The Conquest

by Elizabeth Chadwick

  Rolf had told her that he had won the axe on Hastings field, and that it had saved his life when he was attacked by a looter whilst lying wounded after the battle. But whose had it been before then? She drank more mead, her hands shaking.

  When Julitta came into the hall with crumbs around her mouth and a moustache of buttermilk, Ailith asked her to read what the letters said.

  'William,' said Julitta without hesitation, proud of her ability to read. And then she pointed to another, lighter row of scratches. 'And this says…' She peered closer. 'This says Lyulph.'

  Ailith fell into a deep, black gulf. She heard Julitta scream and Wulfhild's cry of concern. Hands supported her and bore her up. The mead cup was forced against her teeth and her nostrils were filled with the stink of burning feathers. Goose feathers probably, she thought, from Inga's flock, and heard herself laugh. When Wulfhild tried to urge her to lie down on the great bed, Ailith became hysterical, insisting that she would never sleep there again.

  The afternoon was a bright, sun-washed gold. A skylark bubbled in the blue air above the heads of the woman and child travelling on the dusty road towards Wareham. All that Ailith had to show for her nine years at Ulverton were her red-haired daughter, the mounts they rode, and the sumpter pony with a bundle strapped to its back. For protection Ailith carried a sharpened, oiled battle axe, her brother's name carved on the steel behind the biting edge of the blade.

  She had told Julitta very little. As far as the child was aware, they were going on a visit to London, a visit that somehow involved the battle axe and Inga the goose-witch. Ailith had used the word 'visit', but she meant forever. Nor did she look back as they crested the rise and rode down into the dip that would take Ulverton from their sight. Her spine was held haft-straight, her hands were steady on the reins, and her eyes were fixed unswervingly on the horizon.

  Ahead of them a swirl of dust rose from the road and Ailith reached quickly for the axe. Even if there was a reluctant peace in England, and men were wary of the King's wrath, a woman and child travelling alone were always vulnerable. The cloud resolved itself into a small band of Norman soldiers escorting a horse-drawn litter. Ailith and Julitta drew aside in politeness to let them pass, but Ailith received the strong impression that the Normans expected it of right. The litter drew level and stopped. The heavy curtains parted to reveal a richly dressed woman and a girl on the verge of adolescence.

  'How far are we from Ulverton?' asked the woman in a clear, silvery voice.

  'About three miles,' Ailith replied. 'You will see it as soon as you gain the top of that hill.' Her French was now without accent and she saw the woman's delicate brows lift in surprise.

  'We live there,' Julitta volunteered, her gaze on the pale-haired girl. 'My papa's the lord. He's got other lands too, but Ulverton's his favourite.'

  The brows remained high and the woman's delicate colour grew ashen. She stared at Ailith intently, absorbing every tiny detail, whereas a moment before she had been content just to glance. And then her gaze transferred to Julitta, as if seeking a confirmation.

  Realisation struck Ailith as she witnessed the Norman woman's response to Julitta's remark. Her stomach churned with a fresh surge of nausea, but at the same time, the appearance of Rolf's wife confirmed her decision to leave Ulverton as the right one.

  'He is in Winchester, but he will be home within the week,' she heard herself say woodenly.

  'Home?' The word seemed to agitate Arlette de Brize. The wide pewter eyes were suddenly narrow. She touched her throat.

  Ailith had neither the energy nor the inclination to fight with Rolf's wife. 'You need not vex yourself,' she said with cold dignity. 'My daughter and I are leaving, and we will not return.' Clicking her tongue to Elfa, she eased the mare past on the verge, Julitta following.

  She half-expected the soldiers to ride in pursuit and take her and Julitta into their custody, but nothing happened. On looking over her shoulder, she saw that the litter curtains had swung back into place and that the small entourage had resumed its journey.

  'Who was that?' Julitta asked curiously.

  'A visitor for your father. She does not want or need our presence. Ah Jesu, enough now,' she added as Julitta opened her mouth to ask another question. 'Let me be, I can bear no more!'

  Ailith wanted to weep, but the grief was too deep and the tears would not come. They remained inside her, vitrified and dagger-sharp, wounding her beyond hope of healing.

  CHAPTER 35

  In Winchester, Rolf bought an amber necklace for Julitta and a gold ring for Ailith, upon which he requested the goldsmith to etch in runes the symbols for love and good fortune. On impulse too, with humour and a feeling of wistfulness, he purchased a new besom of birch twigs.

  His conscience was rife with guilt where Ailith was concerned. Of late he knew he had been wayward, taken up with his pastime of investigating other pastures. Once or twice his quest had taken him into fields dangerously close to home. He had not regretted lying with Inga at the time, it had vented a heat which had been kept beneath a lid for far too long, nor did he regret it even now, but it was finished. He would give Ailith the ring, he would invite her to jump over the broomstick in the age-old tradition of hand-fasting – unless she wanted to brandish it about his head — and they would start anew.

  His mood was optimistic, as bright as summertime as he topped the hill and saw Ulverton curled in the valley like a sleepy cat upon a blanket. Behind the village, the sun dazzled on the sea. He imagined Ailith walking along the beach with Julitta, her feet bare and her gown kilted through her belt.

  He was smiling when he dismounted in Ulverton's courtyard, but it was the last occasion he was to do so for a very long time. No auburn-haired child shot out to dance around him, demanding to know what he had brought her; no tall, handsome woman emerged from the kitchens or brewery, wiping her hands on her apron, her eyes alight. His groom took his horse and with lowered eyes, led it away. A feeling of unease swept over Rolf like a cloud across the sun. The village priest emerged from the hall with a woman, the pair of them deep in conversation. It took a moment for Rolf to recognise Arlette. This was the last place he expected to see her, but when he did, his unease turned to outright fear.

  He strode across the bailey, reaching her before she had taken more than two paces of her own. 'What are you doing here?' he snarled. 'Where is Ailith?'

  Arlette's grey gaze widened and she clenched her hands upon the fabric of her gown, but she held her ground. 'I arrived after she had gone,' she said truthfully, 'and I took up the reins because everyone was galloping around in aimless panic. She has left you, my lord. You may ask her maidservant if you do not believe me, since she did not take the woman with her.' Briefly she returned her attention to the speechless, staring priest. 'I am sure that my lord will pay to have masses said for the souls of the dead woman and her baby. Perhaps if you would return later and dine with us?'

  Father Godfrid took the hint, and with a furtive glance at Rolf, inclined his head and made himself scarce.

  'What dead woman and baby?' Rolf demanded. 'What do you mean, Ailith has left me?' His gut somersaulted.

  Arlette took his stiff, resisting arm in hers. 'Come inside, my lord, we can talk better there.'

  He shook her off. 'Tell me, or by God I will mount up and ride out of here now!'

  The colour drained from Arlette's face, but still she stood up to her husband. 'And then you would never know,' she retorted. 'Besides, your threat has no power over me. AD I have seen of you this past ten years is your back as you ride away from me. Please yourself.' Turning from him, she walked towards the hall.

  Rolf glared round. Everyone was suddenly very busy. The priest was a dwindling figure on the wooden bridge over the ditch. Hunching his shoulders, Rolf put his head down like a bull and strode after his wife.

  The hall was clean and tidy. New rushes yielded up a scent of sweet dried grass as he crushed them beneath his boots. Arlette paused at a trestle before the hear
th, poured wine into a goblet, and brought it to him.

  'Gisele is here too, but I bade her remain in the chamber beyond until we had spoken together. What you must know is not pleasant, and I did not want her to see and hear.'

  Rolf took the cup from her hands. His sense of unease was increased by his wife's changed attitude. She had become more assertive. Her gaze met his squarely, without the deference to which he was accustomed.

  'There was a woman in the village with whom you dallied, so the priest says, a woman from the north?'

  Rolf went cold. 'Inga?' he said involuntarily, and his hand tightened on the stem of the goblet.

  'That was the name the priest gave to me.' Her lips tightened, and she nodded to herself as if a distasteful rumour had just been confirmed. 'You do not deny it then?'

  'I don't need your pious condemnation!' he snapped. 'No, I do not deny it, but she was nothing, a means to scratch an itch.' He took a mouthful of wine, swilled it around his cheeks and swallowed. 'What has she been saying?'

  'She was nothing to you before, and she is nothing now, because she is dead,' Arlette said brutally. 'She bore your child six days ago, and it was your mistress who discovered her bleeding to death in her cottage with the baby birth-strangled in her arms. That was why the priest was here. He would rather have spoken to your English mistress about such matters, but she rode out of here on the day of the discovery.'

  'It could have been anyone's child,' Rolf said huskily.

  'The baby had red hair and the woman confessed all of her sins on her death bed,' Arlette said grimly. 'You are never content with what you have, and now, because of it, you have nothing, not even that with which you started.'

  Rolf raised his fist. Arlette blenched, but stood fast. He looked from her face to his clenched fingers, and with an oath, turned from her to hurl his goblet at the wall. Wine spattered down the pale linen of an embroidered hanging like drops of blood. His eyes had followed the goblet's path, and now he saw that, on the wall above the spot where it had crashed, one of his battle axes was missing — the Hastings one, the luck of Ulverton.

  A huge hole seemed to open up in his belly and his heart and lungs dropped through it. If Ailith had taken the axe then this was no foolish pet of jealous temper; she truly had flown. Ignoring his wife, he gazed frantically round the hall until he located a plump, grey-haired woman desultorily peeling rushes to make tallow dips.

  'Wulfhild!' He almost ran to her. 'Where is your mistress, where did she go? In God's name tell me!'

  The old woman looked up at him with bleak and bitter eyes. 'She would not confide in me, save to say that she would never let you find her. I wanted to go with her, but she said I was too old to take to the road. You betrayed her, lord, more than you will ever know.' Her double chins wobbled and she quickened her movements, splitting the withies, exposing the creamy-white pith.

  'But how can I make amends if I do not know where to find her?' he demanded with desperation, an edge of fear in his voice.

  Wulfhild shrugged. 'She don't want you to find her after what you done, and it ain't just because o' the goose woman in the village, although that's a mighty part of it.' Wulfhild folded her lips inwards until they almost disappeared. When he remained stubbornly in front of her, his expression a mingling of bewilderment, anger and loss, she shook her head and sighed. 'Your precious axes fell down during the spring cleaning. My mistress returned from the village. She was already distressed because she'd just found Inga all bloody and dying alone. Then she looked at your axe, the one that's missing.' She made small chewing motions.

  'And?'

  'She recognised some marks on the blade.' Wulfhild raised her eyes to his. 'That axe of yourn was made by Master Uoldwin, and it belonged to Mistress Ailith's brother Lyulph. Ml these years she has been sharing the bed of her own brother's murderer. She has called you nithing.'

  'It was in fair fight,' Rolf protested. 'He would have killed lie had not my spear taken him first! I did not know he was Ailith's kin, I swear it!'

  Her gaze held mute contempt. He flung away from her and drove his fist at the wall with the same violence that he had lung the cup. His skin split and the splits filled with blood. His mind howled and his voice howled with it.

  Arlette ran to him, her cold composure broken by real fear. She grasped his arm and held on like a terrier. He heard her screaming at him to stop, and when he tried to shake her off, ;he refused to relinquish her grip. His blood smeared her gown of fine, pale blue linen. A streak of it lay like a long gash on her pale cheek.

  His breath choking harshly in his throat, Rolf turned his back on the wall and slumped against it. Arlette snapped at a gawking servant to bring another cup of wine, and pulling her kerchief from her sleeve, bound it around his bleeding knuckles. But although the injuries were efficiently staunched, Rolf knew that he had suffered mortal wound.

  CHAPTER 36

  'Mistress Ailith?' Sigrid opened the door of her low-roofed, simple thatched house. An infant riding on her hip, she stared at her former employer with wide, astonished eyes. A soft drizzle shaded the summer dusk, and blurred outlines with a hoar of fine droplets.

  'Can you provide us with sleeping space for the night?' Ailith asked. 'And a place to shelter the horses?' She tried to smile at her former maid, but she was so tired and heartsick, that for the moment she was beyond more than a meagre stretching of the lips.

  'Of course, come within.' Recalling her manners, Sigrid stepped aside and ushered Ailith and Julitta over the threshold. Putting the baby in its cradle, she set about rousing the fire beneath the cauldron. 'You'll be wanting to eat,' she said. 'Is bread and broth enough for tonight?'

  Tears prickled behind Ailith's lids at Sigrid's goodness. The young woman had always been quietly efficient in her capacity of maidservant, never saying much, totally ungiven to gossip. 'Bread and broth will be a feast, but you need not trouble yourself.'

  'It is no trouble,' Sigrid said serenely. Once the fire was burning to her satisfaction, she went out to attend the horses. Ailith insisted on accompanying her, and Julitta was given a cup of milk and left to keep an eye on the baby.

  The two women led the horses round to the back of the house and set about unsaddling them. 'You are no longer my servant, you do not have to do this,' Ailith said.

  'But you are my guests, and in need of help, I think.' Sigrid heaved the saddle off the chestnut mare's back. 'If this had been an ordinary visit, you would have come here during the day, and you would have been lodging with the de Remys.' She gave Ailith a single, shrewd look, but did not press further and continued quietly with her task. It was this very undemanding silence that led Ailith to speak out.

  'I have left Rolf,' she blurted, 'and I don't want him to find me — ever.'

  'I thought as much when I saw you.'

  'That is why I cannot go to Felice de Remy. It is the first place he would look for us. Even here it is dangerous. Your husband knows Rolf and the de Remys.'

  'Edwin's away on a commission in Dover,' Sigrid soothed. 'He won't be home for ten days at least. And he knows how to keep his mouth closed.'

  'I don't know what I'm going to do!' Ailith's voice quivered with a note of panic. 'I have got some silver, and we'll sell the horses, but that won't keep us for a lifetime.'

  'But for long enough until you find something,' Sigrid said practically. 'Here on the Southwark side there is always work. We can think tomorrow about what to do. Tonight you must rest. I have never seen such dark shadows beneath your eyes.' A note of concern entered her voice.

  Ailith looked bleakly at the saddle marks on Elfa's sweaty chestnut back. 'I thought when I lost my brothers, my son and then Goldwin, that my life was ended. I thought that no grief could ever cut more keenly than that. But I was wrong. That was just death. This is betrayal.'

  Julitta sat on the floor, a wooden bowl between her knees, a heap of pea shucks at her side. Her thumbnail was green from splitting the pods and pushing the peas into the bowl. Some would
be cooked and eaten fresh with mint from Sigrid's herb plot, the rest would be dried for winter use. Sigrid's baby was asleep in its cradle, and sunlight shone through the open doorway, striping the floor rushes with gold, and burnishing Julitta's hair to a rich garnet-red.

  Earlier that afternoon she had asked her mother when they were going home, and had been told that for the time being they weren't, that they had to find somewhere to live here in Southwark. Julitta wrinkled her nose. She did not mind living here with Sigrid, but it was cramped and poky, and she missed the luxuries of her life at Ulverton, and her father's careless, proud affection. And then she remembered that her papa did not really love her or her mother any more, and that was the reason they were here.

  A woman had come to collect some mending and laundry that Sigrid had done for her, and was now in earnest conversation with Ailith. Julitta had met Dame Agatha two days before when the woman had brought the clothes to be washed and mended. She was as comfortable and plump as a hen, double-chinned, florid of face and cheerful of manner. Julitta quite liked her, for Dame Agatha had made a fuss of her, admiring her beautiful hair, and giving her a piece of almond paste to suck. Julitta, in turn, had admired Dame Agatha's gaudy rings and a cross of real gold that she wore on her ample bosom. The woman had chucked her beneath the chin and laughingly suggested that Julitta and Ailith should come and live with her. Julitta had thought it a jest, the kind that adults often made to children, but now, eavesdropping, she discovered that Dame Agatha was in earnest.

  'My business is so hectic at the moment, that I do not have the time to be collecting laundry and mending. I should be home now, seeing to my guests and preparing for the others. It is often beyond curfew before I can shut my doors, and sometimes I find customers waiting on my doorstep at the crack of dawn.' She bewailed her difficulties with complacency, a bright brown eye cocked upon Ailith.