Oath bound, p.16
Oath Bound, page 16
Styrkar had no answer to that. It was a simple question that could not be argued with.
As the day wore on, they were joined by another man who had helped them with the wheel. Osgar introduced him as Kenric, a small handsome fellow with eyes that lit up when he smiled.
‘That’s a fair accent you have there,’ Kenric said. ‘There some Norse in you?’
‘A little,’ Styrkar answered cagily. ‘But I have lived in many places.’
‘And where do you think you’ll be living next?’
‘I have not given it much thought,’ he replied.
‘A wanderer?’ said Kenric. ‘Man after my own heart. Done plenty of that myself; moved from place to place. This one’s as good as any. Kind of place a man might settle if he had a mind to.’
‘I have no mind to settle,’ Styrkar said.
‘Sure, and why would you? Strapping man like yourself and these times as difficult as they are. But you can’t wander forever, and I’m sure there’s plenty of work you can turn your hand to. Despite appearances, I’m a hunter.’ Styrkar looked him up and down, thinking it unlikely, but he also knew that appearance was not always the measure of a man. ‘These are rich lands, and I could use the help. Now, I might not look much of a hunter, but you do. And I could use a capable man to help me. There’s too much game for me alone and when there’s a wolf abroad they come to old Kenric’s door to see it off. I reckon that would be work you’re suited to, if you had a mind.’
‘I am not so sure it would be the right thing for me,’ Styrkar said.
But would it? He had spent time enough hunting men. Time enough slaying his enemies. Would now not be a time to hunt less dangerous quarry? He doubted a wolf would be as dangerous a foe as an armoured knight.
‘Well, you can suit yourself, friend. But the offer’s there if you want to take it up.’
Styrkar took a drink from his cup. The mead tasted good, and with the sun on his face he felt like he might never want to leave. These people were friendly, and they had welcomed him like a lost brother.
‘I’ll think about it,’ Styrkar said.
As Kenric smiled and called for more mead, Styrkar was sure he would not have to think on it for long.
23
HEREFORD, ENGLAND, MAY 1067
It wasn’t just the silence that was uncomfortable as they made their way along the road. The cart bumped and jolted them mercilessly, but Gisela knew her suffering was nothing compared to that of her mistress. As she saw the castle at Hereford appear upon the horizon, she let out a long sigh of relief.
Agnes leaned into her, the old woman clutching her cloak about her as though they travelled through winter snows, and the girl held her close.
‘We are almost there, mistress,’ she whispered. ‘The castle is just ahead.’
The old woman looked up with rheumy eyes, barely acknowledging the sight in front of her, before leaning back against Gisela’s shoulder.
As they drew closer to their destination, Gisela could see the huge construction rising before her. An old wooden fort was being gradually torn down and replaced by formidable-looking stonework. Even at a distance Gisela could see men working feverishly on the huge scaffold.
The cart rumbled across a hastily built bridge into the bailey beyond. Once it had come to a standstill, Gisela was quick to climb down, eager to help her mistress from the object of her torture. Agnes struggled, even with the driver’s help, the breath coming quick from her as she gingerly lowered herself to the ground.
No sooner had they arrived than a voice called out to them from across the bailey.
‘My lady, so glad you have arrived.’
Gisela turned to see Baron Richard approaching. He was much younger than his wife, but still old enough to be greying at the temples. His finery was testament to the wealth and status of the FitzScrobs.
He walked forward to embrace his wife. For her part, Agnes seemed to endure the gesture rather than welcome it.
‘Why did we have to come to this damned place, so close to the border?’ she asked.
There it was. The baroness wasted little time in making her feelings about their situation clear.
‘You know why, my love,’ Richard replied. ‘I have explained it to you at great length. Once we are settled here you will see the advantage of it. This is truly beautiful country.’
The sour look on Agnes’ face said she didn’t agree.
‘I will take Lady Agnes to her chambers,’ Gisela said, before her mistress could complain any further.
‘An excellent idea,’ Richard replied. ‘Stonhild will show you the way.’ He gestured to a pock-marked young girl who waited for them beside the main castle structure.
As Gisela guided Lady Agnes towards the building, she found it odd that Baron Richard knew the girl’s name. Gisela had been in service to the FitzScrobs for almost ten years and it was unlikely he would have been able to pick her out in a crowd as one of his servants. As the girl guided them silently inside, Gisela guessed the old letch was most likely taking his pleasure with her, despite her ugly face.
They were taken to a room at the corner of the structure. Gisela had to admit the stonework was expertly built but the place was bleak and cold, unlike their home back in the east.
‘This place is like a dungeon,’ Agnes said as she shuffled to the nearby window and struggled with the shutters.
‘We’ll make it a home, my lady,’ Gisela replied as she helped her close the wooden panels and secure the latch. ‘I’ll make us a fire and it’ll be nice and cosy.’
Agnes pulled a sour expression as Gisela made her way to the hearth. There was wood and kindling and even a flint for the lighting, which was a relief – she didn’t relish the idea of wandering this place aimlessly looking for a flame.
In no time she had lit the fire and the chamber began to warm through. The bed had already been made, and Gisela managed to dress her mistress in her night clothes and get her under a thick woollen blanket. Agnes was so exhausted from the journey she was snoring in no time.
Gisela sat in a chair in the corner of the room, gazing at the old woman as the sky outside turned dark. Agnes was old now, and not long for this world. Gisela couldn’t help but wonder what might be in store for her in this new part of the country, so close to the frontier, if her mistress were to pass. She would have to find some other way to make herself useful to the FitzScrobs.
As she wondered what she might do, Gisela found herself feeling guilty for it. She could not remember the last time she had considered her own needs before those of her mistress, and the sudden selfishness made her feel a deep pang of guilt.
It was to some relief that Stonhild came to their chamber again later to summon the baroness for dinner. Gisela gently woke her mistress and took pains to wash and dress her, before following Stonhild down to the dining hall.
The table was already laid out and would have sat twenty people. As it was, there were only places set for two.
Baron Richard received his wife enthusiastically and, as was her way, she greeted him with much less aplomb. Gisela helped serve them both a course of rich, thick soup and the two of them ate in silence for a while.
Gisela watched, thinking on how they had always struck her as the oddest couple. It was not often that a powerful man would take a much older wife, but then she had to ask herself if Richard had been all that powerful before the marriage. Most likely he had married out of expedience, but Gisela had never been foolish enough to enquire as to the real reason.
A cold breeze blew through the chamber, and Agnes pulled her cloak tighter about herself.
‘This cursed place will be the death of me, Richard,’ the old woman said. ‘You have brought me to my tomb.’
Richard let out a low sigh. ‘How many times, my love? There is no other way.’
Gisela knew the story well. The sitting Saxon lord of Hereford, Earl Eadric, had been evicted after failing to pledge his fealty to the new king, and Willem of Breteuil, a close friend and ally of King William, had been granted the lands in return for his support during the recent conquest. It was no secret that Baron Richard had been ordered to take charge of Hereford while a new castle was constructed.
‘No other way?’ said Agnes. ‘You have always coveted this place. You wanted this more than anyone.’
‘While the king is in Frankia, Bishop Odo and Earl Willem are in charge of these lands. In William’s absence their orders are to shore up the defences of every frontier. It is a prodigious honour that Willem has granted me. We are here to oversee the protection of the kingdom, my love. It is a great responsibility. You should be proud.’
‘Proud?’ she said, a little soup dribbling down her chin. ‘You have stolen this place from its sitting lord. And not even by force of arms. Someone else had to grant it to you. My father—’
‘Yes, my love. I’m sure we all know exactly what your father would have done. Marched on this place years ago and taken it by force. Well, you know it was never as simple as that. We were given our lands by King Edward, and so was Eadric. But now there is a new king. One who demands fealty. Luckily for us, Earl Eadric decided a Norman king was not one he could bow to. I have been granted the place through loyalty, my love. Not theft. And I could not have refused even had I wanted to.’
‘As if you would have wanted to,’ Agnes sneered. ‘We had enough. More than enough, but that has never satisfied you. Don’t talk to me of loyalty, when all you really have is relentless ambition.’
Gisela could sense Richard’s exasperation, but to his credit he took his wife’s barbs as though armoured in mail.
‘Times have changed, my love. The old kings are dead. It is the Bastard’s time now, and he will brook no refusal. He is stronger and more ruthless than any other king we have served. Edward and Harold were mere pretenders compared to King William. Yes, I am ambitious, but what other way is there? Stand aside and let others trample our lands and our name? William has shown us the way – rise up and take what is ours, or see ourselves cast in the mud.’
Agnes made to answer, but she was cut off when the door opened. A tall figure entered along with the chill breeze and Gisela’s skirts wafted about her legs. Her breath was caught in her throat as she recognised the newcomer.
Osbern had always been handsome, but the year or so since she’d last seen him had only made him even more desirable. His shoulders had filled out and the neatly trimmed beard gave him a squarer look to his jaw, if that were possible.
‘Mother. Father,’ Osbern said, bending to kiss his mother on the cheek.
As he made to sit between them he noticed Gisela standing at the periphery of the room.
‘Is that Gisela?’ he said with a wide smile.
‘It is, my lord,’ she replied, feeling a flutter in her stomach.
‘How comely you’ve become since I last saw you.’
She was about to thank him for the compliment, when he turned his attention back to Lady Agnes.
‘I trust your journey was a pleasant one, Mother?’
‘Hideous,’ she answered. ‘But I endure.’ She gave a withering glance towards her husband, which Richard ignored.
Osbern picked a slice of cooked pork from the platter in front of him, along with a wedge of cheese. His father leaned into him.
‘News from the west?’ he asked.
‘Ah yes,’ said Agnes. ‘Now you are the sheriff your duties must weigh heavily upon you. I am proud of you, son.’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ Osbern replied. ‘And yes. Our border patrols bring reports daily. Earl Eadric gathers more support by the day. They have begun to call him “The Wild”. A name that suits his savage nature. If he is not curbed quickly, we could have a full-scale rebellion on our hands.’
Agnes made the sound of a hissing cat, glaring at her husband. ‘And this is the place you summon me to?’ she scolded.
Osbern continued before his father could protest. ‘There is nowhere safe in the kingdom, Mother. Uprisings are being sparked across the length and breadth of these lands. It is not helped by the king’s absence; we need him here to assist us.’
‘The king has his own battles to fight,’ said Richard. ‘And he has entrusted us with this duty. Construction of the castle continues apace. Soon we will be surrounded by strong walls and a fully manned garrison. Let this Eadric the Wild come. He will find we are not some helpless outpost.’
Osbern shook his head. ‘Do not underestimate him, Father. I have seen what he is capable of first-hand. He burns and pillages like the Saxons of old. His men are fierce and loyal. He will not be so easily cowed.’
The baron laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Fear not. I’m sure the king will return soon, and I have already sent word to Willem of Breteuil that we require more men. I expect Hereford to be flooded with knights loyal to King William soon enough.’
‘Enough talk of war and rebellion,’ Agnes cut in, before Osbern could outline any further concerns. ‘I have not seen my son for an age. It is time you told me what you have been up to these past months. I want to hear it all.’
And so Gisela stood as the conversation turned to Osbern. She heard little of it, too busy was she staring at the young man she had always admired. Eventually, when Lady Agnes grew tired once more, Gisela guided her mistress back to her room and put her to bed.
The place was silent, eerie even, though she put that down to her unfamiliarity with the place. Eventually, she wrapped herself in a cloak and made her way from the bedchamber to take in some air.
Even in its early stage of construction Gisela could tell the castle was going to be a formidable fortification. It was atop a hill, with a view of the surrounding lands. She did not envy the army that might seek to attack such a well-defended bastion.
Despite knowing it might be forbidden, she made her way up to the top of a newly constructed wall, ignored by the few guards who stood in vigil over the place. From the battlement she could see a long way west. Osbern had spoken of rebellion, and she could only imagine the fell deeds that might be occurring even now at the hand of Eadric the Wild.
‘It is beautiful country,’ said a familiar voice.
Gisela turned to see Osbern standing beside her, and her voice was instantly caught in her throat.
‘Beautiful but treacherous,’ he continued. ‘My father doesn’t understand just how treacherous.’
Gisela swallowed, despite her dry throat. ‘I am sure he will listen to you, when you explain.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Osbern. ‘He has always coveted this place. Now he has it there will be no dissuading him.’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway, it has been too long since we last saw one another. Tell me, are you still the same girl I knew?’
‘I don’t think so, my lord,’ she replied.
‘No,’ he said, with a grin. ‘Now you are a woman grown. No longer the freckle-faced girl from the old country.’
‘I have not been a girl for quite some time.’
He nodded, but the handsome smile slowly dropped from his face.
‘You should not have come here, Gisela. My father should never have brought you and my mother to this place. There is a war brewing, and there might be nothing I can do to stop it.’
‘Surely the war is over. The new king has been crowned and the English are put in their place.’
‘The struggle is not finished by far. The English will never accept a foreign king. There is trouble coming, for all of us.’
‘Then we shall fight,’ she replied. ‘Together.’
He smiled down at her, placing an arm around her. It was small comfort in this remote place far from everything she knew, but she would cling to it. At least for as long as she could.
24
COLESELLE, ENGLAND, JUNE 1067
He plunged head first into the bush, heedless of the shrubbery that threatened to cut his arms. His big hands closed around the rabbit, and it squirmed and struggled in his grip. Styrkar wrenched the creature free, snapping its neck before it could make a bigger nuisance of itself.
This was not the kind of hunting he had envisioned when Kenric made his offer those weeks before. Styrkar had been expecting to hunt deer and trap wolves, not face conies and the odd angry badger. But then again, Styrkar had never been much of a bowman, and it was hard to bring down game with an axe.
Not that he was in any position to complain about his lot. He was making a generous living from selling skins and meat. The town had welcomed him with open arms, and he had a roof over his head, food in his belly and people he could call friends. The wild thoughts of vengeance he had harboured for so many months were still there, but locked away at the back of his mind. Sometimes he would think on them, and think on acting upon them, but since he had arrived in Coleselle, the Red Wolf had slept. Life went on.
He stuffed the rabbit in a sack along with the others and hefted it over one shoulder. It was full enough for one day, and as the evening drew in he made his way back through the wood towards town.
He was alerted by a rustle from the trees, stopping dead as he waited to see who was coming. When Kenric appeared from amid the trees onto the path in front of him, he let out a slow breath. For a moment Styrkar felt an odd sense of relief; his hand had not even strayed towards the seax at his belt. A few weeks ago, he would have been ready to fight before Kenric even showed himself. Now, he had become so used to the lack of danger he had not turned to the fight-or-flight instinct that had kept him alive for so long. Whether that was a good thing, Styrkar could not say.
Kenric noticed him, a wide smile crossing his face as he held up the sack he was carrying.
‘Come see what I’ve got, my friend.’ Kenric beamed.
Styrkar peered into the sack as Kenric held it open. Inside was pigweed, shaggy mane mushrooms, rosemary, nettle leaves and other things he couldn’t identify. It was hardly a king’s bounty, but Kenric’s face told how proud he was of his foraging.
