"Gwyll and I found an old loom and a tapestry frame. We put them by the fire, and I kept myself amused in that manner. Before the winter set in, I gathered roots and plants to make a store of salves, lotions, and medicines for the castle. They had none at all. I showed Gwyll what he is to do in the future," Elf finished.

Ranulf laughed. He simply couldn't help it. It was so very typical of his wife’s sweet nature and kind heart. "I suppose you mended the Welshman’s clothes for him, too," he half teased her.

"Aye, I did," she admitted. Then she giggled. "There are no women, even servants, at Gwynfr Castle, my love; and Isleen was certainly not about to repair the poor man’s tunics. I could hardly have my captor going about looking shabby."

He roared with laughter. "Petite," he told her, "I most certainly do love you with all my heart and soul. You are quite unique, my Eleanore."

"The lord Merin has gone after Isleen, Ranulf. He will, I suspect, have a difficult time finding her, for she could have gone in any direction. Gwynfr is already a half ruin. Leave it be, so that when, or if, he ever returns home again, what is left of Gwynfr will be there to shelter him. Let us go home and see our son, my lord. I think it is past time we gave him a brother." She smiled up at him.

Ranulf nodded in agreement. How could he refuse her request? He really could not. Merin ap Owen had almost beggared them, but he had his wife safely back.

They walked back to their horses, where the others awaited. Now the lord of Ashlin noticed Arwydd. "Who is she?" he asked.

"Her name is Arwydd," Elf began.

"The wench who betrayed Ashlin?" he demanded, his brow darkening.

"The very same," Elf replied calmly. "She is to be my new servant, my lord, and I will hear no more about it. Arwydd made a bad mistake. She was compelled to serve a wicked mistress. She repents of her own ill judgment, and she has done us both a great service. Arwydd knew about our son. Yet she helped me to dry up my milk before I reached Gwynff, and she never told either her mistress or the lord of the castle of our child. What do you think Isleen would have done if she had known we had a baby, Ranulf? All the devils in hell could not have prevented her from going to Ashlin and stealing our son away. Arwydd prevented this tragedy by remaining silent. She deserves a second chance, and I mean to see that she gets it. She is freeborn, and she has a good heart, Ranulf. She served Isleen faithfully, and her reward was to have her mistress desert her. She will be loyal to us, I guarantee it."

"It would seem I can deny you nothing, my lady wife," he answered her.

Elf stood upon her toes, and kissed him lightly upon the lips. "Thank you, my lord," she said as he then lifted her into the saddle.

Ranulf mounted his own horse.

"Are we going after the Welshman, my lord?" Sim asked him.

"Nay," Ranulf replied, and then briefly explained to his men the reason for his decision. "Ap Owen has gone after Isleen de Warenne. He is punished if he catches her, and he is punished if she eludes him, I am thinking," he concluded. "Let us go home!"

By late afternoon they were well over the border and into England again. The day remained fair, and the countryside about them empty but for their party. For the next three days they traveled back to Ashlin, camping at night in the open, for so desolate was the countryside that there was no religious house for them to shelter in, or even the rudest inn or manor house. Each night the horses were staked within a crude enclosure of brush, and a huge fire was built to keep away any predators. They were a large enough party to be safe from bandits. They ate what they could catch, and the bread they carried with them.

Finally in early afternoon of the fourth day, they topped a rise, and there below them was the manor of Ashlin on a near hill. Elf’s heart beat faster, and with great happiness, for sometimes in the darkest night she had wondered if ever she would see her home again. At the look upon her beautiful face, Ranulf reached out and took his wife’s hand in his for a moment, squeezing it gently. Their eyes met, and she smiled.

"Simon will not recognize me," she said.

"You will not recognize him," he told her. "When I left to go to Normandy, he was not even two months old. When I returned just at Christ’s Mass, he was seven months old. I was astounded. It was as if I were being shown a different child. It will affect you the same way, I am thinking, petite. He pulls himself up now, and stands. He crawls, and he says all manner of babble, which his nurses pretend to understand. Although, all I can ever make out clearly is the word Da, which he says when he sees me." He chuckled. "He is quite a child, petite. Do not fret if he is strange with you at first, for that is only to be expected. He has not seen you in several months, but he will soon warm to you again, and probably never know or even remember that he was once separated from you." He raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it. "Tonight, petite, we will begin the arduous process of making a brother for Simon. Ashlin must have more than one son." He released her small hand from his, and smiled into her eyes.

"I need a daughter," she said boldly.

"We will do our best to arrange for that, too," he assured her with a broad grin.

Elf laughed, and together, their men behind them, they came down from the hills to Ashlin. Their serfs were plowing in the fields, but once they saw the lady of Ashlin, they cried joyously and came running to greet her. Those who recognized Arwydd, however, glared darkly in her direction. They knew well the part she had played in Elf’s abduction, for old Ida’s tongue had not been idle, and the elderly woman was respected among her peers. Arwydd shivered at the black looks being sent her way, instinctively pressing her mount closer to Sim's.

"Don't look to me for protection," he said to her. "I agree with them. If I were the lord, I should have sent you packing."

"You know nothing of me," Arwydd snapped at him. "You have lived your whole life safe and secure here at Ashlin. You know little of true evil or wickedness. I do. I will never betray our lady Eleanore again. It broke my heart to do so before, but I was afraid of what they would do to me if I did not obey them. Now I am free of the lady Isleen and the lord Merin. I will endeavor to win the trust of all at Ashlin, even if it takes me a lifetime." Then, straightening her backbone, Arwydd sat up in her saddle, her eyes focused ahead.

"It may take a lifetime with some," he said. "The lady is beloved of us all."

"I know," Arwydd replied meaningfully.

"I'll be watching you," Sim said, "to make certain you don't deceive us again."

"If you watch me too closely," Arwydd said, not looking at him, "you'll make your wife jealous."

"I have no wife," Sim said.

"Because no girl will have such a rough fellow as yourself, I imagine," Arwydd responded. "Oh, Mary, Mother of God, protect me! There is that old Ida, and she is the one I truly fear."

Sim chuckled. "You're wise, lass, for she'll not hesitate to put a knife between your ribs given the chance. She may be old, but she’s as fierce as any warrior in his prime, old Ida."

"My lady! My lady!" Old Ida cried as Elf was lifted down from her mare. She clutched the young woman to her scrawny bosom weeping. "Praise God, His Blessed Mother, and all the angels in heaven, you have come home safe to us!"

Elf comforted her weeping nursemaid as best she could. "I was never really in any danger, Ida. I was well treated, I promise you. Now, I want to see my son."

It was at that moment the old lady, relinquishing her hold on Elf, let out a screech, leaping back like a scalded cat and pointing a bony finger. "What is she doing here?" Ida advanced on a pale-faced Arwydd. "What is this deceitful Welsh bitch doing here? Have you come back then to destroy the whole family this time, wench? Someone give me a knife! I will kill her now before she can do us any further harm!"

Elf stepped between Arwydd and her outraged nursemaid and explained as she had to Sim and to Ranulf.

"Your heart is too good, lady," Ida said grimly. "I do not trust the Welsh. She will be trouble," the old woman predicted darkly.

"There will be no trouble," Elf said sternly. "Do you all understand me? This girl protected Ashlin’s heir. For that I am eternally grateful. She is under my protection. Any who harms her by word or deed will have to answer to me. Remember that I am the lady here!"

Arwydd suddenly knelt before Ida and, looking up at the old woman with tear-filled eyes, pleaded, "Please, Ida, forgive me the wrong I have done the Ashlin folk!"

"Clever baggage," the old woman muttered, glowering down at Arwydd. "You will have to earn my forgiveness, wench, but I will not speak against you to the others. That, at least, your pretty plea has gained you."

Arwydd scrambled to her feet and hurried after Elf, who was already entering her home. Alyce came forward carrying her little charge in her arms. Elf felt the tears sliding down her cheeks as she took her son into her arms. His hair was her own pale red-gold, but Simon de Glandeville looked at his mother with his father’s warm hazel eyes. Elf kissed the child passionately until he protested and squirmed away from her, holding out his arms to Alyce.

Elf laughed. "Oh, Simon," she said to him, "you must forgive your mama. I have missed you so very much, and missed so much of you, bébé. But they tell me you will never know of this separation, and within a short time you will be used to your mama again." She kissed the top of his head, and handed the little boy off to Alyce. "Thank you," she said to the young serf who had cared so faithfully for her son.

"Maris fed him, lady, and still does," Alyce said blushing with her mistress’s praise.

"Tell her she must continue to do so, as my milk has been dried away now," Elf responded.

"My lady! Welcome home!"

"Cedric!" Elf held out her hands to her steward, smiling.

He took her hands, and pressed them to his heart a moment, then stood back to allow John the bailiff and Fulk to come forward. They both greeted her happily. Elf thanked them both for their care of Ashlin in her absence.

"Sim," she told Fulk, "was very brave, and did well in the face of adversity. You may be proud of your kin, Fulk. I promise you that the next time you advise me, I shall listen well."

Fulk’s eyes grew visibly misty. "Thank you, my lady," he said, grateful she did not hold him responsible for her captivity.

"I'll want a bath after the meal," Elf announced as they seated themselves at the high board.

The meal was served, and Elf ate with relish, particularly of the roasted meats and the greens, which had been few and far between at Gwynfr, whose cook it seemed boiled everything to mush. There was even a sweet pudding of boiled wheat, milk, sugar, cinnamon, dried apples, and raisins. She practically licked her wooden bowl clean, swallowing down the last of her sweet wine with a sigh.

"It would seem," her husband noted, "that the kitchens of the Welshman left much to be desired. Do you want the rest of my pudding?"

Without a word Elf switched bowls with him, and scooped up the remainder of the pudding with a mischievous grin. "I was hungry for sweets," she said.

"So am I," he replied, his hazel eyes twinkling, and she giggled. It was a wonderful sound, he thought. "Go and bathe, petite."

"Let us bathe together, Ranulf, my dear lord," she invited him, and her glance was warm. "We have both been on the road for several long days… and nights. I believe we would find the water salubrious." She arose from the high board and, walking to the door leading to the solar, turned to look seductively at him. Then she was gone.

A feeling, unfamiliar to him these last months, rippled through his large frame. His member actually tingled in anticipation, then began to harden with lust. He drained his cup slowly, making a small attempt to bring himself under control. He had waited for this night for months. He would not spoil it with undue haste. Willa and Arwydd came from the solar, giggling. They had once been friends, and now Elf’s approval of Arwydd restored, Willa saw no reason to hold a grudge. The two young women had taken up where they had left off.