Wynne laughed contemptuously at him. "Never, you fool! You will never have me! Never!"

Cursing violently, he bent to retie the ropes securing her, and this time Wynne knew they would not come unfastened, for they cut cruelly into her flesh. "Now, you Welsh witch, await my coming," he snarled, "and be prepared to service me well!" Caddaric stormed from the Great Chamber, his angry footsteps stamping angrily down the staircase.

Alone, Wynne began to shake uncontrollably. She had escaped him. But for how long she might play this game to keep him at bay she knew not. She was cold. So cold. The chamber was unheated, and the winter's day, though mild, was yet late January. She would not call out for help. She knew not if anyone would come, for they all lived in fear now of Caddaric's temper. Besides, she could not bear to be shamed before the serfs.

The day wore on, and in the hall below she began to hear the sounds of revelry. Listening carefully, she recognized Cad-daric's voice becoming more and more bellicose as time passed. She could make out two or three young female voices giggling and laughing at first; growing more fearful and sullen as the afternoon waned. Serfs, Wynne realized, and as helpless to the thegn's will as she was at this moment. The Great Chamber dimmed and finally grew dark as Wynne lay there shivering. Finally she heard his footsteps upon the stairs again and braced herself for this new encounter to come.

He lurched into the room, half dragging a young girl with him. Carrying a candle, he stumbled about the Great Chamber lighting the lamps, then positioned himself at the foot of the bed, where she could clearly see him. He was clad in his sherte and braccos, and now drawing the sherte off so that he was nude, he commanded the girl, "Do as I have taught you, wench!" He was a big man and quite hairy, but his body ran more to fat than his father's had.

The girl, who was wide-eyed at the sight of Wynne bound and naked, fell to her knees. Taking her master's flaccid manhood into her mouth, she began to suckle it. She did not look as if she were enjoying her task. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and her mouth worked earnestly to arouse him, as if knowing a lack of success on her part could lead to punishment.

Caddaric stood impassively as she struggled to fulfill her duty. "Prepare yourself, Welsh woman. When I have finished with you, you will truly know who your master is. Did you do this to my father, eh? You will soon pleasure me in that way. Enough, wench!" He shoved the girl away. "Get out!" he roared at her as she scampered most willingly away. He turned toward Wynne, his hand cradling his manhood. "My father's rod was surely not as fine," he bragged with a leering grin.

"Your father was twice as thick as you, Caddaric Aethelmaere, and at least an inch or more in length longer," Wynne said wickedly, and then she laughed. "There is little damage you can do to me with that poor excuse for a rod."

"Bitch!" he snarled, and flung himself atop her. "I will show you precisely what I can do!"

Her heart hammering, Wynne forced herself to laugh all the harder. Then quite suddenly, ceasing her mirth, she said, "I will place a curse upon your puny, feeble manhood, Caddaric Aethelmaere. May it wither and shrink even as you attempt your assault of me. Look down at yourself! Already you have begun to soften and grow limp!" She felt his big body upon hers, his hand desperately trying to insert his useless weapon into her. She squirmed just enough to foil him and assure his defeat.

He began to moan with frustration as he realized he was losing control of himself. He wanted her! He had to have her! Only she could give him the children he so hungrily desired, but she would not! She would not! He was unmanned by this Welsh witch, and that which had so delighted all the women he had used since he was eleven now lay feeble and worthless against her thigh, a victim of her sorcery. Almost weeping, he leapt off her and fled the Great Chamber wearing nought but his braccos.

Wynne began to shake once again. She was chilled to the bone and weak with her relief. Eadwine had always claimed that his eldest son was superstitious, even as the lady Mildraed had been. She had used that weakness against him this day, but how long she could continue along this path she knew not. Dear God, she was so cold, and her breasts were beginning to ache again. How long would he leave her here, she wondered, and then she heard the sound of soft footfall upon the stairs.

A female figure was silhouetted in the door for a moment, and Eadgyth said anxiously as she hurried forward, "Are you all right, Wynne?" Without waiting for an answer, she bent and untied the bonds that held Wynne fast. "Caddaric came raging into the old hall. He wore nothing but his under tunic and braccos. He demanded that Berangari and the others service him. What happened? He could do nought but mutter about curses and witches. When I left them he was preparing to beat poor Haesel for some imagined affront. Blessed Mother, you are frozen!" She pulled a chemise from the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled it over Wynne. Then she added a woolen under tunic. "There is no one in the hall," she continued, "but the fires are high. Come and we will get you warm."

Together the two women descended the stairs into the hall, and Wynne sat down upon a bench by the main fire pit while Eadgyth poured her a goblet of wine.

"Here," the new thegn's wife said, handing the goblet to Wynne. "You will feel better when you drink this."

Wynne swallowed the wine and, looking up at Eadgyth, said, "Did you know he planned to seize me this morning?"

Eadgyth shook her head in the negative. "I should have warned you had I known," she replied sincerely. "He did not have his way with you, did he?"

"Nay," Wynne answered, smiling slightly, "he did not. I am sorry poor Haesel must suffer for me though."

"What did you do to enrage him so?" Eadgyth inquired. "I have never seen him so angry, Wynne."

"I told him I was putting a curse upon his manhood," Wynne responded. "I remembered what the others had said about Caddaric's difficulties of late, and I remembered that Eadwine had told me that Caddaric was superstitious. Under the circumstances, I thought that I might succeed in unnerving him if I pretended I was cursing him."

Eadgyth nodded. "Aye, Caddaric is superstitious and 'twas a good plan, but now I fear what will happen on the morrow. He is not a man to take defeat lightly or well. Once when a young horse threw him, he caught the beast, remounted it, and rode it until he broke its wind. It was barely good after that for even the cart. My husband is a cruel man. He will not forgive you, Wynne. You have struck him in his most vulnerable spot."

Wynne was warmer now, and the blood was flowing hotly through her veins once more. "Eadgyth," she said, looking directly at her friend, "I do not care if Caddaric will not forgive me. All I ask is that he leave me be, and that he keep his promise to Eadwine regarding Arvel and Averel."

"Oh, he will keep his promise," Eadgyth replied. "I will see to that, but it is your safety I fear for, Wynne. Caddaric will find a way to revenge himself upon you, you may be certain. It will not be pleasant. We can but wait."

"I am his father's widow," Wynne said. "He cannot treat me badly. Today he tried and he failed. There will be talk amongst our people, and Caddaric will not want to remain the butt of their jokes for long. His ego is great. He will want the incident forgotten, and the quickest way to attain that goal is to pretend it never happened. To ignore it. If he does not react, the jest will be quickly over."

"I pray it be so, Wynne," Eadgyth said anxiously, "but I fear it will not. Caddaric will not forget."

Wynne felt saddened on the following day to see that poor Haesel had a blackened eye and Dagian was covered in bruises. "Come to my pharmacea," she told them, "and I will treat your wounds."

"It is not fair that we should have to suffer for your behavior," Dagian complained as Wynne stroked a soothing lotion on her aching arms.

"Nay, it is not fair," Wynne agreed, "but I cannot give Caddaric children, and I will not allow him to rape me because of this obsession. I am sorry you have been beaten, but 'twas not I who beat you. It was Caddaric Aethelmaere. Blame him, not me!"

Dagian sighed bitterly. "I know," she said.

During the next few days an uneasy peace settled about Aelfdene. The women moved nervously and quietly as they performed their daily tasks. Caddaric Aethelmaere scarcely glanced at Wynne or the others, and then one evening as they all sat at the high board, the new thegn said,

"For Aelfdene to remain prosperous, we must all pull our weight and contribute to the manor." His cold grey gaze fastened upon Wynne. "You, lady, you and your children take much but give little."

"I am the manor's healer, my lord," she answered him softly, in an attempt not to arouse his ire. Caddaric was more volatile these days than ever before. This was leading somewhere, but she did not know where.

"What do you do in your capacity as our healer?" he asked her, and his tone was almost affable now.

"I gather and grow herbs in season. I dig for medicinal roots and seek barks which can be used for healing lotions. I prepare all potions and brews needed, treat injuries and wounds, and generally care for the sick," Wynne replied. "It takes a great deal of time, my lord, to do these things. There is no time of the year when I am not busy."

His brow furrowed in mock concentration, and then he said thoughtfully, "You cannot gather and grow herbs after the growing season is over, lady. Neither can you dig for roots or seek barks except in the warm seasons. Is your pharmacea well-stocked with the provisions you need right now, Welsh woman? Are you well-prepared for any emergency?"

"Aye, my lord, it is and I am. There are a host of remedies that I must have on hand, and others whose ingredients but wait to be mixed and blended," Wynne told him truthfully.

"I see." Caddaric almost purred the words, and suddenly all the women at the table were alert and wary of what was to come. The new thegn smiled toothily. "You do little, it appears to me, to pay for your keep and that of your children, lady. My half sister Averel is my responsibility, and one I shall not shirk; but your son, lady, is another matter. He takes the serf, Gytha, away from the fields, thus costing me her labor. How will you pay me for his keep and the loss of Gytha?"

Wynne was shocked by his question. What was she to say to him? She was his father's widow, and by all rights should not have to account for herself, or her children, or her use of the serfs.

"You refuse to cooperate with me in my efforts to sire a child on you, lady," he continued. "You curse my very vitality with your witchcraft. Is it possible if I wooed you more gently you would come to me of your own free will?"

"Never!" The word was out of her mouth before she might even think on it. She quickly attempted to soften the harshness of it with him. "Please, Caddaric Aethelmaere, please understand. I loved your father and, although I sympathize with your dilemma, to give myself to you would be a betrayal of Eadwine. I cannot betray a man who loved me, and who was so good to me, and whose daughter I bore."

"So be it," Caddaric said in a silky voice. "You have chosen your own fate, Welsh woman. If you will not be mine, then I shall make you the whore of the hall. You will pay for your keep and that of your son in this way." He smiled again, but his eyes were cold.

Eadgyth cried out as if she had been pierced with something sharp, and the others gasped, turning horrified eyes on Wynne. "Caddaric," his wife begged him, "do not do this thing, I beg of you."

"Be silent!" he told her, and then, turning back to Wynne, said, "Do you know who the whore of the hall is? She is the woman appointed by the lord to service his male visitors in whatever manner they so desire. There was no whore of the hall in my father's time, for he thought it a cruel practice to force a woman to such labor. I, however, see nothing wrong in offering my guests a full range of hospitality."

Wynne stood up and her voice was filled with distaste and loathing for the man. "I will do no such thing, Caddaric Aethelmaere. How dare you even suggest it? When I think that your father gave his precious life to save such as you, I grow ill with the memory of Eadwine's death."

"Disobey me and your brat will suffer for it," he told her dispassionately.