The Wolf and the Dove

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Wulfgar chuckled his approval and lifting his own chalice, drained it without pause. The evening’s merriment continued but on a quieter note as Milbourne challenged Bolsgar to a game of chess. The men rose with followers and as they also stood, Aislinn leaned to Wulfgar, slipping a hand into his.

  “I would see to my mother if you will permit. I fear somewhat for her health.”

  “Of course, Aislinn,” he murmured, then added with more concern, “Take care.”

  She rose on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. His eyes followed her warmly as she retrieved her cloak and left the hall, then he turned to join the men. Haylan bit her lip and watched him as he crossed the room, then as Kerwick passed her, he grinned tauntingly.

  “Lady of Darkenwald, eh? It seems you misjudged your abilities.”

  Haylan glared at him then whirled with a most unladylike word and began to help Miderd clear away the meal.

  Aislinn strolled the path to Maida’s hut in the dark as she had many times before, but this time it was with a different purpose in mind. Without a knock or call, she pushed open the door. Maida was seated on her bed, staring morosely into the weak fire on the hearth, but when she recognized her late guest, she sprang to her feet and began to berate her daughter.

  “Aislinn! Why did you betray me? At last we had a chance to revenge—”

  “Cease your prattle!” Aislinn interrupted angrily. “And listen to my words well. Even your addled mind should make sense of them, though I fear your madness is much of your own making.”

  Maida cast her eyes about as if looking for some escape and she would have denied her daughter’s words. Aislinn threw the hood back from her head in a fury.

  “Listen to me!” Her voice rang firm and commanding. “Hold your tongue and listen to me.” She continued more gently yet spoke distinctly. “Should you succeed and slay a Norman knight to avenge my father, and especially Wulfgar, for he is William’s friend, you would only bring the Norman heel hard upon us all. What do you think the Norman’s justice is for those who slay his knights while they sleep?

  “Had your blade struck home last eve you would have seen me stripped and nailed to the door of Darkenwald. As for yourself, you would have danced on a rope for all of London to see. You gave this no thought and only dwelt on your own revenge.”

  Maida shook her head and wrung her hands and would have spoken, but Aislinn stepped forward and seized her mother’s shoulders, shaking her until fear widened her eyes.

  “Heed me, for I’ll beat it in until my words reach whatever sanity you have left.” Tears came to Aislinn’s eyes and a desperate plea twisted her fair lips. “You will cease harassing the Normans here and now. William is King, and all of England is his. For anything you do in the future against the Normans every Saxon is honorbound to hunt you down.”

  Aislinn released her grip and Maida sank upon the bed, staring up into her daughter’s wrathful face. Aislinn bent close to her and each word came from her hard and earnest.

  “If you would lend no thought to that, then give full care to this. Wulfgar is my husband, vowed and sworn before a man of God. If you would do him further injury, I will do the like to you. If you slay him, you have slain my chosen one and I will see my own mother flayed and hung upon the castle wall. I shall fill my hair with ashes and evermore lay naught but rags upon my body, that all who see would know my sorrow. I love him.”

  Aislinn’s eyes widened at her own words and she straightened in wonder at them, then repeated them again more tenderly.

  “Yea! I love him. I know that in some ways he loves me. Not fully yet, but that will come.” She bent again to her mother and her voice hardened once more. “You have a grandson aborning in my belly. I will not let you make him part orphan. When it is meet that you find your mind again, then I will greet you with open arms, but till then make no threat to Wulfgar’s safety or I will see you banished to the farthest corner of this earth. Do you mark my words and know them for the truth?”

  She stared down angrily and Maida’s face sagged and she hung her head then slowly nodded.

  Aislinn softened. “Good.”

  She paused, wanting to ease her mother’s burden but well knew the harshness of her warning would bear more fruit.

  “I will continue to see to your comfort. Fare thee well for now.”

  With a heavy sigh she turned and left the hut, wondering what Maida’s tortured mind would make of this. She entered the hall and went to Wulfgar’s side where he stood near the hearth watching the game of chess. He welcomed her back with a smile and, slipping his arm about her, returned his attention to the match.

  Spring burst upon the land and of its myriad blossoms the most beautiful was Aislinn. She bloomed in a glorious color of spirit that stunned even Wulfgar. She reveled in her new position as Wulfgar’s wife and lady of the hall and did not shirk her responsibilities in either, nor did she hesitate to exercise her authority when needed, especially when Gwyneth was wont to charge someone unjustly. She had a strength of mind that made even the men of the village seek her out and come to her for advice. Bolsgar marveled at her wisdom and when he told of it, Kerwick simply nodded and smiled, knowing well of what the other spoke. She continually interceded for her people and that fierce Norman knight whose stern visage they yet feared. Yet when Wulfgar’s justice was demanded she stood back and let it have its way. She tended the aches and pains of Darkenwald’s people and rode many times with Wulfgar to Cregan when her skill was needed there. She was a welcome sight at his side and the people, seeing her trust and fondness for her Norman husband, began to lose their fear of him. They ceased to tremble when they saw him coming and a few brave ones even ventured into conversation with him and were surprised to learn that he understood the peasant well and had compassion for their needs. They stopped thinking of him as the conquering foe and began to regard him as a reasonable lord.

  Wulfgar was the first to realize the assets of making Aislinn his wife and not only in dealing with her people. He was amazed at the difference in her, a few spoken vows had made, for now at the softest touch of his hand she would turn to him warm and willing, giving herself without reservation. He dallied less and less in the hall after the evening meal but sought their chamber early. He enjoyed the quiet moments with her as well as their lusty passion. Often in those times he was content just to watch her. The sight of her sitting across from him with her fingers nimbly stitching some garment for him or the babe was strangely comforting.

  The end of March had approached and it was a time of plowing, planting, and shearing; a time for building. Kerwick was sorely pressed to meet the demands of his new profession and set into his books, as Wulfgar had bade him, the birth of each kid, lamb, and child, as well as the circumstance of every soul who dwelt in the town and the time each man spent for the castle and credit him the amount on his taxes.

  Wulfgar passed an order that two days of every man’s were his and lads were drafted from the fields to assist the newly arrived masons. A deep foss was dug about the base of the high hill and a single drawbridge would cross it, to be guarded by a stone tower. The brow of the hill was scooped level and a stone wall began to form a crown about the flat field thus created. In the middle a tall keep began to rise.

  It was during this time that word came from William that he would be returning to Normandy for Easter. Wulfgar knew that Edgar Atheling and many of the English nobles rode with him as hostages of war, but he held the news from Aislinn, realizing she would be little pleased with the information. On his journey William would be passing close to Darkenwald so that he might come and view the progress of the castle. For the next few days there was a busy rush about the hall and its grounds as every corner there was tidied and readied for the visit of the King. Nearly a week passed before a watchman shouted from the tower that the standard of the King approached and Wulfgar rode out to meet him.

  William came with some fifty men-at-arms and much to Wulfgar’s surprise Ragnor rode with him. Wulfgar f
rowned at sight of the other knight but kept his silence, taking some ease in the fact Ragnor would be returning to Normandy with the King. William greeted Wulfgar with the warmth of friendship and as the procession continued Wulfgar pointed out the terrain and spoke of plans for its defense as William listened and nodded his approval. Along the side of the road peasants paused from their work in the fields to gape in awe as the King and his cortege rode by. Finally the procession came up before the hall of Darkenwald and William bade his men to alight and relax, for he would be some while here.

  As William and Wulfgar entered the hall, Gwyneth and Aislinn sank into deep curtsies as Bolsgar and Sweyn and those present paid homage to the King. William’s eyes scrutinized Aislinn as she rose and seeing she was with child, he lifted a questioning brow to Wulfgar and looked at him without a word until the younger man replied.

  “ ’Twill be no bastard, sire. She is my lady now.”

  William chuckled and nodded. “Good. There are too many of us in the world.”

  Gwyneth watched coldly as the King greeted Aislinn with familiarity, laughing with her over the jest he made of her growing a little since he last saw her. Gwyneth bristled with jealousy yet held her waspish tongue in William’s presence. When he and Wulfgar left the hall to ride to the site of the castle, she whirled in a temper and fled to her room, little knowing Ragnor was just outside the hall.

  Seeking to share the hospitality of Darkenwald, Aislinn bade Ham, Miderd, Hlynn and Haylan to help her serve the waiting men some ale that had been cooled in the depth of the well. It was a pleasant day, for the warm winds of the south swept away the chill and Aislinn stepped from the hall without fetching a mantle, having little need of it in this fair weather. The men gratefully accepted the brew and as they remarked in French of the beauty of this Saxon maid, Aislinn smiled and accepted the compliment quietly, not letting on that she now spoke the tongue fluently. She paused beside a man in noble dress who sat with others similarly arrayed. Here there were no smiles to greet her but from some sneers that drew up the corner of their lips. Feeling much bemused by their manner, Aislinn frowned and was about to draw away when the one jumped to his feet and made his apology in a voice which held no hint of a foreign accent.

  “Do you know who we are?” the man inquired.

  “Nay,” Aislinn replied and shrugged. “How can I when I’ve never seen you before?”

  “We are English captives of the King. We are being taken to Normandy.”

  Aislinn’s mouth formed a silent “oh” as her eyes moved to the others.

  “I am sorry,” she murmured.

  “Sorry,” one of the elder men snorted. He looked derisively to her belly. “You did not waste precious moments bedding the enemy it seems.”

  Aislinn drew herself upwith dignity. “You judge me without hearing the circumstance. But ‘tis of little matter to me. I do not beg for an ear. My husband is Norman and I give him my loyalty, yet my father was Saxon and died upon the Norman sword. If I have accepted William as my king it is because I can see no use in a hopeless struggle that would only mean more death and defeat for the English. Perhaps it is because I’m a woman that I see no future in further efforts to place an Englishman on the throne. I say let us bide our time and give William his due. Mayhap he will bring some good to England. I vow you can do naught else with only dead men to raise their bones behind you. Would you have us all dead before you realize the truth? I would say William does right to keep you under his thumb to ensure peace for England.”

  She turned without further word and strode across the greensward past her father’s grave to where she saw a lone Norman knight sitting beneath a tree with his back to them. He had removed his helm and had propped an arm upon a knee as he gazed toward the forest in quiet repose. Aislinn was upon him before she recognized him and drew back in surprise. Ragnor turned at her gasp and stared up into wide violet eyes as a slow grin grew upon his lips.

  “Ah, dove, I missed you,” he murmured and rose to his feet, sweeping a bow before her. As he straightened his gaze took her in and his amazement showed clearly upon his face. He smiled down at her and chided, “You did not tell me, Aislinn.”

  She raised her chin and met his warm gaze with coolness, “I saw no need,” she replied haughtily. “The child is Wulfgar’s.”

  He leaned a shoulder against the tree and his dark eyes danced. “Indeed?”

  Aislinn could almost see him mentally counting the months, and her temper flared. “I bear no child of yours, Ragnor.”

  He laughed with ease, dismissing her words. “ ’Twould be a just reward were it mine. Yea, I could not have planned as well myself. ’Tis not likely the bastard will claim my cub, but then he may never know who the sire is.” He stepped before her and gazed down into her snapping eyes, growing serious. “He will not marry you, Aislinn,” he murmured. “He never was one to dally long with a woman. Mayhap you’ve already seen his interest wane a bit. I’m willing to take you from here! Come away with me now to Normandy, Aislinn. You’ll not regret it.”

  “On the contrary, I would,” she returned. “I have all that I want here.”

  “I can give you more. Much, much more. Come away with me. Vachel shares my tent but he will gladly find some other resting place. I have only to ask and he will obey. Say you’ll come.” His voice took on a gay note as he was encouraged by her silence. “We must hide you from the king, but I know of ways to disguise your fair looks and he will be none the wiser. He will think I’ve come across a small lad to be my lackey.”

  She laughed distainfully and played the game a moment longer. “Wulfgar would come after you.”

  He reached up and took her face between his hands, sliding his fingers through her hair. “Nay, dove. He’ll find someone else. Why should he come when you carry a bastard?”

  He bent to press his lips against hers, but she murmured quietly:

  “Because I am his wife.”

  Ragnor jerked back from her in surprise and her pleased laughter filled his ears.

  “You bitch,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Do you not love me, Ragnor?” she mocked him. “Poor maid I, discarded from fellow to foe.” Then she ceased her laughter as she sneered. “You murdered my father and robbed my mother of her wits! Do you think I will ever forgive you? Heaven help me if I do! I’ll see you in hell first.”

  Ragnor glared back at her. “I’lI have you, bitch, and I’ll take you at my leisure. Wulfgar or no, you will be mine. The marriage means naught to me. Wulfgar’s life even less. Bide the time well, dove.”

  He scooped up his helmet and whirling from her, strode angrily down the path to the hall, there to fling the door wide and enter with bold strides. Trembling, Aislinn leaned against the tree for support and silently wept, knowing the fear that often nagged at her that her child would show the dark skin and hair of Ragnor.

  The hall was empty and Ragnor mounted the stairs unchallenged. Without a knock he flung open the door to Gwyneth’s small chamber and slammed it closed behind him, meeting her startled gaze as she sat up in bed with reddened eyes.

  “Ragnor!”

  She stared agape at the sight of him then made to run to him, but he crossed to the bed, removing his hauberk and throwing it aside. She gasped as he fell upon her and his savage kisses bruised her mouth, but she clutched him to her, delighting in his fierce ardor. It mattered little that he hurt her; she even gained pleasure from the pain. Her spirits soared that he should desire her enough to cast caution to the wind and seek her out when there was so much risk of being discovered. The thrill of danger added to the excitement of their violent passion and she crooned in his ear her love for him. Ragnor took her with no such tenderness in his heart. His lust and rage combined without compassion for his prey. But in his mind he could not cease comparing this lean and eager form to Aislinn’s more pleasingly apportioned, though much less willing, frame and with thoughts of her perfection riding his mind he found ease with this one.

  W
ith his desires sated Ragnor could once more feign some fondness for Gwyneth and pretend some gentle care for her. She lay in his arms, stroking the hard, lean muscles of his chest and he bent and pressed a soft kiss upon her lips.

  “Take me with you to Normandy, Ragnor,” she whispered against his mouth. “Please, love, do not leave me here.”

  “I cannot,” he breathed. “I travel with the king and have no tent of my own. But do not fear. There is time enough and I shall return to you perhaps in ways more to your liking. Wait for me and be ever wary of lies told of me. Listen to naught but from my lips alone.”

  Again they kissed, long and passionately, but with his hunger appeased Ragnor was eager to be away and made his excuse as he rose from her side reaching for his clothes. He left her chamber with more care than he entered, and seeing no soul about, he hastened down the stairs and out the hall.

  Wulfgar reined in the Hun behind the King’s mighty charger and dismounted, glancing around at the men who lounged beneath the trees. Seeing Ragnor taking his rest in the shade of a spreading oak, he relaxed somewhat yet his gaze swept on until he found Aislinn refilling a cup a young archer held out to her. So doing, she crossed to them with a warm greeting and from where he sat, Ragnor watched the couple from beneath lowered lids, feigning sleep. Vachel had rode in their party to view the castle and now made his way to his cousin, but Ragnor gave him little heed as he considered Wulfgar’s casual embrace of Aislinn.

  “The dove has tamed the wolf it seems,” Ragnor muttered to the younger man. “Wulfgar has married the lass.”

  Vachel dropped down beside him. “He may have wed the wench, but he is no less the Norman. He builds that castle as if he expects to hold off all of England behind its walls.”

  Ragnor sneered. “The bastard thinks to keep the lady for sure, but there will come a time.”