A moment later, she felt Felice's hand on her shoulder. 'Ailith, I'm sorry, you must do as you see fit. I just don't want to see you hurt any more than you have been already.'

Ailith draped the linen over the side of the cauldron and put her arms around Felice, hugging her. 'Then let me make my own mistakes,' she said, and then with a small cry of alarm, she pushed out of the embrace and ran to the dung heap to snatch Benedict out of the muck and straw.

The baby squealed his delight at being swung up in Ailith's arms. 'Oh, you rascal!' Ailith could not help but laugh as she cuddled him. Her eyes filled with moisture. The baby would be the hardest thing to leave behind despite Rolf's assurances that she would still see him often. But as she carried him back to his mother, her decision was made and her heart was filled not only with determination, but a new sense of purpose.

Wulfstan's shop occupied a prime position in the heart of London's goldsmiths' quarter. The frontage was more generous than usual for business premises in the heart of the city. Morning sunshine gleamed on the whitewashed walls and the open counter with its cover of dark green cloth. Two apprentices were erecting a canvas awning to provide shade for the customers since the day looked set to be hot.

Rolf dismounted from Sleipnir and handed the reins to the accompanying groom. Then he asked one of the apprentices for Wulfstan. The lad appraised him, and quickly realised that Rolf was Norman and rich. Sensing new and valuable custom, he hurried into the living quarters at the back of the shop.

Rolf leaned on the counter and studied the various items hanging on the wall behind it. To one side there were pincers, snips, and engraving tools, each neatly hung in its set place. Directly before his eyes were the samples of merchandise. Their style reflected their creator. All the pieces without exception were heavy and opulent, the sort of items that said Behold, I am wealthy and to be respected. Rolf grimaced at a large disc brooch so crusted with gold that it looked like a bubbling griddle cake, and wondered how much some city burgher, eager to show off his status, was going to pay for it.

Wiping his hands and lips on a napkin, Wulfstan emerged from the rear of the shop. The apprentice followed him and returned to helping his fellow with the awning. Wulfstan looked at Rolf and the pleasant, slightly obsequious expression fell from his face and was replaced by narrow-eyed wariness.

'Lord Rolf,' he acknowledged. 'What can I do for you so early this morning? Do you wish to break your fast with me?' He gestured towards his living quarters.

Rolf shook his head. 'Thank you, but I ate at dawn. I am leaving for my lands today; indeed, my baggage wain left the city at first light. As soon as I finish my business, I'll be following it out. And when I tell you why I have come, I do not believe that you will want to offer me hospitality of any kind.'

Wulfstan's eyes flickered. He put the napkin down on the counter. 'This concerns Ailith, I think?' he said coldly.

'Yes, it concerns Ailith.'

'If you are here to warn me against pursuing my suit, you ire wasting your breath. I intend to have her.'

Rolf's dislike of the goldsmith deepened towards loathing. But she does not want you,' he said more sharply than was polite. 'To that end she has agreed to become chatelaine of my English lands. She left this morning with the baggage wain.' And then he added softly, each word biting and distinct, 'She is mine, Wulfstan, and always will be.'

The goldsmith stared at him. Then he began to shake, and uttering a roar of rage, he seized Rolf around the throat and started to squeeze. Rolf scrabbled for his dagger. The groom abandoned the two horses and ran to help his master, snarling at the gaping apprentices to pull Wulfstan off.

Passers-by hurried to help, and after a struggle, Wulfstan was finally prised from his victim. The Saxon fought against the restraining hands whilst Rolf wheezed and choked on his knees.

'May you and she be damned for eternity!' Wulfstan snarled. 'Whoremonger and whore!'

Rolf regained his feet. The goldsmith's rage was that of a child denied its own way. There was no point in continuing the scene. Wulfstan was beaten and Rolf was finding it difficult enough to draw a clean breath without the added burden of speech.

Ignoring Wulfstan, which only added another dimension to the Saxon's fury, Rolf mounted his horse and rode away. He had done what he intended, and the road ahead was clear.

CHAPTER 22

On a bright spring noontide, five days after setting out from London, Ailith came to Ulverton. On this final day, they took the road from Wareham where they had rested for the night and headed over the undulating greenery of the chalk downs towards the coast. The sky was blue, the air sparkled; so too in the distance did the sea, its horizon haze-grey. Ailith narrowed her eyes the better to focus. Everything was so different. Before this, the furthest she had ever been from London was the village of Tottenham, just a few miles from the city's hub, where she had lived before her marriage. She had never seen forests as huge and dark as the ones which had engulfed her journey, could never have imagined such vastness. The bursting Maytime greenery overwhelmed her senses, made her feel humble and afraid, but at the same time she was charged with exultation.

Now the forests were behind them. The three cobs pulled sturdily in the shafts of the baggage wain, their step brisk and their ears pricked. The driver was a taciturn little Saxon named Osred, whose speech consisted of positive and negative grunts in response to her curious questions. He had a scrawny neck and stringy arms which seemed on first glance incapable of controlling the three lively horses, but his wiry frame was deceptively strong. Wulfhild, who had opted to remain with Ailith, declared that he only required feeding up, but she said that about everyone less slump than herself. Sigrid had remained in London with Aubert and Felice, for she was soon to marry an armourer's journeyman from Southwark.

The sea vanished from sight as they entered a low dip, reappearing as the wain gained the brow of the slope. It was closer now, a glittering swell of darkest blue stretching as far as the eye could see, and filing the bay of the nearer vision. A village was cuddled down in the folds of the hills. Standing a little apart from it on another slope that showed an edge of raw earth, stood a wooden tower surrounded by a palisade of sharpened stakes, and beneath the main hill, a raised bank of earth creating a fortified compound filled with a variety of thatched wooden buildings.

Rolf appeared suddenly at the side of the wain. He had been riding Sleipnir ahead and behind all morning — to scout so he had said, but Ailith had sensed the restless anticipation that made keeping still a torture. 'Ulverton,' he announced, pointing towards the village. 'I have other holdings, of course, but this is the main one, your new home.'

Ailith set aside the disturbing thought that these lands through which they travelled were only Rolf's by right of conquest. An English thegn had died by a Norman hand on Hastings field so that Rolf could take possession. 'Do I live in that place up there or in the village?' She looked dubiously at the crude wooden structure on top of the hill. If it was habitable, that was the most which could be said about it.

'The castle, you mean?' He sounded wryly amused at her doubtful tone. 'The village is too far for you to trudge every day. When I first arrived here, the old English hall was stripped and derelict, not worth renovating, so I began afresh. A castle is far more secure from attack. Don't worry, there's a perfectly liveable hall in the lower bailey; the tower is just in case of dire necessity.'

Ailith noticed that his voice was stronger today. When he had joined the baggage wain on the road after departing London, he had been scarcely able to speak. She had learned in a roundabout manner from one of the grooms that Rolf had gone to see Wulfstan and that there had been violence. Rolf himself had not spoken of the incident, and Ailith had seen no reason to seek the details. 'Do you fear attack?'

Rolf smiled and shook his head. 'Not from these people. They have accepted me with a remarkably good grace. I wear no armour to come to them — a sword at my hip, yes, it is a mark of my rank, but I have no need of further protection.'

Ailith returned his smile. 'A wolf in sheep's clothing,' she said.

Rolf laughed aloud at her sally. 'Better than a sheep in wolfs clothing,' he retorted.

The 'castle' owned a sketchy garrison consisting of two knights and eight footsoldiers, all of whom were at work on building tasks as the wain rolled across the wooden bridge built over the ditch.

'I can't afford the luxury of keeping men purely to fight,' Rolf explained as he dismounted. 'Those who are too proud to dirty their hands, work for other masters.' He moved to help Ailith from the wain, setting his hands around her waist to give himself purchase as he swung her round and down.

She felt the curious stares of the men — both Rolf's troops and the English labourers. From her eye corner she saw one soldier nudge his companion, mutter something from the side of his mouth, and laugh. She had done nought but allow Rolf to assist her from the wain and already they were speculating and coming to the wrong conclusions.

'Come,' said Rolf, 'I will introduce you.'

Ailith thought, Why bother, they already think I am your whore. Her lips narrowed. She would show them the meaning of respectable.

The men were amenable enough and prepared to be polite o her face, although she could not help but wonder what they would think and say of her behind her back. It was the Saxons who eyed her the most doubtfully. While they could come to 6erms with a Norman lord in their midst, they were perturbed hat he should bring a stranger of their own race into his household. Although the word 'traitor was not uttered, it hovered in he air as clearly as the word 'whore'.

And yet she had to take charge of these people, command their obedience and respect if she was to succeed in the duties Rolf had proposed that she carry out.

Ailith set her jaw and resolutely followed Rolf across the bailey to the long wooden hall standing close to the eastern palisade.

'They will soon grow accustomed to you,' he said over his shoulder. 'They looked at me like that for the first month or so until they realised I was no ogre come to eat their children.'

'You are not English,' Ailith answered in a subdued tone.

'Would you rather have yoked yourself to that bullying goldsmith?'

'You know I would not.'

Rolf paused on the threshold of the hall and turning, took her by the shoulders. 'I know it is hard,' he said. 'But time will make it easier, trust me.'

She removed his hands and shook her head. 'When you touch me in front of everyone, when you look into my eyes and laugh and make private jests, the people here are going to construe far more than friendship and obligation. "Ah yes," they will say. "Lord Rolf and his Saxon whore. Why should we do as she bids us?" You swore that my position in your household would be an honourable one. Well in Jesu's name, I pray you set about establishing it now before it is too late!'

His face darkened. Ailith stared him out. She had never seen him angry before, but she knew that her own anger and fear were any match for his.

'You insult me,' he said huskily.

'By showing you the truth?'

'You want to live like a nun?' he bit out. 'Then so be it. I'll have your cell prepared.'

Ailith nodded vigorously. 'With a bar on the inside of the door. And I want one of the village women to sleep with me at night, so that everyone will know that I am virtuous. Until then, I will sleep in the main hall with everyone else.'

'God's death, you're as stubborn as a mule, and you know-how to kick like one — straight in the teeth!' Rolf growled, but reluctant humour began to gleam in his eyes.

Ailith stared him out without responding to his humour. This point of principle was very important to her.

Clearing his throat, Rolf shouldered past her into the hall. 'Well then, Abbess Ailith,' he declared with a sarcastic flourish, 'let me show you around your new convent.'

Driven by a boisterous wind, sunshine and shadow chased each other recklessly across Ulverton's beach. Gulls wheeled and screamed above the limestone cliff, or foraged along the shoreline where the tide had flung up a bounty of dark seaweed. A donkey stood in the lee of a cliff and munched hay from its nosebag, while two women culled mussels from the beds exposed by the retreating sea.