“We’ve all the patience in the world, Tybaut,” Sir Caedmon smirked as he took his wife and his mother by the hand and led them into the house. “Perhaps you could give us a short tour after you’ve settled our companions in their chambers? Sir Leofric Deacon will require a chamber, and perhaps Lady Coventina Brightmore can share one with her mother and aunt?”
“Oui, my lord,” Tybaut said, trying without success to solve the enigma of who it was this man reminded him of. Perhaps it was the Scottish burr confusing him?
~~~
Caedmon knew nothing of the house, but now he savoured every lime-washed panel, every stair, every chamber. His mother wandered off, Enid at her side. It was a grand house, two stories high, built from stout split and planed timbers, fastened together with iron nails. The interior was elaborately decorated with ornamental wood turnings, the wooden floor softened with wattle mats. The roof was well thatched. The sturdy outbuildings were framed with large timber uprights, filled with wattle and daub and chinked with moss to keep out the winter cold. The stone kitchen was set apart from the wooden house.
“This used to be the weaving shed,” Tybaut explained, as they entered a long, narrow building. “Perhaps the ladies might start up the use of it again? I’ve kept the old looms well covered.”
“Perhaps,” Agneta agreed. “I like to weave.”
“I didn’t know my mother did weaving,” Caedmon said. “How hard it must have been for her to leave all this.”
Agneta said nothing in reply, probably lost in memories of her home, destroyed with his help. He silently cursed himself for his insensitivity.
There was a modest Great Hall where Caedmon imagined his father had conducted business, enacted justice and spoken judgments. Had his father sat in the massive thane’s chair on the dais, his wife Ascha by his side, and signed contracts, praised good deeds, eaten with his men? The Hall was long and narrow and had two doors, one at each tapered end. The four windows had wooden shutters for defence and to keep out the cold. He felt proud of his sire who’d died at Hastings, proud to be a Saxon. He was relieved he’d not brought Agneta to a ruin.
“Imagine my parents here, Agneta, in the days before the Conquest, watching the smoke make its lazy way up from the hearth here in the middle, out through the hole in the roof.”
“We had a great hall similar to this in Bolton,” she replied coldly. “It had alcoves on the sides, like this. Of course, you only saw the outside.”
Tybaut looked at Agneta curiously and Caedmon was relieved she said no more about Bolton. “You’ve done a fine job of maintaining the manor, Tybaut, and you’ve been meticulous in sending my mother her revenues from the tenant and church income. Why is it the Earl never takes a commission or percentage of the revenues?”
Tybaut scratched his head. “That’s been the way of it since the outset. I wasn’t here then, of course.”
“The Earl’s generosity amazes me, I must confess,” Caedmon said sarcastically. “There has never been any charge levied for the services of the stewards nor for these Ellesmere men-at-arms who guard the manor house. Perhaps Normans aren’t as greedy as I thought, or perhaps there’s something I’m missing. There has to be some reason for the Earl’s uncommon generosity to a Saxon family?”
Tybaut shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously ill-at-ease. “I’ve found the Earl to be a reasonable and honourable man, sir. As I say, I wasn’t here in the beginning.”
Caedmon and Agneta continued their tour, and came at last to the largest chamber, where they were standing when Lady Ascha entered.
“This must have been your chamber, mother, yours and my father’s? It’s only fitting you have it now. Agneta and I can—”
“Absolutely not,” Lady Ascha exclaimed. “This is the chamber for the lord and lady of the Manor. That’s you, Caedmon and Agneta Woolgar. There’s another chamber I’ll be perfectly happy with.”
“Thank you, mother,” Agneta said, clasping Ascha’s hand. Caedmon wondered if his wife was aware she’d used the word mother. He sensed there was something about Agneta’s own mother she’d never told him.
Tybaut’s wife soon had water warming for baths. The stable boy carried up the buckets of hot water and poured them into the ornate wooden bathtub, which had been brought to the lord’s chamber.
“My parents must have used this chamber, but I find I’ve no sense of them together. Of course, I never met my father.”
Agneta sat on the edge of the bed, testing the mattress. “Your mother seems nervous about being back here.”
He nodded. “Too many memories, I suppose.”
~~~
Caedmon savoured making love to his wife for the first time in their own home. As they lay together naked, her back snuggled against his chest, his body wrapped around hers, his hands cupping her breasts, his face in her hair, he felt content and mused about the future.
“I’ll become familiar with the tenants, and Tybaut will help me with that. You’ll need a lady’s maid and we can deal with procuring her and other servants when Tybaut goes to the village. We’ll need a cook—a good one. And clothes for you.”
“There’s plenty of time, Caedmon. We don’t have to do everything in the first sennight. We’re both tired from the eventful journey. You could have drowned. And we’ve Yuletide to plan in the next few days. I’m surprised we made it here in time.”
“You’re right. It will be good to celebrate Yuletide here for the first time. However, I can’t take too long before I must travel to Ellesmere to confirm my allegiance to the Earl. Much as it galls me to serve a Norman, after all Montbryce has done for the Woolgar family I’m sure I’ll be expected to provide some kind of service, now I’ve returned to claim my birthright. Perhaps I’ll have to patrol the border against the Welsh. I’ll need to recruit and train my own men-at-arms—men who are loyal to me. They say the Earl is a fair man, hard but fair.”
“Speaking of hard men,” she giggled, reaching behind her to touch him.
The huskiness in her voice inflamed him and his manhood surged. It seemed to have a life of its own when she put her hands on him.
She draped her long leg over his, opening herself. “You feel warm—and full. I’m tingling.”
Caedmon stretched beside her and kissed the nape of her neck. “Turn to me, Agneta,” he whispered.
As she turned her body to his, he kissed her lovingly on the mouth. She coaxed his lips with her tongue. He teased her with the tip of his tongue, but wouldn’t open. He licked his way down her neck to her sensitive throat. She giggled and then clasped her hands to her mouth. “We mustn’t make too much noise with all these people in the house.”
“I don’t care if you scream the house down, and you probably will,” he teased.
She glared at him.
Caressing her stomach and thighs, he trailed his fingers to her throbbing bud. She gasped and whimpered, “That feels good.”
He suckled her nipple and nibbled it. The whimpering sounds told him it aroused her. “You like that. I can tell.” He moved his mouth lower and circled her navel with his tongue. She tossed her head from side to side, her eyes tightly closed, her breathing ragged as his fingers continued to play with her engorged bud. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.
“You’re beautiful, Agneta. You make me want you too much,” he whispered, his voice husky with need.
She opened her eyes. “My body aches for you, Caedmon. I never yearned like this till I met you. I need you inside me.”
She cried out when he inserted his long fingers into her. He knew it partly satisfied her but she needed more. Sensing she was ready, he knelt and guided the head of his shaft into her. He trembled and gasped when the warm wetness of her sheath enveloped him and he buried more deeply as she wrapped her legs around his body.
Entering her filled him with a sense of coming home. With his finger he found her bud again and moved his manhood back and forth over it. She moaned with delight and lifted her hips h
igher to him. He withdrew, pushed back in and found his rhythm. As her need intensified he could barely keep up with her. The shuddering spasms of release took him and he heard his own guttural cry as his seed exploded into her. The pulsating throbs inside her told him she’d found ecstasy.
“Welcome home, wife,” he whispered to her several minutes later as she lay in his arms.
But she’d already fallen asleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Their first Yuletide at Shelfhoc was a subdued affair, given the short amount of time they had to prepare for it. Nevertheless, the house was warmed by the atmosphere of relief and conviviality, and Tybaut made sure the larder was well stocked.
As the days went by and spring approached, Lady Pamela Brightmore and her sister, Lady Edythe Walwin became less formal than they had been on the journey.
“Their fear is gradually leaving them,” Lady Ascha told Caedmon, when he remarked on their change of attitude. He and Agneta and Lady Ascha were enjoying a warm spring day in the garden.
He agreed. “That will be good for Coventina. They are too strict with her. The poor girl can’t do anything without one of them criticizing her.”
“Yes, it will be good for your friend, Leofric.”
Caedmon turned to face his mother. “You’ve noticed it too, have you?”
Ascha smiled. “I believe Leofric is in love with Coventina, but he hesitates, because of his—injuries.”
Caedmon frowned. “We need to know how Coventina feels about him. I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“Hmmm,” Ascha pondered. “Does she confide in you, Agneta?”
Agneta shook her head.
“No? I could probably arrange to find out—subtly though.”
Caedmon grinned at his mother and winked at Agneta. Lady Ascha seemed to be happy to be back in England, something he’d wanted for her for a long time. Yet, he sensed a nervousness about her, and whenever he mentioned going to pay his respects to the Earl, she became morose and angry. He decided to pursue another topic. “What do the Brightmore women intend to do? Will they seek out their relatives in Wessex, or is that a lost cause?”
Ascha shook her head. “Lady Pamela has already sent messages, but no reply. They’ll be here a long while. What about Leofric? Will he stay here with us?”
“I’d like him to. I’ve told him I want him to stay. I need men around me I can trust. I suppose it depends on what happens with Coventina.”
They found a stone bench and sat for a while in companionable silence before Caedmon spoke. “I’m satisfied with the progress we’ve made. Tybaut has introduced me to all the tenant farmers.”
“What’s your opinion of them?” his mother asked.
“Mostly hard working Saxons. I don’t foresee any problems. Tybaut and I have discussed increasing the provisioning of the manor house.”
“Definitely no problem there,” Agneta interjected. “He’s a good steward. Very thorough.”
His mother turned to look at Caedmon. “Have you seen the Church?”
“Yes, Agneta and I went together. Some minor repairs needed, but nothing too serious. It’s a nice little wooden church.”
“Yes, I liked it,” Agneta agreed.
“The Woolgars were proud of it. Several of their ancestors are buried in the churchyard,” his mother said wistfully, then suddenly shot a strange glance over at Caedmon.
It was the first time he’d heard her say anything positive about her husband’s family. He decided not to pursue the matter. “Tybaut has seen to most of the repairs of the fortress gate, and we’re in the process of improving the ditch and rampart.”
“It’s hard to believe all this labour is being provided free by a Norman earl,” Agneta commented.
Lady Ascha stood up abruptly. “Excuse me, I need to speak to Enid.” She left the garden.
Caedmon and Agneta watched her, wondering what had made her leave so abruptly. He took his wife’s hand. “Aye, I’m getting more and more curious about this Earl.”
Agneta hesitated then remarked, “Your mother seems nervous when you mention his name.”
Caedmon had indeed noticed, but chose to say nothing. He curled his fingers more tightly round his wife’s hand. “Tybaut and I have gone over the accounts and I have a good grasp on the income and expenses of the estate. While Tybaut, and the stewards before him, have done a surprisingly fine job, I have many ideas about how things can be expanded and improved.”
Agneta smiled. “I’ve been busy too, with the servants Tybaut procured. I’m pleased with the improvements in the kitchen, and we’ve aired out the linens and draperies. We’ll have to replace some of them that haven’t stood the test of time.”
Caedmon was gladdened by the optimistic sound in her voice. He put his arm around her shoulder. “Tybaut has also introduced me to the men-at-arms provided by the Earl. I’ll definitely have to recruit and train my own men, who’ll be loyal to me alone.” He smirked. “They looked at me as if I had two heads—typical Norman arrogance.”
~~~
Caedmon, Leofric and Tybaut went to Ruyton to buy more horses. They chose a magnificent red roan stallion for him and a sweet white palfrey for Agneta.
“I love her,” Agneta gushed when she saw the horse’s ambling gait. “I will name her Abbey.”
Caedmon was pleased to have given her something she loved. “Wyvern saved my life at Alnwick, but he’s never recovered fully from that experience and the long ride from Scotland to Ruyton. I’ll let him retire and enjoy his oats. With Tybaut’s expert guidance, I bought myself this fine new stallion.”
“He’s a beauty,” she agreed, looking at the magnificent roan chomping at the bit.
Caedmon grinned. “I’ve named him Abbot.” Agneta seemed unimpressed.
Tailors and seamstresses came from Ruyton, took measurements and returned with new clothing made from the bolts Caedmon and Agneta had chosen from the selections they brought. Her hair had grown quickly and was now to her shoulders. She looked like the lady of the manor. Caedmon felt a surge of pride at the sight of her. It was plain to see she’d been born to a good family.
They learned what pleased the other when they made love. However, while Agneta welcomed him to her bed with unbridled passion, he sensed an invisible barrier between them the rest of the time and he wondered if she would ever forgive him his role in the raid on Bolton. He sometimes felt she lavished more love and attention on her palfrey than on him. Leofric seemed to merit friendlier treatment.
“It was my plan to ride to Ellesmere soon,” Caedmon announced to the ladies of the household and Leofric one day at the midday meal. “It’s May already and I need to convey my thanks to the Earl and come to some arrangement about Tybaut and the men-at-arms. It’s my obligation to offer to serve him in some capacity, though I hate the idea of serving a Norman.”
“So you’ve said many times,” Agneta retorted, banging her goblet down on the table. “You want me to forgive the Scots and the Saxons who aided them, including the two of you, for the murder of my family and destruction of my home, yet you can’t bring yourself to forgive and build bridges with the Normans.”
“I don’t want to argue with you, Agneta,” he replied, trying to keep a rein on his emotions. Leofric shifted nervously in his seat, and he wondered if his friend and his wife had ever discussed Bolton. Agneta evidently knew it was Leofric who’d stood at his side as he looked at the barn. “I’m willing to swallow my pride and serve the Earl, but I’ll never have any love in my heart for the Normans. Leofric and I both know what it is to lose a parent to an invader. Anyway, I won’t be going.”
His mother’s head jerked up, her face flushed and her shoulders tense.
Caedmon watched her as he explained. “Tybaut tells me the Montbryces have gone off to Normandie, for the summer. They apparently go every year. Won’t be back until September at the earliest.”
“Oh well, you’ll get to meet the famous Earl eventually, I suppose,” Agneta said with a degree of sarca
sm, her face still showing traces of anger.
“Yes, I suppose,” Lady Ascha whispered.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“We must get her fever down, Caedmon,” Lady Ascha whispered as she wrung out the cold compress and placed it on Agneta’s forehead. “And for goodness sake, stop pacing.”
“I don’t know what else to do,” her son replied, running his hand through his hair. He came over to the bed where Agneta lay in a stupor and took hold of her hand. “What’s wrong with her? She was well yesterday at the Harvest Festival, but during the night became delirious. And she’s too hot.”
Ascha shook her head and he could see she was worried. “It could be any number of things. Perhaps she ate something.”
Agneta moaned, “I ache all over.”
Speaking seemed to irritate her throat. She sat up and coughed uncontrollably. Lady Ascha comforted her by rubbing her back.
Caedmon’s eyes were wild, and he was afraid to touch Agneta. “Do something, mother. She’ll choke.”
If anything happens to her.
Ascha looked at him with irritation. “She won’t choke. You must be calm. Your upset won’t help her. We must be patient and concentrate on getting the fever under control. I’ll instruct Enid to make mint tea for the cough. Go to the garden and get a sprig of rosemary to hang around her neck.”
At that moment Lady Edythe poked her head in the door. “I suggest burning juniper berries. It will ease the cough and ward off evil spirits.”
They tried all these remedies, but for three days Agneta hacked and her nose ran. Her fever worsened. “I’m dying, Caedmon,” she moaned.
He sat by her bedside throughout her ordeal, his head resting on the bed beside her, her hand in his. Despite his protestations to the contrary to Agneta, he was convinced his beloved wife’s death was imminent and had never felt such helplessness.
“You must get some rest, my son,’ his mother cajoled, laying her hand on his shoulder.
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