Captives: Kingdoms Rule Hearts

by Emily Murdoch

  “I had thought myself used to Norman ways, after my years spent in their own lands,” admitted Catheryn, “but to see them so close, some of the men that could have fought my husband, my friends… how do you all live like this?”

  “We have no choice.”

  Catheryn started: it was not Orvin who had spoken, but the woman who had served the three Norman men. Catheryn had not heard her approach their table.

  “I am sorry,” she said defensively, “I know that I should not have spoken. And you are a lady – you could know the King – please forget that I said anything. Please forget that you met me.”

  “Wait!” But before Catheryn had even got the word out, the woman had fled. Catheryn turned to Orvin, but he answered her query before she had even made it.

  “Yes, we are all like that. The last few years have taught us to be careful of whom we speak to; whom we speak before. That is our life here.”

  Catheryn sighed. The England that she had left had clearly gone, and she would have to learn all of the new rules to this new England.

  She looked at Orvin. He was young, but he was blunt. He would never lie to her.

  “Do you think that my daughter is dead?”

  Orvin hesitated. “I do not know for sure – no one does. But I… I would be surprised if we found her alive and well.”

  “Thank you for your honesty,” Catheryn said softly. “Do you think that she is still in England?”

  This time Orvin looked a little brighter. “They had little reason to take her to Normandy. You could have been a useful hostage; she had no title, no lands. If Annis lives, she lives in England.”

  Catheryn breathed out a sigh of relief. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

  “My lady,” Orvin said gently. “Where do you think you are going to start your search? Annis could be anywhere on the island.”

  Catheryn shrugged her shoulders. “We have to start somewhere. Why do we not travel to my home – my former home, I assume it is now.”

  “Is it far?”

  Catheryn thought for a moment. “On horseback… two, maybe three days’ ride?”

  Orvin rose, brushing the crumbs from his tunic. “Then that is where we shall go. After all, you may like to see your home.”

  “Full of Normans?” Catheryn laughed as she followed him out to the stables. “I think not. I have no idea what – or who – I will find there.”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Catheryn and Orvin managed to acquire the services of two horses – although at a price dearer than Catheryn had ever thought possible. The man that sold them the horses stared at her strangely, and Catheryn found herself blushing under his gaze. When she had last been in England, no man would ever have dared look at her like that; but now she was merely a traveller on the road. He could look as he wanted.

  As they departed, Orvin began humming a tune under his breath. The sun had risen, and the clouds had parted, leaving the March air cool and crisp. Catheryn pulled her cloak tighter around her, and listened to Orvin’s humming. It was not a tune that she recognised, but it was so similar to a lullaby that she had sung to her children that it brought a smile to her face.

  “What is that tune called, Orvin?” she asked quietly.

  Orvin smiled, and drew his horse alongside her own.

  “It has no name that I know of,” he said gently. “My mother used to sing it to me when I was growing up, and it has always comforted me. She called it the song of coming home.”

  “I like that.”

  They rode on, following the crowds that were making for Canterbury.

  “It will be easy to travel from Canterbury,” Orvin said. “And it is safer to keep to the busier roads. The Normans have tried to keep the number of bandits down, but during these winter months, when darkness comes early, travellers are easy prey.”

  Once again, Catheryn shivered. She looked around her at the other people making for the great city of the South. Most of them were walking on foot, carrying loads and baskets that seemed destined for market. An elderly couple just in front of them was on horseback, but moving slowly. Behind them a group of Norman soldiers bickered about the food rations that they had been given. It was a motley crew, certainly, but every moment that she spent here, in her own country, surrounded by the people that she was born with, raised her spirits. Even the groups of Normans passing them could not diminish her spirits. Surely here there would be the chance to find her daughter. Surely she would be reunited with Annis soon.

  Orvin moved his horse close to hers once more, and began to talk in a lowered voice. “My lady Catheryn, I think it would be safer for you if you were not to give your real name when you make enquiries.”

  Catheryn raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

  Orvin nodded. “Your husband’s name is still spoken of with great reverence here, and there are some fears amongst the Normans that an uprising under his banner could occur during the cold months, when food is scarce.”

  “I see,” Catheryn said slowly, but with some pride. “I had not realised that Selwyn’s loyalty had created such devoted followers. And you are right: it would not do to raise concerns and suspicions. But then how are we to search? We are, after all, seeking for Selwyn’s daughter.”

  “If you announced yourself as her nurse,” Orvin suggested, with a blush over his face, “and I know the dishonour that may cause you, but I think it would be safest. My lord Fitz… he asked me to keep you safe. And I intend to honour that.”

  Catheryn did not reply. The mere mention of Fitz broke her heart once again. That a man such as he should be forced to go back to war again, fighting for the rights of a boy who was not his own – that he should lay down his life for that! – it was too much to bear. Selwyn, her first love, died for the sake of his children and for his land: but what did Fitz die for? For the child of another, on another’s land.

  A voice was speaking, and she forced herself to concentrate on it.

  “I am sorry, my lady, to bring you pain,” Orvin was saying. “I intend only to protect you.”

  Catheryn smiled, despite the pain. “And I honour that intent, Orvin. And I thank you for it.”

  They did not speak again until the sun had reached its peak in the sky, and the sight of Canterbury met their eyes. Snug in its little dip, it was a welcome sight. Catheryn had not ridden this long for many years, and her aching bones needed a rest.

  “We shall stop here,” she told Orvin. “If you could purchase provisions, we shall eat on the road. I wish to reach Essetesford by nightfall, and we should be able to stay with William, son of Osmund, of the South.”

  “My lady,” Orvin said quietly. “William, son of Osmund, is no longer the holder of Esstesford.”

  Catheryn turned in shock to look at the young man accompanying her. He nodded.

  “He was… replaced. Hugh de Montfort now lives there.”

  Catheryn could barely speak. “What – William… where is he? He is my cousin. I had expected him to still be there, still waiting for me, still able to help me…”

  Orvin cast her a warning glance, and then dismounted from his horse.

  “My lady, whilst you are here, you must learn not to ask questions.” His voice was low, but Catheryn could still hear every word that he was saying. “Naught but ill comes of it.”

  “But a man cannot simply disappear!”

  “You know nothing!” Orvin spat. His face was red. “I apologise, my lady, if those words seem harsh, but that does not prevent them from being true! Your time in Normandy may have been difficult, but you have generally been treated with respect. For us Anglo-Saxons that stayed here, it is has been dangerous. People disappeared. Some were executed. Some just… never returned. Men and women that you thought you could trust spoke out against you, told Norman soldiers of old wrong-doings, old grievances. This country – unless we can build it anew – it will rot.”

  Catheryn looked around her. Children were pouring out of small homes, barefoot despite the cold.
Women stuck their heads out of their homes, and looked fearfully at the great lady that they saw on a horse. Some lowered their heads, and some scuttled inside.

  “Is it really so?” whispered Catheryn. “Do the people of England really fear for their lives in this way – is every day a struggle not only to survive, but to be left alone?”

  Orvin smiled sadly. “It is: and not for many, but for most. There are few here who live comfortably under this new rule, save those who have married them.”

  A bitter bile crept into Catheryn’s throat. “And how many of these marriages are chosen by our Anglo-Saxon women?”

  “To my knowledge, not one.” Orvin’s reply was dark and bitter. A shadow of sadness crossed over his face, and Catheryn could see that an unpleasant memory had passed through his mind.

  “And so I could have been the first,” murmured Catheryn. It was a strange thought, but one that she should not dwell on. There was much to do, and darkness would be here soon.

  “I shall meet you at the West Gate,” she said to Orvin. “Bring as much food as you can carry. I have the feeling that we may not eat well tonight.”

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  During their ride to Essetesford, Catheryn was silent. Although she had no proof, she was now convinced that her daughter Annis was dead. Why else had Stigand had no word from her? She had known him, and trusted him, ever since she was a child. If she had needed help, then he would have been an excellent man to turn to. And yet he had heard nothing from her. No hope could be found at her old home.

  Orvin kept looking over at his travelling companion with a worried face. He had not asked her whom she had met with in Canterbury, leaving her personal affairs for her own thoughts. And yet the meeting clearly had not gone well; he could see it in her eyes. The light that usually lit them had been extinguished, and she merely stared sullenly at the road before them.

  The evening drew close as they arrived at Essetesford, and they secured two rooms in the local inn. They ate without speaking, and after they were finished, Catheryn rose without a word and departed for her chamber.

  Catheryn lay on the bed. What was the point in continuing, she thought. She was the last member of her family to survive this terrible conquest; by the sounds of it, many of her relatives and friends were dead; killed in battle, taken by force, executed for not supporting this new King. What sort of land had this become?

  A dark part of her almost hoped that Annis was no longer living. Catheryn shuddered to think what sort of state she would be in after these four years, without any protection.

  It felt as though Catheryn had just shut her eyes, but within moments a hand was shaking her shoulder.

  “My lady?”

  The voice was timid, and female. Catheryn opened her eyes. A servant girl hovered uncomfortably above her.

  “I am sorry, my lady, for waking you,” she said in a rush, “but a young man asked me to, and I dare not disobey him…”

  She looked anxiously at Catheryn, who smiled.

  “You did right.” Catheryn pulled herself up, and winced as her bones creaked. “Tell him I will join him soon.”

  Orvin’s face was dark when she saw it.

  “We must leave,” he said curtly. Catheryn saw that he had already placed his cloak around his shoulders, and his right hand sat heavily on the hilt of his sword.

  “Now?”

  “This very moment.” Orvin dropped his voice as he spoke. “It is not safe here. Too many Normans.”

  Catheryn nodded, and sent a servant girl to bring her belongings down from her chamber. The horses were sent for, and in the dark of dawn, they rode out.

  *

  “Home,” Catheryn said softly. “I never thought that I would see it again.”

  The sight of the place where she had been born, grown, married, and borne her own children brought such joy into her heart that for a moment she thought it would burst.

  “It is beautiful,” Orvin said softly. “But I am afraid that it is not your home any longer.”

  Catheryn rolled her eyes. “I am fully aware of that, Orvin. But this was my home for so many years, the fact that another has dwelt here for the last four really makes no difference. It is as though they have been caring for it. For me.”

  “I hate to disillusion you, my lady,” Orvin said, “but it has not been kept for you. I made enquiries at Essetesford; the lord here now is a Lord Richard. He has no wife, and no children.”

  Catheryn and Orvin stood next to their horses, about a mile from her home. The wind rustled through their cloaks, and Orvin shivered.

  “Do you intend to enter there?”

  “I am not sure,” Catheryn said slowly, “and yet I cannot see what other choice we have. If we are to discover what happened to Annis, then our search truly begins here.”

  “What happened to her?” Orvin said, confused. “You… you think she is dead then?”

  Catheryn sighed heavily. “What other conclusion can I draw? You have lived here, you have seen the way that we have been treated – and our women surely have suffered terrible fates. Four years… it is a very long time. It is too much to suppose that she has lived that long. She would have waited for me,” and here Orvin heard a catch in her voice, “but she would have waited in vain. I did not return in time.”

  “Until we see a grave,” Orvin said stoically, “I shall not believe it. If your daughter has half of your determination, my lady, she lives.”

  Catheryn laughed, despite herself. “I suppose that is true. Come: nothing can be gained by standing here. Onwards.”

  They mounted their steeds, and made for Catheryn’s home.

  “Halt!” a voice called out. The door of the hall opened up, and a man in dark blue stepped out. “You have approached the home of Richard, lord of this area. State your business.”

  Catheryn and Orvin exchanged looks, and Orvin dismounted slowly.

  “I bring news, and a question,” he said in his deep voice. “I would ask for an audience with your lord as soon as possible.”

  “And the woman?”

  Catheryn smiled at him, although that was the last thing that she wanted to do. “I am the question.”

  The man looked from Orvin to Catheryn, and back again.

  “And your names are?” he asked rudely.

  “Orvin, son of Ulfwulf, of the South,” Orvin said with a slight bow, “and my lady –”

  “Wishes to remain anonymous,” Catheryn cut in. “My name is for your lord’s hearing, not your own.”

  The man stared, and then nodded curtly.

  “Wait here.”

  He disappeared inside, and Orvin blew out a breath of tense air.

  “Why did you not tell him your name?”

  Catheryn shrugged. “It can gain us little for all around to know that I am here. You were right not to tell anyone of my real name, and it is even more important here. If King William is indeed concerned about an uprising in my husband’s name, what good do you think we would bring by announcing ourselves to everyone we meet?”

  “You are a wise woman,” Orvin smiled.

  Catheryn laughed. “Well, I do what I can!”

  Their laughs halted quickly as the man returned.

  “You may enter,” he said briefly, “and my lord Richard will see you –”

  “Yes, yes, I know the way,” Catheryn said impatiently. She quickly dismounted her horse, and strode past the astonished man. Orvin muttered an apology, and quickly followed after her.

  But he did not have to walk too far. Catheryn was standing just inside the door, and was staring all around her. The wall hangings that had been her pride and joy – the careful work of generations – were gone. The candlesticks that were dotted about the entrance way she recognised as belonging to their local church. A man stood before her; a Norman style to his hair, and a rich cloak around his shoulders. The brooch that held it together was one of her husband’s.

  “I am Richard,” said the man. He was fat, and the hair that mu
st once have been dark was now completely grey. The beard on his face was thinning, and Catheryn did not like the way that his eyes darted over certain parts of her body. “I am the lord here, and all take orders from me. And I do not know you.”

  Catheryn stepped forward. “And I do not know you, yet you seem to have taken my place here. I am Catheryn, daughter of Theoryn, wife of Selwyn.”

  Orvin shuffled uncomfortably, unhappy that Catheryn had revealed herself so quickly. Richard’s eyebrows rose, but he did not move. “Lady Catheryn, eh? I had wondered whether or not you would return. I came here with Geffrei, and he never did tell me what he got up to with you.”

  The lecherous meaning of his words was not lost on Catheryn – or Orvin, who drew his sword and stepped forward.

  “If you cannot be civil, my lord, then perhaps you should not speak!”

  Richard smiled darkly. “Another young man wishing to prove himself against the Normans. Well, be my guest, my boy. You would not survive a day after killing me, but you are welcome to try.”

  “No one is going to kill anyone,” Catheryn said hastily, putting a calming hand on Orvin’s shoulder. He lowered his sword. Honestly, thought Catheryn. Do men think simply with the sword?

  “I have no quarrel with you, my lord Richard,” she said quietly, “and as much as I would love to return to my home, I have a feeling you have made it your own. I hardly recognise it.”

  “Thank you,” Richard smiled greedily. “You certainly left enough behind for me to establish my life here very comfortably. But if you do not want to return here, what is it that you came for? My servant tells me that you have a question to ask of me.”

  “I seek a young woman –” Catheryn began.

  “Don’t we all?” Richard snickered, and the snicker became a cough. He clasped at his rolling belly as he struggled for breath.

  “A woman who was here when you… arrived,” Catheryn said over the coughs. Her words almost stuck in her throat, she was so nervous. Was she about to hear the very words that she had been dreading for miles and miles? “A young girl with blonde hair, and a kind face…”