rocked on her heels by the crib and made a low moaning sound as she rent her hair. Wulfgar came to stand beside Haylan and gazed down at his battered sheriff.

  “Kerwick?”

  The young man’s eyes opened and he grinned weakly. “I tried, my lord, but there were too many of them. I tried—”

  “Rest easy, Kerwick,” Wulfgar murmured and dropped a hand upon his shoulder. “You have been twice flayed for my lady’s sake.”

  Sweyn slammed through the door, his ax in his hand and a snarl on his face. “They killed the stable boy. A young lad and unarmed. They slit his throat.”

  His eyes widened as he saw Beaufonte and he muttered a low curse that rolled from the depth of rage. Wulfgar’s jaw tightened as he gazed again at his slain knight, but he gave Sweyn no pause and rasped out orders in a growl.

  “Feed and rub the Hun and your own.” And he added as an afterthought, “For the ride, no armor, no packs. We travel light.”