"I never knew Mama bore all those babies," Elf said thoughtfully. And what else had she missed? "How sad she lost them."

" 'Tis the way of the world, lady," Orva said pragmatically. "She wept as we all weep when we lose a child. It happens."

"It frightens me to think I might lose my child."

"You must not be frightened, lady," Orva advised. "Your mother had bad luck, that is all. Look at me. I have birthed five, and all five are grown and healthy, praise God! You do what I tell you, lady, and you will have a strong babe come next summer."

"Shall I tell my husband, or shall I wait until I have passed my next moon cycle?"

"That is your decision, lady. Sometimes with the first a woman likes to hoard the wonderful secret to herself for a time and not share it," Orva told her.

"One thing," Elf ventured, and she blushed. "Must we cease lovemaking until after the babe is born?"

"He is a big man, the lord, and you are a dainty lady; but if he is very careful, and you are not uncomfortable, I see no reason why you cannot continue on together. Tell the lord to come to me, and I will instruct him in certain ways that are safe as your belly grows larger and more unwieldy," Orva said.

Elf arose, smiling at the older woman. "I thank you, Orva. I was frightened, but now I am not."

"You should not be, lady. Bearing a child is the most wonderful and the most natural thing in the world for a woman to do. You are a wholesome and healthy girl. You will be fine. Do not, however, and I mean no disrespect, listen to my husband’s mother. Old Ida means well, but her knowledge is not always sound."

Elf laughed. "She is very dour, filled with dire predictions, even if she doesn't utter most of them."

"How is Willa doing?" Orva asked. "She is my daughter, you know. Just a year younger than Arthur."

"Nay, I did not realize she was your daughter," Elf answered the older woman. "She is a good girl, and serves me well."

"I am glad of it, lady," Orva said, escorting her mistress outside again. "Oh, dear," she exclaimed, for about her cottage were a crowd of women, all anxiously looking toward them. "I should not have asked you inside, lady. We should have walked together in private. All these busybodies will have divined why you have come to see me. The manor will be rife with gossip by tonight, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I think if you wish to tell your husband of his good fortune, you had best do it today. Do not be angry, lady, for these women mean well. They will rejoice with you that Ashlin is to have an heir of your body, that the line of Harold Strongbow, Rowena Strongbowsdatter, and her de Montfort lord continues through you."

Elf looked at all the anxious faces. They were kind faces, faces she knew. She began to laugh. "In June," she said, "but for sweet Mary’s sake, do not gossip until I have had the opportunity to tell my husband."

"But when will you tell him?" the miller’s wife asked boldly.

"I think it must be soon," Orva answered for Elf, "for here is the lord now, coming on the run. Someone has told him you were with me."

"Petite, are you all right?" Ranulf ran up to his wife, breathless.

"I am fine, my lord," Elf said calmly.

"But I was told you had come to see John’s wife," he said nervously.

"Who else would I come to see but the midwife when I am expecting our child," Elf replied sweetly. "And just who told you I was here? As if I don't already know!" She feigned outrage.

"You are having a baby? You are having a baby!" he shouted, a wide grin splitting his face. Then he picked her up in his arms. "You must put no strain upon yourself, petite."

The women about them burst out into unrestrained laughter.

"Put me down, Ranulf," Elf said, laughing herself. "I am having a baby, the most natural of female talents. I am not ill, nor am I injured. Put me down this instant!"

Reluctantly he complied. "But should you not rest, Eleanore?"

"When she is tired, my lord, absolutely," Orva said with a reassuring smile. "She may live her life as normally as if she were not with child. At least for now. And as you are here, my lord, will you come into my cottage, for I would speak with you privately."

Elf grinned, and the women about them hooted with laughter again, for their men had all received Orva’s lectures and instructions when they were first with child.

Still chuckling-and feeling infinitely better-Elf walked back to the house whistling happily. She was not barren stock. She was not like her brother’s wife. At the thought of Isleen de Warenne, a shiver ran down her spine. Elf shook it off quickly. Nothing could spoil her happiness. She was going to have a baby!

Chapter 10

Clud, the whoremonger, raised his hand and hit the woman a third blow. "You will do as you are told, you English bitch!" he snarled.

Isleen de Warenne struggled to her feet, and hit her attacker so hard with both fists that the lame man staggered. "I am no common whore," she screamed at him.

"Perhaps not a common whore," Clud said, grabbing the woman by her long blond braid, "but a whore nonetheless. I bought you fairly, and now I will have a return on my investment."

"I am the daughter of Baron Hugh de Warenne! I am the widow of the lord of Ashlin," Isleen shrieked furiously. "I was only traveling with that peddler for protection. He had no right to sell me to you!"

"But he did, and now I will have my own, plus a goodly interest back from you. You will make me a fine profit before your looks go, you nasty-tempered bitch. Now you will do as I tell you, or I shall have you tied down and offered to whoever wants you. Do you know what that means, bitch? Plowboys and wanderers passing through will labor over your fair white body without ceasing until your sheath is so wide an army could march through it. Now, get on your back, bitch. The lord Merin ap Owen and his men are here for an evening’s entertainment."

"Never!" Isleen shouted at Clud.


He raised his hand to her once again, but a voice stopped him.

"Nay, Clud, do not beat her senseless. You will spoil our enjoyment. We like a woman with spirit. Leave us now, and we will have our pleasure of the wench." The speaker was a tall, dark-haired man with a scar that ran from the corner of his left eye down to his chin. It spoiled his otherwise flawless features.

He smiled, and Isleen shivered. This, she sensed, was a very wicked man. "I am a nobleman’s daughter," she said defiantly.

"How long do you want her?" the whoremonger asked.

Merin ap Owen handed Clud a heavy silver coin. "We will keep her for the whole night," he said, "and do not argue with me, for I will wager I have just given you double what you paid for her. You already have your profit, Clud."

"Do you mean to kill her then?" the whoremonger wondered aloud.

Merin ap Owen laughed heartily. "Only with our kindness, Clud. Only with our kindness. Now, get out, but send some wine in here."

"Yes, my lord! At once!" Clud said, and he limped out.

Merin ap Owen looked Isleen up and down in a leisurely fashion. "So you say you are a nobleman’s daughter, wench. On the wrong side of the blanket, of course. Some serf’s get, eh?"

"I am rightfully born," Isleen responded. "What serf’s bastard would have my fine features, or my beautiful golden hair?"

"Remove your chemise," Merin ap Owen said.

"No!"

His hand shot out swiftly, hooking into the neckline of the garment and rending it quickly to the hem.

"It is my only chemise," she shouted.

"If you did not wish it destroyed, you should have obeyed me," he said quietly. "You can repair it, provided you remove it now before my men and I rip it to pieces entirely."

Isleen’s blue eyes were wide with shock. Looking into his face, she knew he would do exactly as he had said, and so without further argument, she eased carefully from the chemise, setting it aside in a corner of the room. She was totally naked now, for all of her clothing except the chemise had been previously taken from her.

"She has fine big tits, my lord," one of his companions said admiringly.

"That she does," Merin ap Owen agreed, and his hand closed about Isleen’s right breast, squeezing it hard. Then he looked directly at her. "But I am being discourteous, lady. I have not introduced myself. I am Merin ap Owen, the lord of this small region. These are three of my best men. Badan, whose name means boar. Gwyr, whose name means pure, and he is purely wicked, aren't you, Gwyr? And, last, but certainly not least, as you will soon discover, Siarl, whose name means manly. These three have pleased me greatly, and so we have come for a night’s entertainment, which you will provide, my pretty bitch."

"My name is Isleen de Warenne," she told him in an even voice. Her blue eyes locked onto Merin ap Owen’s darker blue eyes. Her first reaction was to be terrified, but these men, she sensed, would enjoy that. She would show no fear before them. What they wanted of her was nothing unusual, and she wasn't a virgin. Four men in a single evening. She had never imagined she would do such a thing, but why not? "If you squeeze my breast much harder, Merin ap Owen, my nipple will pop off. Release it. I can already feel the bruise starting," she said coldly.

"Ah," he said, now more interested in the woman than he had been before, "you are not afraid, my pretty bitch. That is good. We will have far more fun if you are willing, than unwilling. There is too much difficulty in restraining a woman while you're having at her."