“It does not sound so,” he considered slowly, “but what does Father Albert think of all of this, Mairin?”
Mairin chuckled. “Father Albert comes from Cymru—Wales—and the Welsh are a Celtic people. The fires are not unusual here in this part of the country. As long as the Mass is well attended the clergy tends to look the other way.”
“It is not so at the Norman court, my lady wife,” he told her. “The king is most orthodox in his beliefs, and seeks to cleanse away any heresy on the part of the clergy. In this he is firmly supported by the pope.”
Mairin raised herself upon an elbow, and looked down into his face. Her flame-colored hair hung like a curtain from her head down one side of her body: “Do you usually speak on such weighty matters as religion with the women who share your bed?” she asked him teasingly. “Is it a Norman court custom?”
One breast was hidden by her arm and the curve of her body; the other, however, was quite visible. Turning himself Josselin clamped his mouth over its nipple, and tugged upon the soft flesh. She gave a little shriek of surprise, and pulled herself into a half-sitting position against the pillows, but instead of releasing his hold upon her he simply moved with her.
“Two,” said Mairin mischievously, “can play at this game, my naughty lord.” Reaching down she took his sex into her hand to play with it. Beneath her skillful touch he began to grow rigid. Her fingers moved gently and provocatively along the firm length of him. She knew from the sudden nip of his teeth against her now hard nipple that she was exciting him even as he excited her.
They were both intent on their play, and intense in their exploration of each other’s bodies. He loved the feel of her skin beneath his mouth, against his body. She reciprocated his passion, adoring the sensation of the hair upon his legs and his chest pressing against her tender skin. If she continued fondling him he would lose his control, he thought. He released his hold upon her breast with his mouth, and pulling himself up so he was level with her, he tasted of her mouth while her hand continued what his lips had begun.
There was so much sweetness, Mairin thought, as she felt his arm about her shoulders, his other hand cupping and squeezing a breast. His thumb rubbing against the sentient swollen nipple. Her shapely hands slipped up and down the sensitive back of his neck, caressing one moment, fingernails raking gently the next. It seemed so natural when he covered her body with his own and with an easy motion entered her. Tenderly he moved upon her, remembering she was but newly deflowered.
“Ahh, enchantress,” he murmured, “you fill my senses and take my breath completely away.”
His words filled her with almost as much pleasure as did his ardent body which now strove to again bring her perfect fulfillment. Instinct instructed her to wrap her legs about his trunk, and she gasped with surprised delight as she felt him drive deeper within her. She now knew to move with his rhythm, and was amazed at how well their bodies fit each other. She could feel the control that she was attempting to maintain beginning to slip and cried out softly to him.
“Ohh, Josselin, my husband, is it always so sweet?”
“Blessed Mother,” he whispered back, “I hope so, enchantress!”
She was beginning to soar wildly again. The feeling was strangely reminiscent of the spiraling flight of the seabirds she remembered seeing on her short voyages; of gulls who, catching at a whorl in the current of the winds, followed it upward winding and whirling until the gyre ended to drive back down to the earth in one great swoop.
Again and again he drove himself within her and with each thrust of his loins she seemed to crave him more until she thought she should perish from the pure pleasure she was receiving. She wondered if he, too, was being pleasured. Then, just as the night before, without warning she plunged down into honeyed darkness, hearing as she slid away his triumphant cry of ecstasy, feeling the warmth of his seed as it once again flooded her womb.
When she once again found herself breathing in what seemed a normal manner, she discovered that she was cradling him within her arms, her hand gently stroking his head. “How can it be like this between us when we are little more than strangers?” she questioned him.
“Hardly strangers now, Mairin,” he laughed weakly. He drew away from her so he might sit up and look upon her. His hand reached out to caress the curve of her jaw that led to her chin. “No, enchantress, not strangers. Perhaps we know little about each other in the formal sense, but our bodies have certainly become old friends in a very short time.”
“Our souls too, I would venture to guess, my lord.”
He nodded. “Yes, my lady wife, I believe it to be so.”
“It is strange but I am happy,” she told him. “In my whole life I can only remember being really unhappy once, but what I feel lying here with you is an entirely new emotion for me. I realize now that what I feel is true happiness. We are fortunate, my lord.”
“Aye, Mairin, we are fortunate to have found each other in this topsyturvy world in which we live.” He drew her into his arms so that her head rested against his chest.
Beneath her ear she could hear the strong, steady beat of his heart. Her nostrils were filled with his now familiar male scent. He did not smell as her father or Brand had smelled. It was different, yet comforting. It was early still. The pale gray morning light barely managing to creep through the narrow windows and illuminate the room. Other than the wind there was no sound to be heard, which indicated to Mairin that it was still snowing outside, and so she dozed within the circle of her husband’s arms. She was at peace in Josselin’s love.
He held her against him as if she were the most delicate and rare of creatures. He felt her body relax to slip into sleep, and his heart swelled with an emotion that he found he could not identify. This was his wife, and with her he would found a proper and respected family. His children would never suffer the sting of illegitimacy that had dogged him all of his life. That had caused his own mother to abandon him in favor of his father’s legitimate son. No! His children would be legal, and they would be loved by both their parents. She stirred slightly in her sleep, and he wondered if his seed had already taken root within her lovely body, if perhaps already his son had been created, and was even now beginning to grow. Only time, of course, would give him the answer to that question. In the meantime he intended to use her often to insure their success in having children quickly.
He found himself drifting back to sleep without realizing it until he awoke once more to find her stretching herself beside him. She had thrown the fox coverlet off and was preparing to arise when suddenly he saw the brownish stains upon the insides of her thighs. Reaching out he touched them lightly, and their eyes met, the passion flowing fiercely between them. Raising himself up he leaned forward, and placed several soft kisses upon the dried and bloodied smudges, and then looked up at her once again.
“Merci, enchantress,” he said meaningfully, charmed by the delicate color that tinted her cheeks.
Pulling a chemise from her trunk, she drew it over her head, and hurried out into the solar where the servants had already started a fire. The big tub had been removed, but there was a basin of warm water waiting upon a brick shelf that had been built within the fireplace. Carefully she reached around the flames of the fire, and placed it upon the table. Wringing out the soft cloth floating in the basin, she sponged away the evidence of her lost innocence, and then returned to the bedchamber.
Josselin still lay within the bed, and he watched her curiously as she dressed. A fur-lined jupe went over her chemise to be followed by a linen skirt and a matching tunic of violet-blue, long sleeves widening from the elbow to the wrist, and which she belted with a belt of purple and gold metal disks. Lastly she pulled on a pair of soft shoes that buttoned up the front.
He watched in fascination as she brushed out her wonderful long hair with smooth, vigorous strokes, braiding it with violet-colored ribbons and looping it up so that the braids did not hang too long. Standing, she gave her skirt a little sha
ke to remove the wrinkles and then looked over at him.
“You will be late for the Mass if you do not hurry, Josselin.”
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said.
“Ah, my lord, do not harp upon such a thing. Beauty can be a pleasure for the recipient of such a gift, but more often it is a curse. If you love me then I would hope it would be for me, myself, and not for my beauty. If I lost that beauty then what would be left, and would you love me still?”
“Your beauty is but a part of you, my lady wife. There is far more to Mairin of Aelfleah than her extraordinary beauty. I hope to spend the rest of my life learning the many facets of the rare jewel that my lord William has entrusted to me.”
“Blessed St. Cuthbert, my lord, how such flattery trips with honeyed ease from your tongue! You are, I think, a man to beware of, Josselin.” She walked to the bed, and yanked the warm fox coverlet from him. “Arise, my lord! Would you set a bad example for the manor folk?” He grabbed for her to pull her back into their bed, but laughing, Mairin eluded him, turning as she fled through the door to thumb her nose at him.
She could hear his laughter as she hurried down the stairs into the hall where Eada was already waiting. The older woman turned to bid her daughter a good morning. As she did she peered closely at Mairin. Seeing nothing but happiness in the girl’s eyes, she smiled with poorly disguised relief. Mairin’s eyes twinkled as she hugged her mother.
“Are you all right, my child?” Eada would not be convinced by her daughter’s radiant looks. She needed a verbal confirmation.
“I am fine, mother, and in answer to the question in your eyes, yes, I am at last a woman!”
“You told him, and he was gentle?”
Mairin nodded. “Yes” was easier than explaining that she had neglected to tell Josselin of her virginity until it was almost too late. “He is a good man, mother. You were right.”
“Can you love him? I know it will never be as it was with Basil, Mairin, but I pray for your happiness.”
“I loved Basil with a child’s love, mother. I believe I can love Josselin, but it will be with a woman’s love. With Basil I lived an unreal fairy tale in a golden and fabled city. I realize now that once the novelty of my beauty and innocence had worn off, Basil would have sought elsewhere for his amusements. I was a diversion to him. With Josselin I will forge a strong bond of love, and building upon that, mother, who knows what we may accomplish together. I know it would have never been that way with Basil.”
Eada was more than satisfied with Mairin’s answer. “Then,” she said teasingly, “I may look forward to a peaceful old age.”
“You will never be old, mother,” said Josselin, coming into the hall, and hearing her. He went directly up to her, kissing her upon her cheek. “May I call you mother, my lady?”
Why was it she cried so easily these days? Eada wondered, feeling the tears sting her eyelids. “Yes, my son,” she told him, “you may call me mother.” She hugged him hard. “Now, my children, we will surely be late for the Mass,” and she moved swiftly past the carved screen that divided the hall from the entry of the house where a servant was waiting with the outdoor cloaks.
“How handsome you look, my lord,” Mairin complimented him.
“I would not disappoint the manor folk,” he teased back, and she stuck out her tongue at him.
He was wearing blue chausses that she thought rather ill-fitting. They should have been better shaped to his legs, and she resolved then and there to go over his wardrobe, and make what he needed. His darker blue tunic which fell to just below his knee was embroidered on the neckline with silver threads, and had long wide sleeves. It was belted with a slightly wide girdle with embroidery that matched that at his neckline. As they would be going out, he wore boots that extended halfway up his leg to his knee.
As they put on their heavy fur-lined capes Dagda came in from the outside saying, “A wolf came down from the hills last night, my lord. Its tracks are everywhere about the house.”
“It did not carry off any of the livestock, did it?” Josselin inquired.
“Nay. The animals were all safe within the barns because of the storm, but the beast must be hungry to have come so close to the manor.”
“Be certain that the manor folk know of the wolf,” said Josselin. “Starving wolves have been known to attack small children and carry them off. We will go hunting when the storm is over.”
Outside it was still snowing. They walked the short distance between the house and the manor church where Father Albert said the morning Mass. Inside the church it was cold, and the wind caused the tallow candles upon the carved wooden altar to smoke. The stone floor was icy and the bitterness spread through their clothing as they knelt to receive the host from Father Albert.
It snowed on and off for the next few days, and afterward there was a week of gloomy days when the skies threatened again to loose a torrent of snow.
When they could they rode about the manor visiting the cottages to ascertain the well-being of their people. Josselin believed, to Mairin’s delighted relief, that unhappy peasants were poor workers. Like Aldwine Athelsbeorn, Josselin de Combourg sought to care for his people. The smiling faces as they left each cottage told Mairin that Aelfleah’s people were well-pleased with their new lord.
Sometimes Egbert, the bailiff, rode with them. He pointed out to his lord the few repairs that needed to be made here and there. They inspected the granary to learn that there had been some small losses due to a larger-than-expected population of field mice. Weorth the miller reassured his lord and lady he had recently acquired a large young tomcat who had a vigorous capacity for both the female cats who lived in the mill—all of whom were now fat with expected kittens—and for the mice whose population had already been halved.
“May yer lordship be as successful with the lady Mairin so that we may have again at Aelfleah a large family of children,” the miller said boldly.
“Be silent, Weorth!” ordered the bailiff, but both Mairin and Josselin laughed. The look that passed between them told the miller and the bailiff that any lack of children at Aelfleah would not be for want of trying on the part of their lord and his lady.
On the days when the cold or the weather made it impossible to be out-of-doors, Josselin spent long hours in the hall going over the manor records while Mairin and her mother sat by the fire sewing new clothing for him. Most of his garments were worn, and the workmanship was not of the best quality, which was not surprising. Josselin had had no family to see to his clothing. When he had been a child page at the Norman court his mother had yearly sent two tunics, one for cold weather, the other for milder days, and a small assortment of shirts to be worn under his tunics, two pair of chausses, a pair of boots, and a cloak. As he had grown older, however, these small gifts had ceased coming. He was considered old enough to fend for himself by the time he was thirteen, and he had.
Young bachelors, however, had to depend upon strangers to sew for them when they could afford it, usually women servants anxious to earn an extra penny or two. It was also necessary that they purchase their own cloth, and their limited incomes naturally limited such purchases to the least costly fabrics. Eada and Mairin, both expert seamstresses, complained more than once as they viewed the sorry state of the wardrobe that Aelfleah’s new lord possessed. Raiding the storage room of the manor house they brought forth linens that they themselves had woven, fine wools, and cottons, brocades and silks from Byzantium. They measured him carefully, making him stand for what seemed to Josselin hours. Then they cut and stitched until suddenly the cloth began to assume shapes. He saw a fine new wardrobe appearing before his very eyes.
At first he was embarrassed by this sudden largess, but Eada took him aside saying, “You are the lord of Aelfleah, Josselin. All that belongs to this manor belongs to you. Your old clothing was in such a bad state of disrepair that mending it was even beyond our skills as needlewomen. It is necessary to make you new clothing. We w
ould have done the same for my husband and Brand. Who else should do these things for you?”
“I like him better without clothing,” said Mairin saucily, and to her delight her husband blushed which made her laugh mischievously.
“Mother,” he said to Eada, “your daughter does not render me proper respect.”
“You should beat her then,” replied Eada seriously, but her bright blue eyes were laughing.
“Do you really want to spank me, my lord?” demanded Mairin tantalizingly, sliding her arms about her husband’s neck and looking up at him in a provocative manner. The tip of her tongue darted over her lips, moistening them.
He could feel the tightening in his loins as her teasing body and her suggestive words taunted him. “I think you need a good spanking to instill within you a proper reverence for my position as your lord and master,” he growled back, “and I am of a mind to administer it now!”
“Then you will have to catch me, my lord!” she mocked, pushing him so hard that he fell back. She made her escape running across the hall and up the stairs, shrieking with pretended horror as he pursued her, roaring with equally feigned outrage.
Behind them Eada, and Dagda who had also been seated by the fire honing knife blades, smiled at one another, their silent thoughts quite in accord with each other.
Mairin fled down the hallway to their bedchamber, but before she might bar the door behind her he was in the room.
“You’re a poor tactician, wife. Not being swift enough to outrun me, you should have given yourself at least one other route of escape.” His green-gold eyes glittered wickedly as he stalked her into a corner. Reaching out he easily captured her, drawing her from her useless sanctuary.
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