"But what will you do?"
Wynne shook her head. "I honestly do not know," she said, "but it is good to know I may rely upon you and the others in this time of my trouble."
Caddaric, however, was expecting his helpless victim to attempt to outwit him. With a cleverness she would not have believed him capable of, he waited until his women were in the bakehouse one winter's morning, exactly five weeks after his father's death. Wynne, preparing a remedy for a serf's aching head, was seized in her pharmacea and carried kicking and struggling to the Great Chamber. A gag had been stuffed into her mouth almost at once in order that her cries not be heard. Wynne was lain upon the bed that Eadwine had had made for her, her arms and legs pulled wide and fastened to the bedposts by means of hempen rope. There she was left.
When her rage had abated somewhat and her heart had ceased to hammer so violently, Wynne considered her position, which was certainly a dangerous one. Gingerly she tested the strength of the ropes, but they had been made quite fast and cut into her delicate ankles and wrists at the slightest movement. The gag, though preventing her from screaming, was not unduly uncomfortable. She could breathe and swallow. Shocked, she realized that there was nothing that she could do to help herself. She would simply have to wait for Caddaric to make the next move, more than aware of what it would be.
She lay still for some time, her anger rising once more in the face of her helplessness. She had, she thought, been held prisoner like this several hours when she heard his step upon the stairs. Sauntering into the Great Chamber, he walked over to the bed and stood for a long moment gazing down at her. Finally he reached out and pulled the gag from her mouth.
"Aren't you afraid that I will scream, Caddaric Aethelmaere?" she demanded sarcastically.
"You may scream all you desire, Wynne," he told her. "I have sent Eadgyth and the others back to my hall for the time being. There is no one here who will help you now."
"How clever you are, my lord, to have prepared this rape so skillfully," Wynne murmured sweetly.
He laughed, at ease with himself because of her helplessness. "You are foolish to fight me, Wynne," he said. "You know I mean to have my way with you. What can you do to prevent me? Nothing! Would it not be better to come to me willingly? I know my women have told you that I am a magnificent lover," he bragged, and, bending down, pushed her head aside that he might kiss her neck.
"You revolt me," she said icily. "There is nothing manly in forcing a woman to your will, my lord." The wet touch of his mouth on her skin was totally repellent.
"Hate me if you so desire, Wynne, I will still have children of you," he told her. " 'Tis all I really want from you, your fertile womb."
"There will be no children, Caddaric," Wynne said quietly. "Why do you refuse to comprehend that? How many women have you poked with that weapon of which you are so prideful? And none has given you a child. Not one. Not a miscarriage nor a stillbirth. There has been nothing from all your efforts before, nor will there be anything now. You will labor in vain, Caddaric, shaming me before everyone at Aelfdene, and shaming your father's memory in the process. You violate the laws of decency and morality by your lustful and incestuous conduct toward me. Are you not ashamed?"
His answer was to take his knife from his belt and begin cutting her clothing away. Wynne lay silent now, for she could do nothing. It was fortunate, the thought passed through her head, that the garments he so heedlessly sliced and ripped were her work clothes and well-worn. When he had rendered her completely naked, he stood staring down at her, an almost glazed expression upon his face. Wynne felt a tingling in her breasts and almost laughed aloud.
"Loose me, Caddaric," she said in a hard voice. "My milk is beginning to leak and your sister must be fed. Untie me this instant and fetch Averel to me! I can go nowhere without my clothes, and you have totally destroyed mine with your mindless violence."
The new thegn of Aelfdene shook his head as a large dog might do, and his eyes filled with comprehension. Bending, he undid the ropes that bound her, and then he said as he departed the Great Chamber, "I will fetch my sister to you."
Wynne rubbed her wrists and ankles to take the soreness from them and then, standing up, moved across the room to where the tub stood, seeking the chamber pot. Her bladder was near to bursting, and she had truly feared she would wet the bed through with her water had he not given her this small measure of freedom. Relieving herself, she walked back over to the bed and, climbing into it, drew the coverlet over her nudity even as he returned to the room carrying Averel.
"She is a fine strong girl, isn't she?" he said in pleased tones. It amazed Wynne that he seemed to have a weakness for his half sister. "Give me hearty children like this, Welsh woman, and there will be no difficulty between us, I promise you!" He handed Averel over to her mother, ruffling the baby's curls affectionately as he did so.
Wynne smiled down at her daughter, giving her a kiss before putting the child to her full breasts. "There will be no children, Caddaric," she said grimly. "Why will you not understand?"
He would not answer her, and when she had finished feeding her child, he drew back the coverlet and lashed her ankles once again to the bedposts before she might protest. "Cradle my sister with but one arm," he commanded her, and when, puzzled, she did, he made fast her other arm, effectively imprisoning her once more. Then taking Averel from her, he said, "I will return to you shortly," and left the Great Chamber carrying the baby.
Wynne considered what to do. There was no time to use her free hand to unfasten her bindings. She could hear Caddaric turning Averel over to Willa at the bottom of the stairs. She could not seem to convince him of the futility of what he planned to do, and she was helpless to prevent his rape of her. There was but one thing she might use against him, and she realized now that she had no other choice. Eadgyth had told her in confidence that Berangari and the others had recently complained that Caddaric could not seem to complete what he so enthusiastically started. Though he bragged of his mighty prowess, Eadgyth remarked, he had always been over-quick to spill his seed. Recently, however, even that had changed. His manhood, raging and at the ready, too often withered before he might fully act. Wynne knew the power of suggestion could be a dangerous weapon, and now she must use it if she was to have any chance to save herself.
Caddaric sauntered into the Great Chamber again, a nasty smile upon his face. When he sat next to her upon the bed, Wynne lashed out at him with her free hand, but, laughing, he caught it, securing it as firmly as the other. Fully clothed, he clambered atop her and then, sitting back upon his haunches, he ran his big hands over her shrinking torso.
"That first night," he said in a rough voice, "when Ruari Ban displayed your charms for us all to see, I wanted you. I grew hard beneath my kirtle, and I longed to take you right then and there in the hall before all the others." Reaching out he squeezed her breasts, and a single bead of milk appeared upon one of her nipples. Caddaric leaned forward to lick it off, and then he suckled hard upon her.
"You spineless bastard," Wynne told him. "You will not have me!" She narrowed her eyes until they were but glittering green slits and silently willed him to look into her face. "I have tried to turn you from your folly, Caddaric Aethelmaere, but now you leave me no choice but to resort to the craft of sorcery which my first husband, Prince Madoc, taught me. Force me, and I will place a curse upon your manhood so that it cannot even lift its ruby head to salute me!"
Startled by her threats, Caddaric Aethelmaere raised his head from her breasts and looked into her face. "You cannot stop me," he said, but his tone was not particularly convincing. Her virulent words had already caused doubts to spring up in his eyes.
Wynne opened her own eyes wide now and stared hard at him. "Can I not, my lord?" Then she laughed. "Already it begins. In your mind you desire me greatly, but there is no passion in your rod, is there, my lord?"
The look he gave her was one mixed with anger and fear.
"Your manhood lies soft and
shriveled between your legs, my lord," Wynne taunted him. She pushed him away from her, and he fell back surprised. By some miracle the ropes binding her arms had become loosened, and she was able to slide her hands free, to his further shock.
"Magic!" he gasped and crossed himself quickly.
Wynne quickly slid her hands down to her mont and pulled apart her nether lips, exposing her sweet secrets to his now bulging eyes. Mockingly she fondled herself, saying as she did, "Even I, at my most lewd, cannot arouse your puny worm, Caddaric Aethelmaere! Oh! Ohhhh!" She shammed at a passion she was certainly not feeling, but it was enough to drive him away.
Leaping off of her, he groaned. "Witch! Witch! You have unmanned me! But though you be safe from me for the moment, I will return to you later. You will take my weapon within your reluctant sheath and beg me for more!"
Wynne laughed contemptuously at him. "Never, you fool! You will never have me! Never!"
Cursing violently, he bent to retie the ropes securing her, and this time Wynne knew they would not come unfastened, for they cut cruelly into her flesh. "Now, you Welsh witch, await my coming," he snarled, "and be prepared to service me well!" Caddaric stormed from the Great Chamber, his angry footsteps stamping angrily down the staircase.
Alone, Wynne began to shake uncontrollably. She had escaped him. But for how long she might play this game to keep him at bay she knew not. She was cold. So cold. The chamber was unheated, and the winter's day, though mild, was yet late January. She would not call out for help. She knew not if anyone would come, for they all lived in fear now of Caddaric's temper. Besides, she could not bear to be shamed before the serfs.
The day wore on, and in the hall below she began to hear the sounds of revelry. Listening carefully, she recognized Cad-daric's voice becoming more and more bellicose as time passed. She could make out two or three young female voices giggling and laughing at first; growing more fearful and sullen as the afternoon waned. Serfs, Wynne realized, and as helpless to the thegn's will as she was at this moment. The Great Chamber dimmed and finally grew dark as Wynne lay there shivering. Finally she heard his footsteps upon the stairs again and braced herself for this new encounter to come.
He lurched into the room, half dragging a young girl with him. Carrying a candle, he stumbled about the Great Chamber lighting the lamps, then positioned himself at the foot of the bed, where she could clearly see him. He was clad in his sherte and braccos, and now drawing the sherte off so that he was nude, he commanded the girl, "Do as I have taught you, wench!" He was a big man and quite hairy, but his body ran more to fat than his father's had.
The girl, who was wide-eyed at the sight of Wynne bound and naked, fell to her knees. Taking her master's flaccid manhood into her mouth, she began to suckle it. She did not look as if she were enjoying her task. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and her mouth worked earnestly to arouse him, as if knowing a lack of success on her part could lead to punishment.
Caddaric stood impassively as she struggled to fulfill her duty. "Prepare yourself, Welsh woman. When I have finished with you, you will truly know who your master is. Did you do this to my father, eh? You will soon pleasure me in that way. Enough, wench!" He shoved the girl away. "Get out!" he roared at her as she scampered most willingly away. He turned toward Wynne, his hand cradling his manhood. "My father's rod was surely not as fine," he bragged with a leering grin.
"Your father was twice as thick as you, Caddaric Aethelmaere, and at least an inch or more in length longer," Wynne said wickedly, and then she laughed. "There is little damage you can do to me with that poor excuse for a rod."
"Bitch!" he snarled, and flung himself atop her. "I will show you precisely what I can do!"
Her heart hammering, Wynne forced herself to laugh all the harder. Then quite suddenly, ceasing her mirth, she said, "I will place a curse upon your puny, feeble manhood, Caddaric Aethelmaere. May it wither and shrink even as you attempt your assault of me. Look down at yourself! Already you have begun to soften and grow limp!" She felt his big body upon hers, his hand desperately trying to insert his useless weapon into her. She squirmed just enough to foil him and assure his defeat.
He began to moan with frustration as he realized he was losing control of himself. He wanted her! He had to have her! Only she could give him the children he so hungrily desired, but she would not! She would not! He was unmanned by this Welsh witch, and that which had so delighted all the women he had used since he was eleven now lay feeble and worthless against her thigh, a victim of her sorcery. Almost weeping, he leapt off her and fled the Great Chamber wearing nought but his braccos.
Wynne began to shake once again. She was chilled to the bone and weak with her relief. Eadwine had always claimed that his eldest son was superstitious, even as the lady Mildraed had been. She had used that weakness against him this day, but how long she could continue along this path she knew not. Dear God, she was so cold, and her breasts were beginning to ache again. How long would he leave her here, she wondered, and then she heard the sound of soft footfall upon the stairs.
A female figure was silhouetted in the door for a moment, and Eadgyth said anxiously as she hurried forward, "Are you all right, Wynne?" Without waiting for an answer, she bent and untied the bonds that held Wynne fast. "Caddaric came raging into the old hall. He wore nothing but his under tunic and braccos. He demanded that Berangari and the others service him. What happened? He could do nought but mutter about curses and witches. When I left them he was preparing to beat poor Haesel for some imagined affront. Blessed Mother, you are frozen!" She pulled a chemise from the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled it over Wynne. Then she added a woolen under tunic. "There is no one in the hall," she continued, "but the fires are high. Come and we will get you warm."
Together the two women descended the stairs into the hall, and Wynne sat down upon a bench by the main fire pit while Eadgyth poured her a goblet of wine.
"Here," the new thegn's wife said, handing the goblet to Wynne. "You will feel better when you drink this."
Wynne swallowed the wine and, looking up at Eadgyth, said, "Did you know he planned to seize me this morning?"
Eadgyth shook her head in the negative. "I should have warned you had I known," she replied sincerely. "He did not have his way with you, did he?"
"Nay," Wynne answered, smiling slightly, "he did not. I am sorry poor Haesel must suffer for me though."
"What did you do to enrage him so?" Eadgyth inquired. "I have never seen him so angry, Wynne."
"I told him I was putting a curse upon his manhood," Wynne responded. "I remembered what the others had said about Caddaric's difficulties of late, and I remembered that Eadwine had told me that Caddaric was superstitious. Under the circumstances, I thought that I might succeed in unnerving him if I pretended I was cursing him."
Eadgyth nodded. "Aye, Caddaric is superstitious and 'twas a good plan, but now I fear what will happen on the morrow. He is not a man to take defeat lightly or well. Once when a young horse threw him, he caught the beast, remounted it, and rode it until he broke its wind. It was barely good after that for even the cart. My husband is a cruel man. He will not forgive you, Wynne. You have struck him in his most vulnerable spot."
Wynne was warmer now, and the blood was flowing hotly through her veins once more. "Eadgyth," she said, looking directly at her friend, "I do not care if Caddaric will not forgive me. All I ask is that he leave me be, and that he keep his promise to Eadwine regarding Arvel and Averel."
"Oh, he will keep his promise," Eadgyth replied. "I will see to that, but it is your safety I fear for, Wynne. Caddaric will find a way to revenge himself upon you, you may be certain. It will not be pleasant. We can but wait."
"I am his father's widow," Wynne said. "He cannot treat me badly. Today he tried and he failed. There will be talk amongst our people, and Caddaric will not want to remain the butt of their jokes for long. His ego is great. He will want the incident forgotten, and the quickest way to attain that goal is to
pretend it never happened. To ignore it. If he does not react, the jest will be quickly over."
"I pray it be so, Wynne," Eadgyth said anxiously, "but I fear it will not. Caddaric will not forget."
Wynne felt saddened on the following day to see that poor Haesel had a blackened eye and Dagian was covered in bruises. "Come to my pharmacea," she told them, "and I will treat your wounds."
"It is not fair that we should have to suffer for your behavior," Dagian complained as Wynne stroked a soothing lotion on her aching arms.
"Nay, it is not fair," Wynne agreed, "but I cannot give Caddaric children, and I will not allow him to rape me because of this obsession. I am sorry you have been beaten, but 'twas not I who beat you. It was Caddaric Aethelmaere. Blame him, not me!"
Dagian sighed bitterly. "I know," she said.
During the next few days an uneasy peace settled about Aelfdene. The women moved nervously and quietly as they performed their daily tasks. Caddaric Aethelmaere scarcely glanced at Wynne or the others, and then one evening as they all sat at the high board, the new thegn said,
"For Aelfdene to remain prosperous, we must all pull our weight and contribute to the manor." His cold grey gaze fastened upon Wynne. "You, lady, you and your children take much but give little."
"I am the manor's healer, my lord," she answered him softly, in an attempt not to arouse his ire. Caddaric was more volatile these days than ever before. This was leading somewhere, but she did not know where.
"What do you do in your capacity as our healer?" he asked her, and his tone was almost affable now.
"I gather and grow herbs in season. I dig for medicinal roots and seek barks which can be used for healing lotions. I prepare all potions and brews needed, treat injuries and wounds, and generally care for the sick," Wynne replied. "It takes a great deal of time, my lord, to do these things. There is no time of the year when I am not busy."
A Moment in Time Page 43