Thus set, the labors began. Every cart, wagon, mule and horse was bent to the task and Cregan gave of its stores until there was an endless stream of coming and going between the town and the castle. Items of value were brought and entered in Kerwick’s books then placed in a vault in the keep. The outlying farms were shuttered and the families came to the castle. They formed the first compliment within the walls. The women went to the marsh and cut straight willow and yew branches, bringing them to the yards while the men made bows, spears, and arrows from them. Large barrels of the black, odorous fluid that oozed from pits in the swamp were carried within the walls and lifted to the battlements. It was easily fired and once alight could be poured down upon the heads of attackers. Gavin’s smithy rang day and night as he and his sons hammered out the heads for spears and arrows and made crude but effective swords. Everyone worked. Everyone served.
Aislinn gathered blankets and linens in the keep and assured the looms of Darkenwald worked throughout the day on more. The cellars and stalls of the castle took all of Cregan’s stuffs and still seemed almost empty, but they had been built to carry several years’ bounty and what lay within them now would see the people of both towns through the winter and more.
Finally trouble came. A tall plume of smoke rose near Cregan, and Wulfgar roused his men from their breakfast and rode out to meet the foe. Not far from Darkenwald, he came upon a column of people who had refused to leave their town. Now they choked the road and were shocked at having been driven from their homes by this new enemy. Wulfgar learned that a small band of knights and bowmen had set upon the village at first light and though the townsmen had tried to defend it, they were soon put to rout. The raiders had fired the houses as they came and seemed more bent on destroying the town than gaining plunder. They had brutally cut down all who had come in their path.
Friar Dunley brought up the rear of the procession, pulling a small cart which held his beloved crucifix and other relics from the church. He paused as Wulfgar approached him and wiped his brow.
“They have fired my church,” he gasped. “They had no mercy even for the things of God. They are worse than the Vikings. Those thieves were after loot, but these brigands seem more bent on simple destruction.”
Wulfgar shaded his eyes toward Cregan as he spoke. “If your church is gone and we survive, sir priest, you shall have the old hall of Darkenwald for your worshipping. ‘Twill be a fitting place to wait the Lord’s day out.”
The monk murmured his humble thanks and bent again to his cart as Wulfgar gave orders for Milbourne to take a few of the men and form a guard for the people to see them safely to Darkenwald.
When Wulfgar came to Cregan, the town still smoldered but was little more than a pile of rubble. There were a few bodies scattered about, those who had sought to defend their homes or had not fled fast enough. As Wulfgar gazed about him he was reminded of another day he had viewed another scene of slaughter and another village littered with dead. His scowl darkened and his heart grew hard. Who had laid this town to waste would surely suffer for the deed if he must pursue the ones at fault to the ends of England.
With a heavy heart he motioned for his men to follow and they returned to Darkenwald. He entered the hall and met both Aislinn and Bolsgar awaiting his return. Quietly he answered the unspoken question in their eyes.
“We found the rebels gone, but I think we have not seen the last of them. They got little from Cregan and one of them was killed with his mount and both were lean and well starved. The raiders will not go far until they gain some food for themselves and fodder for their horses.”
Bolsgar nodded in agreement “Aye, they will lay up and let their steeds graze on our rich lands and then hunt game for themselves until they are fed and able to move on. We must be wary lest they find our flocks the easier picking.”
Aislinn called for food to be brought as Wulfgar took his place at the table, and Bolsgar seated himself nearby to continue their discussion. Haylan came with a huge platter of meat and bread then returned to fetch pitchers of foaming ale. A cold draft swept them as Sweyn entered the hall and made his way to the table. He made no comment but seized a whole rib of mutton and filled his mouth. He sighed at the taste of food and seated himself while he chewed happily and washed the whole down with a horn of ale. The breeze of Sweyn’s entry had not died when the door was again flung wide and the three knights came into the hall. They attacked the remaining food and set about devouring it with gusto and washing down their meal with large amounts of ale. Wulfgar was left staring at the empty dish before him in some bemusement.
“Would I be the king, my hearties, I fear I would yet starve with you as companions.”
The men roared in loud glee and Aislinn laughed and called for more food. The sound of their mirth brought Gwyneth down to join them although she had dined earlier. She sat quietly at her tapestry as was her manner of late and seemed to enjoy the company. Kerwick soon joined them also, looking somewhat haggard and harried. He complained of the mess this affair had made of his books, and held up his hand with the fingers stiff and twisted as though deformed.
“Why look!” he exclaimed. “I’ve taken a cramp from clutching my pen all day and making changes and corrections in the book.”
There was a round of laughter at his play and when it stilled, he turned to Wulfgar more soberly.
“ ’Twas with some pain that I entered the deaths of eight from Cregan,” he said sadly.
The hall grew quiet as the horror of the day was brought home to all who sat at the table.
“I knew them all,” he continued. “They were friends. I would put aside my books for a space and join you as you hunt the vandals down.”
“Rest easy, Kerwick,” Wulfgar bade him. “We will see them brought to justice. Your value lies much more in staying here to make some sense of this confusion.”
He turned to the others and spoke more firmly, giving them his plans.
“The watchers will be set as before.” He turned and directed his words to Bolsgar. “Choose the men who know the signals and see them well hidden in the woods and hills. They should go out tonight that they will be ready at the morrow’s first light.”
He faced the knights.
“We will stand to ride if the rebels show again. When we go, we will signal the castle of our path and will be informed of the raiders and their whereabouts. Beaufonte, you will stay and continue to prepare the castle for possible attack. Did all go well there today.”
Beaufonte nodded but frowned as he gave his report. “The castle is being armed and the men are directed in the defense of the walls. But there is one matter I would bring to you.” He paused, unsure, then continued. “The people of Cregan find themselves much crowded in the bailey and many have built huts close against the outer wall. ‘Twould bode ill for us if there should be an attack.”
“Aye,” Wulfgar agreed. “On the morrow see them moved beyond the lower moat. With the watchers out we will have warning aplenty for them to get within the walls.”
He looked questioningly about the table and met no other problems.
“ ’Tis done then.” He raised his cup high. “To the morrow. May we send them all to their maker.”
All joined the toast but Gwyneth and as she sat somewhat aside; no one even offered her a cup.
Unnoticed but by one, Haylan entered and brought wine to fill the cups and a fresh platter of steaming meats, bread and a large bowl of hot gravy to dip them in. Kerwick boldly seized a piece of meat and as he tasted it he wrinkled his nose.
“Ugh! There is too much salt on this meat.”
His voice was louder than those at the table needed and all watched him as he took another piece and tasted it also. He threw it down in feigned disgust.
“And not enough salt on this one. For shame, Wulfgar. At least you could find someone who knew how to flavor meat.”
He laughed at his own prank and turned to speak to Aislinn, at the same time reaching for a piece of bread. Hay
lan leaned over the table and turned the platter so that the steaming gravy was beneath his unwary hand. He squalled in pain as his fingers sank into the hot stuff and jerked them quickly back to plunge them into his mouth to ease the hurt.
“Is that meat flavored more to your liking?” Haylan asked innocently. “Mayhap it needs more salt.”
She lifted the small salt cellar up invitingly and laughter rang about the table. Even Gwyneth smiled.
The next morning a young serf who had gone out to gather the last of his crop wakened the manor as he loudly beat on the door. When Wulfgar threw open the door, the peasant gasped out his story as his lord rapidly dressed.
Late on the evening past a group of knights had approached his farm. He was wary of strangers and had fled to hide in the woods nearby. After burning his house and scattering the grain he had labored so hard to gather, they had withdrawn but a small way and made camp near a brook.
When the lad had completed his tale, he was given a hearty meal while Wulfgar and his men mounted and rode out to seek the raiders. They approached the camp from a sheltered gulley but found only blackened scars where the campfires had been laid. The remains of a young oxen, a stray from one of the herds, lay near the camp. The rebels had taken only the choicest parts and left the rest to rot. Wulfgar shook his head as he stared down at the carcass. Gowain neared him and was bemused at Wulfgar’s concern for the slain animal.
“What bothers you, my lord?” he asked. “They slew a beast to feed themselves. ’Tis simple.”
“Not so,” Wulfgar replied. “They took no part to smoke or cure but just enough to fill their bellies for the moment. They must have other plans to gain provender for their journey and I fear that we are part of those plans.”
He gazed around toward the barren hilltops that surrounded them and the small hairs crawled on the back of his neck. Gowain saw his frown.
“Aye, Wulfgar.” The young knight also gazed about. “I also feel there is something amiss here. These men sneak in the night not like soldiers but like sulking beasts.”
Again they returned to Darkenwald with no word of victory and were met with news that as he rode to the south a farm was burned to the north and a small herd of goats slain. No meat had been taken from them. They had been left as they fell for the scavengers. It seemed senseless, as if the band would simply destroy as much as they could.
Wulfgar chafed cruelly at his folly. He paced the hall and raged that he had let himself be led astray while the enemy raided and laid waste to his holdings. Aislinn wondered at his mood, for she knew he chastised himself more harshly than any other would, but she held her tongue. He calmed after a bit and at her urging ate a light supper after which he seemed at ease again. He cast off the heavy hauberk, leaving on the leather tunic he wore beneath and sat before the hearth, discussing the day with Bolsgar and Sweyn.
“The thieves have been to Cregan and then north and today south. Tomorrow we shall set out at the first light of dawn and ride to the west. Mayhap we can intercept them in their thievery.”
The others could name no better plan. They would rely upon the signals to mark the band of raiders and hope they could catch them before more damage was done.
Gwyneth’s rasping temper had worn them all through the evening as she ranted on their failure to find the rebels. Now as she began again, Aislinn looked away to where Bryce played on a pelt before the warm hearth, letting the sight of him ease her vexation.
“ ’Tis in fear I cower here amid these moldering ruins that could hardly slow a well cast spear,” Gwyneth said, glancing around at the ancient timbers that roofed the hall. “What have you done to see to our safety, Wulfgar?”
He lowered his brow and stared into the fire without reply.
“Aye, you wear the hooves of your horses low and plow the roadways well, but have you set a sword to a single one of those thieves? Nay. They still roam as free as the wind. Indeed, on the morrow I may have to take a blade and defend myself against them while you wander the countryside.”
Wulfgar turned to stare at her as if he half wished her words would come true.
Bolsgar grunted and his voice fell sour from his mouth. “Leave the sword, my daughter. Take your tongue to them instead. It has far the sharper edge and since it smites your protectors so, it should lay low the worst of our enemies. Who could stand before it? ‘Twould surely pierce the stoutest shield and split the holder in twain.”
Aislinn choked and coughed at Bolsgar’s comment, trying not to laugh, and in the process won a glare from Gwyneth. She busied herself at twirling her distaff, drawing a long yarn from the ball of wool that capped its smaller end.
“My good father jests while thieves burn and pillage and make us hide behind our walls,” Gwyneth snarled. “I cannot even take a ride to ease my spirit.”
Sweyn chortled. “My thanks for little favors. At least we need not fear for the horses.”
Bolsgar joined his mirth. “If we could but teach her to turn them about. She is ever riding out but always walking back.”
Gwyneth placed her sewing on the hearth and turned to glare at them, standing with her arms akimbo.
“Laugh, you croaking ravens,” she railed at the two men. “I do not prop my leg in the tower and look for silly flashes from the hills nor do I slobber on my food or swill ale like a boar.”
“Aye, but what do you do?” Bolsgar interrupted and was rewarded with another flare of her temper.
“As any lady should I keep to myself.” She cast her eyes askance to Aislinn. “I mind my stitchery and naught else as my lord Wulfgar bade me. I am careful not to injure the gentle pride of others.”
She paused and a whimper came from behind her. She turned and saw that Bryce had found her sewing where she had laid it and pulled it to him. He did much damage to it now as he struggled to free himself from the snarled yarns. Gwyneth shrieked and bending, snatched the stuff from him, jerking it free of his tiny arms.
“Brat!” she cried and slapped him on the arm, leaving a reddening welt. He puckered his lips and drew a long breath to cry.
“Brat!” she spat again. “I’ll teach you to—”
There was a sudden thud as she sat firmly on the dusty floor. Aislinn’s ankle had swept her feet from beneath her. Gwyneth’s eyes flamed with her fury then widened in startled fear as she looked up to find Aislinn standing above her with feet braced, coppery hair ablaze in the light of the fire and violet eyes striking sparks of rage. In her hands she clutched the distaff like a spear about to be thrust. The lips parted and the words came breathless but hard.
“What you lay to me, Gwyneth, I can bear. I am a woman full grown.” She leaned forward and the distaff moved threateningly. “But Norman or English, light, dark, red or green, that baby is mine—and if you would lay hand to him again, you would best seek a sword, for I will tear you end from end.” Aislinn paused but a moment before demanding, “Do you hear me?”
With gaping jaw Gwyneth nodded slowly. Aislinn stood away from her and lifted the awestruck Bryce to her, cooing into his ear as she soothed the sting of his arm. Gwyneth gathered herself and her sewing and dusted her skirts. Unable to face the grinning men, she made her way to her room.
Later in their chambers Wulfgar stood watching as Aislinn laid the babe before the hearth. He marveled that she could be at one time the wild tempered vixen when her offspring was threatened and then another this graceful nymph who did the slow, mesmerizing dance of a wife before him as she went about her duties in the room. Her every movement was a study in rhythm and grace. The white kirtle she wore flowed aout her as she moved, showing a thrusting breast now and curved hip or a narrow waist then. He could feel the urge grow in him and as she came near he caught her in the crook of his arm, bringing her to meet his questioning kiss, but a cry from Bryce soon proved a distraction.
“Wait till the child is asleep,” she whispered against his lips. “Then we will see your rutting ways well met.”
“Rutting?” He grunted, di
sappointed. “And who is the maid who swings her coltish hips and fondles me in public until I would fair burst my seams?”
He kissed her again softly before stretching out in his chair, and from beneath lowered lids watched her closely. She bent low to pick up her wool cards from the hearth and presented him with a view of her swelling breasts pressed almost free of the open front of the kirtle.
“Have a care, my love,” he murmured softly. “Or I may yet startle the babe.”
She rose quickly, blushing at his boldness, but knew full well it was no idle threat.
“Watch the child for a while,” Aislinn bade him sweetly. “I must see Miderd about some things and set tomorrow’s fare.”
Gathering a shawl about her shoulders, she left him to Bryce’s care. Wulfgar closed his eyes for a moment and relaxed, feeling the sense of peacefulness that seemed to flood him with the warmth of the fire. He opened his eyes again at a tug on his ankle and saw that Bryce had rolled to him and now struggled to sit up with the help of his leg. The lad succeeded and sat unsteadily while he looked up at Wulfgar with those wide, quizzical blue eyes. He showed no fear of the huge Norman lord but wrinkled his eyes in a smile. He waved his chubby arms in glee, chuckling heartily and toppled abruptly. Eyes, suddenly sad, raised as his chin quivered and great tears began to stream down his face. Ever at a fault before tears, Wulfgar reached down and lifted the babe to his lap.
The Wolf and the Dove Page 52