Page 9 of Saxon Lady

A elia would not go to London. The thought of facing that murderous Norman, William, was more than she could stomach. She was not afraid of the man, but she could not deny that Fitz Autier’s orders unnerved her. What could the bastard king possibly want with her?

Ingelwald was her place. She was needed here in the aftermath of so many battles and such devastation. The people had always looked to her father and his men for direction, and there were many who owed work or rents. Now that Wallis was gone, ’twas up to Aelia to take charge of the holding. There were hundreds of acres under cultivation, and huge numbers of livestock, with pounds of grain and weights of meat owed to her bondsmen, food that would sustain them throughout the year. ’Twould soon be time for harvest, and Aelia had yet to miss one.

She lay back upon the lumpy straw mattress in her room and tried to find a comfortable position. How could she refuse to go with Fitz Autier? She had no power, no say in what happened to her. In that, she was no better than the lowest slave.

At least she’d been given one day’s reprieve. Fitz Autier had not been able to leave Ingelwald as soon as he wanted. Too many of his men had been injured in the skirmish with the renegade Saxons, and now there were even more prisoners to deal with.

She spent a restless night locked in her own chamber, and was awakened from an uneasy slumber by a knock at her door. ’Twas Rowena, one of the housemaids. She was much younger than Aelia, a very pretty girl who’d garnered much attention from Ingelwald’s young swains. She carried a bundle of cloth in her arms and spoke perfunctorily, her voice expressionless. “The Norman sent me with this.”

Aelia took the parcel, taking note of the girl’s pallor and the dark circles under her eyes. “Are you unwell, Rowena?”

The girl bit down on her lip and shook her head, cowering before the Norman guard who stood beside the door, watching their every move.

“Then what is it? What are you—”

“’Tis naught, my lady. I’ll not speak of it.”

Aelia frowned, taking note of a red scrape upon her neck—no, ’twas a bite mark! “You were assaulted. One of these bastards…did he rape you?”

Rowena trembled and tears streamed down her face. Aelia tried to draw her inside the room, but the Norman guard interfered.

“Move, you Norman oaf! I will speak to her here. In private!” Aelia shoved herself between Rowena and the guard, eased the girl into the chamber, then shut the door.

“I am so sorry, Rowena,” Aelia said as an unholy rage flared within her. Why couldn’t the man have chosen an older maid, one more experienced, and more will ing? Nelda, perhaps, who was known to give herself freely. “Is there aught to be done for you?”

Aelia remembered the day her father had brought Rowena to work in the hall. The girl’s father had drowned and there’d been no other family to care for her.

“I may be with ch-child, my lady….” Her voice was tremulous.

“I’ll see the swine punished. Who is he?”

Rowena shook her head and wept. “You can do naught! ’Tis done now—”

“If there is a child, I’ll see that the bastard takes care of you both.”

“No! I wish never to lay eyes upon him again!”

“Tell me who it was.”

“A Norman! You know him…s-so big. Dark.” She pressed a hand to her cheek. “Scarred.”

Aelia’s anger grew to a seething, pulsing rage. She yanked open her chamber door and pushed past the guard as Rowena whimpered behind her. It took but a moment to climb the stairs to her father’s chamber, slip away from the guard once again and throw open the door.

“Fitz Autier!”

He was fastening his belt over a dark blue tunic.

“How dare you!”

He looked up at her. A crease formed between his brows and he spoke, but Aelia barely heard the guard’s apology to his baron, or Fitz Autier’s dismissal of him.

“How dare I what?”

“Rowena is still a child, barely thirteen years old!”

The crease grew deeper. “Rowena?”

“You know very well, seignior.” His dagger lay untended upon the end of the bed, beside his gauntlets. Aelia’s hand darted out and grabbed it. She held it up in a threatening manner and hoped he would come after her for it. Godwin had taught her how to deal with a man of Fitz Autier’s size. Once he came toward her, she would quickly feint to the side, then slide her foot ’round his ankle to trip him.

When he fell, she would drop on top of him and mete out the punishment he deserved.

“Am I to understand that someone called Rowena has been wronged?” He did not move, other than to cross his arms over his chest. Fury made her heart pound and her breath come in short spurts. She tightened her grip on the knife and widened her stance. “You did not even know her name, did you?”

“How could I, demoiselle? ”

“’Tis just like a Norman to take from another…to steal what is precious, without regard to—”

“Are we speaking of a woman?”

“A girl! An innocent child!”

Aelia lunged.

Fitz Autier moved so fast she missed him, and before she could strike at him, he took hold of her wrist and shook the knife free. It fell to the floor and he pulled her arm up behind her, shoving her facedown on the bed.

He dropped beside her, holding her in place. “Explain what this is about.”

“Get off me!”

“Talk!”

“’Tis pointless! You Normans would never admit to raping a young girl, unless ’twas to boast of it to your despicable companions.” She tried to push up, but could not oust him from his position.

“Rape?”

“Aye. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” She spat out the words, laden with sarcasm. “’Tis when a man without honor takes a woman against her will, holding her down and—”

He released her abruptly and stood back.

Aelia pushed herself off the bed and would have gone for the door if he’d not stood in her path.

“She accused me? This Rowena?”

“Who else is so tall and dark…and bears a scar on his cheek?”

His jaw clenched dangerously. “A number of us, demoiselle. We have seen many battles. Who among us is not scarred?”

“Do you deny it, then?” There was more bluster than threat in her tone, and they both knew it. His eyes, icy blue, pierced her, but she felt little fear of him. Could Rowena have been mistaken about her attacker—or had Aelia come to the wrong conclusion?

“There is only one woman at Ingelwald who is of interest to me,” Fitz Autier said, his voice low and ominous. “And the only reason her virtue remains intact is that I have no desire to force myself upon an unwilling woman.”

His meaning became clear, and Aelia found herself unable to speak. She watched his eyes peruse her body as if he were a starving man looking to break his fast. Her throat tightened and she stood still for an interminable interval, then fled the room.

Aelia escaped to her own chamber and stood with her back against the stout wooden door, listening to the pounding of her heart in her ears. The only reason she felt so agitated was because of Rowena. And now that she knew Fitz Autier was not the one who’d raped the girl, Aelia would make it her business to discover and punish the man who’d done it.

Fresh water had been left for her, as well as a comb and a short leather strip to bind her hair. She made quick use of both, then dressed in the soft linen under-kirtle and green bliaut that Rowena had brought. The linen bandage Fitz Autier had bound around her neck chafed her, but she left it in place in her haste to leave the chamber and find the maid.

There were pointed questions to ask about her attacker.

Expecting an argument from the guard at her door, Aelia was surprised when he allowed her to descend to the great hall. Sir Gilbert still tended the wounded, along with the tall, blond, one-eyed knight, but she noted with relief that Fitz Autier was not in sight.

Ingelwald hall boasted two kitchens, and Aelia hoped to find Rowena in one of them. The first was empty, so she went outside to the separate building where most of the baking was done, especially in summer. There in the bake house, she found Grendel and his mother. “I’m looking for Rowena.”

“She is not with you, my lady?” asked Elga. “I sent her to your chamber with the clothes given me by the Norman baron.”

Aelia shook her head. “No. I saw her a while ago, but…” But she’d run up the stairs to take Fitz Autier’s head off for something he had not done.

Still, he was responsible for the actions of his men. And if one of them had defiled Rowena, Aelia was going to see that he paid dearly for it.

“I’d hoped she would be safe with you after what—”

A piercing scream launched Aelia through the bake house door. ’Twas not the carefree shriek of a child at play, but that of a desperate woman.

Men and women came to the doors of their shops and cottages and looked out.

An old woman pointed to the chandler’s shop, and when another scream came from that direction, Aelia did not stop to think, but went straight for it.

Mathieu looked out the window and saw Aelia. Though she was speaking to her own people, her posture was that of a warrior poised for battle. She wore women’s clothes now, and her hair had been tamed into a soft cascade that teased her hips. But Mathieu knew her clothes would do naught to tame her temper.

She turned suddenly and ran, and Mathieu had no choice but to do the same.

Clearly, something was amiss, and the lady of Ingelwald intended to right it. He tore down the stairs and through the great hall, shoving his way out the main door. He heard Auvrai’s shout behind him, but kept moving toward the place where he’d seen Aelia.

When he reached the courtyard, he heard it, too—terrified screams mixed with the shouts of a furious woman. A loud crash drove Mathieu forward, toward the chandler’s shop.

’Twas deserted and there was little light inside, but Mathieu could smell the wax and discern shelves against two walls, filled with candles. Beyond three worktables, in the farthest corner of the room, he saw Aelia’s green-clad figure.

Mathieu closed in on her as she wielded a stout wooden joist. “You are a demon!” she cried, swinging the beam, resulting in a fierce grunt when the blow met its target—a man crouched upon the floor in the corner.

When the unlucky fellow sprawled to the ground, a child scrambled out from beneath him, crying, barely able to catch her breath. Without taking her eyes from her prey, Aelia shouted English words at the girl, who stumbled toward the door, stopping short when she saw Mathieu. She was a comely maid, but little more than a child. Her split and bleeding lip and the terror in her eyes sickened him, bringing an unwelcome reminder of his own mother’s state after his noble father’s visits.

“Move, Norman, and I’ll spill your brains on the floor over the chandler’s wax,” Aelia said, taking Mathieu’s attention from the girl, who regained her wits and ran, terrified, from the shop.

“You will regret this, Saxon wench.” The man’s voice was low and gravelly. Mathieu knew it belonged to Durand the Black, the man who’d struck Aelia when he’d been assigned to guard her.

Mathieu stepped forward. “Aelia.”

“This animal raped Rowena,” she said. Her face was covered with tears, but Mathieu did not think she even realized it. “Is this the way of the Normans?”

Durand rose to his feet, moving to wrest the beam from Aelia. She swung it again, the timber coming down hard, but missing Durand’s arm.

Mathieu pushed past Aelia. Taking hold of Durand’s tunic, he plowed his fist into the man’s face, sending him to the floor in a slump. “Get yourself to the gates and help the carpenters there. And be ready to travel in the morning. You’re coming to London with me.”

The man got to his feet and skulked out of the shop, muttering under his breath.

Mathieu turned to Aelia and saw that her face was devoid of color except for the purple bruise on her cheekbone. And she was shaking. When her legs started to give out, he caught her in his arms. “Take a deep breath,” he said.

She felt light and fragile when he lifted her, cradling her carefully as though she might break. Her face was still damp with tears.

Mathieu carried her to the chandler’s living quarters at the back of the shop. Taking a seat on a wooden chair near the hearth, he pressed Aelia against his chest and waited for the trembling to subside. He touched her hair, slid his hand down her shoulder and arm…wanted to kiss away her tears.

He swallowed. “The girl is safe. I’ll see that Durand goes nowhere near her again.”

She nodded, moving her head against his chest. “I accused you. W-wrongly.”

“Aye.” He tucked her head under his chin, holding her until the shuddering stopped and her heartbeat slowed to normal.

“If he goes near Rowena again, I will kill him,” she said in a whisper.

“I’ll see that he doesn’t.” Mathieu was going to leave Ingelwald at first light, with Durand among the men who accompanied him. Until that time, the errant knight would be kept hard at work or confined under guard. There would be no more trouble from him at Ingelwald.

But the journey to London would be another matter. Mathieu had already decided who was to accompany him, and the number of men was small. Aelia and Durand would be in close quarters for several days. Somehow Mathieu would have to keep them separate.

He had spent a difficult night dealing with the new Saxon prisoners and conferring with Auvrai, who would remain at Ingelwald to oversee the repair of all the damage done by months of warfare, as well as improve ments on Wallis’s great hall. When Mathieu had finally gone to his bed, he’d had trouble sleeping as he considered every possible ploy to avoid taking Aelia to King William. But ’twas clear she could not remain behind. Besides his own ravening attraction to her, she was clearly well loved by her people. They would never accept Norman dominion as long as their Saxon lady maintained residence here.

But awareness of what William would do to her and her young brother curdled in Mathieu’s belly. To parade them before jeering crowds, humiliating them before their own people, as well as their Norman conquerors, would be beyond cruel.

Her execution was something he could not even contemplate.

A sudden sharp pain in his jaw made him realize he was clenching his teeth. He had no choice but to take Aelia and her brother to London, but he was resolved to convince King William to deal compassionately with them. Mathieu was, after all, not without influence with the king. William had already shown him great favor by naming him baron and sending him here to relieve de Reviers, promising him this rich holding when he suppressed Wallis’s resistance.

“You have been very…obliging…” Aelia quietly remarked. “I did not think you would care what happened to a Saxon woman.”

“She is hardly more than a child, Aelia, as you well know.” If his voice sounded harsh, ’twas only because of the dismal direction of his thoughts.

“And why should a Saxon child’s welfare concern you?”

’Twas much more complicated than he liked. He had never spoken of how he felt to be the result of a brutal rape, and was not about to do so now. “All who dwell at Ingelwald are under my authority. Lawlessness and chaos serve no one.”

“What compensation will you give Rowena for her lost maidenhead? For the child she might bear?”

“Durand will pay whatever her family demands.”

“She has no family.” Aelia pushed away from Mathieu and stood. She still did not appear altogether steady, but it seemed best to allow some space between them. He would see that they kept it.

“He will pay her the customary wergeld, then.”

“Through me,” Aelia demanded. Her appearance was regal though she wore but a simple gown, and her hair was only partially confined at her back. The color had come back into her face, giving a rosy hue to her cheeks and a blush to her lips. “And that brute is not to speak to Rowena. Ever.”

“Agreed.” Mathieu stood and turned his back to her. Distance was what was needed here. Miles if he could manage it.