'Are you ready to go home?' she asked. 'I don't like to leave Benedict with the maids for too long.'
Ailith nodded. She could not speak, but the relief burned in her eyes.
'By the end of the week, my love,' Wulfstan said in a tender voice and bowed them both farewell. His eyes lingered possessively on Ailith.
'What did he mean "by the end of the week"?' Felice wanted to know as they sought for Aubert among the throng of guests.
'He wants me to marry him,' Ailith said dully. 'I have until the end of the week to decide.'
'What will you say?'
Ailith shook her head and gave no outright answer. She did not want to marry Wulfstan, but what if he made it impossible for her to do otherwise?
'There will be several noses put out of joint if you do accept him,' Felice said with a glint of relish. 'I know quite a few merchant families who have been throwing their daughters in Wulfstan's direction. He's still quite young, he's rich and he's handsome, a fine catch.'
'He is a conceited bully,' Ailith retorted shortly. 'You know it as well as I do. I want to go home, I feel sick.'
CHAPTER 21
In the yard, a cauldron simmered over a low fire. Ailith poured a beakerful of lye soap into the hot water, stirred the brew with a stick, and then dumped in a pile of soiled linens. These she attacked vigorously with a forked pole, prodding down billows of fabric as they rose to the surface, her sleeves pushed back and an old apron saving her working gown from the worst of the splashes. In her mind's eye, each time she thrust with the pole, she was drowning Wulfstan the Goldsmith. Nor did she intend confessing such sinful fantasies to a priest because they gave her great satisfaction and she was in no way repentant. If he thought he could carry her into his bed, he was mistaken. And yet, at the same time she was afraid of the depth his persecution might reach at her continued resistance.
'What has that shirt done to you that you should treat it so viciously?'
Ailith gasped and spun round to face Rolf de Brize. He was dressed less elegantly today. Like herself he wore his working clothes — a plain tunic, slightly threadbare, dusty leggings, and a short cloak with a round pewter pin. 'You have to pummel the washing hard to remove all the dirt,' she replied somewhat breathlessly. 'It is no different to beating it out on the rocks down at the river bank.' Red-faced, she blotted her brow on her freckled forearm. She could see from his expression and the way he lingered that he was sceptical.
'Felice was telling me just now that you had the misfortune to receive a proposal of marriage from the illustrious Wulfstan.'
Ailith resumed her task, thrusting the pole down to the bottom of the cauldron. 'And if I did?' she asked defensively.
'You think it no business of mine, I can see, but as it happens, I do have an interest, since his intentions clash with my own.'
Ailith's heart lurched, and then commenced pounding in hard, swift strokes. She slammed the pole up and down a few more times, then stopped. Her breath was shaking, so were her hands. 'But you already have a wife and child,' she said to the bubbles of linen sitting on the scummy surface of the water.
'Yes, in Normandy,' he said gently.
Ailith almost laughed at the irony. Wulfstan said that if she would not marry him, he would ruin her reputation. And here was Rolf offering her that ruination. She contemplated assaulting him with the hot, soapy forked pole. 'I am no man's whore,' she said stiffly. 'I'll not argue the point with you. Just go away.'
'I haven't finished speaking — you misconstrued my meaning,' Rolf responded patiently and came around the side of the cauldron until they stood eye to eye and she was forced to look at him. His features were marred by the shadows of yesterday's excesses, and lack of sleep. He had not returned from celebrating the coronation until almost dawn, and Ailith knew that he had not been to bed – at least not to his own. 'I need a chatelaine for Ulverton, someone to bring order to the chaos of my household.'
'Then ask your wife.' She remained unbending.
'Arlette has responsibility for Brize-sur-Risle, and she speaks no English.' He grimaced. 'Besides, I don't want her at Ulverton. She would make the household a replica of Brize, and I do not think I could bear that.'
'You think I could better a great Norman lady?'
'I know you could. Look, it would only be the same as managing Aubert's house, or the one you shared with your husband, but on a larger scale. I always feel a sense of belonging when I come here, far more than I ever do at Brize.'
Ailith began to feel a treacherous glow of warmth at his flattery. She imagined herself dressed in the tightly laced Norman fashion, with a huge hoop of keys hanging from the belt at her waist. 'But Wulfstan has offered me marriage and wealth and high status.' She pounded the pole, forcing him to step back.
Rolf folded his arms. -I offer you your freedom,' he delivered triumphantly. 'From Wulfstan, from all that hems you in. If you come to Ulverton as its chatelaine, all that I require of you is that you run my household. I will expect no more than that. Indeed, it may be in the fullness of time, you will find yourself another English husband from among the people there.' He gave her his white, sharp, smile. 'Of course you will have a deal of competition. Since the great battle, there are more women than men. It has been on my mind to make you the offer for a long time; I would not have you think it is done lightly.'
Ailith stared at him, trying to see through his ingenuous expression. If all he did indeed desire was a housekeeper, then his offer was heaven-sent. 'You swear on your soul that the position will be an honourable one?'
Had Goldwin been making the proposition, he would have been mortally offended by her doubt of his intentions. Rolf, however, smiled ruefully.
'On my soul.' He signed himself with the Cross. 'As proper as you choose.'
She chewed her lower lip and stared at him. She had many doubts, but they were accompanied by a spark of anticipation. No Wulfstan licking his lips and rubbing his hands. She and Felice could become friends again instead of rivals… No Benedict. Her breath caught in her throat and she looked at Rolf with stricken eyes.
"The baby, I cannot leave him, he is still taking suck.'
'He is well grown and he has his teeth. He only takes sustenance from you for the comfort, and for that, surely he should turn to his natural mother. Ailith, I do not mean to be cruel, but you have to let go a little. If you do come to Ulverton, it does not mean that you will never see Ben again. I am his Godfather and that means I have a duty to visit him. You can come with me as often as you want.'
Ailith shook her head, her mind filled with the vision of Benedict's laughing, rosy features. 'I… I do not know what to say.'
'I leave for Ulverton in two days' time with a wain load of supplies. Indeed, there are still some things I need to buy. When you have finished murdering those linens, perhaps you might accompany me to Chepeside?'
Wulfstan had given her a week to think upon her decision. Rolf, in his generosity, was giving her no time at all. Nor, she discovered, did she need it. There had been too much time of late to brood and fear. 'This will take until prime,' she said, not wishing to appear too eager.
Rolf nodded in a businesslike manner, but there was a gleam in his green agate eyes. 'I'll be in the stables,' he said, and without further ado, walked away.
She watched his lean, retreating form and began methodically beating the washing once more. She still mistrusted him, but she was aware of trusting Wulfstan's solid, mercantile bulk even less. Rolf had sworn on his soul that the position at Ulverton was an honourable one, that in time if she wished to remarry, she could choose her own mate. And she would not be losing Benedict entirely. Ailith began singing to herself as she worked, and thought that she would need to change her gown if she was to go visiting the markets of Chepeside.
Felice emerged from the house, her hands occupied by a drop spindle, her eyes by Benedict, who was toddling along at a merry pace in pursuit of a soft leather ball. He squatted, laboriously picked up the toy and threw i
t with a giggle, then lost his balance and plonked down. Laughing, Felice stooped and set him on his feet. Then, alerted by a sound she had never heard before, her gaze flickered to Ailith and widened.
'Your mood has changed somewhat since yester evening,' she said cautiously.
'What?' Ailith glanced round, her expression startled. She had been so deep in thought that she had not noticed Felice approach.
'I said your mood has improved since yesterday. I do not think I have ever heard you sing before.'
'Was I singing?'
'As loudly as a songthrush at dawn. I never knew that your voice was so true.'
Ailith smiled a little at the compliment and reddened too. Her singing had been for her own ears and she was embarrassed hat Felice had heard it.
'Does this mean you have changed your mind about Wulfstan?' Felice raced after Benedict as he toddled towards the dung heap.
Ailith's generous pink lips tightened. 'No,' she said with quiet dignity. 'I will never change my mind about Wulfstan. As it happens, I have received another offer, one I intend to accept.'
'Another offer of marriage? Who from?' Felice grabbed her an and stared at Ailith in astonishment. 'I did not even know that you were courting!'
Ailith reddened. 'It is not an offer of marriage. Rolf wants le to be his chatelaine at Ulverton. He says that his wife has enough on her trencher with Brize-sur-Risle. He has promised that I will be treated with all respect and honour,' she added hastily as she saw the look on Felice's face.
Benedict began to cry, his face growing dusky with temper, slice set him down once more. 'And you believed him? Oh, Ailith, you goose!'
'Why should I not?' Ailith said defensively. 'He has never behaved less than honourably towards me. He swore an oath l his soul that there would be nothing improper about the arrangement.'
'Rolf's ideas of improper tend to be somewhat liberal,' Felice said dryly. 'He has no morals below the level of his belt.'
Ailith fished a linen napkin out of the cauldron and began to bring out the water. 'I know that,' she said with a toss of her head. 'I once caught him in the stable straw with Gytha the Alewife, and from the tales I have heard, there have been many others. I know I must be careful, but I am not afraid of Rolf as I am afraid of Wulfstan. Rolf will only take what is willingly offered. Wulfstan will seize what he wants without thought. I know to which man I would rather trust my virtue.' She dropped the napkin in the large basket beside the cauldron and gave Felice a challenging glare. 'I know that it would be more convenient for you if I married Wulfstan, and for that I am sorry. If he was a good man in the mould of Goldwin, I would do so, but he isn't and there is nothing more to say.' Her chin started to quiver and she turned back to the cauldron and fished out another piece of linen.
A moment later, she felt Felice's hand on her shoulder. 'Ailith, I'm sorry, you must do as you see fit. I just don't want to see you hurt any more than you have been already.'
Ailith draped the linen over the side of the cauldron and put her arms around Felice, hugging her. 'Then let me make my own mistakes,' she said, and then with a small cry of alarm, she pushed out of the embrace and ran to the dung heap to snatch Benedict out of the muck and straw.
The baby squealed his delight at being swung up in Ailith's arms. 'Oh, you rascal!' Ailith could not help but laugh as she cuddled him. Her eyes filled with moisture. The baby would be the hardest thing to leave behind despite Rolf's assurances that she would still see him often. But as she carried him back to his mother, her decision was made and her heart was filled not only with determination, but a new sense of purpose.
Wulfstan's shop occupied a prime position in the heart of London's goldsmiths' quarter. The frontage was more generous than usual for business premises in the heart of the city. Morning sunshine gleamed on the whitewashed walls and the open counter with its cover of dark green cloth. Two apprentices were erecting a canvas awning to provide shade for the customers since the day looked set to be hot.
Rolf dismounted from Sleipnir and handed the reins to the accompanying groom. Then he asked one of the apprentices for Wulfstan. The lad appraised him, and quickly realised that Rolf was Norman and rich. Sensing new and valuable custom, he hurried into the living quarters at the back of the shop.
Rolf leaned on the counter and studied the various items hanging on the wall behind it. To one side there were pincers, snips, and engraving tools, each neatly hung in its set place. Directly before his eyes were the samples of merchandise. Their style reflected their creator. All the pieces without exception were heavy and opulent, the sort of items that said Behold, I am wealthy and to be respected. Rolf grimaced at a large disc brooch so crusted with gold that it looked like a bubbling griddle cake, and wondered how much some city burgher, eager to show off his status, was going to pay for it.
Wiping his hands and lips on a napkin, Wulfstan emerged from the rear of the shop. The apprentice followed him and returned to helping his fellow with the awning. Wulfstan looked at Rolf and the pleasant, slightly obsequious expression fell from his face and was replaced by narrow-eyed wariness.
'Lord Rolf,' he acknowledged. 'What can I do for you so early this morning? Do you wish to break your fast with me?' He gestured towards his living quarters.
Rolf shook his head. 'Thank you, but I ate at dawn. I am leaving for my lands today; indeed, my baggage wain left the city at first light. As soon as I finish my business, I'll be following it out. And when I tell you why I have come, I do not believe that you will want to offer me hospitality of any kind.'
Wulfstan's eyes flickered. He put the napkin down on the counter. 'This concerns Ailith, I think?' he said coldly.
'Yes, it concerns Ailith.'
'If you are here to warn me against pursuing my suit, you ire wasting your breath. I intend to have her.'
Rolf's dislike of the goldsmith deepened towards loathing. But she does not want you,' he said more sharply than was polite. 'To that end she has agreed to become chatelaine of my English lands. She left this morning with the baggage wain.' And then he added softly, each word biting and distinct, 'She is mine, Wulfstan, and always will be.'
The goldsmith stared at him. Then he began to shake, and uttering a roar of rage, he seized Rolf around the throat and started to squeeze. Rolf scrabbled for his dagger. The groom abandoned the two horses and ran to help his master, snarling at the gaping apprentices to pull Wulfstan off.
Passers-by hurried to help, and after a struggle, Wulfstan was finally prised from his victim. The Saxon fought against the restraining hands whilst Rolf wheezed and choked on his knees.
'May you and she be damned for eternity!' Wulfstan snarled. 'Whoremonger and whore!'
Rolf regained his feet. The goldsmith's rage was that of a child denied its own way. There was no point in continuing the scene. Wulfstan was beaten and Rolf was finding it difficult enough to draw a clean breath without the added burden of speech.
Ignoring Wulfstan, which only added another dimension to the Saxon's fury, Rolf mounted his horse and rode away. He had done what he intended, and the road ahead was clear.
CHAPTER 22
On a bright spring noontide, five days after setting out from London, Ailith came to Ulverton. On this final day, they took the road from Wareham where they had rested for the night and headed over the undulating greenery of the chalk downs towards the coast. The sky was blue, the air sparkled; so too in the distance did the sea, its horizon haze-grey. Ailith narrowed her eyes the better to focus. Everything was so different. Before this, the furthest she had ever been from London was the village of Tottenham, just a few miles from the city's hub, where she had lived before her marriage. She had never seen forests as huge and dark as the ones which had engulfed her journey, could never have imagined such vastness. The bursting Maytime greenery overwhelmed her senses, made her feel humble and afraid, but at the same time she was charged with exultation.
Now the forests were behind them. The three cobs pulled sturdily in the shafts of
the baggage wain, their step brisk and their ears pricked. The driver was a taciturn little Saxon named Osred, whose speech consisted of positive and negative grunts in response to her curious questions. He had a scrawny neck and stringy arms which seemed on first glance incapable of controlling the three lively horses, but his wiry frame was deceptively strong. Wulfhild, who had opted to remain with Ailith, declared that he only required feeding up, but she said that about everyone less slump than herself. Sigrid had remained in London with Aubert and Felice, for she was soon to marry an armourer's journeyman from Southwark.
The sea vanished from sight as they entered a low dip, reappearing as the wain gained the brow of the slope. It was closer now, a glittering swell of darkest blue stretching as far as the eye could see, and filing the bay of the nearer vision. A village was cuddled down in the folds of the hills. Standing a little apart from it on another slope that showed an edge of raw earth, stood a wooden tower surrounded by a palisade of sharpened stakes, and beneath the main hill, a raised bank of earth creating a fortified compound filled with a variety of thatched wooden buildings.
Rolf appeared suddenly at the side of the wain. He had been riding Sleipnir ahead and behind all morning — to scout so he had said, but Ailith had sensed the restless anticipation that made keeping still a torture. 'Ulverton,' he announced, pointing towards the village. 'I have other holdings, of course, but this is the main one, your new home.'
Ailith set aside the disturbing thought that these lands through which they travelled were only Rolf's by right of conquest. An English thegn had died by a Norman hand on Hastings field so that Rolf could take possession. 'Do I live in that place up there or in the village?' She looked dubiously at the crude wooden structure on top of the hill. If it was habitable, that was the most which could be said about it.
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