The Handfasted Wife Read online

  She sent Ursula for the bowl of scraps she had saved for the little dog that lay with her puppies in straw near the hearth.

  Elditha stroked the hound’s ears as it ate milk-soaked crusts. ‘Scant fare for Ella too, I fear.’

  ‘I have heard of burghs where during a siege the people were so hungry they ate their dogs and cats.’

  ‘I hope it does not come to that.’

  They left the puppies with the bitch. It was quiet outside. A sentry guarded a woodpile. Others stood by the grain store where only that morning Elditha had taken stock of the sacks inside. They crossed the yard, meaning to catch up with Gytha, but suddenly Elditha stopped. She noticed Alfred by the kitchen house.

  ‘Ursula, go ahead. I must speak to Alfred.’

  ‘My lady, do not stay out long. It is bitter.’

  ‘Ursula, do not cosset me.’ She had not meant to be dismissive of her friend but anxiety made her nerves sharp as needles.

  The girl huddled into her cloak and scurried off. She waited until Ursula had reached the other women and called Alfred over.

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘Alfred, what are the enemy doing tonight?’

  ‘They march around the north wall surveying our fortifications. We strengthened the towers and the walls over the autumn. They should hold strong.’ He laughed the laugh of the nervous. ‘As darkness gathers each night, we attack the bastards from the walls.’

  ‘How long can we fight them off?’

  ‘Boiling oil and the stones from our catapults will deter them for a while but they’ll be back. They are taking many casualties already. They are looking for a place to tunnel into the town. To the east the river runs too close to the wall. We can access our harbour and the warehouses through the harbour gate. Yet we dare not because they will shoot across the river and pick us off. The Normans do not cross the river for fear of being trapped on the shore between river and walls. They have the bridge, of course. The boats are strung across the river and are guarded, blocking access to the sea.’

  Elditha considered. ‘So when they attack, it will not be from the river?’

  Alfred scratched his head. ‘Nor the west, that is too hilly. But they can hammer our walls north and east of the town with ballista and their great catapults.’

  ‘It surprises me that they have not brought those up already.’

  ‘They have scaling ladders too, but they have not set them against the walls. Even so, they have caused us casualties, my lady. Their arrow fire is deadly. The monks’ infirmary at St Lawrence is already full with our wounded. There are new graves in the church cemeteries too.’

  ‘I will send more salves and linen for bindings in the morning. How can we keep them out?’

  ‘By remaining firm; maybe if the silvatii come from the woods to harass them. God knows I have armed the rebels.’

  ‘So Thea tells us.’

  ‘She notices everything.’

  ‘As well she does. God go with you, Alfred.’ Elditha reached out and took his hands. They felt cold.

  ‘And you, my lady. Pray hard tonight for us all. Pray that Gertrude is safe inside the abbey. Too many fugitives out there in the woods, all keen to kill for a loaf of bread or a cloak.’

  Dark shadows circled his eyes and there were deepening furrows lining his brow. She squeezed his hand quickly and pulled her cloak close, knitting its stitched edges together. ‘Tonight I shall pray for Gertrude.’

  ‘Pray for courage and for hope.’

  ‘A curse on all Normans, Alfred. When next I meet one, I shall gladly send him to his maker.’ She touched the seax that hung from her belt.

  Alfred shook his head. ‘I fear it will be long before we defeat them. Let us hope we can get an honourable settlement, that in fighting back we can at least stop our laws from becoming the stuff of legend. We are hurting them right now more than they are hurting us.’

  She considered his words for a moment. ‘You believe that rebellion will help us to this end?’

  ‘We must hope. Where there is hope, there is life. Where there is life, there is a future.’

  Later, as Elditha knelt before the altar in St Olave’s chapel, she knew that unless her sons sailed south before the Normans built their castle fortresses in every town throughout Wessex, it would be too late. As Alfred said, in the end, the thanes, the merchants, all of the people of Exeter were fighting for the preservation of their old truths. As her tears began to flow, she wiped them away with the edge of her sleeve. She wept for those who had suffered, for the families who had lost everything, for the ill and injured who swelled Exeter’s monasteries, for children without fathers and the women without husbands, for her daughters and sons and especially for Ulf, her beloved child, a small boy captive in a foreign place. That night, not noticing that her stiffening knees were being grazed by the chapel’s bitterly cold tiles, she prayed that one day peace would return to what remained of their lives.

  38

  The king closely besieged the city attempting to storm it, and for many days he fought relentlessly to drive the citizens from the ramparts and undermine the walls. The citizens were compelled by the unremitting attacks of the enemy to take wiser counsel and humbly plead for pardon.

  The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis , 12th century, edited and translated by Marjorie Chibnall

  More men died on the ramparts. The monks of St Lawrence were daily digging graves and tending the wounded. Elditha and Ursula delivered bread to the refugees sheltering in the monasteries, and helped in the infirmary making salves. They tore whatever linen they had into dressings. They gave comfort to the dying. Among the worst wounds were those inflicted by flaming arrows. Grown men cried in agony after their clothing had caught fire, causing terrible burns.

  On their third day of helping in the infirmary Ursula came rushing into the cloisters. Elditha was wrapped in her cloak, resting her aching back against the monastery wall.

  ‘My lady, we need your help. One of Leofric’s monks was up on the wall. The arrow fire began again. One caught his ear. He fell down the steps, hit his head, and Heaven only knows what other injuries he has sustained. They are bringing him here. The prior says we must help him. Everyone else is too busy.’

  ‘We can try,’ Elditha said slowly getting up.

  She was assembling her pestle and mortar and an assortment of jars on the table when they carried the monk in on a stretcher of tough linen. Hurriedly pushing a stray hair under her wimple, she directed the Bishop’s men to a pallet in an alcove.

  She followed them and leaned over the cot. One glance at the priest’s face and she recognised him. Why was Brother Francis here? She had not seen him since she had looked down on the Norman camp. Now he was inside the walls. Calmly, she asked a servant to bathe the monk’s torn ear and then to hold his head still while she examined his other injuries. His foot was badly twisted. He moaned and opened his eyes when she touched it. ‘Witch!’ he muttered, but, too weak for further protests, he closed his eyes again. She worked quickly, but when she asked the servants to lift his gown so they could examine his bruises, she gasped. Under his gown the monk had an array of seeping sores. There were lacerations all along his skinny legs. She ordered the Bishop’s servants to turn him gently onto his side and ease the top of his habit back. He moaned again. She had thought as much. Brother Francis wore a shirt of goat hair under his habit. There would be more weeping sores, and with those the possibility of pestilence, and since that could not be permitted in the infirmary, they must burn the shirt.

  She beckoned the Bishop’s men away from the monk. ‘Remove that, so I can treat him,’ she ordered. ‘If he protests, say it is God’s will.’

  When Ursula returned, Elditha drew her towards the pallet and said, ‘This monk is no stranger to us. Look.’

  Ursula peered at him. Turning back to Elditha, she said, ‘It is a cruel fate that has brought the creature to us.’

  ‘Or God has.’

  ‘Or the Devil.’

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nbsp; ‘He has lesions on his back.’ Elditha pointed at the hair shirt that now lay on the straw beyond the pallet, and added, ‘And pustules running with pus. His body is badly bruised and scratched. His ankle twisted but, with care, he will live.’

  ‘What thanks will he give us?’

  ‘He shall live to thank us,’ Elditha replied.

  Ursula lifted the pestilent shirt and cast it into the fire. It blazed up and myriad tiny creatures rose to mingle with the smoke.

  ‘Devils,’ muttered Elditha, as she returned to the alcove. It still smelled foul despite the fresh herbs strewn on the packed earth floor – clearly Brother Francis had not bathed for weeks. He must have come in with Count Alain and remained with Bishop Leofric since, looking for preferment; and he was, no doubt, back to his old watching pursuits.

  Elditha called for a candle to light the dim alcove. She filled a bowl with a sweet-smelling liquid, and waited in silence as the servants roughly raised the priest up. She lifted it to his lips. ‘Drink, Brother Francis.’

  He looked into her eyes said, ‘Use none of your honeyed Devil cures on me.’

  ‘There is no magic here, just poppy and honey to ease your pain. Open your mouth.’

  She thought he would refuse again, but as she poured the sleeping draught into his open mouth, he swallowed. They gently eased him back onto the pillow. As he drifted into sleep Elditha began to rub a salve into the bruises on his legs. Finally, she eased his ankle back into position, placed a poultice on it to reduce the swelling and bound it.

  She ordered the Bishop’s men to clothe the priest in a clean shift, and take his filthy habit away from the infirmary. Then she dismissed them. ‘Return in a few days. Tell Bishop Leofric that the priest’s sores may take longer to heal than his ankle. Brother Francis can administer a salve for himself.’ She added in a voice so low none heard, ‘If he so desires.’

  Brother Francis slept for two days and nights. When awake he set up an incessant prayer as Elditha changed his dressing and bathed his wounds, muttering, ‘St Benedict, protect me from her.’

  He suffered great pain but he refused to acknowledge it, as if he thought God was testing him, as He had tested His son in the wilderness. He refused to eat and was possessed by strange dreams. In one, he woke up screaming that the Devil was punishing England. ‘He promised Duke William the kingdom’, he cried out. ‘Earl Harold promised.’

  Elditha said then, ‘No, that is a misinterpretation. My husband never swore an oath that the Duke should be king. He promised loyalty to our friend the Duke and it was the Duke, himself, who broke trust. Duke William attacked us. He took our lands and destroyed our nobility, and those he has not murdered at Senlac he is reducing to weaklings. Please eat.’ Brother Francis stared at her and refused.

  He claimed that he saw the Normans riding into Reredfelle and he seemed to relive the fear that he had felt that evening when they had carted them to the camp at Hastings. She discovered from his ramblings that it had been he who had informed the Normans of her presence at Reredfelle. He raved about the smoke, and woke in a sweat crying, ‘Where is Ulf?’

  Elditha shook her head sadly. ‘At least on that we both agree. Remember how we all loved him so much, Brother Francis? You must eat, otherwise you will die. My son would want you to live.’

  ‘God wishes it,’ Prior Robert of St Lawrence said to Brother Francis. ‘Lady Elditha prays for your recovery, as do we, every service.’

  ‘I saw her cast spells to make corn grow. I saw her use mandrake …’

  ‘What of it? The field blessing happens everywhere in Wessex. It is a ceremony. The mandrake root is a cure. We all know that. The Church in Normandy may forbid it, but no one pays heed of that. It is your own imagination that poisons your thoughts. Enough of this; you will eat. Why, must we now send for Bishop Leofric?’

  Fearful of the Bishop, he finally gave in and ate. For two days, the prior, Ursula and Elditha took turns to sit with him, spooning him broth. He accepted Elditha’s ministrations and gradually began to change towards her. It was as if, with the healing of the body, the mind’s torments eased.

  Elditha heard him speak of angels in the candles’ haloes. On occasion, as the choir of monks sang in the chapel, he claimed he heard Heaven’s music. One morning when she was watching over him he suddenly raised himself up and looked out of the small window close to his bed. He gasped as he caught a glimpse of a cold blue sky outside and called out that he had been transported to the Kingdom of Heaven itself. Elditha felt pity for him. She helped him lie back against the pillow again and tried to get him to sip a cup of thin broth.

  Later that afternoon she helped him to hop over to the hearth so that the servants could change the linen on his pallet. He sat morosely by the small fire but he appeared calmer. Not until the fourth day passed did she pronounce him well enough to return to the Bishop’s service.

  Only then did he speak to her. ‘I came from the camp outside the wall and begged to speak with the Bishop. I attached myself to Bishop Leofric hoping for preferment.’ His chin fell and he took a deep breath. ‘I admit I have been self-seeking.’ He looked away from her. It was a difficult admission for him to make.

  Elditha stared for a long time at her old adversary, touched by this confession.

  After a silence Brother Francis shook his head and added, ‘My lady Elditha, I owe you my life. I have misjudged you.’ He drew his shawl closer over his shoulders and lowered his voice so that she hardly heard what he said next. ‘The child is safe in Caen, where he will receive an education. They will never harm him. I think he will return. I shall pray for that.’

  She shook her head and murmured to herself, ‘I must have him returned to me.’ She looked sternly at the monk. ‘And, Brother Francis, I need to know if you will stay or do you intend to go out to that camp beyond the walls.’

  He shook his head. ‘I shall stay with Bishop Leofric.’

  ‘In that case I must ask Bishop Leofric to allow you to recover at St Lawrence and to find a permanent place for you.’

  When she returned to Gytha’s hall that evening she decided that on the following day Lady Margaret must take her place in the infirmary. Four nights in the infirmary had drained her strength and now she felt lightheaded and in need of sleep. She would remain at the palace with the Countess, unless her skills were urgently needed.

  * * *

  The following day merchants came to the palace. Falling onto their knees in an antechamber and appealing to Gytha, they begged her to end the standoff with the Normans. Elditha sat by Gytha’s side as their spokesman said, ‘The Normans have brought their siege weapons from Gloucester. If we do not negotiate, the siege will continue into the spring sailing season. Countess, you must pay the tax if we are to save our town.’

  Gytha confronted them. ‘Help will come by spring. Do not weaken before their threats. They dare not destroy the town.’

  ‘But our trade will be ruined; our families will perish. With their ballista and ladders they can break down our walls without losing any more lives, Countess.’

  ‘They want the town intact. They need our harbour. They will not destroy it. If it looks as if they are succeeding, then that is the time to negotiate, not now. I shall send you more grain from my stores to see you through, but, my friends, be resolute. Show them strength.’

  The merchants were panicking. Either help would come by spring or they could bargain. They should wait. Yet she could see how disgruntled the merchants were as they rose from their knees. If Bishop Leofric listened to their complaints, they were lost. She prayed that the Bishop would not go against them, but did not voice an opinion. She could not. An opinion lay between a rock and a hard place. She had tended their injured and dying.

  After the merchants departed she helped her mother-in-law up onto the walls. With Gytha’s arm linked in hers, they walked through the north tower towards the eastern section of the town’s high defences and watched the Normans construct their scaling ladders. Behind these, th
ey saw for themselves the mangonels – tall, vicious throwing machines – now lined up menacingly close to the town’s ditch. Gytha shook her head. Leaning on Elditha and deliberately measuring her steps, she returned along the wall. When they reached the steps to the orchard Elditha looked back over the moors. In the distance there was a plume of smoke. Another farm, village or barn was burning. They climbed down.

  Sighing, the Countess stepped off the steep bottom step into the orchard. ‘Those mangonels are up at the walls.’ She sank onto a bench among the apple trees. ‘All that treasure in the undercroft should be moved to the churches and hidden deep inside their crypts.’

  ‘Is that wise? If Bishop Leofric gives support to King William, a royal treasure will not be safer there than here.’

  ‘Let us look, Elditha, and then we can decide what is to be done.’

  Elditha helped Gytha to her feet. She led her through the frozen garden to the hall’s cellar steps. ‘You cannot let the town fall to destruction. You may have to negotiate,’ she said as they climbed into the undercroft.

  ‘That would bring shame on our house. But if I have no choice, we must think of a way to save it all. I owe that, at least, to the women who have come to me for protection.’

  Elditha lit the lantern. Stepping cautiously forward, they negotiated wine barrels and sacks of wool. Using Gytha’s large key Elditha unlocked the door that led into the treasure chamber and lit two reed candles from her lantern. First she could only see shapes. They grew larger as her eyes adjusted to the thin candlelight and became chests. The chamber contained more treasure than she had imagined. She unlocked a chest and lifted the lid. It held silver coins. She let the coins slide through her fingers. ‘It is worth much now we are robbed of our estates, and now we are about to lose our last Wessex stronghold, this may be all that is left to us.’

  Gytha sank onto a stool. ‘Yet this coin could pay for my grandsons’ army if only we can find a way of taking it from Exeter. If only a ship could slip through.’