Enchantress Mine (48 page)

As the walls of the outer curtain rose, their battlements were constructed. The higher sections of the battlements were called merlons, and had arrow loops within them. The merlons were topped with sharp stone spikes. It was obvious that by summer’s end the walls of the outer curtain would be finished, and its towers begun, provided that the weather held. Once that was done it would be difficult to halt construction of Aldford.

Several weeks after Matilda’s coronation, word began to filter into Aelfleah’s valley of rebellion and revolt. Harold Godwinson’s three sons by Edyth Swansneck sailed from Ireland, where they had been exiled, to raid the countryside of the Bristol Channel, and part of the West Country. Fortunately Aelfleah was too remote to be bothered with, but that was not so when Earl Edwin and his younger brother, Earl Morkar, raised a revolt with their Welsh allies.

During those tense weeks of midsummer, no one slept easy. Mairin feared that Edwin and his forces would attempt to take Aelfleah. That would mean that Josselin would fight, and he might be killed. Now that she was certain she was with child again, her concern for her child’s father became almost an obsession. When they learned in late summer that Gospatric, newly appointed by King William to govern Northumbria, had revolted and declared for Edgar the Atheling, Mairin was almost hysterical.

“How can the king hold England with all these rebellions?” she fretted.

“I have never known William of Normandy to release his hold on anything he considers his own,” Josselin tried to reassure her.

“Edgar the Atheling has sought refuge with his mother and sisters in Scotland. The Scots are raiding!”

Josselin laughed. “It was my understanding that the Scots and the Northumbrians are always raiding each other’s holdings. There is rarely peace in that part of England. The Atheling is still too young to seriously challenge King William. Much is done in his name that I suspect he would rather not be done. I think he fled to Scotland in possible preparation for a return to Hungary where he was born, and where he will be safe from all of this. William would have eventually had to either lock him up or kill him. He and his family know this.” He put his arms about her, and gently patted her belly which did not yet show her condition. “Do not fret, my love. Rest easy, and care for our child.”

“Eadric the Wild is on the march again,” she challenged him.

“Do you seriously believe that Eadric would return to Aelfleah after the way you treated him the last time? From what I hear, the man is no fool. Besides, he knows there is nothing here of any real value.”

“There is Aldford,” she replied.

“Which would take too much of Eadric’s time to tear down now, and not being finished yet, is not worth having. A castle, Mairin, is only valuable when it is habitable, and can be used for defense against one’s enemies. Aldford is neither. There are easier pickings for your old friend Eadric the Wild than Aelfleah. He knows I am here now, and that I will defend this holding.”

The three major revolts of that summer of 1068 each died a stillborn death. The late Harold Godwinson’s three strapping sons with their Irish, Danish, and English adherents could simply not consolidate a serious landing on English soil. They caused some damage, and were generally troublesome, but in the end they departed, never to return again.

In the north Gospatric found himself with no real army with which to defy the king he had so rashly challenged. It seemed that those nobles who had so firmly agreed with him while they were all in their cups could not be distracted from their personal feuds and factional fighting to come to his aid against William. Choosing the lesser evil, Gospatric surrendered to King Malcolm of Scotland, and went into exile with the young Atheling.

William then turned his eye, and his armies, to Earls Edwin and Morkar. Both had sworn their loyalty to him. He had even honored them by having them take part in his wife’s coronation. They repaid his kindness by rebelling against him. Worst of all, they had broken their sworn oath before God to uphold him and his rights as their king. For William this was the greater of their two sins. His superior forces swept down on them. The Mercians and the Welsh fled, panicked before William’s armies. The last of the rebellions for that year was broken.

The king ordered that castles be raised at Leicester, Warwick, and Nottingham. One of the king’s loyalists, Robert de Meulan, was created Earl of Leicestershire, and made overlord of a huge portion of Earl Edwin’s Mercian lands. Josselin felt safer for his new neighbor. York had surrendered without a battle on Gospatric’s desertion, and one of the queen’s cousins, Robert de Commines, was made the new Earl of Northumbria. As the year 1068 drew to a close, England, south of the Humber, appeared to be appeased and content with the king.

William, heading for Gloucester with a party of his knights, stopped unexpectedly at Aelfleah to shelter for a night. There were close to forty men in the king’s party, and although Mairin knew she could house them somehow she wondered how she was going to feed them on such short notice. They had arrived shortly after midday, which she hoped would allow her time to arrange for an evening meal.

She ordered that a young steer be slain, and at least three dozen chickens. Egbert the bailiff sent several young men into
The Forest
and the successful hunters returned in short order with a young buck, and a number of rabbits which were quickly skinned, boned, and pied. The beef and the deer were roasted slowly over open fires. The chickens, at least six to a spit, were stuffed with grain and dried apples to be roasted in the kitchens. There would be cold mutton in ample supply and plenty of trout from the river. Dandelion greens were steamed in white wine, and there were pickled whole beets. The men at the castle site would be somewhat short of bread due to the emergency, but when Dagda explained to each master craftsman who in turn explained to his own men, they understood. Mairin sent several barrels of cider to the workmen to express their thanks. Large wheels of cheese were ready to be placed upon the tables along with the bowls of grapes, pears, and apples.

Convinced that all was in readiness, Mairin smiled victoriously at Eada. “Well, mother?”

“I taught you well, my daughter,” said Eada returning the smile. “I have never entertained a King of England, but you have naught to be ashamed of, for I doubt any chatelaine in any fine castle could have prepared a better meal on such short notice. I am proud of you!”

“I, too,” said Josselin, coming in and looking about Aelfleah’s hall. The fire burned brightly and warmed the room pleasantly. The well-polished trestles with their wooden cups at each place and the trenchers of fresh bread were inviting. Along the sides of the room, barrels of wine, ale, and cider were in readiness.

“Mother and I will eat in the solar,” said Mairin. “This is an evening for the gentlemen.”

The king had gone with Josselin to inspect the castle site, and he was pleased with what he found. The outer curtain was close to being finished, for they had had uncommonly good weather since the spring, and it was yet mild enough in this early December for the workmen to continue. The inner curtain walls were already being raised. When bad weather came they would be able to work inside each gatehouse, finishing it.

“You’ll have Aldford finished by a year from this spring,” said William, his tone approving.

“If I get another spring, summer, and autumn like this year’s we will, my lord. If not, it may not be for another two years. I’ve a good engineer in Master Gilleet, a good bailiff in Dagda, and uncommonly good work-men.”

“You have decided to make your wife’s servant bailiff of Aldford, Joss?”

“Aye, my lord. He was born a freedman, and was once a feared warrior. His history is a long and a fascinating one. What is important to me, however, is his total loyalty, his integrity, and the fact that he is enormously well liked here. The manor bailiff has never been away from Aelfleah, and is not sophisticated enough to run Aldford. Egbert did not expect to have charge over the castle. He is a man lacking in ambition. He far prefers a world that is basically an unchanging one.”

“Has Dagda sworn his fealty to you?” the king inquired.

“Aye! If I am not here he will hold Aldford for you to the last drop of blood.”

“You have done well for me, Josselin de Combourg, Baron Aldford, a rank that will be passed down to your sons and your sons’ sons until that time, may it never come, when there are no longer any de Combourgs. The papers will eventually come from court to confirm this, but I shall announce it at supper tonight. Your wife should be pleased. She carries the child well. Pray God it is the next Baron Aldford she houses within her belly.”

“Amen!” said Josselin fervently.

It was not, however, a son that Mairin birthed on February 2nd. It was a healthy daughter. Mairin had insisted upon lighting her Imbolc fire at a spot near the castle site. Josselin had insisted upon accompanying her and Dagda, for the path was steep, and his wife was huge with their child. He did not approve of her loyalty to the old Celtic way, and she knew it. She also knew he would not forbid her.

“Look!” She pointed with a graceful finger toward the valleys of Wales below them. “Did I not tell you, my lord? Dagda and I are not alone.”

As her own fire had been lit, pinpoints of light had appeared in the dales of Cymru beneath them. Mairin threw back her head and laughed joyously as the flames leapt skyward into the indigo night. She felt happy, for her world was a good place. Once more she had kept faith with her heritage, and made strong again the fragile link with her long-dead and barely remembered natural parents. Then the dull ache that had nagged her back all day grew into a sudden pain of such intensity that she cried out.

“My lord!” she gasped. “You must help me back to the house, for our child wishes to be born.”

“Can you walk?” he asked nervously.

“Aye.” She nodded, a small, tight smile on her face. “Dagda, tend the flame until the proper moment.”

“ ’Tis done, my lady,” he said quietly. “I will say my own prayers.”

Slowly, Mairin and Josselin made their way back down the precipitous path. Once they had to stop. Mairin took her husband’s hands and squeezed them fiercely, panting, great beads of sweat popping out all over her forehead. Then as the pain subsided she moved on to gain the house before the next tearing wrench came. To everyone’s relief, however, Mairin had a quick and an easy labor. Maude Eada Marie de Combourg was born shortly after midnight, slipping into the world with a sputtering howl that grew in volume until the entire manor house had been made aware of her arrival.

If her parents were initially thwarted by her sex, their disappointment was quickly overcome with the knowledge that they had easily produced a wonderfully healthy and beautiful child. There would be other children. Eada was immediately thrilled by her granddaughter, and the fact that the child would bear her name among others. “Maude” was an English version of “Matilda,” and “Marie” was for both the saint and for Mairin’s natural mother, Maire. Had the baby been the desired son, he would have been called William.

Mairin cradled her finally silent but sleepless daughter who, now swaddled, stared up at her mother with strangely adult eyes. Mairin smiled down at the baby. “She looks like you, Josselin. See! She has your tawny hair, and although her eyes be baby blue now, I would not wonder if they turned the green-gold of yours. And here is your nose in miniature!”

He grinned, and it was as if he was entirely responsible for Maude’s arrival. “She does look like me, doesn’t she?” he said, pleased.

Eada’s eyes met those of her daughter and the two women smiled.

“It is good to have a baby in the house,” said Dagda in a mellow voice, and he touched Maude’s satiny cheek with his big finger.

“Oh, no!” said Josselin. “You are bailiff of Aldford now, and I need you! Your days of child-rearing are over, Dagda, my friend.”

“I will nonetheless keep an eye on the lady Maude as I did with her grandmother and her mother,” said the big man. “I will not neglect my duties as your bailiff, my lord. You may always count on me.”

Maude de Combourg was baptized the next day in Aelfleah church, her grandmother and Dagda taking their vows as her godparents. Mairin felt well enough to sit at the table in the solar, while her child slept, and write to Josselin’s parents announcing Maude’s birth. She had only written them once before, and then in Josselin’s name, telling them of his success in England, and their marriage. Now she wrote them in her own right, sharing their happiness over little Maude’s arrival, and informing them that the king had personally raised their son from a mere knight to the rank of baron. They had not written back the first time, and she had not expected them to, but she could not help but wonder if they were proud of their elder son who had made his own way in the world despite the accident of his birth.

Then winter came to an end, and with the longer days of spring, work once again began upon the castle in earnest. Mairin was now glad of it. There were rumors heard, even in remote Aelfleah, that Sweyn Estrithson, the king of the Danes, was planning an attack upon England.

“Will it never end?” demanded Mairin irritably of her husband. “Why must men constantly war with one another?”

“I cannot answer such a question, but I know there will be no easy peace for England. Not until King William has beaten them all in battle, I am afraid,” admitted Josselin. “England has always been a plum ripe for the picking, and many have enjoyed its fruits. The Normans must prove they are strong enough to hold England, and until all the English agree to honestly support the king, we are vulnerable. The north is still restless and uncertain. I do not think it is over yet, but here in Aelfleah we are safe, and we will await the outcome of whatever is to happen.”

Now in the spring of the year 1069 the people of Aelfleah learned that in late January past, just before the birth of Maude, a revolt had broken out again in the north. Robert de Commines and his force of knights were trapped and massacred in Durham. The king had returned north in March to defeat the rebels who, at that point, were besieging York. Successful, he had departed south to hold his Easter court at Winchester, leaving William FitzOsbern to hold the north.