“It is safe with me. Besides, it is not my place to inform Broc.”
That was what Ariel had wanted to hear. After giving him a quick nod, she started into the village. Ranulf followed as she greeted the villagers she past. Showing their loyalty to her, they all called her by the name she had given herself.
The village was small, but she hoped Ranulf would notice that the huts were well-maintained, which showed her father’s goodwill toward his people. She led him past the main hall and took him to the smaller one that sat a short distance behind the village. As they neared, she saw her father stood outside with Colwyn in his arms. Seeing that a stranger accompanied her, he pulled the blanket that was around Colwyn over his head.
She practically jumped off her horse and ran. Ariel threw herself into her father’s arms. Ranulf slowly dismounted as she greeted Swein. She took Colwyn out of Swein’s arms and then walked to where Ranulf stood, waiting. She pulled the blanket from Colwyn’s face.
From Ranulf’s shocked expression, Ariel knew he could see the resemblance between father and son. Colwyn was so much like Broc. She hoped he understood why she had kept Broc from Colwyn, especially now that he had seen Broc’s treatment of her while at court.
“Ranulf, this is my son, Colwyn.”
“My god, Ariel, he is the very image of Broc. I do not see how you will be able to keep him a secret for very long. You cannot keep him locked away for the rest of his life.”
“I know. I will decide what has to be done when the time comes. For now, a blanket will suffice.”
* * * *
With the Norman away, Swein could almost believe their lives had gone back to what they once had been. A smile absently formed on his lips as he watched his daughter playing with her son. He did have to give the Norman credit, though. He had given Ariel a beautiful child.
Now another Norman had come to Elmstead. Sir Ranulf was younger than Broc, and truly seemed to be forthright and honest. He did not share most Normans’ attitudes that Saxons were of a lower class. Not that Broc had ever treated them that way, but he had taken Elmstead as his own. This other man seemed interested in the Saxon way of life. If his old eyes saw clearly, the young man also seemed extremely interested in Ariel.
Ranulf sat on the floor beside Ariel, sharing in a game with Colwyn. Swein had to admit to himself, he could find nothing to really dislike about this Norman. In some ways, the young man would be better for Ariel than Broc, but his daughter was not responding to him in that way. It was a shame, because Ranulf seemed to treat her better than Broc had, so far.
He had seen the bruise on Ariel’s jaw, even though she had tried to hide it from him. It was not hard to guess who had left the mark on her. Broc’s continued absence told all. Why else would he still be at court and Ariel return home before the expected time? Even though he had pushed his daughter to tell him what had happened, it had been Ranulf who had told him what had taken place. She would never have told him.
The sound of Colwyn’s laughter filled the hall. It was a sweet sound, one that Swein had missed through the years. His wife had only been able to give him Ariel. He sighed. His wife would have loved her grandson very much.
Ariel brought playtime to an end and picked Colwyn up. “It is time for this young man to get ready for bed. Can you entertain Ranulf, Father? I have to bathe Colwyn before he goes to sleep.”
Swein nodded. “Aye, Daughter. I am sure we will find something to keep ourselves amused.”
Ariel disappeared into her chamber, leaving them alone. After signaling Ranulf over, Swein poured two goblets of mead and then handed one to him. Ranulf sat next to him at the trestle table.
“How do you find Elmstead? I am sure it does not compare to London.”
Ranulf smiled. “What I have seen of it so far, I find appealing. It is nice to get away from the court once in a while.”
“Ariel told me you have come to learn about the Saxons.”
“Aye, we must live together. We should have a better understanding of how each of us lives.”
“Not too many of your countrymen would agree with that. They only have one interest in us—taking what lands we have and make them their own.”
“That is why I wish to know more of your way of life. Maybe with the knowledge I learn here I can make the changes easier on your people.”
Swein laughed. “I am afraid that will never happen. We are a proud people. We have been on this island for generations. I can tell you, William will never have a peaceful moment now that he has made himself king. We never wanted him in the first place. He takes away our lands to give to others as he sees fit. We will fight him.”
Ranulf’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you would fight against him?”
Swein chuckled. “Nay, I am too old for such goings on. Besides, I must think of Ariel and Colwyn. I would never jeopardize them in that way. Broc, so far, has treated us well. I have no complaints. I would not like another to take his place.”
“William respects him. He even calls Broc a friend.”
Swein refilled their goblets. “I did not know Broc was so close to the king.”
“He is. The friendship started shortly after Broc came to court. He is a younger son, so he will inherit no lands from his father. What else could he do but go to court? I do not know much about Broc. He mostly keeps to himself. I would not say we are friends, more like acquaintances. What little I do know about him, he will not be too pleased having me stay here. Even with the king’s permission.”
Swein had a feeling Ranulf would be not too far off the mark with that. Especially if Broc saw how well Ariel got along with Ranulf. “Just how long do you plan to be at Elmstead?”
“However long it takes to learn what I need to know.”
“It should prove interesting when Broc comes home.”
Ariel returned to the hall. She sat on the bench next to Swein and then accepted a goblet of mead he passed to her. “How did the bath go?”
“Very well. He had fun soaking everything in the chamber as well as himself. Now he is asleep.”
“Ranulf told me that he will be staying at Elmstead for a while. Since he will be here for the Christ mass, we will be able to show him how we Saxons celebrate the season.”
“It would only be the proper thing to do. With Broc still at the king’s court, we should be able to celebrate without having to pretend what we are not.”
Chapter Twelve
The Christ mass revels had come and gone and William was now truly the King of England. The coronation had taken place on the day of Christ’s birth. It had been a moving sight for Broc, to finally see William’s dreams realized. All had culminated in the placing of the crown onto his head. That was what they had all fought for, to see this day come to be.
To get the Saxons to more readily accept him as their king, William had used the ancient English rites. He had only made a few changes to it, thinking of his Norman nobles. All went smoothly, and no one could deny William his throne.
With some misgivings, Broc was on the road, heading to Elmstead. It would be interesting to see the boy’s reaction at the sight of him arriving with the others who traveled with him. He looked over his shoulder at the four people who followed him. His betrothed was among them. She was Lady Alwen, a Saxon lady, whose father had been the Earl of Essex. Her father, Lord Theodoric, rode beside her with two of his men acting as guards.
Broc had met the lady and her father while at court. The earl had found accommodations in London shortly after losing his lands to another. Once settled, he promptly wormed his way into William’s good graces.
The man disgusted Broc. In his middle years, Theodoric looked his age. His brown hair had thinned and was cut quite close to his head. He might have been well-built during his youth, but he had let his body go to fat. It was not too hard for Broc to guess Theodoric had taken full advantage of his high status. The man’s eyes always looked red and puffy from too much drink.
Lady Alwen was nothing lik
e her father. In fact, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Even prettier than the Saxon girl, and that was the only reason Broc had chosen her for his wife. She would give him beautiful children, and not much else could be said about her.
The lady’s blonde hair fell in waves down her back. Her eyes were blue, but not as blue as the other Saxon girl’s. She had skin so white Broc figured she never allowed the sun’s rays to touch it.
Alwen gave him a shy smile. Broc quickly looked away. He had no love for the lady and probably never would. She would only serve one purpose. All he expected of her was to bear him children and take care of his home. He wanted nothing more. They were to be married at Elmstead after they arrived. He wanted to get it over with as soon as he could.
William had given his consent to the marriage, but Broc had sensed his friend had not been too pleased with his choice of bride. He had gone as far as to say Broc would be miserable if he went through with it. He warned Broc life at Elmstead would be turbulent with Lady Alwen in residence. He still had no idea what William had meant.
Up ahead, Elmstead came into view. Broc kicked his horse into a canter to step up the pace. Without looking back, he knew the others would keep up.
* * * *
Ariel stepped out of the main hall as Broc charged through the village with four strangers following him. After all the horses came to a halt in the yard, only then did she realize a woman was among the strangers.
Broc went to the woman and helped her dismount. She was very beautiful. From the way she smiled at him, her appearance heralded changes at Elmstead. He took the girl by the hand and led her to Ariel. She wanted to run, but it wouldn’t change the inevitable.
“I am glad you are here, Wulf. It will save me the time in sending for you. I would like to introduce you to Lady Alwen, my betrothed.”
At those two words, my betrothed, Ariel felt as if Broc had slammed his fist into her stomach. “Nice to meet you. When is the wedding to take place?”
Broc smiled at Alwen. “Just before the evening meal, tonight.”
He was slowly killing her, and Broc had no idea what his words were doing to her. “Well, I will leave you. You have much to do before the ceremony.”
Broc stopped Ariel from making a quick retreat. “There is one more thing, Wulf. I have chosen you to act as my witness to the marriage. I will expect you at the hall.” She tried to refuse, but he would not allow it. “You have no say in the matter. I am your lord, and you will do as I wish.”
Ariel gave way and nodded. She roughly brushed past him and then stomped to her father’s hall.
* * * *
Swein found her there a little while later. Ariel paced the floor, cursing Broc one moment and wailing in anguish the next.
“You can stop the marriage, Ariel.”
Ariel stopped her pacing and looked at her father. Her eyes showed how much Broc had hurt her. “I will not do it.”
“Then you will watch the man you love marry another.”
His daughter silently started to cry. He wanted to go to her and hold her, but right now, she had to get her emotions under control. She tried to pull herself together as she took a deep breath and lifted her head.
“I made a vow never to tell Broc. No matter how much he means to me, I will not stop the marriage.”
Swein nodded. “It would be a blessing if you did tell him. His betrothed will only make problems for Elmstead.”
“Why? She looks harmless enough.”
“Aye, she is. You left before you saw who her father is. It is Theodoric, Earl of Essex. Well, at least he used to be.”
Ariel gasped. She had seen Theodoric’s cruelty to others firsthand during the summer. She had found him revolting, to say the least. His presence at Elmstead boded ill for both of them.
* * * *
At the time specified by Broc, Ariel returned to the main hall. He watched her every move. Letting him know she would not be intimidated by him, she stared back.
“You can stare at him all you want, but Broc will still marry the girl.”
Ariel tore her gaze from Broc and turned to look at Ranulf. “I know. He was the one watching me. I do believe Broc thought I would go against his wishes.”
He gave her a sad look. “Can you go through with it?”
Ariel lightly shrugged. “Of course. I am not a coward. Besides, I have no choice in the matter.”
A look of pity washed over Ranulf’s face, but it quickly became replaced with rage. “How could he do this to you? Has he no feelings? He must be able to see what you actually are.”
Deep down inside Ariel asked herself those very things, but what good would it do. “That is exactly the problem when it comes to Broc—he does not see. He probably never will. It just shows how much our short time together had meant to him.”
Ranulf took a step closer. He moved so he was a mere inch away, then lowered his voice so only she heard what he said. “If it had been me, I would never have forgotten. Ariel, you need not be alone. I would be proud to have you as my wife.”
At first, Ariel didn’t know what to say. To be truthful, she could not find much wrong with Ranulf. He was virile and handsome. The fault lay with her. She was just not ready to accept another man in her life.
“I cannot accept your offer, at least not yet. I can tell you one thing that will never change. I will never go back to what I once was. I am as much a knight as you are. I will not give that up for any man.”
Ranulf bent his head so he could whisper into her ear. “I would have you any way you choose. I have seen you fight. You might be better than I. It is in your blood. I would be a fool to make you give it up. It would only drive you away.”
Before she could answer, a hand grabbed Ranulf by the neck and roughly pushed him away from Ariel. She knew who it was without even looking. Broc stood where Ranulf had been a moment before. His eyes practically shot sparks. If Broc had the ability to kill with a stare, Ranulf would have been a dead man. Once more her temper rose to the surface. Lately, the most prominent emotion he elicited from her was rage.
“Leave Ranulf alone. You have no rights over him.”
That only made Broc’s eyes flash sparks in her direction. “So it would seem, but the same cannot be said for you. It is time. Come with me now.”
Tamping down her fury, Ariel silently followed Broc to the dais where a priest, Lady Alwen, and her father waited. After reaching the others, Broc took Alwen’s hand, and the priest started to say the words that would bind them together.
With each word the priest spoke, Ariel’s rage turned to despair. When the couple kissed to seal their vows, she felt the sensation of drowning in a deep dark lake wash over her. It killed any hopes she had of one day sharing her life with Broc. Now it was too late.
After signing her male name to the marriage document, Ariel sat on a bench next to Ranulf. She felt completely numb.
Once the newly-married couple sat, the serfs served a lavish meal. None of it passed Ariel’s lips. Afterward, she would not even remember what had been served. A full goblet was all that mattered. She never once looked at the raised dais where Broc sat with his bride.
The time for the bedding approached, and Lady Alwen left the hall with some of the village women. They took her to Broc’s chamber where she would be prepared to receive her husband. He did not even look up when she stood to leave. The two guards who had come with his now father-in-law came to stand on either side of the bridegroom’s chair. They had to gain his attention by giving his shoulder a tap. He jerked and turned to look up at one of the men.
“Come, my lord. It is time for you to join your new bride in your chamber.”
At the man’s words, Broc drank a whole goblet of mead practically in one gulp. He tried to stand and failed. In the end, the two men had to each take one of his arms and half carry him to his chamber.
* * * *
With a flick of her wrist, Alwen dismissed the village women. They had disrobed her and then helpe
d her into her husband’s bed. She had no further use of them. She had only allowed them that close because there were no other women of her class available. Now she waited for her husband.
It had been unbelievably easy to hook Broc St. Ceneri. Almost too easy, if the truth was told. For some unknown reason, he seemed to need her. Theirs would not be a love match, by any means, but she found her husband attractive and counted herself lucky to even have that.
The chamber door crashed open. Her father’s men dragged Broc into the room and then roughly dumped him onto the bed beside her. Without a backward glance, they left her alone with her new husband.
A person would have had to be blind not to see Broc had managed to drink himself into a stupor during the meal. Only Alwen had not realized how much he had consumed. It had to have been a great quantity for him to be in such a state. Looking at him, she found him asleep and dead to the world.
* * * *
A week had gone by since Broc had brought his bride to Elmstead, and life was a far cry from being normal. The presence of the former overlord and his men made everyone jumpy. The biggest problem was worrying over Theodoric. He was not making any preparations to leave.
The days after the marriage Ariel found to be exceedingly hard. Having to watch Broc take his vows had made her come to grips with how she felt about him. She had started to fall for him during her training. Her feelings for him had not changed, no matter how many times she told herself he meant nothing to her. Now it was too late to tell him. Every night, in the privacy of her own chamber, she mourned her lost chance.
If Ranulf had not been such a steadying force in her life, Ariel probably would have run from Elmstead. The sight of Broc and Alwen together tore her apart. At times, it became almost too much for her to bear. During those instances, Ranulf would make her put on her armor and then take her to the practice field. There, he let her vent her frustrations out on him. After a few hours of steady sword play, she felt ready to once more face Broc.
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