1066

"What if she exposes you?"

I shrugged, "Then it won't matter."

"What you'll just...?"

"I'll take the field and kill as many as I can, ending my final charge with my wife's head in my hands."

Owen nodded. For the first time he felt a sense of the possible, "I'll go back now tonight."

I smiled, "As you will."

As if at the last moment Owen turned back to me, "And another thing."

Surprised; as if there could be another thing I looked over, "Another thing?"

"There are men at arms."

Yes, that was right. Owen mentioned other men, "Men at arms? How many?"

"I think around forty."

"Forty," I puckered my lips and released a low whistle, "What type?"

"Swordsmen. A few axe men."

"Bowmen?"

"I didn't see any."

I couldn't help it; I breathed a soft involuntary sigh of relief. Considering what happened to Harold bowmen could have been a problem.

At last, as Owen turned to go he asked one more thing, "You think it will work?"

I smiled, "No."

++++++++++

I didn't sleep that night after Owen left. I wondered what's the purpose? My brothers were dead; my lord, my king, both gone, dead. My children hidden away like criminals somewhere in the forest. Old friends like Edwy and Edgar murdered. And then my wife, my sweet precious wife, my wife, a whore, harlot for the Normans? Where was my honor, my pride, my esteem? It was fitting I should go to my old town and end my days as the village fool, the oaf, an idiot at the forge.

Of course those were the thoughts of a fool; the thoughts of a broken man. Was I a broken man? I looked down at my sword. I had my shield. My chain mail sat comfortably on my shoulders. My helm was at my side. More so; I had access to old Edgar's weapons. The Normans in their foolhardy arrogance hadn't thought to look. They'd ransacked the cottage, killed a man with a bad leg, and herded off a few cows, but they'd not thought to look for weapons.

Edgar had been a man among men. He had good axes, a fine sword, several fine daggers, a shield, and to me most of all he'd owned one of the finest helms in the district. His helm was double, no thrice, the quality and value of mine. I won't decry my weapons, but my helm lacked a good metal seat, and there was no chain attached.

I returned to Edgar's ravaged cottage, and scoured it until I found Edgar's weapons. I found his helm. Ah. Yes. It looked a perfect fit. I slid it on. Oh praise the Jesus; it fit wonderfully. The chain slipped comfortably down the nape of my neck. In the front it had what mine lacked, a covering of fine good chain mail. The metal hugged my face and cheeks like a good glove. I could see out excellently, but to any enemy all they'd see was my two eyes. Oh what a wonderful, comfort fitting, a fiendishly threatening, yet protective helm. With this on I would indeed look as fierce as I knew I was.

Gauntlets! Yes Edgar had the best. I found them. I tried them on, another perfect fit! Should I go into battle alone against the Normans I knew I'd certainly die, but oh what distress I'd cause. With my tools plus Edgar's I knew I could take down five, no ten, no twenty Normans!

I had my boots. They'd been made by my wife's own sweet hands; now my wife the harlot. They were the finest leather, brushed and combed to be soft yet exceeding durable. Oh pray God. I knew what I had to do. I loved her. She was my heart. Still, if she'd crossed over she had to die. My honor required it. Yes, I'd find and fight the Normans. I'd bring down as many as I could, but in the killing I'd find my fair sweet Godyfa. I'd chop off her pretty head. I had no choice; it was the manly thing. It sickened my heart to think of it. It sickened me even more to think of her in another man's bed.

Horrid thoughts, terrible visions crossed my mind's eye. I saw my Godyfa, my precious sweet, wonderful wife in the embrace of some greasy short haired tonsured Norman scum. Worse, I had sights in my eyes of her pressing her lips on another's, of her spreading her thighs for another man's seed. If that were true, I'd have to extract my just revenge. I hated the thought, but it would be God's will. I knew this to be true.

I sat and thought. Broken man? A man was only broken when he allowed it. I would not. I had my wits, I had my strength, my skill, and the tools of my profession. I might die. I was certain I would die. All men die. But when I died I'd take many down with me.

I'd take them down; yes down, down to that place the friar called Perdition. Yes, I'd take them down in a sea of their own blood! And any man who took my wife, any man who plowed my field would feel my full wrath. I'd tear open his chest. I'd fillet his flesh from his body. I'd do it while he still breathed. I'd cut him into tiny pieces while he begged me for death. I'd cut off his fingers, his toes. I'd feed them to him while he was alert enough to know what was happening. Then I'd turn to my faithless wife. I'd... I'd... I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I could barely breathe. My Godyfa, she wouldn't, she couldn't, not her, never her.

++++++++++

On the third morning after Owen left I got up and off early. I chose the morning of my third day at Edgar's because the friar said it was on the third that the Jesus had arisen and conquered death. This was my third. I was about to rise, rise from the dead, and like the Jesus, I'd make many pay.

I knelt on the ground and held up my sword. My sword looked like the cross that Jesus carried. There was my blade, my cross guard, the grip, and the pommel. I prayed. Jesus had his cross. I had my sword. My sword was my cross. Just as he used the wooden cross he carried to the place the friar called the 'Place of Skulls'. I would carry my cross to my town, my home. Just as he used his cross to defeat death and the evil that surrounded him, I'd use my cross to defeat the evil and bring death to those that engulfed my family.

I would be like Jesus. I would defeat evil. I would prevail. I could not lose. God was on my side. I would drown my enemies in their own blood. This would be a holy act. I'd taken communion. I'd drunk the blood of the Christ. The Normans would drink their own blood. They'd taste it at the end of my sword. And my wife... like the harlot Jezebel her carcass would be food for the dogs. If only... I wish... So many thoughts..., so many plans, too many plans.

I slowly made my way to the village. When I got close enough to see the smoke from the household fires I stopped and found a place to bury my weapons. I was readying for battle, but I knew I had to assess the field. No sense in going in fully armed expecting battle without first a careful reconnoiter.

I found a place near an oak. I used a dagger and dug a shallow hole. To my surprise, as I dug I found another trove. I spooned out more earth and unbelievably I found another man's treasure. It was quite old. I pulled some of the content out; an old sword, it looked of bronze. It was indeed old. I found a belt buckle, a dagger. The dagger was decorated with strange markings. They weren't Norse runes, not Christian words. I couldn't read them if they were. No, these marking were of another time. I looked them over closely. They were the markings of some ancient people. I studied them; they were odd and unusual, like a knot inscribed in the metal, a knot or a rope with no beginning or end. I'd seen something of this before. They were about, but they were incredibly rare. These were indeed old; they were the weapons of some long dead Gaelic warrior. I thought it a good sign. I not only had my Christ. I had the blessing of the old gods, the old gods of the long gone Gael. I knew then I could not lose.

With my weapons safely hidden I made my way into the village. I kept an old leather cap on my head. It had been an old cap of Edgar's; it covered my head and hid my face. I slouched down so as to draw no attention. I skirted the main thoroughfare and walked up the side.

I noticed some strange and disturbing things. The main thoroughfare had been widened. A whole row of homes, maybe fifteen in all had been torn down. As I approached the great house I saw all the homes that had immediately abutted the main building had also been torn away. These Normans took no chances. Easy entry, easy access, and no buildings close enough to enable surprise.

I carefully watched the people. First I noted the people were up earlier than normal. It was late in the season, crops were already in, so there wasn't much to do. The people all seemed to be moving about in a hurried fashion. I saw several men at arms. I watched them as they watched the people. I realized the reason for the activity; the people were afraid. Several walked by; their fear was palpable.

It was then I noticed something else, something even more disturbing. There were horses aplenty, but there were no chickens, no cattle, no shoats roaming about rummaging in the trash. There was no trash! Where were the farm animals that should be aimlessly wandering about? Where were the cows? How were the children to be fed? What of the butter? I realized it wasn't just fear I saw; it was hunger! This was incredible. I hadn't been gone that long. Hadn't they eaten anything?

I moved a little more purposefully and worked my way to the forge. I went in. The old man, my friend was at the metals pile. I slowly walked, no crept over. I got behind him, "Donnell," I whispered.

The old man looked up, "You," he stared at me in disbelief, "they said, I didn't believe. You must get away from here. They're hunting down all the remaining soldiers. If they find you they'll..."

I put my hand over his mouth, "Oh they'll find me, but they won't find Aelfwine the houseman, they'll find Aelfwine the witless fool. I'll remain such until the time is ripe."

Donnell shook his head. I released his mouth. He whispered, "They won't believe. They'll take one look and know."

"You've been told. Owen's been here."

"He has. But I didn't believe it."

"Do you believe now?"

He nodded vigorously.

"Now tell me. Where can I find my wife?"

He stuttered, "You won't like it."

I said, "Tell me."

"They keep her in the great house. She's one, she's one of several."

"I know that. Is there anything you can add?"

"The old lord's wife, Ethel, they keep her there too. They beat her. She's forced to serve food and such. They try to humiliate her. Your wife is their woman. She serves in... in other, meaner ways," he held up his hands, "but I tell you lord she does so unwillingly. She works to deflect the pain from others. Aelfwine your wife sells her body in exchange for the lives of others."

This confused me, "How so?"

"They look for the children. Your sister Osana and Godyfa's younger sister Hilda have the children hidden. The Normans search. The women move them about. Godyfa discreetly listens. She discovers their plans and warns ahead. Godyfa's done more. The Normans fear to go too deeply in the forest so the women are able to stay ahead."

"And worse," he added, "the Normans have taken all the food. Many of the younger men who weren't killed or who haven't fled into the forest have been taken to work. All that's left in the town are a handful of boys."

I was even more confused, "What more could they do. The harvest is all in. The people should be collecting the last of the firewood. They should be bedding the animals down. Where are the dogs? Where are my dogs?"

"Oh Aelfwine you can't know. These are bad times. The bastard has summoned his chieftains to London. Once they finish with the Atheling and Mercia the rumor is they intend to conduct a census. They plan to count all the animals, all the people, all the barns, the houses, everything. They do it so this new king might tax everyone and everything. Well these new lords. Here it is this Geoffrey. They know of the census so they steal now. They've been secretly moving everything they can get their hands on to the sea where it's all being shipped away. I tell you they've stolen most if the cattle and swine. The sheep they can't steal because of the wool. But the harvest grain is almost all gone, shipped away. They do it now so it's not be part of the census."

I was dumbstruck, "But the people!"

"The Normans, they laugh. They say let them starve. They say let them eat the dogs and rats. And that's why there're no more dogs."

"If we don't stop them there'll be famine."

"Aelfwine, who's to stop them? Most of the food is already gone. The famine, it's here, now!"

"It's all gone?"

"Not all, but much of it. Some has been hidden in the forests. Some of the rest in peoples' homes, buried in the ground, and in the peoples' outbuildings."

This was stunning news. I couldn't believe, but I knew Donnell wouldn't lie, "What of Meghan?"

"Meghan? She was at the great house with Godyfa. They made her serve, in that other way as well. She couldn't do it so she ran away. They would have chased her, but your Godyfa persuaded them not to bother. She pays for Meghan's freedom in awful ways."

I gnashed my teeth, "You understand my wife's life is forfeit. She's broken her vows. She's committed mortal sin."

Donnell started to shake, "Oh Aelfwine think on it first. Speak to the friar. Pray on it. She's a good woman, but these are terrible times. The wicked thing she does is saving lives. One woman does the work of four."

I changed the subject, "The priest, Father Seaton. Can he be trusted?"

Donnell spat, then replied, "No, he's worse than the Normans. He goes among the people. They make confession. Then he uses what he hears to help the Normans."

I knew what I had to do first, "Tell me Donnell. Have the priests habits changed? Does he still visit the same places at the same times? Does he still occasionally pray in the old way?"

Donnell shared a grim and knowing smile, "Not always, but I'll find his pattern. I'll ask about. No one trusts him."

I replied with the same kind of grim smile, "Good. I can't show myself until he's been sent away. Are there any others?

Donnell replied, "There's the old woman Ethelfleda, but no one listens to her."

I thought on this. Ethelfleda was indeed an old woman; she'd lost her self-awareness. She was sick, sick in the head, "We'll deal with the crone when the time comes. Now Donnell, be a man. Find this priest's pattern today. And oh, I guess we all still eat in the great hall?"

Donnell answered, "Not all, not anymore. They never set out enough food. I still do. I have to. You'll come with me. Tonight I hope, after I discover the priest's movements and you give him your blessing we can go."

I said, "Good, while you search, I'll hide here in the back and wait for your return."

++++++++++

I spent my time hidden behind the forge. I remembered when I was a boy how I used to play around the smithy. I also remembered the little girl with the fiery red hair. I loved her even back then, but I guess I didn't understand the emotion. Now that I'm a man I know my feelings.

Who understands love when they're a child? I used to follow her around. I'd sneak up behind and yank her hair. Once I chased her through the village and wrestled her to the ground. I had my legs straddled over her waist and had her wrists pinned to the ground with my hands. I recall the look on her face. I could tell she liked me. She was so pretty. That was the first time I kissed her. Yes, I kissed her, and then I got up. I remember how silly I felt, so I ran away.

I remember that day like it just happened. After I let her loose she got up she yelled at me, "Aelfwine, Aelfwine," I remember while I was running she yelled my name over and over. I never liked my name much, but when she yelled it I started to like it. She yelled, "Aelfwine I'm going to get you! One day I'll make you marry me!"

I never dreamed back then that one day... oh I hope she hasn't. I felt sick in my stomach again. I felt nervous and tense. I thought in my head, 'Oh please don't let it be so.'

++++++++++

Later, about mid-afternoon Donnell was back, "Lord I have word regarding Seaton's whereabouts."

I'd been resting, not asleep, but half in and half out. I'd been on a bench I'd covered with deer hides. I sat up. I said nothing.

Donnell sat down beside me, "The friar and Seaton will be going to the friary later this evening. Our friar has asked Seaton to come alone and to tell no one what he's doing. At first Seaton was suspicious, but the friar is a clever man. He explained he needed to make confession and wanted privacy. It seemed to have stoked the priest's sense of self-importance. He agreed."

I stretched, "Then it is done."

Donnell leaned in, "What do you intend to do?"

I bestowed an enigmatic smile on the smith, "God's will." I wasn't sure Donnell completely understood what that meant, but it was best he didn't. I was sure when the priest went missing there'd be questions aplenty.

Then Donnell added, "Be careful. A few of the men at arms noticed you. They have no idea who you are, but they've seen you. They'll start to talk. Someone will start looking around."

I looked toward the door, "The priest first; then we'll see."

Donnell commented, "Owen said you had a plan."

I thought, 'A bad Saxon habit, talking.' I looked past Donnell, "I have no plan."

Donnell seemed to appear downcast, "Oh."

++++++++++

I waited till just after sundown; I gathered my clothes and my wits and slipped out the blacksmith's rear door. No weapon would be needed for this night; just a small club, metal spikes protruded from its bulbous head. I kept to the shadows and made my way to the friary.

Our friary is small; just a small stone building with two outbuildings, a shed for the storage of a few farm tools, and a stable where our friar keeps his donkey. Our friar has a flock of ten maybe twelve sheep. He has a few chickens; there's one gamy looking little rooster I'd like to strangle and seven or eight hens. Back before, before our current troubles when I stopped by to see the friar that damned rooster would follow me. He'd follow and snip at my heels. The friar has a couple of very nasty goats too. Though I like the milk, I'm not fond of goats.

Our friar's goal in life, so he repeatedly says, is to live a simple life, work a few hectares of land, and serve the people. Some friars call themselves monks. Others just say they're friars. I couldn't say there is a difference, except ours keeps a woman. She's slightly older than he is. She's small and fat and has grey hair. I can never remember her name; she looks like the old hens they keep.

Our friar, I can't say whether he's old or young. I suppose he fits that indeterminate age where one never precisely knows how old the person is. I hope I never get that old. Then I'm not pleased with the alternative either. I do know he's no celibate. I've heard them when they didn't know anyone was there. I thought it funny; he's so scrawny and she's so plump. I wonder how he's able to climb on top of her. There's a plank bed with a straw mattress in the front room; I remember they made a lot of noise.

Some monks and priests do avoid women, but there's no rule either against or for a friar or a priest having a woman. They say there are nuns about too; women who take vows of celibacy. I've never met one. The idea of celibate women seemed to have faded when the Norse started coming, though I'm sure the tradition still goes on in some places. I think it's a little funny that our friar tries to conceal what everybody knows. Everybody teases him and his woman about it too. They pretend they're not doing what everybody knows they are.

I reached our friary and hid in the shadows. It wasn't long. The friar is a talkative fellow, and his voice carries. This evening I thought he was a little louder than normal, and I was glad of it.

As they reached the door I stepped from the awning that covered the portal. The priest saw me and stepped back. I heard him say, "Who?"