1066

As the dinner wended its way along I tried to concentrate on the other things around me. It was the first time I'd gotten a good look at who was still around. My sources had been right; there were very few really able bodied men, and many of the younger women were gone as well.

I leaned over and asked the farmer, "Tell me farmer where are the younger people?"

He pretended to ignore me. I could see why; there were men at arms all about, and that cursed Henry of Dulac wouldn't stop watching me. The farmer covered his mouth. I suppose even from where we sat he was a little afraid. He whispered, "Several of the younger women have taken to the forest with their children. More than a few are with your sister. I hear others just wander aimlessly about the woods; afraid to come back to the village for fear of ravishment."

I had to ask, "Why didn't my wife flee?"

The farmer was surprised. He lost his aplomb and gave me a direct look and a forthright reply, "Those Normans up there; they wanted women. Someone had to take the brunt of their abuse. After Lord Aidan you were our greatest man. Your wife is pretty. She takes the abuse for others. Those Norman swine at the great table, especially that Geoffrey, they need no other; they have your Godyfa."

The farmer had confirmed my thoughts. My food didn't taste any better, my stomach still churned, my head continued to pound, my ears still burned, but my heart seemed a little lighter.

Just then I heard my wife squeal. I involuntarily looked up. Geoffrey had finished unlacing her bodice. In another moment her breasts would be exposed. The beast Richard had his hands up her dress. I grimaced. Then I saw Dulac; the cur, he was looking directly at me. I immediately looked back down at my plate. Did he know? Did he suspect?

I spent the rest of the meal-time feeling shame like I'd never felt before. All evening I heard and occasionally again saw as the knights took advantage of my woman. They abused her breasts and her bottom sorely. I swore I'd punish these men for their flagrant groping. That Henry, he repeatedly reached up under her dress and felt her buttocks! My woman's buttocks! Though her bodice was pulled away most of the evening, and hands moved freely over what was rightfully mine they at least had the decency not to fully disrobe her. I wondered what tortures were in store for her later after the evening meal was finished.

By the time dinner and its concomitant entertainment was over I was in the foulest of moods. Yet though by right I should have felt the deepest anger toward Godyfa I felt no animosity at all, not toward her. Even though she was violating her vows, and yes she was committing a mortal sin, a sin punishable with eternal damnation, and yes she was allowing this in the full and open presence of me, her husband, I felt a kind of joy at her behavior. I couldn't explain it, but it was as though she was bearing her cross just as I was bearing mine. Could I hold her to account for her shame, and mine, at what she was allowing when by my actions I was betraying everything I believed. I knew I loved her more now than ever. I knew she loved me as well. Still it hurt; it hurt terribly. One day I might still be required to take her life, and it bothered me.

++++++++++

Geoffrey, smug, self-righteous, overbearing, arrogant pig that he was had detained Donnell so I walked back to the smithy alone. I thought on Geoffrey. He wasn't so cleanly shaven as most Normans. He wore a thin mustache, and a thin wispy beard seemed smeared across his chin. He had the look of grease about him. He had the appearance of dirt, deeply imbedded grime. I wasn't so close to really smell, but he seemed to have the odor of rotted flowers, some distasteful aroma of oil or pig fat. I didn't like his hands; they were long and thin, claw-like, and he slathered them over my wife's face and breasts. I thought it would feel good to open his throat and watch as all his blood pumped through the hole. I clenched my fists at the thought.

As I walked along I started to feel pretty good. In fact I felt pretty proud of myself. The people of the village thought enough of me that there'd been no betrayal. I'd played the fool so well no Norman caught it. Well maybe that wasn't so great an accomplishment as I thought.

Most important, I'd managed to sit through the whole meal while those Norman swine, in clear sight, out in clear sight, right in front of me, abused my woman. Yes, I had a lot to be proud of; I'd shown tremendous self-control, incredible control.

I wondered how many other men would have been able to sit and eat and listen while near half dozen foreign men, men who'd never tested me in battle hungrily pulled and yanked my wife's clothing to pieces, then smacked and slobbered kisses all over her lips, her shoulders, her breasts, her sweet face, her tiny ears and her long thin swan's neck even while she allowed them to pull her legs apart and greedily take their clammy filthy hands and feel up and down the insides of her thighs, no my thighs, and even then reach up and touch her secret places where only my body had ever been. Oh yes, they'd violated those soft special places where only a husband was allowed to venture. The bastards didn't know, but she'd been given me by God in front of the whole town. God had also given me the sword and the power to use it. Would that I had my sword this night; I'd have spread a new dish on the table for all to see!

Was I angry? Did it hurt? How does any husband feel knowing the one woman in all creation was being taken by a bunch of grimy dirty swine? How would any man feel knowing his wife was in the hands of brigands; knowing that she was breaking all her sacred vows? How much worse could it be; knowing as it were, that I'd once been the second man in the shire, the shires greatest knight?

Yes I was angry! Oh how it hurt! I was way past angry; fury was the way it felt right now! But I'd done well; I'd held my anger, held my pain, held my wife's betrayal all inside. I'd proven my manhood! Well I had! Hadn't I?

They didn't know it yet, but those were my lips, my breasts, and my tender neck. They were violating my special treasures. I was so angry I felt like I should take my sword and shred their worthless bodies into small strips, but I manfully held it all in! Yes, I had shown tremendous self-control, a magnificent forbearance.

And imagine my forbearing while she pretended to enjoy it by laughing and talking and playing along. I knew she was just like me, just play acting. She was pretending too. I know how my wife sounds when she's really happy. All her laughter and all her gaiety tonight had meant nothing; her teasing and giggling had all only been for show, just a forced performance. Yes, only a man, a real man, a man like me, could have shown such strength!

I stepped inside the smithy; my shoulders back, my head and face uplifted. It was as though I'd come back from some desperate battle, a battle where I'd stood forth in single combat, man to man, and won! Yes, oh yes I'd won!

I was thirsty. I went to the water bucket, took the ladle, and dipped it in. I pulled up a spoonful of cool fresh water. The days were getting shorter. We were close to All Saints Day, a special holiday, or had it already passed and I'd missed it? I couldn't recall; these past few days had been, well... What did it matter; it was a time when there'd be a brief remembrance of those who'd passed on in the last year. I thought of Oswald, Wulfram, Edgar, Lord Aidan, and the great king Harold. It saddened me that so many good men had died, but to have died at the hands of such craven creatures, those filthy smelly whore servants of a bastards.

At that moment I espied something, more likely someone; they were in the corner of the room. It was dark, but it was definitely a person. He stood up and walked toward me. It was the friar.

I put the ladle down. He stepped closer, "Aelfwine, how do you feel?"

I looked at him for a second, and then I couldn't explain it. I started to cry. I was crying? Why yes, I was! I felt big wet tears roll down my cheeks. How could this be? I was Aelfwine. I was a great warrior! Soldier of the king, and I was blubbering like a baby, slobbering and drooling like a weakling, as if I were some little child.

I couldn't stop! I just couldn't stop! I felt my stomach turn and roll. It was tied in more knots than the emblems on that mysterious Gaelic dagger I'd unearthed. 'Oh no,' I thought! I couldn't lose my meal. I couldn't lose the meal so many people had sacrificed for me, just for me! But my stomach, it hurt! I was shaking. My whole body shook, and I just couldn't stop crying!

The friar stepped up beside me. I was lost! I fell to my knees and wrapped my arms around his waist. I wanted to say something. I shook! I couldn't talk. I just kept crying. My whole face was wet. The front of my long shirt was covered with my tears. I still couldn't stop crying. What was wrong with me? My whole body shook and heaved.

The friar put his arms around my head. He stroked my hair. I felt like a child, like a small boy. I hadn't cried like this since my mother died. I thought of my mother; my dear sweet tiny mother. How I had loved her. I'd been a child back then; that's how I felt right now.

I think someone had come in. It must have been Donnell. The friar had waved his hand, and whoever it was left. I don't know how long it was. I kept heaving, and gasping, and quaking, and shaking and crying.

After a while I began to slow down. Through my tears I started to talk, I started to murmur, "They had their hands all over her. They were touching, and rubbing, and grabbing at her. She's my wife. They were doing those things to my wife. And, and she kept laughing, she kept talking and laughing. Oh Friar. You don't think? I couldn't say it."

He held my head; his voice was low, mellow, comforting, "No Aelfwine, hers was an act just as yours was. I know our Godyfa. She might have been laughing outwardly, but she was crying inside. She was begging you for forgiveness. She was playing the harlot, but she was suffering, suffering like no other. Think of the rosemary. Did you see the rosemary?"

I managed to stop crying. I thought of the rosemary. Yes she had seen that it was there. Through my sniffs I said, "She was like Jesus wasn't she? She was suffering so that others might live."

The good friar consoled, "Oh bless you Aelfwine; that was exactly her role. She was suffering just as you were suffering. Both of you were like our Jesus," he pulled my head up, "you must remember that. She may have sinned tonight, but her sins, though considered mortal by some, do not put her beyond redemption. Remember she is your wife. She carried you seed. She helped make your babies. When you see her you must embrace her, tell her you love her. Assure her that she is forgiven; that you absolve her, and that she'll find forgiveness in the sight of God."

I hiccoughed and pushed back the last of my tears, "Oh, I will good friar. I will," I knew then that God loved me, that God loved my Godyfa. God had sent the friar to me. Tonight he was my comforter, my sacred spirit.

As the night wore on and slowly surrendered to grey light of the dawn I cried a little more, but slowly I managed to get my tears behind me. I thought, 'yes only God can truly forgive, but then a Saxon, a true Saxon must also see to his hearth, to his justice, justice here, in this world. I knew some Normans who owed me a debt; a debt I would certainly collect. I just wasn't sure yet of the time and the place, but I knew there would be a reckoning.'

++++++++++

The days that followed dragged slowly. The Normans rode in and out; proud masters of the town. Often Geoffrey, or Richard, or that craven Dulac went out on horseback with my wife in their company. She laughed merrily whenever she was close by. But I know my wife. Her merriment was excessive. I know the sound of her real laughter. When near me her gay and happy demeanor was louder, more brazen, obviously forced.

The others, Geoffrey, Richard, Robert, and Hugh paid her loud chattering and foolish frolicking no heed, but that man Dulac; he looked at her in a different way. I wondered what his thoughts were. She was playing the strumpet for all of them; he was but one of several, but he seemed more serious. Did he envision her as something more than a pleasant diversion. Did he have pretensions? If he did, would she respond?

Each day that went by my status among the people, though still well hidden, seemed less firm. I had been home many days, and as yet, I had taken no action. I sensed the people were beginning to despair.

Then what of my wife? I hadn't been near her except those rare occasions in the great hall, and then I was always at the farthest end, at the end of lowest repute. I saw the apparel she wore. Someone had not only restored her old attire, but she often was seen dressed out in newer, prettier, garb. Someone, I feared Dulac, was slowly courting her, insinuating himself into her good thoughts.

It made sense; I was the defeated, the broken man. I had nothing to offer. Dulac was among the victors; he offered wealth, security, comfort, maybe the possibility of position in the new order. Would my wife turn me aside? Would she set her cap, set her heart, for one of the new conquerors? My heart told me no, but my practical side demurred.

I needed to see her. I needed some time aside with my wife. Heretofore the friar and Donnell had warned me off. The friar especially was concerned. He said all the Normans were aware of me; Henry of Dulac especially. More so, they suspected Godyfa knew more than she intimated. The friar, Donnell, Owen, and I we talked this out.

The friar warned me, "You must not try to see your wife. The Normans know foodstuffs, even with their tight controls, are disappearing. They know there were other women and children about somewhere. They strongly suspect your Godyfa knows something about this."

I replied, "Then all the more reason for me to see her. She must be warned."

Owen rebutted my comment, "No, not you, never. They watch you as closely as they watch her."

Donnell inserted, "Be careful Aelfwine. Richard and Henry have been in Geoffrey's ear. They want to bring you in and torture you; Richard for the sake of the missing food, Henry has other reasons. He suspects you and Godyfa..."

I asked, "This Geoffrey. Why doesn't he just allow it?"

The friar took that up. "Rumor has it the bastard William has been having second thoughts. We've been lucky so far, but in the north there's real famine, and in other places his new barons have been even less reasonable. There've been occasions of revolt. William wants a peaceful realm. Unnecessary and senseless cruelty is no longer the fashion."

So I added, "Geoffrey worries too much; additional brutality might spill the pot."

"Well said," spoke Owen.

I acknowledged Owen's comment. He'd grown to full manhood in our days since the battle with the Norsemen.

The friar offered, "Let me go to the great hall more often. I'll find a way to separate Godyfa from her guardians. Mayhap then a rendezvous might be arranged."

I grinned, "I'd love that."

We started to drift away; then Donnell turned back, "One more thing Aelfwine."

I turned, "Yes."

"You must never doubt Godyfa's loyalty. That Henry of Dulac seeks to charm her with fancies and toilet. She hates them all, but him she despises the most."

I asked, "She said so?"

Donnell grinned then, "If given the chance, she'll tell you."

I was much relieved.

++++++++++

I wasn't relieved for long. I spent most of my time working with Donnell at the forge, but I still managed to get away. Mostly I traveled deep in the forest to hunt, but I was also in search of my sister and my children. I found evidence of their presence, but they were good, I never was able to track them down. That reassured me somewhat; if I couldn't catch up with them then the Normans certainly wouldn't be able to either. Still, there was another side. Children needed stability; constant movement, the hunting and gathering certainly must be taking a toll on the children. Later, when I did finally find them my worst fears were more than confirmed.

About the hunting; I'd learned the intricacies of the bow when a child, but it's only been of recent that I gave it serious thought. Since Harold, and since I've had to fend more for myself I'd begun to gain a new appreciation for the difficulties of killing fresh meat. I missed far too often, and I found it humbling. Venison was often gifted to me; had I known the difficulties of the hunt my friends suffered for my table I know I'd have been more grateful.

Uncertainty about my children has been driving me to the edge of madness. I fret about my wife, but I see her daily. I don't like what I see, but at least I see she's alive and reasonably healthy. My children I never see. I've a need to see them, and guilt over past neglects weigh heavily.

I've always loved my children, but I fear I haven't been a diligent father. Before the troubles I was too self-absorbed; I'd been too aloof, too distant with my babies. I know I shouldn't feel worry; the friar says they're safe with my sister and my wife's sister. I just want to see them, to see that they're safe. I know my current distress has to do with my old behavior; back before I'd been afraid, any show of affection in front of others would be seen as a sign of weakness. I should not have cared so much of what others thought; I should have been more attentive. If, I mean 'when' I get them back, I'll make restitution; I'll never miss a chance to give a hug, or make a kiss. I'll do this even if I'm made to blush. I miss them that much; I miss my children.

One of the things I found comforting was the odd chance of an occasional trip to the river for a quick swim and wash. Working the forge was a dirty gritty occupation; I found the cold near-winter water refreshing. So did others.

I know from my talks with Owen and the friar my wife took every opportunity to escape from the confinement of the great house. Her difficulty was her inability to leave the house unescorted. Actually she wasn't so much under escort as she was being guarded, guarded and watched.

I found out she was guarded by several men at arms. One of these so called guardians was the one-eyed man I found so distasteful. If it wasn't him supervising her little escapades it was that cur Dulac.

Godyfa, like me, loved to swim; so every chance she got she went to the river. I was told this by several people, so it was inevitable that sooner or later we'd meet up. I worked at this.

We didn't exactly meet up. In fact I'd gotten to one of the preferred places; it had been our preferred place. I had disrobed, washed my apparel, and then engaged in a brief but heartening swim. Just after I'd redressed, and was about to return to the smithy's I heard horses. I stepped back under some old oaks to watch. Horse activity in this part of the wilderness I found troublesome; this was a place Normans weren't customarily expected to be.

I watched from my hiding place. To my surprise the trespassers turned out to be none other than my very own wife and that greasy Henry of Dulac along with several men at arms.

I loved my wife. I loved watching her. Even if I had to suffer the distasteful presence of Normans the chance to watch my wife relax was a delight. From where I was hidden I was able to see her step away from her jailors and disrobe. Hidden from their sight she undressed; leaving only her fine linen shift as a coverlet. She swam out into the cold stream. I watched as she splashed about. Her long unmanageable hair was like a great tail trailing out behind her. She looked lovely; she looked like a goddess, a magical nymph sprung from the water. I felt a stirring. My long imprisoned heart soared at the sight of my sweet adorable Godyfa at bath.