The grain was being harvested. The hay had been cut, and was drying on its racks in the fields. The cattle and the sheep in the meadows were fat with good grazing, and in the orchards the trees were bent almost in two with a bumper crop of fruit. Looking upon it all Mairin felt the quiet contrast between this bountiful and beautiful summer, and the year prior when they had all been awaiting the outcome of Harold Godwinson’s rash behavior.
Then one day a peddler arrived at Aelfleah, and told them of a rising on the border just over the hills by a thegn named Eadric the Wild. That night in Dagda’s company Mairin ascended the hill to the castle site. Together they watched until dark when they could clearly spot the campfires of the rebel forces.
“Their direction should bring them straight to Aelfleah,” noted Dagda grimly. “Rebels like that usually destroy everything in their path. Why are they doing this? Who the hell would they put on the throne in place of King William? There is no one else!”
“How long will it take them to reach us?” Mairin asked, sounding calmer than she actually felt. For the first time in memory Aelfleah was in danger. She had married Josselin because the manor needed a lord to protect it. Now that they were at risk, where was he? At Dover protecting the king’s rights! It would be up to her to see that Aelfleah was defended.
“Two days, three at the most,” he answered. “It depends upon how much they enjoy their work.”
“We must harvest everything we can, and hide it, Dagda. If they burn the fields, the manor people, not to mention all the workers we have here for the castle, will go hungry this winter. Damn! If Josselin were here we might fight them off, but he has taken all of his men with him. We are left with nothing but serfs. We might escape the carnage but for this damned castle site! Did I not warn him about that? It’s like a beacon drawing our enemies onward!”
“The castle is a good idea, and it is necessary,” he said bluntly, and she looked at him, surprised. “Listen to me, my lady Mairin. England’s days of innocence are gone. So are the days when this manor lay secreted and unnoticed in our hidden valley. The castle will protect Aelfleah, and few would dare to attack us if it already stood upon these heights.” He took her by the arm to steady her. “Come! We have little time in which to prepare for our guests.”
They stopped at the workman’s quarters where Dagda quickly and thoroughly explained to all the assembled men the danger which would soon be upon them. Then he turned to Mairin, giving her the floor, for as the lady of the manor with her husband away, she was the only authority figure they had.
“I want no unnecessary blood spilled,” she told them. “Each of you master craftsmen is to gather his men together, and I will see you hidden so that no harm comes to you. When Eadric and his rebels come they will find nothing to threaten them. You will stay hidden until the danger is past. We value the skills that each of you possesses far too much to endanger any of your lives.” Then Mairin repeated her speech in French so that the stonemasons might also understand her, and know their position. “I will also need your help tomorrow in the fields,” she continued. “If we are to save our harvest in so short a time I will need every available pair of hands. If they destroy the crops, how will I feed you all this winter?” She smiled sweetly at them, and there was not a man within the room who did not silently vow to follow her into hell and back if necessary.
As soon as the faint gray light of morning began to brighten the skies the next day, all the people of Aelfleah streamed from their homes, and went into the fields to harvest the grain that had not already been cut. Most of the workers were city men who knew little about farming, but, their very survival at stake, the castle workmen learned quickly from the serfs who were happy for even inexperienced hands to help them. Both Mairin and Eada worked beside their people encouraging them onward.
Egbert the bailiff saw that the castle, horses, and sheep belonging to the manor were herded into groups, and driven off to more hidden locations within The Forest. There had been no serious danger to Aelfleah since her grandfather’s time, but Egbert recalled the old man’s tales of how the Northmen had once swept inland up the Wye and Severn rivers, where they then anchored their longboats and ravaged the surrounding countryside. So impressed was he by these remembrances that he even managed to find hiding places for the poultry and the doves in the dovecote.
The castle workmen could give Mairin only a day and a half ’s labor before she sent them to hiding places in the stone quarry and deep within The Forest. The young women belonging to the manor who were not yet married were sent off to a nearby convent for safety’s sake. Mairin sought to avoid the rape of the women that might easily occur given the temptation of pretty faces.
Shortly after dawn on the third day Eadric the Wild and his men stormed the western hills, firing the barracks and the workshops at the castle site as they came. The manor gates were open to Eadric for Mairin had no intention of even attempting a resistance. Indeed she greeted him at the door to the house, gowned in a soothing blue, her glorious red-gold hair braided, a demure white veil upon her head.
“Given the reputation which precedes you, my lord Eadric, I cannot welcome you to Aelfleah, but neither do I deny you entrance,” Mairin said boldly.
Eadric the Wild, a big man with a thick beard and shoulder-length brown hair, looked down from his horse upon the beautiful woman. He felt to remain seated upon the big beast which added to his height would give him an advantage. Mairin’s cold words, however, disabused him of any notions of frightening her. He took a moment to appraise her, and staring back at him Mairin thought she had never seen such icy blue eyes.
“You are Mairin of Aelfleah?” he growled at her as he slid from his mount.
“I am.”
“What are you building upon the crest of the hill?”
“A castle,” she answered him.
“Why?” The cold eyes betrayed no emotion, not even the curiosity his words proclaimed.
“To keep the king’s peace,” she said.
“Which king?” he snarled.
“There is only one king of England. William.”
“The usurper? You build a castle for the usurper?”
“William of Normandy is England’s rightfully anointed and crowned king, my lord Eadric.”
“The crown belongs to Edgar the Atheling, lady.”
“Edgar the Atheling is a child,” said Mairin patiently, as if she herself were speaking to a child and not a man. “He could not hold England against invaders. He would be easy prey to those of his own countrymen seeking to rule through him. Besides, our late King Edward chose William of Normandy as his heir. King Edward knew we needed a man of strength.”
“So William the bastard claims.”
“The pope upheld his claim!” retorted Mairin.
“Bah! A foreigner who knows nothing of England, or of her people!”
“A people who want peace,” Mairin snapped back, “but they do not seem to find it when men like you pillage the land!”
“I fight for our freedom, woman!” roared Eadric.
“You fight for what you can personally gain,” she replied angrily. “Why else do you rob, and kill, and ravage the countryside? Why have you come here? Aelfleah is a small and isolated manor with little to give.”
Though Saxon women were noted for their bluntness of speech, and even encouraged to it by their families, Eadric was taken aback by Mairin’s fierce words which touched too close to the truth to satisfy him. She made him very uncomfortable. His reputation as a warrior usually cowed the people with whom he dealt. What was worse was that she spoke before his own men. He would find himself losing his authority if he did not regain control of the situation.
Drawing himself to his full height he thundered at her, “Get into the house, woman, and shut your mouth!”
Mairin smiled mockingly and she swept him an equally taunting curtsy. “Do come into my hall, my lord Eadric. I will give orders that your men be fed, and their horses watered, or would the
y prefer to pillage themselves?” Then turning she walked back into the house.
“Woman, you try my patience,” he muttered following after her, his several lieutenants at his heels.
Eadric the Wild gloried in his terrible reputation. He would have been discomfited to see the wicked grin upon his antagonist’s face for he did not frighten Mairin in the least. Indeed she had already decided that he was nothing more than a bully and a blowhard. Like a wounded animal he would be dangerous if and when he was cornered, but she had decided he would be no serious danger to Aelfleah if handled properly. He was a Saxon of the old school, and he had simply not yet come to terms with Harold’s defeat. He would continue to fight uselessly until he either accepted the inevitable or was killed. Eadric was a wealthy man, but he was not a man to concern himself with the comforts that life could offer. He lived as the Saxons had lived a hundred years earlier, in a large noisy hall filled with retainers and animals, both of whom scrabbled for bones and other leavings amongst the rushes. He was taken aback by Aelfleah’s small neat hall which was divided from its entry by a beautiful carved screen. The rushes upon the polished floors were clean for they were changed weekly. The hall had a pleasant air to it due to the sweet herbs that were scattered amid the rushes. In the large fireplace great logs burned warming the room nicely, and seated by the fire was a handsome woman who arose to greet them.
“This is my mother, the lady Eada, widow of Aldwine Athelsbeorn,” said Mairin.
“Lady,” said Eadric the Wild, “I am honored to meet the wife of so illustrious a man as Aldwine Athelsbeorn.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said Eada, and then she returned to her seat.
“Bring wine,” Mairin commanded her servants, and waved Eadric to another seat by the fire.
The wine was brought, and passed among the visitors, and then Eadric said, “One of my lieutenants is an old friend of yours, Mairin of Aelfleah. He tells me that you are promised to him.”
“I am promised to no one,” said Mairin, “and besides I am—” but before she might finish, a bearded blond man came forward.
“Do you not recognize me, Mairin?”
She peered closely at the man, then her face grew dark with anger. “Eric Longsword!”
“Aye! I have come back to claim you, Mairin! I have pledged my fealty to Eadric and Edgar the Atheling, and when you are my wife we shall hold Aelfleah for them. I have so sworn it!”
“Indeed,” replied Mairin scornfully, “have you, Eric Longsword? Did I not warn you that I would not marry you? That has not changed. Why would I promise myself to a traitor for that is what you are. A traitor who fought with Tostig and Harold Hardraade against England! I would not wed with you if you were the last man on earth!”
“The choice is not yours, Mairin. Aelfleah is strategically placed, and we need it. It is your duty as a loyal Englishwoman to wed with the man who can hold this manor for England’s rightful king.”
“Which is precisely what I have done, Eric Longsword! I was married the day before Christmas last to Josselin de Combourg, a loyal knight of England’s rightful king, William. I am my lord’s loving and faithful wife, and I will bear his child next winter,” she finished triumphantly, one hand placed over her belly for emphasis. Then her face darkened again with anger, and she said in an icy voice, “How dare you claim a betrothal with me, and how dare you lead these outlaws here to my lands to wreak havoc! Never did my family give you the slightest hope of a marriage between us. Nor did I! I had not thought you a man of such strong imagination, Eric Longsword.”
“If you are married then I shall kill your husband, Mairin,” he said coolly. “I mean to have you. I have never denied my passion for you. From the first day I saw you in Constantinople I wanted you. My feelings have not changed. You need a strong man who can teach you how to bend to a husband’s will. I am that man. William will be driven from England, and the Atheling will rule as he should. You will be my wife with my babe in your belly. As for the brat you now carry, if it lives it can be given away.”
Mairin stared at Eric Longsword shocked, but then she burst out laughing. Turning to Eadric she said, “This man is stark raving mad, my lord. You had best lock him away lest he be a harm to himself, or others dear to you. As for me I shall bear his company for hospitality’s sake, but if he comes near me again I will have my retainers fling him from my hall out into the barnyard where such an animal belongs!”
Eadric looked shrewdly at Mairin, and asked, “Where were you married?”
“In London by Odo, the bishop of Bayeux, and in the presence of the king, my mother, William FitzOsbern, William de Warenne, the Count of Eu, Robert de Beaumont, and Hugh de Montfort.”
“Where is your husband now, Mairin of Aelfleah? Did he flee at our coming?”
“Nay, my lord. He is with Bishop Odo seeking to retake Dover Castle from the traitorous Picard, Eustace of Boulogne. It was his duty to support the king’s brother.”
Eadric the Wild nodded his understanding. Then arising he said, “There is nothing for us here. We move on! Order the men to burn the fields and drive off the livestock. We will have something for our trouble!”
Eadric quickly discovered that the manor fields contained nothing but stubble, and that the livestock, even the poultry, had seemingly disappeared. It suddenly occurred to him that although they had burned a large barracks and workshop complex on the castle site, there were no workmen there. Nor were they to be found, nor was there evidence of the manor’s livestock, or poultry, or pretty girls. Into his cold eyes crept something akin to admiration, and he chuckled although the sound held no mirth. “It would do absolutely no good to ask, would it?” he said.
“No, my lord, it would not,” she answered softly.
“Then I shall not, Mairin of Aelfleah, for you have bested me once too often before my men. Still you shall not escape me entirely unscathed. Burn the village and the church,” he ordered.
“What about the manor house, my lord Eadric?” demanded Eric Longsword viciously.
Eadric saw the panic leap into her eyes. It pleased him, but what pleased him more was that she went down upon her knees to him pleading loudly that he spare her home. “I fight for England,” he said loudly and loftily. “I do not make war upon helpless women and babes. I will spare your house, Mairin of Aelfleah.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord!” she cried, brushing an imaginary tear from her eye. She was tempted to ask him: if he didn’t wage war on women and children, why was he burning the manor village? Discretion fortunately overruled her tongue.
He turned from her, but not before she had seen his lips quirk with amusement. She would have been a formidable opponent had she been a man, he thought. She planned her battle well, and knew when to retreat to cover her losses. He felt little satisfaction as he rode from Aelfleah.
Behind him the manor peasants managed to save the church, but for the roof, although the entire village was destroyed. Still as they picked through the rubble of their homes that afternoon there were certain items that were salvageable. Mairin promised them that their homes would be rebuilt as quickly as possible. The castle workmen returned from their hiding places, and were immediately pressed into rebuilding the village. This time the cottages raised would be of stone, but for their thatched roofs, so that should the village ever be fired again it would be easier to rebuild.
Within a month the cottages were done. The new barracks and workshops once more stood upon the hill. As the castle workmen had helped Aelfleah’s people to save their harvest, so Aelfleah’s people had aided the castle’s workmen to rebuild. The manor quickly settled back to its normal routine. The grain brought from its hiding place was threshed, and stored away in dry places to be ground into flour only as needed, for flour did not keep long once ground. The apples in the orchard were ready for harvest, and the cider was being pressed as Josselin de Combourg returned home to his wife and his lands.
Mairin was loath to discuss her defense of Aelfleah, but Eada wa
s not. “Aldwine would have been so proud of her,” the older woman bubbled. “She managed to unite everyone. She saved the entire harvest, and all the livestock. Not a woman was raped, nor a man killed, nor any child carried off! ’Tis true we lost the village, my son, but it is already rebuilt, and this time of stone, but for the roofs. No man could have defended Aelfleah and its people any better. As for that cheeky Eric Longsword, she sent him packing once and for all! Why, the nerve of him telling Eadric that he was betrothed to my daughter!”
“Mother!” Mairin flushed.
“Eric Longsword?” Josselin’s attention was suddenly engaged. Mairin’s defense of Aelfleah had not surprised him, although her cleverness at getting in the crop and hiding the workmen had astounded him, but Eric Longsword? “Who is Eric Longsword?” he asked.
“A fool!” snapped Mairin.
“His father was a thegn in the north, loyal to Tostig,” said Eada. “He served in the Varangian Guard in Byzantium where we first met him. He has always been taken with Mairin, and tried to court her after Basil died, but she would have none of him. He dared to tell Eadric that Mairin was to be his wife, and that he was to gain control of Aelfleah. To such end he swore fealty to Eadric and the Atheling. Mairin corrected him quickly enough, and Eadric realized that Eric Longsword was but bragging to gain influence.”
“I will kill him,” said Josselin calmly.
“You will stay here and protect us, my lord!” said Mairin sharply. “I am not well with this child I carry, and I can take no more excitement!”
Josselin looked at Eada. “What is it?” he demanded.
Eada shook her head. “She has been staining blood ever since Eadric came. She may lose the child, and I would not be surprised for she labored in the fields to get the harvest in like any common peasant.”
“You labored beside me, mother, and in the village too when we aided our people to haul thatch.”
“In your condition? Are you mad, Mairin?” he shouted angrily at her.
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