They had been there for some time, Ralph guessed, and their presence might have remained unknown to him, had not Widow Huberts raised her voice to call out. He lowered himself to the ground and knelt behind a bush, peering through the leafless twigs. Alan squatted beside him.
Ralph liked spying on women. He had often done it as an adolescent. They scratched themselves, sprawled on the ground with their legs apart, and talked about things they would never speak of if they knew a man was listening. In fact they acted like men.
He feasted his eyes on the unsuspecting women of his village, and strained to hear what they were saying. He watched Gwenda, looking at her small, strong body, remembering her naked, kneeling on the bed, and reliving how it had felt to hold her hips and pull her to him. He recalled how her attitude had changed. At first she had been coldly passive, struggling to conceal her resentment and distaste for the act she was performing; then he had seen a slow alteration. The skin on her neck had flushed, her chest had betrayed her excited breathing, and she had bent her head and closed her eyes in what seemed to him to be a mixture of shame and pleasure. The memory made him breathe faster and brought out a film of perspiration on his brow, despite the chill October air. He wondered if he would get another chance to lie with Gwenda.
Too soon, the women prepared to depart. They folded the damp washing and packed it into baskets, or wrapped it in bundles to be balanced on their heads, and then began to move away along the pathway beside the stream. Then an argument began between Annet and her mother. Annet had done only half the laundry she had brought. She was proposing to take the dirty half home, and it seemed Peg thought she should stay and finish it. In the end Peg stomped off and Annet stayed, looking sulky.
Ralph could hardly believe his luck.
In a low voice he said to Alan: “We’ll have some fun with her. Sneak around and cut off her retreat.”
Alan disappeared.
Ralph watched as Annet dipped the remaining laundry perfunctorily in the stream, then sat on the bank staring at the water grumpily. When he judged that the other women were out of earshot and Alan must be in place, he stood up and walked forward.
She heard him pushing through the undergrowth and looked up, startled. He enjoyed seeing the expression on her face change from surprise and curiosity to fear as she realized she was alone with him in the forest. She leaped to her feet, but by that time he was next to her, holding her arm in a light but firm grip. “Hello, Annet,” he said. “What are you doing here… all alone?”
She looked over his shoulder – hoping, he guessed, that he might be accompanied by others who would restrain him, and her face registered dismay when she saw only Barley. “I’m going home,” she said. “My mother’s just left.”
“Don’t rush,” he said. “You look so attractive like this, with your hair damp and your knees bare.”
She tried hastily to push the skirt of her dress down. With his free hand, he held the point of her chin and made her look at him. “How about a smile?” he said. “Don’t look so worried. I wouldn’t harm you – I’m your lord.”
She attempted a smile. “I’m just a bit flustered,” she said. “You startled me.” She mustered a trace of her habitual coquetry. “Perhaps you would escort me home,” she said with a simper. “A girl needs protection in the forest.”
“Oh, I’ll protect you. I’ll look after you much better than that fool Wulfric, or your husband.” He took his hand from her chin and grasped her breast. It was as he remembered, small and firm. He released her arm so that he could use both hands, one on each breast.
But as soon as he let go of her, she fled. He laughed as she ran along the path and into the trees. A moment later he heard her give a cry of shock. He stayed where he was, and Alan brought her to him, her arm twisted behind her back so that her chest stuck out invitingly.
Ralph drew his knife, a sharp dagger with a blade a foot long. “Take off your dress,” he said.
Alan let her go, but she did not immediately comply. “Please, lord,” she said. “I’ve always shown you respect-”
“Take off your dress, or I’ll cut your cheeks and scar you for ever.”
It was a well-chosen threat for a vain woman, and she gave in immediately. She began to cry as she lifted the plain brown wool shift over her head. At first she held the crumpled garment in front of her, covering her nakedness, but Alan snatched it from her and threw it aside.
Ralph stared at her naked body. She stood with her eyes down, tears on her face. She had slim hips with a prominent bush of dark-blonde hair. “Wulfric never saw you like this, did he?” Ralph said.
She shook her head in negation without raising her eyes.
He thrust his hand between her legs. “Did he ever touch you here?”
She said: “Please, lord, I’m a married woman-”
“All the better – you’ve no virginity to lose, nothing to worry about. Lie down.”
She tried to back away from him, and bumped into Alan, who expertly tripped her, so that she fell on her back. Ralph grabbed her ankles, so that she could not get up, but she wriggled desperately. “Hold her down,” Ralph said to Alan.
Alan forced her head down then put his knees on her upper arms and his hands on her shoulders.
Ralph got his cock out and rubbed it to make it harder. Then he knelt between Annet’s thighs.
She began to scream, but no one heard her.
35
Fortunately, Gwenda was one of the first people to see Annet after the incident.
Gwenda and Peg brought home the laundry and hung it to dry around the fire in the kitchen of Perkin’s house. Gwenda was still working as a labourer for Perkin but now, in autumn, when there was less to do in the fields, she helped Peg with her domestic chores. When they had dealt with the laundry they began to prepare the midday meal for Perkin, Rob, Billy Howard and Wulfric. After an hour Peg said: “What can have happened to Annet?”
“I’ll go and see.” Gwenda first checked on her baby. Sammy was lying in a basketwork crib, wrapped in an old bit of brown blanket, his alert dark eyes watching the smoke from the fire gathering in curls under the ceiling. Gwenda kissed his forehead then went to look for Annet.
She retraced her steps across the windy fields. Lord Ralph and Alan Fernhill galloped past her, heading up to the village, their day’s hunting apparently cut short. Gwenda entered the forest and followed the short path that led to the spot where the woman did laundry. Before she got there she met Annet coming the other way.
“Are you all right?” Gwenda said. “Your mother is worried.”
“I’m fine,” Annet replied.
Gwenda could tell something was wrong. “What has happened?”
“Nothing.” Annet would not meet her eye. “Nothing happened, leave me alone.”
Gwenda stood squarely in front of Annet and looked her up and down. Her face told Gwenda unmistakably that there had been some calamity. At first glance she did not appear to be physically hurt – though most of her body was covered by the long wool shift – but then Gwenda saw dark smears on her dress that looked like bloodstains.
Gwenda recalled Ralph and Alan galloping past. “Did Lord Ralph do something to you?”
“I’m going home.” Annet tried to push past Gwenda. Gwenda grabbed her arm to stop her. She did not squeeze hard, but nevertheless Annet cried out in pain, her hand flying to her upper arm.
“You’re hurt!” Gwenda exclaimed.