“No.”
It was such a stubborn answer that, now, Ghislaine was in danger of grinning. She looked away before he saw it.
“I am not surprised,” she muttered.
“What did you say?”
She cleared her throat, noticing that Jathan was coming forward on his old hairy horse. “I said that you are wise,” she said, lifting her voice. “I shall do my best to convince Boltolph to give you and your men shelter for the night.”
That was the last thing Gaetan heard from her as she dug her heels into the side of the horse, spurring it down the road with the priest following. Camulos was, too, rushing after the pair as they tore off down the road.
Gaetan let the dog go, knowing the beast had developed something of a great affection for Ghislaine over the past couple of days.
Truth be told, he didn’t blame the dog in the least.
CHAPTER TEN
‡
A Warrior’s Heart
Westerham, home of Boltolph the Sane
Fortunately, Boltolph hadn’t resisted the Norman incursion. In fact, the man wasn’t even home.
But his daughter was. Gunnora had been very glad to see her friend, Ghislaine, as the woman entered the walled courtyard of Westerham. Having been called forth by the men guarding the entry to the complex, Gunnora was a tall, lovely woman with long blonde hair and an ample girth. She was, quite simply, a big woman with a big heart, and she embraced Ghislaine warmly.
Through a few minutes of friendly chatter, Ghislaine was distracted by the fact that Westerham was nearly devoid of soldiers. There were a few guarding the walls and milling about, but it was very clear that the army was gone. When she asked Gunnora about her father, the woman confirmed that, indeed, her father was still in the north. Ghislaine didn’t know if she felt worse about that or better, because now there would be no resistance to Gaetan and his army. Gaetan intended to stay here for the night so, perhaps, it was best that there be no chance at resistance. Westerham would remain intact and the Normans would continue on their way come the morning. But because Boltolph was not in residence, it meant that Gaetan would not be able to establish an alliance with him.
But Gunnora saw things differently.
Truth be told, the woman didn’t have much of a head for warfare. Harold’s death and the advent of the Normans meant little to her. She had been twice married, and twice widowed, and she was constantly on the hunt for another husband. So when Ghislaine asked if the Norman army could lodge at Westerham for the night, Gunnora was more than willing to let them come. Saxon or Norman made little difference to her; if they were men, they were welcome.
Gaetan and his men were literally welcomed with open arms by the people of Westerham. The gates to the enclosure were wide open and the soldiers on the wall, what little there were of them, simply watched them enter without any reaction whatsoever. But a large woman with a mass of blonde hair, standing near one of two long houses in the compound, seemed quite excited to see them. Ghislaine was with the woman and introduced her as Gunnora Boltolphdotter, Lady of Westerham.
As Ghislaine introduced their hostess to de Wolfe’s knights, who seemed less interested in Gunnora and more interested in their surroundings, Jathan pulled Gaetan aside and explained that Boltolph was still in the north with the majority of his army.
With that information, Gaetan understood that he could have had a very quick submission of Westerham if he wanted to, confiscating the lands and riches for himself, but he thought better of it. Better to be allied with the Saxon lord than to steal from him at this point, especially if he wanted the man’s cooperation with other Saxon lords.
Therefore, in the interest of being a polite guest, he only had his knights and the provision wagons come into the bailey to be protected during the night while the rest of his army camped outside the walls. They were permitted to hunt in the forest or fish in the river for their food but they were not permitted to raid the village, which was quite unprotected. It would have been like lions hunting lambs.
God’s Bones, when did he become such a polite guest?
He wasn’t going to admit it. Under no circumstances would he admit it. But… perhaps, there was a chance that Ghislaine’s words had some impact on him. Had he truly become so soft and foolish that he was actually listening to a woman? Or was it the fact that he had no choice but to trust her advice in this strange new world?
Or, perhaps, he simply wanted to please her.
He was an idiot….
As night fell and black clouds gathered for a storm that soon unleashed its ferocity, Gaetan’s army settled in for the night courtesy of Lady Gunnora. Westerham was actually quite vast and comfortable as far as homes went; there were two longhouses, or what looked like longhouses, with one of them being made from waddle and daub with a heavily-thatched roof, and the other was made from stone until about midway up the wall when it abruptly turned into another kind of stone, very rough-hewn and jagged. This structure, too, had the heavily-thatched roof and it was into this building that Gaetan and his men were ushered.
It was a busy place, crowded with servants and tables that were oddly low to the ground. The benches looked like they were meant for children. It was also incredibly smoky and Gaetan and his men realized that it was because the cooking fire was at the far end of the hall, spitting thick smoke into the roof where it would struggle to escape through holes in the walls. There were several people cooking over this very large fire, a pit dug into the ground. A cauldron sat upon one side of it, steaming heavily, while an entire pig was roasting over the center of it, turned on a spit.
In all, it was a bustling place. Chaotic, even. Gunnora and a man he presumed to be her majordomo indicated for the knights to sit at a table near the door and they did. As the knights settled down, they were followed by their squires who removed weaponry and anything else that made it difficult to sit. From that moment forward, it was a meal unlike anything Ghislaine had ever seen before.
The men were weary; she knew that. They were all weary from battles and travel. Gunnora and her servants brought out drinking vessels which were, in some cases, hollowed-out horns from cattle. Those went to most of the men while Gaetan and Téo received glass bowls to drink from, evidently quite an honor. Gaetan thanked Lady Gunnora in her own tongue as she and her servants filled their cups to the rim with sweet beer, literally beer sweetened with honey. It was fermented for quite a long time and had quite a bite to it, but the knights drank it gratefully as food was brought to the table.
It was simple fare for the most part but it was plentiful – cabbage potage flavored with garlic, onions, white carrots, butter, and copious amounts of bread. The knights dug in to the food as Gunnora and her servants catered to them, delivering the first of the roast pig before anyone else was served. There was an entire leg on the table that the knights began cutting from with their daggers, pulling off big slabs of roasted pork. It was a feast fit for a king.
Only when they had sliced off their fill did Ghislaine even try to take any food. She was on the end of the table where Jathan was, both of them seated far down the table from the knights. For Jathan, that was where he usually ate and for Ghislaine, she didn’t want to put herself in the middle of feasting knights who only days before had been her enemy. Perhaps the still were. She assumed they would want to sup without her seated amongst them. In any case, she sat at the opposite end of the table with Gunnora and enjoyed her meal.
In fact, she was enjoying it immensely. It was more food than she’d had in several days but Camulos had followed her into the hall and she found herself sharing her meal with the dog because she couldn’t avoid his pathetic doggy stare. As she stuffed herself with the succulent pork, Gunnora seemed to be paying more attention to the Norman knights.
“My dear, they are quite attractive, aren’t they?” Gunnora hissed at her giddily. “Are they all married?”
Ghislaine glanced down the table at the group. “I would not know,” she said. “I do no
t know that much about them.”
“Then why are you with them? Are you a liaison on behalf of Edwin?”
Ghislaine shook her head. “Nay,” she said, not wanting to tell Gunnora about their missing man because the woman, as kind as she was, had a big mouth. Ghislaine didn’t think that was the type of thing Gaetan would want spread around. “I… I am their guide. They do not know Mercia as I do, so I am helping them find their way.”
“But where are they going?”
“North.”
Gunnora’s curiosity wasn’t satisfied but she could sense that Ghislaine didn’t wish to speak of why she was accompanying the Normans. She leaned into the woman and whispered.
“Are you their prisoner?” she asked. “Are they forcing you to do this?”
They were, in fact, but Ghislaine didn’t tell her so. Gunnora wouldn’t understand why, exactly, she was being forced, so it wouldn’t do to upset the woman. Therefore, Ghislaine simply shook her head.
“Of course not,” she said. “Have you been well, Gunnora? I have not seen you in a very long time.”
She was deliberately trying to change the subject but Gunnora, who didn’t have much female company, was glad to tell her of her life since the two last saw one another.
“I have been well,” she said. “Papa has a man he wishes for me to marry but nothing can come of it until he returns from the north. I believe he said that he was going to fight with Edwin. They were to hold off the Danes.”
Ghislaine nodded. “That is true,” she said. “But that was some time ago. Your father should be returning very soon.”
Gunnora shrugged, turning to her food. “I wish it would be soon. Why did you not go north with Edwin, Ghislaine? You always fight with your brother.”
Ghislaine was focused on her food as well, hearing the soft laughter of the knights down the table and wondering what they were laughing about. Glancing at them, she could see their camaraderie, the warmth in their expressions when they looked at each other. She wondered what it was like to know such companionship, for it was something she’d never experienced.
Certainly, she had men she commanded and family around her, but she’d lived a rather lonely life as the youngest child of a powerful family. Both of her parents were dead and her siblings had lives and families of their own. Hakon had been the one she’d been closest to and his death had not only left a hole in her heart, but it had left her with mind-numbing loneliness. She was alone, unwanted, and unloved. Listening to the knights down the table as they laughed and conversed, she wondered if she would ever know companionship like that.
To belong.
“I have not felt like fighting for my brother since my husband’s death,” she said quietly. “When Edwin left for the north, I did not want to go with him.”
Gunnora’s mouth was full of pork. “Yet you went with Alary to fight off the Normans?”
Ghislaine looked at her queerly. “Who said anything about fighting with Alary?”
“Because he was here only yesterday. He said he had fought with Harold but he did not have Normans with him like you do. Are you sure they are not forcing you to accompany them?”
So Alary had been at Westerham. Ghislaine didn’t know why she was shocked to hear that. Since Westerham was an ally, certainly he would have stopped for the night for lodgings. It would have been completely normal and expected.
He did not have Normans with him like you do.
That statement concerned her greatly.
“I told you that they are not,” Ghislaine said casually. She didn’t want to tip Gunnora off about the real situation between Alary and the Normans that were, even now, in Gunnora’s hall. “Alary would make a terrible ally to the Normans and you know that, so he left the field of battle before I did. But… but you did not see a Norman knight with him?”
Gunnora cocked her head thoughtfully. “I did not, but his men did not come into the hall,” she said. “In fact, they feasted in the bailey and left in the morning. Alary did not seem to want to be sociable. Why do you ask?”
Because he has a Norman captive, Ghislaine thought. Alary knew, as Ghislaine knew, that Gunnora couldn’t keep her mouth shut about such a thing so he had kept his prisoner hidden. Rumors of a Norman captive would, in fact, possibly reach the Normans. Now, Ghislaine was starting to understand that Alary was being very careful with his prisoner and she knew that Gaetan would want to know that Alary was only a day ahead of them. In fact, she was very eager to tell him.
“That is typical of Alary,” Ghislaine said casually as she turned back to her food, although her attention was really on Gaetan, down at the end of the table. “He was never very social, at least not with women. Had your father been here, he more than likely would have supped in the hall.”
Gunnora shrugged. “Mayhap,” she said. “He did say he was returning home.”
“That is where we are going, also.”
Gunnora lifted her head, puzzled. “Then why did he not wait for you?”
Ghislaine simply shrugged and turned back to her food. In hindsight, she should have given the woman an answer because, in Gunnora’s mind, perhaps Alary would have waited had he known his sister and a contingent of Normans were only a day behind him. She opened her mouth to speak but her majordomo was at her side, whispering in her ear, and she excused herself from the table.
Ghislaine continued to eat, rather glad that her hostess had vanished. She didn’t want to talk about Alary anymore because any further conversation might lead to the real reason Ghislaine was accompanying a large Norman army northward. Some might think that was treacherous, and it was true that Gunnora might as well, so it was best to be off the subject.
Now, all Ghislaine could think about was the fact that Alary was only a day ahead of them. Gaetan had to know but the more Ghislaine watched him with his men, the more she was hesitant to interrupt him.
“My brother was here yesterday,” she said to Jathan, sitting across from her. “I must tell Gaetan.”
Jathan had eaten so much pork that he was close to bursting with it but, much like Ghislaine, he’d not eaten much over the past several days. Still, he wouldn’t stop eating and pushed another piece of pork into his mouth. His gaze moved down the table to the men he’d known for years.
“I heard,” he said, shrugging when she looked curiously at him. “Our hostess’ voice carries. I heard what she said.”
“Then Gaetan must know.”
Jathan sighed, cutting another piece of pork with his knife. “I know you must tell him, and I do agree, but this is the first time in weeks I have seen these men relax,” he said. “Let them enjoy a little more of this peaceful time before telling them what you know. Once you do, it will keep them up all night as they plan tomorrow’s travel to catch up to your brother. So for now… just wait. At least give them the night to enjoy and then you can tell them in the morning.”
Ghislaine could see that he was concerned for the knights and their state of mind. Men like this had little time to relax and those moments were precious. He was right; there wasn’t anything they could do about it tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. She returned to her food.
“They look as if they do not have a care in the world,” she said.
Jathan chewed loudly. “Thoughts of Kristoph are not far from their minds, I assure you. They miss him.”
Ghislaine had a perfect view of Gaetan from where she sat and she watched the man, greedily drinking in his male beauty. “One would not know that by looking at them.”
Jathan’s attention moved to her, his expression something between thoughtfulness and genuine concern. “I will tell you something of these men so that you understand them, my lady,” he said quietly. “You will understand why they are so determined to regain their comrade and why moments like this, when they are relatively carefree, are more valuable than gold. Do you see de Wolfe? He is the man they call Warwolfe, the greatest knight in the Duke of Normandy’s arsenal.”
Ghislaine cocke
d her head curiously. “Warwolfe?” she repeated, still looking at Gaetan. “An intimidating name. Yet… it suits him.”
Jathan drank deeply of his mead. “Aye, it does,” he said. “The man is immortal and I have seen him in enough battles to know. And these men that are sworn to him, they are all great knights in their own right, men who have fought together for many years. They have seen much of life and death together, and Warwolfe is the man that binds them all together. The Duke of Normandy calls these knights his Anges de Guerre.”
Ghislaine looked at him then. “Angels of War,” she translated softly. “I have heard of them. I have heard the men speak of Normandy’s Angels but I wondered if they were simply telling stories.”
Jathan shook his head. “They were not,” he replied. “These men have been at the forefront of most of the Duke of Normandy’s wars, going back years. If the duke did not have them, it is difficult to say if he would have even won the battle against Harold Godwinson for, in truth, these were the men who led the charge. You are looking at the front of the duke’s army.”
Ghislaine’s attention returned to the men at the end of the table, feeling some awe now as she looked at them. “Tell me about them,” she asked, sipping at her mead, a very strong drink that was already making her head swim. “They will not speak to me but I would know something of these men I have been tasked with guiding north.”
Jathan’s tongue was loosened by the mead in his veins. Ghislaine was not Norman and he more than likely should not tell her what he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. This serious, solemn lass needed to be aware of the greatness of these men, far greater than any knights she had ever heard of.
Legends in the flesh.
“Their rally cry is et pro Gloria dei,” Jathan said. “De Wolfe is their leader, as you know. He is a descendant of the kings of Breton. The family name is Vargr, which means a monstrous wolf in the Breton tongue, but Gaetan’s father changed the family name to de Wolfe in the Norman fashion. Although born a bastard, Gaetan is the only son of a great warrior father, William, and when his father died, Gaetan inherited the de Wolfe lands and titles. From his mother’s mother, he inherited control of Lorient and the ports, which makes him a very wealthy man.”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 15
