Guy led her upstairs, and she was surprised when they stopped outside her own chamber door. He lifted her hand to his lips, and her heart softened as she saw the lines of fatigue etched around his eyes. He had had no sleep for at least thirty-six hours.
"Good night, mademoiselle, pleasant dreams. Be sure to bar your door," and he was gone.
She entered her chamber and there he stood, leaning negligently against the archway cut into the wall. Tears of anger and frustration welled up and she cried, "My God, what have you done? How could you, how could you?" He threw back his head and laughed. "Come, cherie, none will be any the wiser. Come and warm yourself at my fire."
She was outraged. He was determined to tear down all barriers between them. If walls would not stop him, what defense did she have? His amusement only made it worse.
"It is just a game to you, but this is my life you are playing with, Norman! You kill my father, take my home, and now you do not even permit me my privacy," she cried.
"Come, you make more a fuss than needs by half. I admit I cannot give you back your father's life, but you have a place of honor here beside me. Your mother and your brother Aedward have free rein. l think you have been much indulged and spoiled, Lillyth. You know well how to receive, but you haven't learned how to give yet."
"You want me to be your whore to make life softer for myself, but I will not— you cannot make me.”
He swiftly advanced upon her and dragged her into his arms. "I could make you, wench, never doubt it."
"Yes, get your whip, my lord! Bloody another Saxon back. We are no better than the dirt beneath your feet. Well, what are you waiting for?" she taunted.
"I have other weapons," he said slowly, and he bent his head and took her lips softly. She was filled with the taste of him, and her senses reeled with his masculine scent. A tiny spark of desire to be his was kindled, and it grew and swept along her veins in warm pulsing waves. Her thighs were pressed to his and she could feel his desire for her raging against her body. With a tremendous effort she pulled her mouth from his and sobbed.
He was greatly disappointed that she was not the complacent widow he had thought. He took his arms from her abruptly.
"Women— every one a bitch!" he snarled.
She went and sat upon her own bed through the archway and cried, softly. By the time she had dried her eyes, she could hear his even breathing from the other room and knew he was already asleep.
Chapter 8
At first light Guy was out among the Saxon villiens. By his presence alone an air of law and order prevailed.
"Hugh and Roger," he directed, "get water and razors and shave every last one of them. D'Arcy and Gilbert will be in charge of haircuts. I want them cropped close. If shears won't do the trick, shave them bald. You other men, line up these fellows in an orderly fashion."
Rolf approved. "It is a damned good idea. Their hair and beards must harbor vermin. Shaving them is easier than delousing them," he laughed. "We'll light fires here outside. Hugh, get pots from the women to boil water."
"Aedward, tell them each man must be barbered before he leaves for his work this morning," instructed Guy. "Where are all the villiens? I know there are more people than this in the fiefdom."
"My lord, they are hiding in their huts. They are afraid," said Aedward.
"Then we will have to go in after them," decided Guy. He entered the first hut and herded the occupants outside, then he cleared five more huts in succession.
"Line up six huts at a time. That should be enough to be going on with."
The peasants were muttering loudly, grabbing and shaking the magic charms they wore around their necks. Out of curiosity, Rolf pulled a small leather bag from around a peasant's neck and inspected its contents.
"Fah! Whatever it is, it stinks to high heaven!" said Rolf, holding it at arm's length.
"Let me see," ordered Guy. He emptied the contents and poked at them curiously.
"It looks like a dead bat!" he said incredulously. "Get me another," he directed Rolf.
The serf wildly tried to prevent the removal of his charm bag, but Rolf prevailed. They examined the contents.
"It looks like chicken or pigeon bones," offered Rolf.
"It looks like witchcraft!" Guy exploded. He turned to Aedward and demanded, "The source of this abomination?"
Aedward pleaded ignorance, but Edgarson, who was at his elbow to relish the spectacle of men being shorn like sheep, spoke up eagerly, "Morag, the witch!" and he pointed out her hut. With the agile mind only children possess, he had already picked up a few Norman words. Coupled with Guy's small knowledge of Saxon, they communicated adequately. Guy ruffled Edgarson's hair as a sign of his approval, then, grim-faced, strode back to the hall at such a pace that Aedward and Rolf could not keep up with him.
"Alison!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. She came quickly, dreading what had caused him to raise his voice to such a pitch.
"My lord, whatever is amiss?"
"Madame, are you aware that these people are practicing witchcraft under your very nose?" he demanded.
"Witchcraft?" she protested.
"The villiens are so weighted down with talismans and magic charms they can scarce hobble about." he accused.
"Oh, you mean the things they get from Morag, my lord," she said, relieved. "They are harmless enough."
"Do these people not attend church as God-fearing Christians?" he asked incredulously.
"Well, no one prevents them attending church. We of the hall go, of course, but I can't say the peasants are regular attendants."
"From now on they will be. All of them! Even if we have to enlarge the church," he thundered.
She lowered her head to him. "Whatever you say, my lord."
"Lady Alison, I am shocked. I can scarce credit your attitude!" he exclaimed.
She smiled ruefully. "The English are not as pious as we French."
"Pious?" he exploded. "Rolf, find that Morag and hang her!" he ordered.
Alison went pale. "Nay, my lord, I beg you, what harm can her love potions and horoscopes do?"
"Horoscopes? Love potions?" He laughed. "You can't be serious!"
She quickly pressed her advantage while he laughed. "When they learned the Normans were almost upon us, they flocked to Morag for lucky charms that would protect them. And you see they worked— fate sent us a man with compassion!"
"You suppose if you flatter me, I won't hang the old hag," he accused.
"Do I suppose wrongly, my lord?" she asked with great daring.
He paused, then met her halfway. "I will see her for myself before I pass judgment."
Guy entered Morag's hut without ceremony. Aedward stood at the entrance, realizing he was going to be caught between two very strong forces. While Greediguts screeched from his perch near the roof, Morag met the Norman's stare of scrutiny without blinking.
Guy said, "Aedward, you will interpret for us. Word for word," he warned, "I don't want your watered-down version."
He narrowed his eyes and said to Morag, "If you have the Power, you must know I have come to hang you."
"No," she said slowly, "you have come to intimidate me."
His eyebrows rose at her temerity. "Bones of Christ!" he swore. "And do I intimidate you?" he demanded.
"You are born in April under the sign of Aries. You would intimidate anyone," she said, maintaining eye contact.
"I was born in April. How did you know?" he demanded.
"It is written all over you for anyone to plainly see. By nature you are aggressive, self-willed and determined. You enjoy power and are fond of being looked up to by others. You are restless and courageous to the point of daring. You have a quick temper and will make or break your own destiny. You are intolerant, impatient, overconfident and overbearing."
Guy grinned a wolf's grin. "These are just my better qualities; what of my faults?"
"An Aries has no faults," Morag said dryly.
Aedward hesitated to translate.
Guy gave him a look so commanding he translated—"An Aries has no faults."
Guy gave a sharp bark of laughter.
"By God's bones, she must have some powerful magic to deliberately goad me. Madame," he warned, "you are on probation. Your activities will be closely watched. You will attend church twice a week and if you dispense anything stronger than a love-charm I will lock you up permanently."
When he had left, Morag sagged to the floor as relief swept over her. In her wisdom, she knew he would flourish here and remain long after she was dead and buried. His will was even stronger than her own; she had no choice but to obey him.
Outside Guy told Rolf, "I am going over to inspect Oxstead. God knows what I'll find over there if this is any indication. I'll take my brothers, but I want you to stay and see that things progress here in an orderly fashion."
Aedward went back to where the peasants were being shorn, glad that the encounter with Morag was behind him. He heard the Norman called D'Arcy laugh, "My God, this one's fainted from fright. These Saxon youths are gutless."
Aedward looked down to see Edwina lying on the ground with her head shorn. He elbowed the knight away and went down on one knee to her.
"This is a maid," he said angrily. "Your orders didn't include the women!"
"They all look alike to me with their long blond tresses. She hasn't even got tits, how was I to know?"
Aedward helped Edwina to her feet. She was terrified and clung to him desperately. Tears streaked her face and her short, chopped hair stood up hideously. He put a comforting arm about her, but her whole body was trembling. He gently led her back to her hut.
"Hush, Edwina, everything will be all right. They didn't really hurt you." Once inside the privacy of the hut, she really gave vent to her emotions. She sobbed and rocked back and forth until Aedward was beside himself to console her.
"Listen Edwina, I have an idea. If we wash it, I bet it will look quite nice."
"Wash my hair?" she said, the fear coming back in her eyes. She drew away from him before another indignity was forced upon her.
"Yes, yes. The ladies up at the hall wash their hair every other week. Come to the bathhouse with me. We'll get some soap and I'll help you to wash it."
"I will do it if you desire it, my lord," she offered, trying her best to swallow the tears.
At the bathhouse Aedward filled a deep wooden tub with hot water.
"It would be much simpler if you got into the tub, Edwina."
"But I would wet my clothes," she protested.
"No, no, you take your clothes off first," he explained patiently.
"I cannot swim. I'm afraid of water," she said miserably.
"It's not deep enough to drown you. Come, be brave," he encouraged "I'll turn my back. Do it quickly while there is no one about!"
When she slipped into the water she let out a sharp gasp. This made Aedward glance over his shoulder in time to see that Edwina did indeed have breasts. They were young, delicate, budding and quite tempting. Aedward took a linen towel from a bathhouse shelf and a cake of soap scented with lemon verbena.
"When you have lathered your hair, rinse out the soap and dry yourself on this towel. Then quickly put your clothes back on before you take a chill. I'll come back to the hut with you and build a fire to dry your hair."
Aedward knelt to the dry kindling. He held the flintstone steady with his bad arm and struck the sparks with a small concealed dagger. He fed the fire until it blazed warmly.
"Come, sit closer. When your hair is dry it is going to be quite beautiful, Edwina. Now that it's clean, I can see its true color is a lovely flaxen shade, and it's curling softly around your face. Actually it is much prettier than it was before."
Edwina sat shyly, basking in his admiration, saying nothing.
"Tell me about yourself," urged Aedward. "There is nothing to tell," she, said simply.
"Of course there is! What work do you do?"
"I look after the bees and gather the honey."
"Bees must be fascinating; tell me about them," he coaxed.
She smiled. "Did you know the ones that do all the work and gather the honey are female?"
He laughed. "No, I didn't know that. Tell me more."
"When a bee finds a lot of flowers she flies back to the hive and does a little sort of buzzing dance. She touches the others with her body and tells them where the flowers are. If the flowers are a long way away, the bee does her buzzing dance, then walks in a straight line, then buzzes again, then makes a right turn, buzzes again, then walks another little line and turns again and buzzes again, and when the others leave the hive, they know exactly where to go to find the flowers."
He laughed delightedly.
"Don't you believe me?" she asked.
"Well, I don't think you would make it up, so I must believe you. Tell me, how do they survive the winter?" he puzzled.
She said with a wisdom far beyond her years, "They survive only because they have learned to cooperate with each other. They all cling together in a mass and keep moving very, very slowly. As the ones on the outside become cold they move to the inside and the warm bees from the middle of the mass move to the outside."
"Edwina, that is exactly the way it will be here. We will all survive and, yes, even prosper, if Saxon and Norman learn to live together and cooperate." He took a small ivory comb from his tunic. He reached out carefully and ran it gently through her blond curls.
"I want you to have this. I probably won't have any use for it after today if they make me cut my long hair and shave off my beard."
She cupped it in her hands wonderingly. No one had ever given her a gift before. It pleased her. She reached out a finger to touch his curling mustache and as she did so, Aedward's arm swept about her, and he pulled her against him and kissed her. She was enthralled by his touch. Her fragrance filled his senses, as his hand sought her delicate breasts that had tempted him earlier. He knew she would allow him to have his way with her, but something in her vulnerability stayed him. She had so few choices in life, he could not bear to impose his will upon her. He drew back and said gently, "I dare not stay longer."
That evening May shook her head as she tried to get used to the appearance of her husband and her daughter. Edgarson ran in, mad as fire. He wanted his hair cut so badly he could taste it, but the Normans had paid no attention to the boy.
"I want to look like him!" he insisted. "Who?" asked May.
"Him! The new lord," shouted Edgarson.
"When I was at Oxstead yesterday, I discovered the people are suffering with what you call St. Anthony's Fire or dysentery of the bowels. We don't want it to spread, so I spoke with your mother and she has something she calls alkanet, I believe. Would you ride out there with me this morning, Lillyth?"
"Oh, I would enjoy a ride. I can bring some of Lady Hiida's things back for her." She ran upstairs to change her slippers for soft leather boots.
In the stables Guy had Zephyr saddled for her. All three Montgomerys were going to Oxstead, while Rolf was left behind in charge of Godstone. Lillyth admired Guy's magnificent horse:
"He is called Tempest. Is it not strange that both our horses are named for the wind?" he laughed. "When she is ready, perhaps we could breed them?"
Lillyth blushed and said stiffly, "He is too big— he would hurt her."
Guy looked amused. "Nonsense!"
The sun was shining, but the air was cold and Lillyth wore a warm woolen cloak.
Guy thought, I would like to give her a cloak lined with fur before the winter sets in, and his mind went over the various animals that he might hunt which would provide this luxury for her.
Lillyth enjoyed the ride tremendously. Her cheeks were scarlet from the wind and her hair whipped about wildly. The autumn leaves were thick upon the ground and the horses' hooves made a rustling, swishing sound as they progressed. She laughed at the squirrels scampering about with nuts and acorns, preparing for the winter All at once her horse screamed and reared in fri
ght. A wild boar rushed from the underbrush, and almost immediately Guy had him spitted with a short lance he carried. Lillyth quieted her horse and Guy asked, concerned, "Are you all right, chérie?"
"Of course," laughed Lillyth, "what need to fear with such a brave escort?"
"Truss up the boar and we will collect the carcass on our way back, Andre," he called. He decided that Lillyth was quite brave and not easily frightened. "Perhaps you would enjoy the hunt. Will you ride with me the next time we have one?"
"I think not, my lord. It grieves me to see animals die, unless of course they threaten our lives."
Upon arrival at Oxstead, the men went to give out doses of medicine, and Lillyth went into the hall to collect Lady Hilda's clothes and also some for Aedward if she could do so undetected. She called one of the hall servants to her and explained to the woman quickly that Aedward had been discovered by the Normans, but she had claimed him as her brother to protect him. The woman promised to spread the word quietly and Lillyth ran up the stairs toward the bedchambers.
She gazed about her, thinking how strange fate was that she wasn't living here now with Wulfric. She suddenly shuddered at the thought. The place was quiet and had a queer, deserted air about it. She went into Lady Hilda's chamber and lifted the lid of a coffer and began sorting the contents. A bang from one of the other chambers made her jump, and she listened intently for further sounds. As she looked around her at the dust, she had an eerie feeling that she was not alone. But hearing no further sounds, Lillyth quickly gathered together the things she thought would be most useful and placed them in a small trunk. She went quietly to Aedward's chamber, which was next door to the one Wulfric always slept in. There she shook out three long velvet tunics, heavily embroidered at the hem with gold thread. She felt nervous, as if unseen eyes were watching her. When she was about to rise from her kneeling position, she heard stealthy shuffling footsteps in the next chamber. Fear closed her throat and her heart started to pound uncontrollably. She sensed an evil presence, and all she could think of was Wulfric, She began to shake, and a scream rose in her throat as a shadow fell across the doorway.