The Wolf and the Dove (24 page)

Aislinn made to draw away, nervous at his words, but he tightened his grip on her hand.

“Nay, be not frightened, Aislinn. I meant no injury. ’Tis only that I seek to make amends.”

“Amends?” she repeated.

“Aye. ‘Twas well known I was bent upon my own selfish desires, for I wanted you badly and was not wont to give you up. For my outrageous demands upon you I can only beg in humble apology that you forgive me.”

Aislinn rose up and pressed a kiss upon his cheek. “We are forever friends, dear Kerwick.”

A short, satirical laugh broke them apart and they whirled to see Gwyneth leisurely descending the stairs, a smile playing about her lips. From her crouched position in a darkened corner, Maida rose and scurried out of the hall to brave the snowy winds, seeking the safety of her humble cottage well away from this half-Norman shrew.

Gwyneth paused at the foot of the stairs, her arms akimbo. A soft chuckle escaped her as she considered the two before her.

“My brother will be interested in hearing that his mistress amuses herself with other men in his absence.” Her pale eyes brightened. “And he will surely hear of it, I swear.”

Kerwick stood with clenched fists and for the first time in his life was greatly tempted to strike a woman. Aislinn smiled with a serenity she was far from feeling.

“I have no doubt you will tell him, Gwyneth, with your usual care for detail.”

With that Aislinn passed the now silent Gwyneth and mounted the stairs to seek what comfort she could find in the bedchamber, knowing that she was not completely safe from Gwyneth’s spiteful ways.

Wulfgar shifted in his saddle as his sharp eyes slowly scanned the countryside. Sharp, chill winds pressed the woolen mantle more closely against his sturdy frame and his cheeks tingled with its icy bite. Dreary skies lent no color to the wintery browns and grays of the forests and fields. Behind him the knights Gowain, Milbourne, and Beaufonte waited with the others under his command, sixteen men-at-arms ever ready with long bows, lances and short swords. In the protection of the trees the covered cart Gwyneth and Bolsgar had arrived with strained up the hill, loaded with food for his men and grain to supplement the forage obtained along the route. An old but sturdy Saxon, Bowein, who had returned from service to Harold to find his home burned and fields ravaged, had welcomed an offer of a new home for his allegiance and now swore at the horses in colorful language that was foreign but not totally unfamiliar to many of the Normans riding alongside.

Wulfgar’s foresight provided a strong, yet mobile band. He had long studied the ways of an army and chose to mount all his men when it was the wont of most knights and noblemen to mount only themselves while the men-at-arms wielded bows and lighter swords and spears and acted as the footmen of the army. He had seen no future for his men to walk their feet raw on the stony soil of England. Those he took with him he set upon horses and they accompanied him so; they dismounted and acted as men-of-arms when battles raged.

In the span of weeks Wulfgar had been at Darkenwald, William had had to bide his time, waiting for the strength of his men to return. They had been unable to march for nearly a month due to a malady not unknown in armies, which in this case had spared not even William himself. It made them prone to stay in camp and near a deep trench. Since Wulfgar’s band had not suffered this, he had been flung upon a wide patrol to see no Saxon armies gathered in the south or west. It had usually fallen his lot to ride far from the main body of the army to secure the smaller hamlets, villages, and towns that might gather against the Normans. He did this well and ranging far from the main body his men fared better; their food was of a higher quality and their horses foraged on sweeter turf.

His position now was well west of London in the heavily wooded hills near the turning point of his sweep. For the most part they had traveled unseen and made their presence as little felt as possible. All seemed quiet about them but as Wulfgar continued to scan the countryside a group of three knights appeared, riding across the hills. Turning, Wulfgar gestured to Milbourne and Gowain and bade the other men to wait yet keep their swords and longbows handy for he knew not what small force might lie and wait in the copse of trees. With these two knights he rode down from the hill toward the three in the vale. A shout brought their attention and as they turned and saw his group, the three couched their lances and displayed their shields, which named them English and thus foes of William. They ranged themselves wide to meet him. When Wulfgar was close enough that the others began to worry, he stopped and waited for a moment, giving them ample time to view his shields and arms.

“I am Wulfgar of William’s men,” he said in a commanding voice. “By your colors I see you are men of Rockwell. I must bid you yield, for we are set against him as he has not taken an oath for William.”

The eldest knight of the three faced him squarely and met his challenge with words in kind. “I am Forsgell, and I do not abide this Norman Duke. I have sworn my lance and blade to a loyal Saxon lord and with God’s help we will send invaders from our land. We will have no king but that which we abide.”

“Then it is battle you have set us to,” Wulfgar replied. He gestured toward his men waiting above. “They will take no part, for you are knights and sworn by the honor of the cross you wear.”

With his words he whirled the Hun and rode back some paces. Now all gripped their lances tightly and with a shout spurred their horses forward, three against three. The Hun charged, his huge hooves thundering in the turf and his muscles pulsing with his effort. He knew the feel of battle as well as his master. Wulfgar grasped the heaving sides with his knees and leaned into the lance. The elder knight took him full on and the two met with a thundering crash. The first pass was harmless and the horses whirled and set toward each other again as if of one mind. This time the greater weight of Wulfgar made itself felt, for his lance took the shield of the knight and smashed it against his shoulder before his own could touch the Norman. The Saxon’s lance was hurled aside and his shield was swept from him but he held his place in the saddle. His left arm was numb but the horse still answered to his knees. Wulfgar stood away and gave him pause. The man gallantly drew the heavy sword with his good right hand and
spurred his horse forward again. Throwing his own lance and shield aside, Wulfgar drew the long, bright blade that had so often held his honor, and without touching the Hun the horse leapt forward. The blades met and rang and now the difference told for the steed upon which he sat held Wulfgar always face on to the other, never being turned, always thrusting forward, pressing his powerful chest against the lesser horse until it stumbled and clawed to keep its footing. Wulfgar’s sword rang upon the other knight’s armor and blade. A blow to the head and now blood trickled slowly from beneath the helm of the Saxon and his arm grew heavy and weary. He shook his head and tried to lift his other arm but it still hung numb against his side. Now it was all he could do to present his blade to Wulfgar and still the great steed pressed and the shining blade sang ever harder, ever heavier against his defense. Wulfgar seized his sword in both hands and with his war cry ringing loud, he brought it down from above
in full force. It shattered the other’s blade and sank into his shoulder. The man could no longer lift either arm and could only sit helplessly. Wulfgar drew the Hun back and the man said no word but simply nodded his head. He yielded the day and Wulfgar’s battle was won. He turned to the other forays and they too were quickly solved. Now three knights were taken, stripped of their arms and shields, no longer bound of oath but prisoners to be sent back to William for whatever disposal he might seek of them.

Thus it was that William was able to march unhindered and without word of his advance proceeding him. Many castles and strongholds awoke on a morning to find that without warning they had been surrounded. The sight of this vast army covering the hills around them and waiting the signal to attack rapidly brought out bargainers to seek the most favorable terms.

Wulfgar continued to ride. The skies turned gray and heavy and soon the clouds were obscured by a drizzle that sent icy runnels down his neck and chausses. The saddles became wet and it took constant attention to remain well seated. Still, if it brought discomfort the rain also served them in their efforts, for it dampened the high spirits and did not urge his men to sing or shout or even speak. They rode in silence and were doubly alert, for they knew they could be easily surprised from the murk that surrounded them.

Wulfgar stopped and raised his hand. Ahead of them came the sound of angry cursing. At his signal the men-at-arms dismounted and giving their horses to the pages, quietly strung their bows with hardened willow shafts. The bows, strings, and arrows were well oiled and protected by quiver caps of oiled leather, for Wulfgar was well aware of the dampness that comes with winter on these islands.

His knights couched lances and moved slowly forward ahead of their supporting footmen. A small stream crossed the path at a low spot and would normally have given no more than a wetting of hooves to travelers, but now it made a mire several yards across and in its middle sat a four wheeled wagon bearing four children and two women. Two men and a strapping youth strained at the muddy wheels while the elder of the women urged a pair of tired punches to greater effort. A man with his left arm gone, pulled back and cursed until his eyes fell on the four knights with their lances pointing at him. His sudden silence drew the attention of the others and gasps of surprise reached Wulfgar’s ears. He urged the Hun forward and considered the situation for a moment before signaling for his men to relax. There was no threat in these sodden serfs.

Wulfgar came forward until his lance almost touched the chest of the older man. “I bid you yield, for the day is miserable and not fit for dying.”

He spoke casually but the tone of his voice carried more menace than his words. The one-armed man gaped and nodded, though his eyes never left the point of the lance. There was a scurry of sound from the wagon and the well-trained destrier turned of his own to meet this possible threat. A small boy struggled to lift a huge broadsword as long as he was tall.

“I’ll fight you, Norman,” the lad sobbed as he struggled. Hs dark eyes brimmed with tears. “I’Il fight you.”

“Miles!” gasped the younger woman as she jumped down from the cart. She caught the boy and sought to quiet him but he pulled away and stood bravely facing Wulfgar in the pouring rain.

“You killed my father,” he boldly stated. “But I’m not afraid to fight you.”

The tall knight looked into the boy’s eyes, finding some of the fiery courage of his own youth there. Wulfgar swept his lance to the vertical, spreading its banner with his coat of arms upon it and smiled tolerantly.

“I have no doubt you would, lad. England and William will have good need of spirit such as yours, but at the moment I am heavily enraged on the Duke’s business, so am not free to duel.”

The woman who held the boy seemed to relax and her gaze bespoke gratitude as she stared up at the Norman knight.

Wulfgar turned to the men and demanded, “Who are you and where are you bound?”

The elder one stepped forward. “I am Gavin, the smith. I was an archer and went to fight with Harold in the North against the Norwegians and there lost my arm.” He turned and gestured to the woman in the cart. “That one is my wife, Miderd, and this other is my widowed sister, Haylan.” He dropped his hand upon the shoulder of the youth beside her. “This one who spoke to you is Haylan’s son, Miles. The other children are mine and the man is my brother, Sanhurst. We are bound to find a new home for ourselves since the Normans have taken ours.”

As the man spoke Wulfgar noticed the pallor of his face and a reddish tinge where the empty sleeve was knotted. His gaze shifted to the younger man who was short of stature but brawny of frame.

“The town of Darkenwald—,” Wulfgar said, considering the two. “Do you know of it?”

“The name is familiar, milord,” the younger man replied cautiously.

“Yea, ‘tis known,” Gavin interrupted. “The old lord who lives there once passed through our burh. Contrary he was. He would have me shoe a horse he purchased for his daughter and would not brook delay since he wished to present it to her on the same day, to celebrate Michaelmas. He boasted that she could ride as well as any man, and she would have had to, milord, for the Barb he purchased was a spirited one.”

Wulfgar’s brow lowered at the memory of Gwyneth’s accusations echoed the man’s words. “Aye, the mare was spirited as is the wench, but ‘tis no matter now. If you are of a mind, you may make your home at Darkenwald. There is need of a smith.”

Gavin peered up at him as the misty rain fell against his face. “You send me to a Saxon shire?”

“The old man is no more,” Wulfgar answered. “I hold the town for William until that time England is his, then the fief shall be mine.” He gestured to Sanhurst. “He will go with me and his duty will be to guard my back. If he does that well, I will return to see your family settled.”

The Saxons exchanged questioning glances among themselves before Gavin stepped forward. “Begging pardon, milord, but we are not looking to serve Normans. We would find a place yet where we can know our own.”

Wulfgar shifted in his saddle and peered at them. “Do you think you will go far when Normans range the countryside?” He looked into the faces of each and saw the uncertainty in them. “I will give you my banner. None of William’s men will harm you if they are shown this.” He gestured to Gavin’s arm. “There is also one at Darkenwald who will see to your wound. She is the old lord’s daughter and wise in the ways of healing. It remains your choice, whether you go or try to find your way to some other town that is still English held, yet I warn you. Every town will be taken, for William is rightful heir to the throne and is determined to have it.”

Gavin stepped back to Sanhurst and they spoke quietly between them for several moments before the younger nodded and approached Wulfgar. He halted before the huge steed and squinted upward as the rain trickled down his face.

“They will go to Darkenwald, my lord, and I with you.”

“ ’Tis well,” Wulfgar replied.

He wheeled the Hun about to where Bowein waited in the cart just behind the archers. With a quick word to the old Saxon, he received a rope from beneath the seat. This he carried back to the wagon where he looped the strand double about a ring set in front bringing the other end around to the high back of his saddle. Urging the Hun forward to the limit of the rope he gestured to the woman who sat holding the reins. She shouted and slapped them and the smaller horses strained once more against their harnesses. Wulfgar’s stallion seemed to know what was required and casting a wary eye backward, took up the slack and leaned his bulk plus several hundred pounds of armor and rider against the cable. His monstrous hooves churned mud and appeared to sink low, but then surged forward in a series of short, powerful lunges. The wagon creaked and with a sucking sound the wheels began to turn, slowly at first, but picking up speed until the vehicle fairly raced up the farther bank. The men of the family slogged through
the mud and gave Wulfgar their thanks while the rest of his force joined him. Bowein waited until all were clear, then charged into the muck full apace and with a large destrier pulling the lighter cart came through without a pause.