Читать книгу The Saxon - Margaret Moore, Paul Hammerness - Страница 7

Bayard stood beside the bed. He was naked, his bearded face in shadow. He looked down at Endredi, and she tried to force a tentative smile to her lips, but oh, how his eyes were like Adelar’s in this dim light!

Bayard got into the bed with her, yet he did not touch her. “You are sure Adelar’s behavior did not offend you?” he asked softly. “Or Ranulf’s? If so, tell me, and I will speak to them.”

“No. I am unknown here, and drink can make men say things they themselves regret later.”

“You are wise, Endredi. I am pleased you forgive him,” he whispered. “Adelar is not only my cousin. He is my most trusted friend.”

Was he deserving of such trust? she wondered. Did Bayard know what kind of man had sired his “trusted friend”? “These tales of Adelar’s family that Ranulf spoke of,” she began. “What did he mean?”

Bayard lay on his side and regarded her thoughtfully. “It was said that his father had somehow arranged the Viking attack on his village. That is what the leader of the Vikings claimed when he came seeking his wife and daughter, whom Kendric had stolen away in revenge when he came to take Adelar home.”

“Perhaps it was true.”

“Kendric claimed otherwise. His own people believed him, and there was no proof of wrongdoing except for the word of a Viking.”

“What do you believe?”

“Adelar is here, is he not? I have no doubt about his loyalty to me. Besides, I judge a man on his own merit, not his father’s.”

Endredi said nothing. She could not argue with Bayard’s wish to judge a man for his own actions. Indeed, she knew how it was to be looked down upon for the unsavory actions of a parent. How many in her village had hinted that Endredi might be like her mother, who had slept with any man who asked her?

Bayard touched her cheek. “Are you afraid of me, Endredi?”

“No.”

“You tremble.” He moved closer to her.

“It is a chill night, my lord.”

She could feel the heat from his body and was acutely aware of their nakedness as his arms encircled her. “I would warm you, then,” he said. “And please, do not call me `my lord’ when we are here.”

His hand touched her amulet. “What is this?” he asked, a hard note creeping into his voice. “Dagfinn assured me you were Christian.”

“Truly I am, Bayard. It is a charm, nothing more.”

“And what does this charm do?” he inquired, letting it fall. His fingers toyed with the chain, cool against her flesh.

“It is a sign of Freya.”

“A goddess?”

“Yes.”

“Goddess of what?”

“She watches over women getting married, or having babies. We used to pray to her to give us healthy children. Are you angry?”

“No.” He chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that made her glad she had not told him more about Freya, who had taken lovers after being deserted by her husband. For her punishment, she had been made a goddess of death, too. “I would wear twenty such charms if I believed in their power. I am pleased, Endredi, that you hope for children.”

“I do, very much.”

“I will do my best,” he whispered with a trace of wistfulness.

Before she had time to wonder at his tone, his body covered hers.

In a few short moments, the marriage was consummated. Without speaking, Bayard rolled away from her. Then she heard his slow, even breathing and realized he had fallen asleep.

Clasping her amulet, Endredi stared at the thatched roof. Not once had Bayard kissed her.

And despite all her prayers and resolutions, she was glad of it.

* * *

Adelar climbed out of the pile of fetid straw in which he had slept. His head throbbed, his mouth was as dry as old leather, and his tongue felt as if it was twice the normal size.

Sluggishly he brushed at the stray wisps that covered his clothes as he went outside, barely aware of the daily activity going on around him. The stable lads traded amused grins as the mighty warrior staggered out of the building, and the older women at the nearby well smiled condescendingly. Some of the younger girls giggled, but those of marriageable age sighed wistfully. They knew that a warrior like Adelar would probably never marry anyone but a thane’s daughter. Still, they could look and admire and dream and sigh again.

Adelar saw none of this. All he knew was that he felt wretched, the air was chill, and there was a slight touch of frost on the ground he was staring at. He made his way to the nearest water trough and sluiced cold water over his head, which brought some relief.

He glanced at the hall, then up at the sky. It was a fine cloudless day and the sun was halfway to the zenith. The others had probably already broken the fast. Maybe not Endredi and Bayard...

Adelar threw more cold water on his head, then slowly walked toward the hall.

All through the wedding feast, he struggled not to stare at Endredi as she sat in the wide settle beside Bayard.

Of course he had recognized her at once. Her calm, quiet beauty, her bountiful red-gold hair and her unforgettable green eyes. She had seen him, too, and for a moment he had thought...hoped...been tempted to tell Bayard that the wedding must not be.

But who was he to go against his cousin’s plans, especially when he could not be sure of Endredi’s feelings? Once they had felt something for each other. They both had known it, and he, at least, had cherished it. Yet she had married another man.

It was as if she had confirmed his worst fear—that he was not worthy of her love. He was, after all, his father’s son, and though he struggled constantly to prove that he was not the same as his traitorous sire, perhaps it only mattered that he was of Kendric’s blood after what his father had tried to do to her.

The women at the well began to point, laugh and make jokes of the most bawdy kind. Adelar turned to see what they were talking of and saw Godwin at the door of the weaving shed bestowing a most impressive kiss and bold caress on Gleda. His breeches were half-fastened, and Gleda’s garments could only be described as disheveled. Clearly Godwin had not spent the night in the hall, or the stable, or alone for that matter.

When the passionate couple realized they had an audience, Gleda pulled away, gave the women a saucy smile and sauntered off to the hall. With a dismissive flick of her hair, she passed Adelar. Her presence made absolutely no impression on him whatsoever. There was only one woman who occupied his thoughts today.

Godwin made the women an impressive bow. “Greetings, my dears,” he said with great politeness. “I was not aware my every performance was to be observed. Ah, Adelar! Have we missed the meal?”

The women continued to chuckle among themselves while Godwin joined him.

“Greetings, Godwin. I believe you have already feasted,” Adelar remarked sardonically as he continued toward the hall.

“And well, too,” Godwin replied with a sly grin. “But then, you would know how well Gleda satisfies a man.”

“Apparently any man will do, too.”

“Is the mighty Adelar jealous of a humble gleeman?”

“Not at all. Take her, if she is willing. There are plenty of other women.”

“Speaking of women, Bayard’s new wife is not as lovely as they said, is she?”

“It is not for us to discuss Bayard’s wife,” Adelar replied coldly.

“You’re in a terrible humor today, Adelar. What’s the matter—not enough sleep last night, eh? Who were you with, if not Gleda? Let me think... I know! That little slave Ylla has had her eye on you. Or perhaps that servant of Bayard’s wife. She is old, but you always say older women have a hoard of experience that they are only too willing to share—”

“My only companion last night was a cask of ale, and I am ruing that decision now.”

“What? I don’t believe it! And yet he admits it, too. Well, miracles do happen, after all. Adelar awakens alone for the first time in how many years? I must tell Father Derrick at once.”

“Can you stop that wagging tongue of yours?” Adelar demanded. “You make my head ache.”

“Speaking of tongues, is it not amazing what Gleda can do with hers?”

Adelar did not wish to have a complete recital of Gleda’s abilities, so he began to walk faster. “I’m starving.”

“Me, too. Shall we see what remains haven’t already been thrown to the dogs?”

The door to Bayard’s bower moved and Bayard strode briskly out. “Good day!” he called, his breath like puffs of smoke in the chill air as he approached. “I am going hunting this fine morning.”

Adelar looked away from the bower where Endredi had spent her wedding night. “It is a fine day indeed, Bayard. I will fetch my horse.”

“I had intended to ask you to remain behind. Endredi needs someone to show her about the burh.”

“I am not fit for a lady’s company this morning,” Adelar answered. “What of Dagfinn and his men?”

“They are sleeping like rocks in my hall. I have left some men to guard them. I do not want to spend more time in their presence than I have to.”

“I would be most happy to escort your bride about,” Godwin interjected.

Bayard eyed Godwin. “Perhaps, but I would like you to escort Endredi, Adelar. You can speak to her in her own language, and I want to make her feel that this is her home.”

His gaze was hard and firm, and Adelar knew he was as good as ordered to show Endredi the burh, although he would rather face ten armed Danes. “I will do as you ask, Cousin.”

“Good. Since you seem particularly grim today, I think it would be wise to have Godwin go, too.”

“I am only too happy, my lord,” Godwin replied.

“Rouse the dog keeper. I believe three pair of hounds should be sufficient today. I leave Endredi in your hands, Adelar.”

Adelar nodded as Bayard strode off toward the stable. The women at the well and the stable lads called out their good wishes, which the burhware acknowledged with a jovial response.

Godwin eyed his companion cautiously. “Bayard was not pleased by your reluctance.”

Adelar did not bother to wait for Godwin, who trotted along behind him. “I have no wish to play nursemaid to his bride.”

“Fine—but you should have been more tactful about it. You’ve annoyed him, and he looked happier this morning than he has for many a day.”

“I know,” Adelar replied softly. Indeed, he had thought the same thing. But he did not want to spend time with Endredi. He had no wish to see her look at him as she had yesterday—either the first time, when he had seen the unspoken feelings in her eyes, or later, when she had become as cold and distant as her homeland. Yet he dare not disobey his cousin, and Godwin was right about Bayard’s good humor. It had been all too rare of late.

They paused at the entrance to the hall, and Godwin let out a low whistle. “Bayard spoke the truth. Look at these louts!”

The Danes were sleeping wherever they had fallen into a drunken stupor. Some slumbered with their heads on their arms slung over the table, some lay on the benches and some were even under the tables. More than one snored loudly. One or two of Bayard’s dogs sniffed among the rushes, searching for food.

Adelar and Godwin stepped around them and went to Bayard’s end of the lord’s table.

“Not a morsel worth eating!” Godwin muttered in disgust, looking at the remnants of the feast.

Adelar picked up a crust of flat bread, then let it fall into the straw on the floor. One of the smaller hounds lunged for it and wolfed it down.

A deep voice from the nearest corner mumbled, “Who’s botherin’ the dogs?” Two human feet were barely visible beneath a pile of straw and dogs.

“Is that you, Baldric?” Godwin asked.

An affirmative growl answered them. “Can’t you let a fellow sleep in peace?”

“Bayard wants to go hunting. He says bring three pair of dogs.”

“This is no time for one of your jests, Godwin,” the dog keeper mumbled.

Adelar kicked the fellow’s feet. “Bayard wants to go hunting.”

Baldric sat up when he heard Adelar’s low, stern voice, his blond hair sticking out like so many pieces of straw. He shoved the dogs away from him and stood, scratching his flea bites. In the dim light, the short, burly fellow looked not unlike his charges. “It’s you, eh? Then I believe it.” With his rough voice, he sounded like a dog who had been taught speech, too. “Any food about?”

Godwin shrugged. “Duff’s probably gone back to bed after serving Bayard.”

“What time of day is it?” Baldric demanded. “I would have heard the ruckus if there’d been a proper meal. And so would they.” He nodded at the slumbering Danes.

“They would probably sleep through a thunderstorm—and you, too. We could have cut off your legs and you wouldn’t have noticed,” Godwin said. “The food’s been served and we’ve missed it.”

“I will be happy to find you some,” a young woman’s voice said shyly. Adelar turned around to see the slave Ylla standing inside the door. “There is bread and meat in the salter’s stores. If you like, I will bring it to you.”

“Delightful creature, I am beholden to you,” Godwin said with a courtly bow. “Bring enough for three starving men.”

She gave a slight smile and hurried away. Baldric whistled, making the dogs come instantly alert. “Save some for me,” he muttered as he led the dogs outside.

“She’s not bringing it for us, you know,” Godwin said quietly but pointedly to Adelar. “It’s you she wants to make happy.”

Adelar’s only response was a Baldric-like grunt.

Godwin joined Adelar on a bench. “She’s a pretty little thing, eh? And she’s a virgin, or so the merchant who sold her to Bayard claimed.”

“She is Bayard’s property.” Adelar eyed Godwin with some curiosity. “If you are so smitten with her, why are you pointing out her virtues to me?”

Godwin’s surprise was comical to behold. “St. Swithins in a swamp, why am I? Too much ale has addled my wits. Forget everything I said!”

“Very well, but I would suggest you keep your eye on Ranulf. He is the one not to be trusted around virgins,” Adelar warned.

Godwin’s eyes widened. “It’s true then, about Ranulf and that thane’s daughter at Cynath’s burh? How much did he have to pay?”

“You are much too interested in gossip, Godwin.”

“It was you who first told me the tale,” Godwin noted. “How much?”

“I do not know the exact amount, but let us hope Ordella never finds out. And,” Adelar said sternly, “I believe she would never forgive the messenger, either.”

“I think you are correct about that,” Godwin agreed. “Still, Ranulf had best take better care, eh?”

Ylla returned. She eyed the still-sleeping Danes warily and gave them a wide berth as she quickly cleared a space at the table. When she set the bread and ale down in front of Adelar, she smiled shyly. “Anything else, my lord?”

“No. You may go.”

One of the Danes stirred and snorted noisily, and Ylla scurried out of the hall as if she expected him to rise and give chase.

“You see, I was telling the truth. She likes you.”

“She belongs to Bayard.”

“Who never touches slaves.” Suddenly Godwin smote himself on the forehead. “Ah, I am the biggest dolt in the kingdom! You are not interested in that little slave because you care for another!”

“And who might that be?”

“Gleda—no! You have but to crook your finger and she is in your lap. Someone who lives elsewhere, perhaps. Let me think...you haven’t had her yet, or you would not be pining for her—a minor delay, I am sure.”

“You seem confident of my charms.”

“Are you going to try to deny that women find you irresistible? I tell you, Adelar, between you and Bayard, it is a wonder there is a virgin left in En- gland.”

“Who am I to disillusion you? But do you think I would wish to find myself in Ranulf’s place? I am not as rich as he is, to risk my money seducing noblemen’s daughters.”

“Perfectly right. So, she must be married. And she must be beautiful, because everyone knows you would only want a beauty. That lets out Ordella—” Adelar sniffed derisively “—and I think Bayard’s wife, who although not as ugly as Ordella, is no beauty, either.”

Adelar did not reply. Endredi’s beauty was not the kind that most men would see. It did not flaunt itself with bright eyes, pink cheeks and beguiling, empty smiles. It was far more subtle, in her intelligent eyes, in the slight flush that would steal over her soft cheeks when she was embarrassed, in the fullness of her lips when she smiled her shy, sweet smile.

The same smile she had given Bayard last night. He stabbed at the bread in front of him. “Why don’t you stop talking and eat?”

“Careful! You nearly got my hand. I didn’t realize you were that hungry. You are right. We mustn’t tarry or Bayard will be even more angry. I do not want to be the one to further sour his mood.”

* * *

“Where is the priest?” Endredi asked Helmi, who had been bustling about the bower trying to look busy for some time. She knew the serving woman was probably full of questions about her husband, but she was in no mood to satisfy a servant’s need for gossip.

“That one? He has done their ceremony and gone already, I am happy to say. A more pompous, miserable, misguided man never lived, I believe. Do you know he actually thinks all women evil? Everyone knows the gods and goddesses are both good and bad. I think this Christianity is a Saxon plot to disrupt the natural relations between men and women. I hope your husband does not think you are evil, my lady? I trust he treats you well?”

Endredi did not answer Helmi’s questions. “So I have missed Mass.”

“The noon draws near, my lady,” Helmi said with a knowing grin. “A good sign, being so tired. Your husband must be a virile man, eh?”

Again Endredi did not answer. Her husband had done what was necessary to consummate the relationship, no more, but that was no subject to be spoken of to another.

Helmi finally seemed to understand that she did not wish to discuss her husband or the wedding night. “Do you have any plans for today, my lady? Or would you rather rest?”

“I wish to meet all of the servants,” she said thoughtfully. “Bayard said he would see to it that someone shows me about the burh, too.”

“I should hope he would arrange an escort. We couldn’t go by ourselves. It wouldn’t be safe.”

Endredi kept her smile to herself. Helmi thought all Saxon men were little removed from rutting rams, at least those who weren’t vicious murderers. “Perhaps one of the thanes will escort us,” she said, washing her face and reaching for the comb Helmi held out to her.

Helmi opened a chest of clothing. “This gown is a pretty one. I am sure your husband would like it.”

“What of Dagfinn and the others?”

“Still snoring in the hall, no doubt.”

“I believe you are right. It would be an act of the gods if they move before nightfall after the amount of ale they imbibed at the feast.”

Helmi grinned slyly. “Perhaps you would rather wait here for your husband’s return.”

Endredi picked up her thin wool cloak and an intricately carved wooden box. “I will meet the servants of the hall now, and see to the preparations of the meals. Will you come with me?”

Helmi looked as if Endredi had suggested she run naked through the burh. “There will be Saxons in the hall.”

“I expect so.”

“I...I have too much to do here, my lady. I will eat later, when the men are gone. All of them.”

Endredi suppressed a small smile as she went and crossed the yard, surveying the timber wall surrounding the burh as she did so. It was of stout oak trees, and the ends were sharpened to dangerous points. The gate they had entered yesterday had been thick, too, and the village that surrounded the thane’s enclosure had been a large one, for Saxons. It was not as big as some of the Viking towns, and certainly not to be compared to Hedeby or one of the other Viking ports, but obviously Bayard kept a sizable force near him, and it was the workers who serviced warriors that no doubt made up most of the village trade.

She could hear the rhythmic clangs of more than one smith at work, and judging by the smell, knew the stables were being cleaned out.

A few women lingered by the well and made no secret of their curiosity as they stared at her. She bowed her head very slightly, acknowledging their presence but making it very clear that she was of superior rank to them.

Endredi entered the hall and at once she realized Adelar was there. He was sitting at the farthest end, near Bayard’s seat, and the gleeman was beside him.

He was no more than any other warrior in her husband’s service, she reminded herself. She turned her attention to the hall, which was now her concern. Her nose wrinkled with disgust as she picked her way through the soiled rushes. The fire in the large hearth was out, goblets and drinking horns lay scattered amid puddles of ale and mead, benches were overturned. Several men were still sleeping there, oblivious to the time of day and the activity outside. She spotted Dagfinn immediately, his loud snoring like the growl of a bear. A young female slave she recalled from last night appeared. “Where are the servants?”

“I...I don’t know, my lady.”

Endredi knew the girl was lying, but it was also obvious that she was frightened, so she spoke kindly. “What is your name?”

“Ylla, my lady.”

“Where are the cook and the other servants, Ylla? They need not know how I discovered where they are.”

“He, um, they... Duff is in the potter’s shed.”

“And Duff is...?”

“The cook, my lady.”

“Ah. Can you point out the potter’s shed?”

Ylla went to the door and did so.

Endredi handed her the wooden box. “Please hold this for me,” she said, then she left the hall and marched toward the shed. Once there, she peered inside and saw a man and a woman, their half-clothed bodies intertwined.

Endredi turned away and went back to the hall, where she picked up one of the iron kettles and a spoon. She began to bang on the pot, the loud sound enough to wake all but the dead. Adelar and Godwin stared, and Ylla looked startled until Endredi smiled at her.

“By Odin’s eye!” Dagfinn shouted. “What are you doing?”

“It is nearly noon. I thought you might want to eat.”

He frowned as he adjusted his rumpled tunic. “Come,” he barked at his men. “I have no wish to linger here. I want to be in my own longhouse.”

Dagfinn ignored his curious men while he gathered his scattered belongings. His men staggered after him out the door, several of them barely able to stand.

In the next moment those still in the hall heard angry mumbling, then the cook came inside, pulling on his tunic. “What in the name of—”

Endredi put the kettle down.

Duff saw who was making the noise and smiled weakly. “Ah, my lady! What are you doing here? This is a...a surprise!”

“I would like something to eat,” she said. “Our guests have already departed without eating. I am most displeased.”

Duff blanched.

“Fortunately, I do not believe they were very hungry. However, I am.”

“Of course, of course.” The cook was a big man, but he bustled into the hall with surprising speed. “What would you like? Boiled fish? Fried eels? Some oatmeal?”

“Bread and boiled ham,” Endredi answered.

“The baker—”

“Must also be found and set to work. I suggest you rekindle the hearth. Then I want the servants to help this girl clean the hall. It is a disgrace.”

“Yes, my lady. At once, my lady.”

The woman Endredi recognized from the shed came inside, adjusting her bodice, her eyes wide with surprise and dismay. “Merilda!” Duff barked, making her jump. “Get to work!”

“I have something here to use in the cooking,” Endredi said, taking the wooden box from Ylla and approaching the cook.

“Oh, my lady?” he replied respectfully, if insincerely.

“Yes.” She placed the box on the ground and opened it. Immediately a wonderful spicy aroma filled the air, and despite himself, Duff moved closer to look inside. The box was filled with a variety of small earthenware jars.

“It was a wedding gift from my grandmother’s husband,” Endredi explained. “He was a trader and these spices and herbs come from all over the known world.” She glanced at Adelar. Surely he would remember Thorston, who had treated the boy so kindly and who had been repaid with thievery.

Duff gazed in awe as she lifted out a jar and gently opened the lid. “This comes from far in the East.” She closed it and brought out another. “This is from Rome.”

Duff looked as if he was being offered costly jewels until she closed the lid of the box. The maidservants no longer even pretended to work, but listened unabashedly. “Do you not intend them to be used, my lady?” he asked.

“Of course they will be used,” she said. “By me, when I help you prepare the meals.”

He regarded her with surprise. “But you are my lord’s wife!”

“I like cooking.”

“For having such a beautiful, accomplished lady who does not seek merely to be waited on, Bayard and the rest of us will be forever thankful,” the gleeman said. Endredi turned to the young man with a small smile, which vanished when she caught Adelar’s eye.

“Naturally I would welcome your help, my lady,” Duff said, scowling at the gleeman, then smiling at Endredi.

Just as naturally she doubted his truthfulness, but she guessed, from the greedy expression in his eyes when he looked at the box, that he would have said anything to get his hands on some of those spices.

“Shall we start with some stew? I think a little of this will help,” she said. She pulled out a jar.

Ordella’s voice interrupted them. “Get to work, you lazy creatures!”

Everyone turned as Ordella stepped daintily toward them, her face wreathed in smiles distinctly at odds with the harsh order she had issued. “Servants can be so slothful,” she explained sympathetically. “You shall have to take care that they fear you enough to obey you.”

“It is a well-known fact that terror inspires loyalty,” Adelar said gravely.

“Thank you for the advice,” Endredi said to Ordella, fighting an urge to look at Adelar. “If I find I have any trouble with them, I shall certainly ask your opinion.”

“What are you doing here?” Ordella asked of Adelar. She also gave Godwin a less than pleased look as the servants hurried to their work.

“Bayard has asked me to escort his bride through the burh today, if she is agreeable,” Adelar replied quietly.

“That will not be necessary,” Ordella said sharply. “I shall show Endredi what she needs to be shown.”

“Of course, that is your privilege,” Adelar responded. “But then I would be disobeying Bayard’s order.”

Endredi glanced at the two uneasily. She had no desire to spend time in Adelar’s company. Indeed, it was a strain even now. Although she tried not to, she kept wondering what he was thinking about her and trying to read his inscrutable dark eyes. It was obvious he had no wish to be near her, either, if he was acting as her escort only on Bayard’s orders.

How much better it would be to spend her time cooking, especially since the food Duff prepared was somewhat plain, if good. Then perhaps she could forget Adelar, Bayard and everyone else in this burh. However, she did not think it wise to go against Bayard’s wishes. And although she did not want to be anywhere near Ordella, it was probably best that she come along.

“I see no reason I should not enjoy the company of you both,” Endredi said at last.

“Bayard told Godwin and me to escort her, Ordella. You must have other things to do,” Adelar said coldly.

“I assure you, Adelar,” Ordella said even more coldly, “some of us earn our keep around here. I do have many things to do. I simply wanted to make Bayard’s wife feel welcome.”

“You have,” Endredi said quickly. “I see that Adelar and Godwin have already broken the fast. Please, Ordella, eat with me. You can tell me of the village while we break bread and before you must go. I am most interested to hear what you can tell me.”

Ordella gave Adelar a triumphant look and moved toward the high table.

“I shall leave the spices here for the present,” Endredi said to Duff. “Use them sparingly. They are quite strong. Please bring us some bread and meat as soon as you can.”

“Bring some ale,” Ordella said to Gleda, who had only just arrived. The maidservant hurried off at once.

Endredi was now nearly alone with Adelar and Godwin. “Godwin, would you be so good as to fetch my warmer cloak from the bower? I feel a slight chill.”

“As you wish, my lady.” He paused a moment, then went on seriously. “Perhaps you should give me a word of passage, lest your servant think I come to ravish her?”

Endredi had to smile at the gleeman’s words. It seemed he understood Helmi rather well. “I think Helmi will not fear you, Godwin, if you smile at her as you do at me.”

The gleeman grinned and hurried out the door.

Endredi turned to Adelar, very aware that Ordella was watching them. “That wasn’t very clever, Adelar,” she said quietly but firmly. “There is no need to treat Ordella as an enemy.”

“And you have no need to make jests with Godwin.” He gazed at her with his penetrating brown eyes. “You know nothing of the people here, especially Ordella and Ranulf. Leave me to handle those two in my own way.”

“There can be no harm in a little banter with Bayard’s gleeman. You used to be a clever boy. Have your wits grown dim with age? My husband has plenty of enemies outside the burh. Why make more within?”

“Again, you do not understand.”

Realizing that she should not spend any longer in conversation with him, she said, “We will speak of this later.” Then she hurried toward Ordella, a smile on her face. “I am sorry, but I wanted Adelar to know that I cannot allow such disrespect in my hall.”

Ordella’s eyes widened with genuine pleasure. “I see Bayard has indeed chosen his wife wisely. Adelar has been too free with his ways.”

The two women watched Adelar leave the hall. Gleda made her way past him, and Endredi saw the girl press against his body quite unnecessarily. He seemed to find nothing amiss, although he had chided her for exchanging a jest with Godwin. Still, his brow remained furrowed and he said nothing to the serving wench at all.

Endredi looked away. She should not be pleased that he ignored Gleda. It could be that he was oblivious to many things, for he also seemed not to care that he had angered Ranulf’s wife. Ranulf was not worthy of respect, perhaps, but he was Bayard’s kin.

Gleda poured the women some ale while Ylla brought bread and meat.

“I see you have managed to instill some proper respect in that harlot, too,” Ordella said, her lips pursed as she watched Gleda stroll away.

“Harlot?”

“She goes with any man who looks at her, even that fool Godwin, probably. She will be with child again soon, and then you will have to find another to take her place.”

“Again? She has children?”

“Two. They died during their birth.”

“Oh, how sad for her!”

“It was a punishment from God, which unfortunately has not made her change her ways,” Ordella said peevishly. “I think every man in this burh has been with her, except Bayard, of course. He