Elizabeth Chadwick - The Conquest

The August night was so sultry that the air itself felt like a hot, oppressive blanket lying on Ailith's chest. She stretched her legs, trying without success to find a cool spot in the bed. Beside her, Goldwin snored, and stale mead fumes wafted her way each time he breathed out. She was worried about the amount he had been drinking of late, but had said nothing to him in the hope that once the uncertainty of imminent war had passed from their lives, he would become his usual, amiable self.

Ailith turned restlessly and as she tried to settle, felt the tiniest fluttering throb in her belly. Laying her hand over the place, she was rewarded again, and smiled. Felice's baby had been kicking and churning vigorously for over a month now and her belly looked huge. Ailith, on the other hand, was scarcely aware of being pregnant. Her breasts had swollen and were tender to the touch, but her waist had scarcely thickened, and the mound of her belly was no bigger than a small cloth pudding. Nor had she suffered any of Felice's debilitating sickness or spotting of blood. Hulda, the midwife, said cheerfully that she expected Ailith to deliver her baby as easily as shelling a pea from a pod. Asked about Felice, Hulda had admitted that the fit was going to be tight, but being as the husband was not a man of large proportions, with the blessing of God, and the excellent care of the nuns at St Aethelburga's, the Norman woman would be all right.

Indeed, she would be all right if that ne'er-do-well husband of hers would return, Ailith thought angrily. He had been absent since late April and it was August now. How could he abandon his wife in a hostile land for nigh on four months?

The baby did not kick again. Ailith sighed and rolled onto her back, her mind somersaulting like a butter churn, her body sticky with sweat. Two days ago Aldred and Lyulph had set out with the English fyrd to defend the south coast against a possible attack from Normandy. They had come to the forge to collect the weapons that Goldwin had made for them, and they had said their farewells in stiff and formal fashion. When Ailith had offered them ale and honey cakes in the house, they had declined.

'The only Normans I will love,' Aldred had said, 'are the ones who die on the blade of this axe.' He had run his fingertips over the edge of the steel. 'And before you tell me that the bitch in yonder convent is innocent, it might interest you to know that her husband is a Norman spy.'

Ailith's stomach had contracted. As so often in childhood, she stood up to her brother, jutting her chin at him in bravado. 'I do not believe you.'

'The King himself told me.' Aldred's eyes were filled with scorn. 'The little arsewipe wasn't selling wine at court in January, he was buying information. 'Why do you think he hasn't been back?'

'I don't know, I…" Ailith had found herself floundering.

Aldred had nodded with triumph and again stroked his axe. 'So I tell you that the only Normans I will love are those whom I kill.'

'But Felice is innocent, she doesn't know!'

Aldred had just looked at her and stalked off. Lyulph had hesitated, staring between his older brother and Ailith. Then he had put his arms around her in a brief, but powerful bear hug. 'Your heart is too soft,' he said, 'and Aldred's is too fierce, but I love you both.' Then he too had turned and left, the steel tip of his spear sparkling at the sky, his stride long and proud.

Ailith tossed and turned. She was sure that Felice was not involved in any of Aubert's more questionable activities, although as his wife for more than four years, surely she must have some suspicions. More and more Ailith found herself pitying the young Norman woman, and despite Goldwin's dark looks, she continued to visit her regularly at the convent.

She fell into a restless doze and dreamed that a flock of ravens flew over London and settled in such numbers on the roof of her house that the thatch collapsed and buried her beneath it. She awoke with a gasp, her heart thundering in her breast. Grey fingers of light were prying through the cracks in the shutters and she could hear Alaric's relentless crowing. Goldwin still snored. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, Ailith left the bed and donned her shift and undertunic.

Below stairs, Wulfhild was scratching herself and yawning as she coaxed last night's banked fire to life and prepared the soup cauldron. Sigrid was clattering about in the storeroom behind the screen. Ailith joined her and collected a shallow, wooden bowl of chopped up scraps from the previous evening's meal, then went outside to feed the hens. The birds were able to find most of their own food in the summer months, but a small supplement ensured a reliable supply of eggs. Frequently there was a surplus and Ailith would trade these with a neighbour for cheese or butter.

Entering the garth, she let the hens out of confinement and scattered the scraps for them to peck at while she set about collecting the eggs, warm and damp from their straw. She gathered eight in her wooden bowl, and was deliberating whether to serve them scrambled and piled in a buttered, scooped-out loaf, or hard-boiled, when she caught sight of a man sidling cautiously into her garth from the house that she still thought of as Sitric's.

Alarm winged through her and roosted in her stomach as she recognised him. 'Aubert!' she cried, and almost dropped the eggs.

'What's happened? Where is everyone, why is our house empty?' Less than cautious now that he had been seen, Aubert strode up to her. His face was as brown as a sailor's, with paler creases fanning from his hazel eyes. He had lost weight and there was a tired drag to his mouth corners. 'Where's Felice?'

'If you had taken her with you four months ago you would not have to ask!' Ailith snapped. 'I do not know how you have the audacity or foolishness to return here now!'

'In Jesu's name, Ailith, what has happened to her?'

There was a note of panic in his voice that almost caused her to relent and pity him. 'She is safe, with thanks due to the people whose hospitality you have so lightly abused,' she said stiffly. 'Do not look to receive a welcome in my house, and do not insult me by pretending you do not know what I mean.'

Aubert stared at her, a look of shocked astonishment on his face. Then he rallied. 'Whatever you think you know of me, I still love my wife and it was never my intention to harm you or your family.'

Ailith eyed him in return. His manner seemed sincere, but then he had always appeared affable and genuine when he was winkling information out of Goldwin about the Godwinsons. She shook her head. 'I cannot give you my trust again. Felice is safe in the convent of St Aethelburga, but if you try to see her you will be arrested on King Harold's order. He knows you for what you are.' Her lip curled. 'Take ship for Normandy, Aubert, and do not come back.'

'But I need to see her. I want to take her home to Rouen!'

'That is impossible. You will have to return as empty-handed as you arrived. If Felice travels any distance it will be the death of her. She is with child, Aubert, and there have been some difficulties.'

He looked stunned and the lines of exhaustion on his face deepened further. Against her will, Ailith began to feel sympathy for him, but she hardened herself against the impulse to invite him inside to eat and drink. He was their enemy and he had abused their trust.

'What kind of difficulties?' Aubert rubbed his forehead.

'She came close to losing the child in her second month -she bled for three days. If you value her life, leave her alone.' Ailith gestured brusquely. 'Now go. If Goldwin should come out and discover you, he will kill you with his own two hands, and I would not blame him.'

He chewed his lip and hesitated. 'Ailith, I…'

She did not want to hear what he was going to say, whether it be an apology, a justification, or a stumbling plea for her aid.

'Aubert, go!' she cried. 'Must I drive you oft by screaming for help?'

Numbly he shook his head and turned away. Clutching her wooden bowl before her like a shield, Ailith watched him limp dispiritedly down the garth and compressed her lips so that she would not call him back.