Fire and Ice

by Christer, J. E.

  “My lady, I cannot continue to let you do this. I forget everything when I am with you. My body has a mind of its own and I don’t know what to do. I can only think it must be unholy.”

  Giselle was careful not to decry his faith but whispered, “Woman was made for man, Luke. We were made for each other, and you training for the priesthood is wrong in so many ways. You were made for love, my love!” she declared vehemently.

  He could stand it no longer and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her passionately, first on the lips and then he moved her cap aside and tasted her neck.

  “Come with me,” she said urgently, pulling at his hand.

  Just then the Mother Superior came outside with Father Matthew and started to walk around the cloister, deep in conversation.

  “I have to go, my lady. If they see us here they will keep us apart and I’ll never see you again.” His words were desperate so she let him go, knowing that it was only a matter of time before he was hers.

  Two weeks later her chance came. She had had a fever which had kept her to her cell but she had almost recovered. One of the other nuns came in to bring her a herbal concoction which when heated seemed to give some relief to her symptoms. She tried to look tired and weary, sniffing and coughing to give the nun the impression she was still unwell.

  “Father Matthew has a malady today too and is sending someone else to take confession and give communion. Shall I ask him to visit you here? You are obviously still too ill to join us in the chapel.”

  Giselle looked down trying not to show the gleam in her eye at the news. “Yes,” she coughed slightly, “I’m still too tired to get up.”

  The other nun nodded briefly and left the cell, closing the door behind her. Giselle got out of bed and paced the floor making plans on how to get Luke into her room. She hoped he would be worried about her if she did not attend chapel and would ask where she was. She hoped he would be given permission to visit her. She got back into bed, chilled by the stone floor.

  By the time she heard sandaled feet shuffling down the corridor she was in a state of panic in case it was some other monk coming to see her, but she need not have worried. The door opened slowly, too slowly she thought, but Luke was there standing in front of her. He pulled his cowl back and his hair tumbled freely to his shoulders. She realised that she actually had feelings for this man when her heart quickened.

  She rose from the bed and took off her cap which had been hiding her hair. It had grown back richer and thicker than before and he caught his breath when she moved towards him. Slowly, she began to stroke his hair, his face and kissed him gently on the lips. He was trembling before her and she liked the feeling of power she had over him.

  “Come, Luke. Sit down on the bed and I’ll secure the door.” She led him to the bed and pushed his trembling body down gently to sit on the edge. There were no locks on the doors of the cells but a stout chair could be wedged under the iron ring which would prevent it from being turned and would give them some warning of trouble.

  Giselle had planned this in her mind since she had last seen him and now put her scheming into action. Her eyes shone as she approached him, watching him gulp and his eyes widen as she let her habit fall to the floor. She could hear his breath from three feet away. She moved closer and he swallowed harder, nothing was hidden from his gaze.

  “My lady, you’re beautiful,” he gasped. “I’ve never seen a female body before and yours is magnificent. I had no idea.”

  “You’re too handsome, to let your manhood go to waste, my sweet. I want you to know a woman before you give your life to the priesthood. Come, let me help you undress.”

  Luke stood like a statue whilst Giselle disrobed him and pushed him onto the bed. He closed his eyes when she started to touch his body and Giselle knew she had him under her spell. She put his hands on her body and they moved of their own accord, burning a fiery trail as they went. Their kisses were deep and passionate and only instinct told Luke what to do next. His first attempt at lovemaking ended prematurely but Giselle had expected that and she lay panting beneath him, playing her game and her man.

  “Oh, my love,” he breathed, “I had no idea such joy existed. You have bewitched me.”

  She smiled into his eyes. “You haven’t even begun to learn yet, Luke. Stay with me and I will teach you everything you need to know.”

  “We must marry, my lady. I love you more than I could have imagined. I will tell Father Matthew that I’ve changed my mind about the priesthood.”

  “Yes, we will marry, Luke. But first we have to leave this place. They won’t let me go unless Ulfric says so. I wish Richard was here.”

  “Then we must run away together, Giselle. I’ll take you back to your homeland and we’ll live in peace together there.”

  Giselle smiled again, “You are the dearest of men. Yes, we’ll devise a plan but you must not tell Father Matthew anything yet. Wait until everything is set fair.”

  “Anything for you, Giselle, anything; now, teach me some more of what I must learn before I have to leave you again.”

  Giselle grinned wickedly, “Are you sure you have the stamina, Luke? I can be very hard to please.”

  “Show me,” he whispered, already drowning in a sea of desire.

  Chapter 22

  “Ah, my love, I thought you were never coming,” Luke breathed deeply and held her hand to his lips. They had contrived various meetings since Giselle’s illness and this was their latest.

  “You must try to contain your impatience, my dear. If anyone found us we would be horsewhipped and you would lose your position at the monastery.”

  “I care not for those things any longer, Giselle. You know that my heart is yours and we must find a way to leave here so that we can be together.”

  Her plan had worked; she now had an ally who would risk his own future to be with her. She smiled temptingly at him and he dared a chaste kiss on her cheek. “You must be careful though, Luke. We must make plans to leave once the good weather is settled. Have you thought of a plan yet?”

  “I have thought of nothing else these past weeks. I thought we might leave during the Easter parades. We will be going out among the townspeople so it should be easy to slip away.”

  “But where will we go, my love? And I will need clothes. I cannot bear to be in these itchy rags for much longer.”

  “You said your father is with the King. We must find out where they are and I will deliver you to his care and throw myself on his mercy.”

  “Yes, of course, my father will help us. We will do as we planned and return to Normandy and our lands there.”

  “Will you promise to be my wife, Giselle? I want to make you mine forever.”

  Giselle’s face was still smiling into his eyes but her brain was feverishly trying to think of an excuse. “I will marry you, my darling one, when my brother returns. I could not possibly think of marrying until I have his consent as well as my father’s.”

  “Then let us hope he returns soon.”

  Luke pulled her close and kissed her passionately, which she returned with well-practised ease. She could feel his heart thumping beneath his habit and felt a surge of triumph at her success in capturing this young man. In a way she hoped Richard would not kill him when he came back, as she had never before had such a handsome lover.

  ***

  At that moment Sir Richard was sitting forlornly in a duck pond, cursing his bad luck. That stupid horse was useless. Ragn had trained him to respond only to his voice and when the steed had had enough exercise, he had thrown the unsuspecting knight and trotted off back to his warm stable. Sir Richard was now soaking wet and had no money on him to buy a night’s shelter anywhere or to exchange his clothing. The only thing he could do in the daylight he had left was to remove his clothing and leave it on a bush to dry. He squelched off into some nearby woodland and prepared to take off his clothes, but the sound of laughter reached his ears and he turned around to catch two young girls pointing at him in
a fit of giggles. He made a move towards them and they ran away squealing with laughter. His temper was now reaching boiling point and he ran after the girls to see where they lived. He would demand fresh clothes from their parents and threaten them with their lives unless they helped him.

  The woods ended in a clearing and an old boundary ditch. The girls were disappearing around the corner of a single-storied long house and chickens pecked away at the new shoots peeking through the earth. It was an idyllic scene and de Gant was brought to a swift halt, his fury evaporating in an instant. His attention was caught by a young girl who looked about seventeen as she wandered in the garden reading from a small book. Forgetting his appearance was likely to startle he stepped forward and made his way into the open. He was closing in on the young woman when she suddenly noticed him and gasped, obviously shocked by his unkempt and wet attire.

  “Please, don’t run away,” de Gant begged, “I’ve fallen from my horse and he has run away. My name is Sir Richard de Gant and I would appreciate your assistance.”

  “You are Norman?” the girl asked.

  “Yes, but I mean you no harm. Please could you take me to your father or mother?”

  The girl hesitated and looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Come this way,” was all she said and moved away in the direction the younger girls had taken.

  Instead of taking him into the house, the girl led him to an outbuilding which was warm from the earlier sun and the floor was covered in sweet-smelling hay.

  “Please sit down here and wait for me. I will bring you a change of clothing and something to eat. I dare not take you into the house - my family are Norse settlers and would not appreciate you being here.”

  “What’s your name?” de Gant asked, thinking that as soon as he could he would be back to teach these people a lesson.

  “My name is not important. You just need to stay here while I go and bring the things you need.”

  “Wait!” he began as she opened the door, but she put her fingers to her lips and went out quickly.

  Time passed slowly and de Gant made himself comfortable on a bed of straw and hay which he gathered into a heap. He had no idea if he should even trust this girl. She might even now be telling her mother and father that she had captured a stupid Norman and held him in the outbuilding. He was just about to get up and peep through the wooden slats of the door when he heard soft footsteps and then the door opened revealing the girl with a bundle of clothes and a bag with bread and fruit.

  She approached him more timidly than she had earlier, perhaps realising that he could overpower her at any moment. De Gant had no energy left to ravish her even if he wanted to, but she did remind him of Juliana in her poise, although her hair was straight and golden rather than curly and red.

  “I will leave you to change and eat and I will bring you some water later. We have a clean spring which provides us with good, clear water.”

  “Thank you, my dear,” de Gant at that moment was grateful. “Won’t you please tell me your name so that I can thank you properly?”

  “My name is Freya, but if I’m asked I will not admit to having met you and will say that you stole the clothes and food. Please be on your way as soon as possible after you are refreshed.”

  “Thank you, Freya. I am extremely grateful for your kindness to a stranger and I will not betray you to anyone.”

  Freya returned to her parent’s house and prayed that the Norman knight would leave soon as she was deeply attracted to him which spelled danger for them both.

  Chapter 23

  Juliana opened her eyes and found herself staring into the face of love. Ulfric held her close and kissed her cheek, whispering words so gentle and kind she almost swooned again. He laid her back on the bed and Ma came forward, wringing her hands together.

  “Are you awake, Meg? Are you feeling better? These men say they know you.”

  Juliana swallowed but tears sprang from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She held onto Ulfric’s hand like a drowning man to a plank of wood but managed to croak, “Yes, Ma. I’m awake and feeling better, but my name is Juliana. I had completely forgotten everything until I saw Ulfric and Kyle licked my hand. I’ve been wandering in a sea of mist and fog until now.”

  Thorvald and Ragn came forward and smiled their relief at finding her again. “We must get you home, Juliana. Your child is due very soon I see,” Ragn said.

  “No, my dearest uncle, I’m unable to get up. I just want to stay with Ma until the child is delivered, but first, Ulfric... I want to be married. I don’t want our child to be born out of wedlock. Find a priest and bring him here so that we may be joined together before the birth.”

  Ulfric blanched. He had not expected this but one look at Juliana’s face told him he had to do something quickly. His mouth drew into a large grin and he slapped Thorvald on the back saying, “Come, my brother. We have a priest to find.”

  The two men left quickly and Ragn sat by his niece. “I have to tell you, Juliana - we have scoured the streets of York every day for weeks, especially since we found that Norman who abducted you.”

  Juliana looked fearful, “You have de Gant? Where is he?”

  “He is back at my home waiting for justice and I will see that he gets it now that we’ve found you. The young lad, Tom, described a young woman who had been beaten and was with child staying with his mother. We had heard about the child from de Gant and Ulfric was impatient to get to you so we left him with the servants.”

  Ragn’s eyes glazed over as he was speaking and suddenly he stood up. “Juliana, I cannot wait for the priest. I have to get back home.”

  “But... uncle, I don’t understand.”

  “De Gant has been left unguarded. We brought Kyle because we believed you would know him instantly, and you did, but the servants were given no orders about de Gant. I need to get back to make sure he’s still there. I won’t rest until he has paid the price for taking and beating you.”

  In a matter of moments he had gone, leaving only Juliana and Ma. Tom had returned to the smithy earlier but would be back for his meal shortly. Ma sat beside Juliana and held her hand.

  “It looks like you’ve friends and family after all, Meg... I mean Juliana,” she chuckled.

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have my memories back. My mother... oh, my mother, I need to get back to Bertone as soon as possible. She was very unwell when I left.”

  She squeezed Ma’s hand and told her the story of Sir Richard de Gant and his cruel sister. She had just finished when the door burst open and Ulfric appeared with Thorvald almost carrying the priest between them.

  “This is Father Joseph, he is the priest of St Michaels and has agreed to marry us,” Ulfric gasped, breathless from his hurried search.

  The old priest looked tired and a little afraid of these young virile men standing at either side of him, but he looked with his heart at Juliana and realised her predicament. “My dear, can you stand?” he asked gently.

  “I’ll try, Father,” she replied, looking to Ulfric to help.

  Once on her feet the priest held out his hand to Thorvald who passed a leather satchel to him. He took out a holy book and was about to start reading when Tom burst into the room. Immediately, his mother warned him to be quiet and he stared wide-eyed at the scene in front of him. The interruption made Juliana catch her breath and put a hand to her heart.

  “Oh, Ulfric. We have no rings to exchange. What can we do?”

  Ma stepped forward saying, “Me and my ‘usband had no rings when we married. We exchanged coins like in the old days. Yer can borrow them if yer want.”

  Juliana looked at Ulfric and he nodded his agreement so Ma went to a small chest and took out two coins. Juliana was radiant as she said her vows and even Ulfric did not look so fierce when he placed a silk ribbon around her neck holding a silver coin.

  The couple were blessed and Ulfric smiled into Juliana’s eyes and placed a long kiss on her lips accompanied by loud applause
and laughter from Thorvald, Ma and Tom.

  “This isn’t the wedding I had hoped for, Ulfric. I’ve had no purification for you and no sword to offer you in return for yours.”

  The tradition of exchanging swords was an old one and still practised in some places, even though Christianity had been the main religion for many years.

  “Here, borrow mine,” Thorvald offered, seeing the disappointment on Juliana’s face.

  In time-honoured tradition the couple exchanged swords. Ulfric looked serious as he offered her his sword saying, “I give you this sword to save for our sons to have and to use.”

  Juliana accepted the sword and offered Thorvald’s, saying, “To keep us safe, you must bear a blade. With this sword keep safe our home.”

  “Hello, wife,” he whispered.

  “Hello, husband,” she returned.

  The couple were blessed and Ulfric smiled into Juliana’s eyes and placed a long kiss on her lips accompanied by loud applause and laughter from Thorvald, Ma and Tom.

  “We need to celebrate now, Ulfric. Here, Tom, go and get us some ale and food, enough for all of us including the priest.” Thorvald dropped some coins into Tom’s hands and he ran off grinning happily.

  An hour later and they were tucking into bread, cheese, meat, sweetmeats and drinking the ale and wine which Tom had fetched from the local inns. Lines of delivery boys had followed Tom back to the house in Haymongergate and Ma was wide-eyed at the amount of food consumed.

  They were enjoying their feast when a loud rap came at the door. It was a servant from Ragn’s house bearing a letter for Thorvald. He read it and bellowed as many Norse curses as he could remember. Ulfric was on his feet and grabbed the letter to read. Ragn had written to tell them of de Gant’s escape and that although the horse had returned, the Norman had not. Both Ulfric and Thorvald looked at each other and Thorvald said, “I will go, you stay with your bride and child, they may need your protection.”