By Possession (4 page)

“You are calling me a liar.”

“Nay, I am calling you my bondwoman. Even if Bernard spoke thus while he died, it is not legal without witnesses and documents.”

Her eyes glinted magnificently. “Is this the thanks I get?”

“You have my gratitude, although you did not give
Brian care for my sake. For Claire's perhaps, or maybe for your own, but not for mine. I was dead. Remember?”

“I find myself wishing you had remained so!”

“Oddly enough, so do I. Now go and find the boy, and tell the women to prepare a chamber for you both. A man will take you back to the cottage later so you can get whatever you need for yourself and him.”

She began walking away, stiff-backed and furious. He remembered Raymond's predatory look. Raymond was an old friend, but he knew the man's way of handling women, and he guessed that this one had been resisting his coercions for years. Perhaps that was why she sought to leave.

“Raymond will be staying for the midday meal,” he said to her retreating form. “You will sing for him.”

She froze in mid-stride, and turned her head slightly so he could see her profile. “Even bondwomen have rights,” she said sharply, her visible eye sparkling like clear water reflecting sunlight. “In this I am not my mother's daughter. Do not expect me to whore for your brother, or for any other lord or knight.”

The message was unmistakable.
Do not expect me to whore for you.
No doubt this attractive, voluptuous woman of uncertain status had fought off her share of men of every degree, so it was not really a presumptuous assumption.

As it happened it was also an accurate one, but he knew that he had given no indication of it. A slave learns to hide his desires as surely as he learns to bury his hopes. She could not know that images of having her in bed had been forming since he walked into her humble cottage.

“Bondwomen have rights, but they also have obligations for which they are paid with protection. You will sing for him, but at my command, and he will understand what it means. After today he will not bother you again.”

She turned and faced him squarely, as she had in the cottage and when he approached her a few minutes ago in this hall.

Her gaze did not appear shocked or insolent now, but familiar and knowing, as if she were accustomed to seeing the scarred barbarian every day and knew him far too well to find him at all remarkable or frightening.

And, during that moment while their eyes met, Addis did not feel like a stranger in his own homeland for the first time since setting foot back in England.

CHAPTER 2

F
OOTSTEPS SOUNDED BEHIND HER
in the twilight as long strides brought the youths closer. She tucked her chin down and hunched her shoulders, trying to become invisible, and walked a little faster toward the village. They laughed and jostled the way boys do, full of the horseplay that signaled squires freed for a while from their duties and out looking for trouble. She prayed that they would simply pass by.

They closed in behind her, their presence prickling her spine. Silence fell, broken only by whispers and snickers. Boots and long legs stretched into step alongside.

“What do you have there, girl?”

She hunched further and ignored him, clutching the basket that held the bits of old ribbon Claire had given her.

“I'm talking to you, girl. What have you got there? Something you stole?”

“It's the daughter of the falconer. You have a gift for the husband of Bernard's whore in that basket? Payment from the lord? Some wine or meat?”

“If it's wine, let's have it. Will save us the cost of ale.”

They had surrounded her and she was unable to walk forward. Despite the fear trembling like a plucked harp string, she dug in her heels and glared at them, “My mother is not a whore!”

“Ooo! Spirit. Too much for your place, girl. And your mother doesn't visit Bernard to read him the Hours. Maybe he'll share her with all of us. Make her a gift to us when we earn our spurs.”

“Why wait for the mother when the daughter is right here?”

“Aye. She looks like a dumpling, but maybe there's more curves under that robe than it appears.”

They all stepped toward her, enough to close the circle and intimidate her with their size and strength. A hand reached out and twitched the fabric of her garment with an insinuating taunt. Bright eyes and twisted smiles peered down at her, still just teasing, but approaching a dangerous line. “Leave me alone!”

One, bolder than the others, the first who spoke to her, gladly crossed that line in a way that showed in his eyes. “I don't like the way you talk to us, girl. Perhaps you need a lesson in what you are.”

“Leave her alone, John,” another voice said from behind. She twisted and saw him stride toward them, a little winded from running to catch up with the others, tall and beautiful with raven hair falling around his face. Some said he was the image of Adonis, whoever that was. Her heart made a little flip of relief and then rose to her throat.

“It's just a serf girl, Addis. Not a damsel in distress.”

“She's a child. Leave her alone. What do you think Bernard will do if he finds out you molest Edith's daughter?”

On the warning of their lord's disfavor, all but John eased back. They stepped just enough to open the circle, suddenly looking bored and impatient to be off. She faced John defiantly, feeling much braver and almost indignant now that she had him one-on-one with Addis de Valence to back her up. “My mother is not a whore,” she hissed.

John sneered a laugh and turned on his heel. The others walked off with him, leaving her to glare at their backs. Addis made to follow, then paused and looked directly at her. It was the first time, she was very positive, that he had ever done so. “Get on home to your father, girl. It is almost dark and you shouldn't be here.”

She awoke from the dreamy memory that had materialized while she awaited the dawn, annoyed that it had surfaced to remind her of that childhood awe and infatuation. Other memories, of watching for any sign of his recognition during the next weeks, of elaborating on his rescue in her imagination until she was in fact a beautiful damsel in distress, tried to take form but she banished them to the shadows of time. She turned on her bed, embarrassed by the recollections. Oh well, if a twelve-year-old girl can't be foolish, who can?

Perhaps the supper yesterday had provoked the memory. He had made her sit at the high table, two places down with Brian between them, so that she could care for the boy. Raymond had sat on his other side, and she and Brian had been ignored until the meal ended, when Addis had turned and courteously asked her to sing.

She had risen and sung an old religious melody and had seen Raymond's bright attention as he leaned forward to watch. It was the first time that she had sung publicly in years, and a full silence descended in the hall while she continued. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Addis say a few words to Raymond that provoked a sharp expression and then a suddenly much duller contemplation of her.

Perhaps he had given Raymond the message he intended. When Raymond left after the meal she had been
spared the usual insinuations with which he habitually took his leave of her. In fact, he hadn't taken his leave of her at all this time, but then a knight does not concern himself with courtesies toward a serf.

The first light leaked through the window slit and she sat and reached for her shift. If Addis thought that his gesture of protection was going to make her content, he was much mistaken. She had lived as a serf long enough to learn their few rights under the customs of the land. She did not need his help with Raymond. She had been handling that man almost as long as Addis had been gone.

She woke Brian and made him dress like a lord's son in tunic and hose. No sooner had he washed and dressed than he darted out of their chamber in search of friends.

The hall was already buzzing with activity when she entered. She spied Leonard the bailiff and walked over to him. Leonard had been Bernard's man, and the only authority on the manor during the last years. He collected the rents and saw to the villeins' service, but he was old, with filmy eyes that didn't see well anymore, and no steward or lord had been coming for visits to support his voice as was customary.

“Why are you wearing your best garments, Leonard? Those green velvets are too warm for a summer day.”

“There's to be a hallmote. Word was sent out yesterday.”

“So soon? Addis does not waste time.”

“Long overdue. Haven't held one in years. Most of the cases are so old, it will be a wonder if anyone remembers the facts. Still, I've my records, all written down. Them that thought they'd never be called to a reckoning are in for a surprise.” He smiled contentedly, proud to have done his duty despite the ambiguous ownership of the manor. “I spent several hours with him last night, showing
him the accounts. In good order, he said. The fines should bring in some nice income today, but me thinks he needs more since the word has spread that he is willing to sell the freedom to any with the price.”

That surprised her. It had become common for lords to sell their villeins their freedom, but his treatment of her yesterday had suggested that he preferred the old ways. Still, if he needed coin, it made sense. Even freed, those peasants would still work the land and accrue income for him, paying tenants' rents instead of bondmens' fees, and so their manumission meant extra funds in the short term and no real loss in the long.

His insistence on her bonded status suddenly made sense too. It would annoy her to pay for what she already owned, but if it would make short work of this misunderstanding it might be the smartest choice. If Addis just wanted a lord's fee, he should have simply named his price.

“What do you think the fee will be?”

Leonard shrugged. “Depends on the man and his worth. He won't set them too high. No one could pay then, could they? Wouldn't be any point to it.”

Relief replaced the indignant anger that had been weighting her mood. The issue of her status was a small thing, some might say. There were villeins in the village who were wealthier and more respected than most freemen. But, for all of the changes, a bondman still belonged to the lord, and if that lord proved cruel even the rights accrued by time and custom would avail him little. Freedom had been one of Bernard's three important gifts to Edith, and the greatest by far.

The hallmote was held under the old oak tree just outside the village. The manor-house folk streamed there at midday to join the villeins and freeholders who had
traveled from the other parts of the estate. Perhaps two hundred gathered around the benches set out for the twelve jurors. The lord's chair stood to one side.

Addis arrived last, impressive and frightening with his height and strength and scar. He appeared very much the lord in the long blue cotte that Raymond had sent in the morning. Moira sat in the grass with some women.

A stream of petty offenses filled the next few hours. Villeins shirking their day work and freeholders refusing to contribute to the harvest. Women accused of brewing weak ale, unmarried girls caught coupling, and a few cases of petty theft. The jurors assessed the fines with which most lords had long ago replaced physical punishments.

Leonard spoke for the lord's rights and Addis sat silently, only asking questions on occasion when explanations conflicted. The sun hung low in the sky when the legal debris of the years was finally swept away. Then it was time for petitions directly to the lord. The farmers and herders and craftsmen approached who sought to purchase their freedom.

She moved closer while Addis determined the worth of each man to the land and then set the fee. Most fell between three and ten pounds, but that would be a year's income or more for these people. Everyone thought him fair enough. She waited until all the rest finished and then approached herself.

She knelt as was customary, since she could hardly ask to buy a freedom that her actions implied was not his to sell. It hurt her pride to do so. She heard some gasps, for no one considered her a serf any longer. Looking to the ground she waited for his acknowledgment. It was a long time coming.

“You want to beg a favor or judgment, Moira?”

She looked up and saw that he was not pleased. A dangerous humor sparked in his eyes. “Aye, my lord. I too ask to buy my freedom.”

“So you acknowledge publicly that you are indeed a bondwoman?” She did not answer and his eyes locked on hers. “You think that you have enough coin?”

“I think so. A woman's fee must be lower than a man's, and my value to you is negligible.”

“You are wrong there, Moira. Your value to me is very high.”

A low buzz scurried through the crowd. “Name the fee and I will pay it,” she said tightly, thinking that she would like to strangle him for that unwarranted insinuation. He regarded her with a warm intensity that unsettled her further. A bit like Raymond, but more shielded and dangerous. He wanted to embarrass her as a punishment for daring this. Addis de Valence would never really have an interest in her like that. But the twelve-year-old girl inside her flushed from his attention and she cursed at that foolish, inner child.