Mauger thought, a chill running down his spine, that Rolf was making perfect sense. 'Has Mistress Julitta taken her own way into disgrace of some sort?' he prompted, as certain as any man could be that he already knew the reply.

'That would about sheath the sword,' Rolf said heavily. 'Last night, May Eve. She drank more than she should, and, well… enough to say that she is no longer a virgin. It was a regrettable accident. For all her wild ways, I know that she is not indiscriminately promiscuous.'

Mauger was not surprised. He had only to remember her romping in the snow with Arnaut the squire, to know that the potential had been there. And a life in a Southwark bathhouse would hardly have stiffened her moral fibre. He felt a flicker of irritation. If Rolf had not rejected his offer three months ago, this would never have happened. Now Rolf was the one making the offer, and of damaged goods. He imagined the dark red hair spread upon his pillow, Julitta's naked body at his side in the marriage bed. Julitta's naked body beneath someone else last night.

'So the man with whom she lay was known to her? She did not go with anyone at random?'

'He was known, and he regrets it too. It will not happen again, I swear it.'

Mauger dug at a soft spot on the wood with his thumbnail. He thought of Benedict saying Why don't you ask him? and he knew the identity of Julitta's lover without having to ask. And that, too, came as no surprise. He had seen the way she looked at Benedict.

'You said that you could give her a safe and steadfast home where she would be her own mistress,' Rolf added when Mauger continued to dig at the wood without answering. 'You can see how difficult it will be to keep her under the same roof as my wife and daughter. They grate upon each other as it is. Life will be made impossible for Julitta now. I have no alternative but to find her a husband, or put her in a nunnery. I know that there are many families I could approach with a view to negotiating a marriage – a good dowry will usually overcome the gravest misgivings, but you offered for her before, and I am giving you the opportunity to have her before I seek elsewhere.'

'How large a dowry?' Mauger asked.

Rolf named a sum that caused Mauger's steady nerves to lurch. It was guilt money, he thought, a sweetening of the sour. It made Rolf's suggestion impossible to refuse, and yet, he hesitated. He had taken his life in his hands three months ago to offer for Julitta, but now the stakes had changed. How much for a virgin's honour? 'What if she is with child? You would not expect me to raise it as my heir?'

'If she is with child, then Father Jerome will admit it to the Cluniac order for a career in the church.'

'So Father Jerome knows?'

'He was present when Julitta was discovered. He needs the patronage of Brize-sur-Risle for his new convent, and he's not the stuff of which holy martyrs are made. Expedience first, religious considerations second. If you take up my offer, he is willing to wed you to Julitta this very day, before he returns to Bee'

Mauger did not like thinking on his feet. He preferred to go away somewhere quiet and mull things over to himself until he was sure that he had made the right decision. But he could see from the glint in Rolf's eyes, the twitch of his fingers, that the answer was required now. Julitta, he could have Julitta. His blood thumped in his head like the tabors had thumped out the dancing rhythms last night around the Maypole. Julitta and a dowry that outstripped his imagination. Another man's leavings. Payment for sweeping embarrassing debris out of sight.

'Supposing she will not agree to the marriage?' he asked. 'You cannot force her.'

'Oh, she will agree,' Rolf said, the grim line returning to his mouth. 'And I won't have to force her. The alternatives are the convent or a life confined to Arlette's rule in the bower. Faced with those, I doubt she will baulk.'

Mauger nodded. He supposed that it was a compliment that he would be preferred above Church and father's wife, but it sailed dangerously close to an insult. He chewed his underlip, his grey eyes narrow with thought. Powdery green fragments from the bench darkened his thumbnail. Once Julitta was his, he could mould her, bring her around to his way of thinking and behaving. Rolf was not strict enough with her, half the reason for her waywardness. With a household of her own to run and a husband to keep her in order, she would not have time to play the hoyden. And perhaps, in time, as her personality matured and steadied, she would come to love him, and thank him.

'Then I agree to your offer,' he said slowly to Rolf. 'I have no family to consult on the matter, only myself to speak for.' He stood up and dusted his hands down his tunic. 'I'd best change my garments, if I'm to stand before witnesses.'

Rolf let out a deep sigh, although it was difficult for Mauger to tell if it was of relief or resignation. The older man slapped him on the shoulder. 'Tancred was always a good friend to me, as well as my vassal and overseer,' he said. 'And you have served me unstintingly. I welcome the opportunity to call you son.'

Mauger nodded stiffly and mumbled a polite reciprocation. Words did not come easily to his tongue the way they did for Rolf and Benedict. He felt clumsy and uncomfortable, nor did it make it easier that he and Rolf both knew that Rolf was trying his best to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.

'Julitta isn't here,' his future father-in-law added as they set off together towards the hall. 'I sent her away before dawn -better for all concerned. She is waiting at your manor of Fauville.' He spread his hands in a gesture both wry and apologetic. 'I gambled that you would agree to the match. You can be married in the chapel there, and I will give you a month's leave from your tasks at Brize.'

A honey month, a time for settling into the married state… or a time of siege. Mauger thanked Rolf for what could either be a blessing or a curse, and went to change his garments. Rolf had asked him if he was sober. Mauger rather wished that he had been sodden drunk.

CHAPTER 49

Julitta stood in the road and watched her father, the Cluniac monk who had married her to Mauger, and the small entourage of knights and servants, ride away from Fauville. It was very difficult to know who was the betrayer, and who the betrayed. Her father said that he had done his best for her, that she would see it in time, and had admonished her to start her life afresh and be a good wife to Mauger.

Her new husband stood beside her in the road, one arm raised in farewell, the other in heavy possession across her shoulders. She was his property now, her father had relinquished his guardianship when the vows were pledged. Julitta was still unable to believe that she had spoken the words so meekly. It was not what she wanted. Inside she was screaming.

Even before the horsemen were out of sight on the road, Mauger lowered his arm and drew her round to face her new home, her prison. She twisted her head and stared over her shoulder, willing her father to turn around, but the distance continued to grow and Mauger's urging grew more insistent.

'Come,' he said brusquely. "Tis no use looking back.'

'What reason have I to look forward?' she retorted, and tried to shrug him off. 'I did not want this marriage, it was forced upon me.'

Mauger's grip tightened. 'By your own folly,' he said tightly. 'What you want is not always what you receive.'

'You seem to have landed upon your feet.'

'Do you think my dream is to have a wife who cannot see beyond her own selfish whims?'

'I don't care what your dream is,' Julitta said defiantly, and then cried out as Mauger's fingers dug into the apex of her shoulder with braising force.

'Then you had better begin caring,' he snarled. 'I won't stand for your sulkiness, and I'm not a soft fool like your father or Benedict de Remy to cast myself at your feet to be trodden on. I am the master of Fauville, and my word here is law!' His voice gained power, the last five words hard and vehement. He fixed her with his stare, imposing his will. When he spoke again, his tone was flat and cold. 'Disobey me, and I will beat you. Please me, and I will please you. I'm a simple man, I live by simple rules.'

Julitta thought of another scathing retort related to his simplicity, but caution jailed it in her head, and a twinge of shame caused her to cease glaring at him and lower her lids. If she was being horrible to Mauger, it was because life was being horrible to her. Was it selfish to want what she could not have, or just unfortunate? Tears thickened in her throat and prickled her eyes. I will not cry, she told herself and clenched her jaw.

'Do you understand?'

Unable to speak, Julitta just nodded. Mauger grunted, the sound accepting, but doubtful, and led her into the hall.

Fauville was a fortified manor house, built in stone at the time of Mauger's grandfather. There was a stone tower too, for defence, but this was more as a last resort and was used mainly as a storeroom for surplus provisions and basic weapons such as spears, shields, bowstaves and arrows. If war did come to the lands of Fauville, then the population would remove six miles to the greater security of Brize-sur-Risle.

The manor house possessed a vaulted undercroft to the ground floor, again for storage of supplies. On the first floor, with access by stone stairs and a rope hand rail, was the hall, a handsome room with arched windows and a fine, raised dais at the end away from the door. There was a narrow wooden staircase up to the loft, which ran the length of the hall below, and served as a bedchamber and personal room for the lord and lady should they wish for a little privacy. It was here that Mauger brought Julitta as the day yielded to a mild spring dusk.

The air was dusty and cobwebs festooned the beams. Although the bedding had been hastily aired by two maids, it still smelled musty and stale, as if it had not been washed from its last occupant, who had died here more than six years ago. There were yellow creases in the linen and a nasty brownish blotch on the exposed bottom sheet. Julitta wrinkled her nose. Although she and her mother had lived a perilous existence in Southwark, they had always kept themselves and their belongings clean. She could still see her mother vigorously punching their bed linen up and down in a barrel of hot water, and smell the stinging aroma of the lye suds. And Lady Arlette was meticulous to the point of obsession. The maids were always whisking the sheets away to be washed, and the linens in the coffers were strewn with dried lavender and rose petals to keep them sweet.

Mauger kindled some more rush dips to light the gathering gloom. 'This room hasn't really been used since my father died,' he said. 'I know it is a little shabby, but nothing that a good broom cannot set to rights. You can start tomorrow.'

Julitta stared at him, the resentment plain in her eyes.

'It is your right as the mistress of Fauville,' Mauger said. 'And your duty.'

'Ah yes, my duty,' Julitta repeated flatly. She did not want duty. She wanted love and light and laughter… and Ben. Selfish, selfish. Do your duty, be approved of. She sat down on the grimy bed, the rushlight shadows lumbering around her, and removed her veil and the circlet of twisted silk which held it in place. Her braids, each a handspan thick and tightly plaited, framed her pale face, the determined mouth and blank eyes. Fumbling, she reached to the pin at the neck of her gown. Dear Christ, was it only last night that Benedict's fingers had lingered there, and then upon her breasts?

Breathing heavily, Mauger began to undress too. From long habit he took time to fold his clothes neatly and place them on the single coffer in the room, and then he advanced to the bed.

Julitta's vision was filled with the sight of his flat belly, the stripe of blond hair running down into his pubic bush and the burgeoning length of his penis. She averted her head.

'There is no need to pretend shyness,' he said. 'You are not a virgin.'

'And you hold it against me. I can hear the anger in your voice.'

'Why should I be angry?' He shrugged, and pulled her to her feet so that he could remove her undergown and short linen shift. 'I'm the one who has you now. You're my wife, and honour-bound to obey me, as I am honour-bound to care for you.' One calloused hand closed over her breast, the other pressed her close to his body and he rubbed himself against her, his organ hot upon the juncture of her thighs. Julitta closed her eyes and prepared to endure.