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.
Muddy sand squished between Ailith's bare toes. She had drawn her gown between her legs and looped it through her belt as the fisherwomen did, and because a full wimple would have hampered her, she had pinned her braids in a coronet and covered them with a simple triangular kerchief. Her knife cut through the threads securing a clump of mussels to a rock and she dropped them in the basket beside her. Her hands and feet were numb with cold, but nevertheless she was enjoying herself.
She had been nervous of the sea at first, but in the five months since coming to Ulverton, she had learned to appreciate its moods, both fierce and calm. Sometimes she would take her spinning and stand in the high tower of the keep with the soldiers on guard to watch the waves roll into the bay. On other occasions she would use the excuse of gathering driftwood to walk along the beach with the donkey harnessed to a small cart. Today she had decided that as it was Friday, they would observe the fish-only rule by dining on mussels. During her days in London, Felice had taught her a way of cooking them in a stock of garlic and wine, and she knew that it was one of Rolf's favourite dishes.
She already knew many of his likes and dislikes from his sojourn in London, and in truth he was easily accommodated. He enjoyed food, had a voracious appetite that showed not at all on his lean, active frame, and he liked his meals to be served in good quantity with the minimum of fuss. In that respect, he was so much like Goldwin, that despite her determination to remain aloof, Ailith found herself looking forward to the dinner hour each day, to the conversation and the pleasure of watching Rolf devour everything that she prepared.
There was a proper bakehouse now in the lower compound with a magnificent brick bread oven, the rival of any in London. The villagers, if they wished, could bring their dough to be baked, providing that they paid for the service with a portion of that dough. Ailith often supervised this particular duty herself, for it gave her an opportunity to speak to the village women and disabuse them of any notions they might have concerning herself and the Norman lord. She had also given Wulfhild free rein to gossip and make friends with the women, for Ailith knew they would believe far more of her maid at this stage than they would of her. She had ensured too, that the village wife who was paid to sleep across her bolted chamber door at night was a talkative biddy who would delight in telling everyone in Ulverton how matters were ordered up at the castle, that its English chatelaine was a woman of stout moral fibre.