Elizabeth Chadwick - The Conquest

On a bright spring noontide, five days after setting out from London, Ailith came to Ulverton. On this final day, they took the road from Wareham where they had rested for the night and headed over the undulating greenery of the chalk downs towards the coast. The sky was blue, the air sparkled; so too in the distance did the sea, its horizon haze-grey. Ailith narrowed her eyes the better to focus. Everything was so different. Before this, the furthest she had ever been from London was the village of Tottenham, just a few miles from the city's hub, where she had lived before her marriage. She had never seen forests as huge and dark as the ones which had engulfed her journey, could never have imagined such vastness. The bursting Maytime greenery overwhelmed her senses, made her feel humble and afraid, but at the same time she was charged with exultation.

Now the forests were behind them. The three cobs pulled sturdily in the shafts of the baggage wain, their step brisk and their ears pricked. The driver was a taciturn little Saxon named Osred, whose speech consisted of positive and negative grunts in response to her curious questions. He had a scrawny neck and stringy arms which seemed on first glance incapable of controlling the three lively horses, but his wiry frame was deceptively strong. Wulfhild, who had opted to remain with Ailith, declared that he only required feeding up, but she said that about everyone less slump than herself. Sigrid had remained in London with Aubert and Felice, for she was soon to marry an armourer's journeyman from Southwark.

The sea vanished from sight as they entered a low dip, reappearing as the wain gained the brow of the slope. It was closer now, a glittering swell of darkest blue stretching as far as the eye could see, and filing the bay of the nearer vision. A village was cuddled down in the folds of the hills. Standing a little apart from it on another slope that showed an edge of raw earth, stood a wooden tower surrounded by a palisade of sharpened stakes, and beneath the main hill, a raised bank of earth creating a fortified compound filled with a variety of thatched wooden buildings.

Rolf appeared suddenly at the side of the wain. He had been riding Sleipnir ahead and behind all morning — to scout so he had said, but Ailith had sensed the restless anticipation that made keeping still a torture. 'Ulverton,' he announced, pointing towards the village. 'I have other holdings, of course, but this is the main one, your new home.'

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.