“I hope so. It depends on how long the case takes – and the weather. We can’t build in deepest winter, in case the frost freezes the mortar. It’s October already. We normally stop around the middle of November.” He looked up at the sky. “We might have a bit longer, this year – rain clouds keep the earth warm.”
Gwenda told him what she wanted.
“I wish I could help you,” Merthin said. “Wulfric is a decent man, and that fight was entirely Ralph’s fault. But I’ve quarrelled with my brother. Before asking him a favour, I’d have to make friends. And I can’t forgive him for killing Ben Wheeler.”
It was the third negative response in a row, Gwenda thought glumly. Perhaps this was a foolish errand.
Caris said: “You may have to do this on your own.”
“Yes, I will,” Gwenda said decisively. It was time to stop asking for other people’s help, and start relying on herself – the way she had all her life. “Ralph is here in town, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Merthin said. “He came to tell our parents the good news about his promotion. They’re the only people in the county who are celebrating.”
“But he’s not staying with them.”
“He’s too grand for that, now. He’s at the Bell.”
“What would be the best way to persuade him?”
Merthin thought for a few moments. “Ralph feels our father’s humiliation – a knight reduced to the status of a pensioner of the priory. He’ll do anything that seems to enhance his social position.”
Gwenda thought about that as Ian Boatman rowed them all back to the city. How could she present her request as a way for Ralph to raise his standing? It was midday as she walked up the main street with the others. Merthin was going to Caris’s house for dinner, and Caris invited Gwenda to join them, but she was impatient to see Ralph, and she went on to the Bell.
A potboy told her Ralph was upstairs in the best room. Most lodgers slept in a communal dormitory: Ralph was emphasizing his new position by taking an entire room – paid for, Gwenda thought sourly, out of the meagre harvests of Wigleigh peasants.
She knocked at the door and went in.
Ralph was there with his squire, Alan Fernhill, a boy of about eighteen with big shoulders and a small head. On the table between them stood a jug of ale, a loaf and a joint of hot beef with a wisp of steam coming from it. They were finishing their dinner, and looked thoroughly contented with their lot in life, Gwenda thought. She hoped they were not too drunk: men in that state could not talk to women, all they could do was make ribald remarks and laugh helplessly at each other’s wit.
Ralph peered at her: the room was not well lit. “You’re one of my serfs, aren’t you?”
“No, my lord, but I’d like to be. I’m Gwenda, and my father is Joby, a landless labourer.”
“And what are you doing so far from the village? It’s not market day.”
She moved a step farther into the room so that she could see his face more clearly. “Sir, I come to plead for Wulfric, son of the late Samuel. I know that he behaved disrespectfully to you once but, since then, he has suffered the torments of Job. His parents and brother were killed when the bridge collapsed, all the family’s money was lost, and now his fiancee has married someone else. I hope you might feel that God has punished him harshly for the wrong he did you, and it is time for you to show mercy.” Remembering what Merthin had advised, she added: “The mercy characteristic of the true nobleman.”
He belched fruitily and sighed. “What do you care whether Wulfric inherits?”
“I love him, my lord. Now that he has been rejected by Annet, I hope he may marry me – with your gracious permission, of course.”
“Come closer,” he said.
She moved into the centre of the room and stood in front of him.
His eyes roamed all over her body. “You’re not a pretty girl,” he said. “But there’s something about you. Are you a virgin?”
“Lord – I – I-”
“Obviously not,” he laughed. “Have you lain with Wulfric yet?”
“No!”
“Liar.” He grinned, enjoying himself. “Well, now, what if I let Wulfric have his father’s lands after all? Perhaps I should. What then?”
“You would be called a true nobleman by Wigleigh and all the world.”
“The world won’t care. But will you be grateful to me?”
Gwenda had a horrible feeling that she knew where this was leading. “Of course, deeply grateful.”
“And how would you show it?”
She backed towards the door. “Any way I could without shame.”
“Would you take off your dress?”
Her heart sank. “No, lord.”
“Ah. Not so grateful, then.”
She reached the door and touched the handle, but she did not go out. “What… what are you asking me, lord?”
“I want to see you naked. Then I’ll decide.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Alan. “In front of him?”
“Yes.”
It did not seem much, to show herself to these two men – not by comparison with the prize, winning Wulfric’s inheritance back.
Swiftly, she undid her belt and pulled her dress over her head. She held the dress in her hand, keeping the other hand on the doorknob, and stared defiantly at Ralph. He looked greedily at her body, then glanced over at his companion with a grin of triumph; and Gwenda saw that this was about showing his power as much as anything else.
Ralph said: “An ugly cow, but nice udders – eh, Alan?”
Alan replied: “I wouldn’t climb over you to get at her.”
Ralph laughed.
Gwenda said: “Now will you grant my petition?”
Ralph put his hand to his crotch and began to stroke himself. “Lie with me,” he said. “On that bed.”
“No.”
“Come on – you’ve already done it with Wulfric, you’re no virgin.”
“No.”
“Think of the lands – ninety acres, all that his father had.”
She thought. If she agreed, Wulfric would have his heart’s desire – and the two of them could look forward to a life of plenty. If she continued to refuse, Wulfric would be a landless labourer, like Joby, struggling all his life to make enough to feed his children, and often failing.
Still the thought revolted her. Ralph was an unpleasant man, petty and vengeful, a bully – so different from his brother. His being tall and handsome made little difference. It would be disgusting to lie with someone she disliked so much.
The fact that she had done it with Wulfric only yesterday made the prospect of sex with Ralph even more repellent. Alter her night of happy intimacy with Wulfric, it would be a terrible betrayal to do the same with another man.
Don’t be a fool, she told herself. For the sake of five minutes of unpleasantness, will you condemn yourself to a life of hardship? She thought of her mother, and the babies that had died. She remembered the stealing she and Philemon had been forced to do. Was it not better to prostitute herself to Ralph one time, for just a few moments, than to condemn her unborn children to a life of poverty?
Ralph remained quiet while she vacillated. He was wise: any words from him would only have strengthened her revulsion. Silence served him better.
“Please,” Gwenda said at last. “Don’t make me do this.”
“Ah,” he said. “That tells me you’re willing.”
“It’s a sin,” she said desperately. She did not often talk about sin, but she thought there was a chance it might move him. “A sin for you to ask, and a sin for me to agree.”
“Sins can be forgiven.”
“What would your brother think of you?”
That gave him pause. For a moment he seemed to hesitate.
“Please,” she said. “Just let Wulfric inherit.”
His face hardened again. “I’ve made my decision. I’m not going to reverse it – unless you can persuade me. And just saying please won’t work.” His eyes glistened with desire, and he was breathing a little faster, his mouth open, his lips moist behind his beard.
She dropped her dress to the floor and walked to the bed.