Conquering Passion (22 page)

“
Oui
, now we have Fernand’s son, Mathieu, here as our steward, it seems like home.”

They augmented their household staff by bringing to the castle a local Welsh healer, Myfanwy, who was recommended by the village midwife.

“Myfanwy has a special healing touch, your Ladyship,” said the stout red faced midwife, who’d inspired Mabelle’s confidence as soon as she’d met her, despite being Saxon. Mabelle was reassured that, when she did conceive
,
she would be in good hands. Haunted by the memories of the deaths at the time of the pestilence, and how powerless she’d felt then, Mabelle suggested to Ram they should always have a healer on hand in their home, and he agreed. The Welsh woman was amenable, and Mathieu Bonhomme allocated her a small chamber within the castle.

Mabelle spent much of her time supervising the menus, preparing herbal remedies and salves under Myfanwy’s supervision, and doing embroidery and weaving. She made wimples, chemises, shifts and dresses, and shirts for Ram, though most of her husband’s clothes and the fancier items were made by local tailors.

They enjoyed their first Yuletide in Ellesmere, and celebrated in the chapel with the usual religious observances, but also enjoyed the Festival of Fools. A jester was elected to be a mock bishop. He dressed in fake vestments and led people to church, where he delivered a mocking service in gibberish nonsense, and sang rude songs. It gave them a sense of being back at home in their beloved Normandie, and relieved some of their homesickness.

“I miss our beautiful Calvados,” Mabelle confided later when they were in bed. They’d laughed hard at the Festival and it had relaxed them.

“As do I, but as long as you’re here, I can bear the homesickness. When the weather improves, we’ll return home for a visit.”

He turned her so her warm back was tucked into his body, and enfolded her in his arms, cupping her breasts.

“When I hold your breasts, I’m in Normandie. I hold my homeland in my hands.”

She felt his erection against her back.

“What is this spell you weave around me?” he whispered, nuzzling her ear. “I’ve only to touch you and I become insatiable.”

They made love, pleasuring each other, until they tumbled together into mindless oblivion, calling each other’s name, drugged by the overwhelming feelings of sensual rapture.

“You’re my lifeline in this sea of foreign hostility,” he murmured sleepily.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

After everything I did for Edgar the Aetheling when he had the good sense to capitulate at Berkhamsted, the ungrateful wretch rebelled against my authority.”

King William clenched the arms of his throne. He was incensed as he addressed his advisors, though the news they brought him of Edgar’s defeat was welcome indeed.

“He incited Morcar in Northumbria to rise up again. I should have kept him in Normandie after I took him hostage at Berkhamsted, rather than bringing him back with me.”

“Your Highness, worry no longer. He has fled to Hungary with his sisters, Margaret and Cristina, after his defeat at our hands.”

William had risen. He glared at them. “They were born in Hungary, when their father was in exile. Their mother is Hungarian. They’ll find support there.”

“Surely that can’t hurt you, Sire? Hungary is far away.”

William snarled. “Capturing him would have been a better outcome.”

***

Ascha Woolgar wondered what the commotion was about when her nephew Gawain burst into the room where she was playing with her son, Caedmon.

“Have you seen father?” he panted.

She frowned. “I believe he’s in his chamber.”

“I must find him and tell him the news from Court. Edgar the Aetheling’s ship has foundered in a gale off the coast of Fife. He and his sisters have been rescued and brought to King Malcolm’s court.”

Ascha’s mouth fell open. “The Aetheling? Our true King? Sailing off the coast of Scotland?”

Gawain nodded his head so vigorously, Ascha worried it might fall off. “He was part of Earl Morcar’s rebellion in Northumbria against the Normans but was defeated. His plan was to flee to Hungary, the land of his birth, when the ship went down.”

“The hope for ridding England of the Normans still lives?” Ascha asked excitedly, stooping to pick up Caedmon, who’d struggled to his feet, hanging on to the folds of his mother’s dress.

“Yes.” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “The other astounding news is the newly widowed King Malcolm is smitten with young Margaret, Edgar’s sister. Apparently he rode from his residence in Dunfermline to welcome the royal refugees. Imagine if he marries her. What a political manoeuvre! It would bring Malcolm an alliance with the old royal house of England, and a large dowry given her by the King of Hungary. Edgar would benefit enormously from having a brother-by-marriage who is already a formidable opponent of the Norman usurpers. I’m confident Malcolm would support Edgar if he attempted to regain the throne again.”

Ascha planted a kiss on Caedmon’s nose, then put her hand on Gawain’s shoulder. He quivered with excitement. “Your father will be delighted with this news. I’ll help you find him.”

***

As Gawain and the whole Saxon community in Scotland hoped, King Malcolm Canmore, the Great Chieftain, became besotted and did marry Princess Margaret. He agreed to support her brother Edgar in his campaign to reclaim the English throne. When a major rebellion broke out in Northumbria early the following year, Edgar returned to England with other rebels who’d fled to Scotland, to lead the revolt. Gawain and Gareth Bronson were among those who went with him.

After early successes the rebels were defeated by King William at York, and Edgar again sought refuge with King Malcolm. Gareth was wounded, but Gawain managed to get him back to Scotland safely. Ascha took care of him and he recovered.

In late summer that year, the arrival of a fleet sent by King Sweyn of Denmark spawned a fresh wave of English uprisings in various parts of the country. Edgar and the other exiles sailed to the Humber, where they joined with Northumbrian rebels and the Danes. Their combined forces overwhelmed the Normans at York and took control of Northumbria.

Edgar then led a seaborne raid into Lindsey which ended in disaster, and he escaped with only a handful of followers to rejoin the main army. Gawain was among them, Gareth wasn’t. He died instantly, felled by an arrow through the heart.

Ascha grieved for her dear brother, her protector and champion. Gawain, his heir, assured his aunt she and little Caedmon could remain in the house.

Late in the year, King William fought his way into Northumbria and regained York, buying off the Danes and devastating the surrounding country. After Yuletide he moved against Edgar and other English leaders, who’d taken refuge with their remaining followers in a marshy region, and put them to flight. Edgar returned once more to Scotland. Gawain drowned in the marshes. Since he had no heirs his property devolved to Ascha.

***

Ram was angry as he strode out of the recently furbished Map Room at Ellesmere into the corridor, where he found Mabelle, walking by with a servant.

“What is it, Ram?” she asked.

“The news from Northumbria and York is dire. I hope we can resolve the Welsh problem without having to resort to the tactics William is using in the north,” Ram replied, running a hand agitatedly through his hair. He glanced at the servant, whom Mabelle promptly sent away.

“What’s he doing? Hasn’t the rebellion had been quashed?”

“It has, but he’s bought off the Danes and is harrying the whole region. The devastation includes setting fire to the vegetation, houses and tools to work the fields. It’s inevitable anyone who escapes slaughter will starve. Walk with me to our chamber. I feel safer talking there.”

Once they reached their sanctuary, he continued, “After such cruel treatment, neither the people nor the land will recover for many years. You know I want the firm establishment of Norman rule, but William has let his anger get the better of him. It sickens me. He wants to terrify the English into obedience. These actions won’t benefit us in the long run.”

He could voice these treacherous notions to his wife. She would never betray him. “What worries me in particular is that in this region some of the other Marcher Lords are capable of similar atrocities.”

***

Malcolm Canmore, King of Scotland, was a fierce and passionate man. He’d embraced the cause of his brother-by-marriage Edgar, not only for the sake of his beloved wife Margaret but also because he despised the Normans. He had designs on Cumbria and Northumbria, which he’d tried to bring under his rule for years before the advent of the invaders.

He welcomed Edgar back once more, frustration evident in his voice. “The news from Northumbria and York is dreadful Edgar. The Normans are putting everyone to the sword, and everything to the torch. If they continue with this strategy, there’ll be nothing left of the borderlands for us to win. What does the Conqueror have to gain from such cruelty? Margaret is devastated. You know the depth of your sister’s piety.”

Edgar drew his cloak more tightly around his shoulders, trying to ward off the chilly draughts of the castle. His harrowing experience in the marshes of Holderness had resulted in an ague. He was exhausted and discouraged. “William has let his anger get the better of him. In the long run this harrying will result in greater hatred for the Normans amongst the people—if they survive.”

Malcolm slapped him on the back. “Don’t be discouraged, Edgar. We Scots will keep trying to oust these barbarians from the lands we want, and I’ll continue to support your claim to the throne.”

Edgar, a Saxon, privately thought it amusing the king of an uncivilized horde such as the Scots would refer to the Normans as barbarians. He could admit Saxons might be inferior to the Normans in the arts and learning, but they’d brought a much greater degree of civilization to the southern reaches of Scotland than had existed before.

But he needed Malcolm’s support, and the old warrior doted on his pious sister.

***

In the year of our Lord One Thousand and Seventy-Two, King William invaded Scotland with a large and well organized army, in retaliation for Malcolm’s invading the north of England yet again. William’s march took him through Lothian and across the river Forth at Stirling, then on to the River Tay. The whole population of Lothian was in panic, especially the exiled Saxons.

Malcolm knew his forces were no match for the powerful host of Norman knights and men-at-arms, and refused to give battle. William offered to talk terms at Abernethy, on the Tay.

“This is getting tiresome, Malcolm,” William said to him condescendingly as they sat together to hammer out a treaty. “You can’t win. I’m getting frustrated by your delaying tactics. As part of our agreement, and to guarantee you’ll not attack again, I demand your son Duncan as a hostage for peace.”

The infuriated Malcolm had no choice. He gave his son by the late Queen Ingibjorg into William’s hands, and agreed not to harbour the king’s enemies. Edgar fled to the protection of the Flemish
Comte
Robert the Frisian, an enemy of the Normans.

Malcolm told his nervous courtiers, “William views the treaty as a formal act of homage by me, the King of Scotland, as his vassal.

I see it only as recognition of English suzerainty over Cumbria and Northumbria, and don’t consider myself bound by it in any way.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Despite the ongoing problems with Welsh discontent, Ellesmere prospered. The spacious Great Hall was completed, and Ram proudly showed off the intricately carved tables and large impressive hangings from Normandie.

Mabelle grew to love the region around the town. A few Normans had settled in the region prior to the conquest. There were mountains, moorlands, farms, wooded river valleys, and quaint villages. Ram explained to her it had come to be known as the Marches, because the Anglo-Saxon word for boundary was
mearc
.

True to his promise, William granted Ram virtual independence and what amounted to kingship over his lands. Marcher lords ruled their lands as they saw fit, unlike other English lords who were directly accountable to the king. Ram could build castles, administer laws, wage wars, establish towns, salvage, claim treasure-trove, plunder and was allowed to fish for royal fish. The King’s plan was to subdue the Welsh without having to do it himself.

As the Earl, Ram was often away dealing with Welsh incursions, holding courts which could try all cases except high treason, and administering his territory. He encouraged immigration from Normandie, established markets and expanded trade, especially in fine cloth and wine. Sheriffs received their appointments from him. Occasionally, he had to confiscate the estates of felons, and redistribute them to other more trustworthy folk. His experience administering the Montbryce family estate was of great benefit to him, and he became known in the Marches as a firm but fair ruler, and a soldier to be reckoned with. He believed if people had enough food and the basic necessities of life, and were treated fairly, they wouldn’t want to rebel.