"I will go back to a husband who loves me, Isleen," Elf said, knowing that she spoke the truth. "Our love will survive even your wickedness, and Ashlin will survive because we will rebuild it together. I should rather be poor and in want with Ranulf, than be the whore that you have become, have always been!" She shook off Merin ap Owen’s restraining hand. "I am not afraid of her, my lord, nor can she harm me." Then Elf walked proudly from the hall, her head high.

"I want her dead!" Isleen said low through gritted teeth.

"Harm a hair on her head, my pretty bitch," he replied, "and I will kill you, but it will not be an easy death. You will suffer as no one has ever suffered before."

Now it was Isleen who shook him off. "You are a fool, my lord! You want her. You ache for her. You need to feel her fair white body beneath you to still the burning in your loins, but you will not take her. The ransom is practically yours! You do not mean to return her until it is safely in your hands. Why not have your pleasure, then, of this pale creature that you desire? Who is to know? And can her husband ask for the return of his gold because you have lain with his wife? Do you think she would even choose to tell him what you did to her?"

"You are jealous, my pretty bitch," he purred at her. "You think to tempt me into a dishonorable act to wreak your revenge on the lady Eleanore; but I am not a fool, Isleen. I am not like the other men who have passed through your miserable life. I see you for what you are." His hand stroked her jawline, moving to her throat, his slender fingers tightening just slightly about her neck. "You cannot entice me to injure the lady’s body… or her soul. You must surely understand by now that I am not a man who can gain pleasure as easily as other men. I need to inflict pain upon my bed partner, Isleen." His fingers tightened as he bent to brush his lips against hers lightly. Lifting his dark head he saw the fear in her eyes. Merin ap Owen smiled. " I think we understand each other, do we not?" He looked down into her face, releasing her, noting the marks of his fingers on her white neck. Brushing the skin lightly, he smiled again. "The lady Eleanore could not bear my passion, Isleen, but you can. You are mine, and I will keep you here with me unless you do something to displease me greatly, in which case I shall not return you to Clud the whoremonger, my pet. I shall give you to my garrison. They will, in a very short and unpleasant time, kill you."

"You are a monster."

"As are you, Isleen," he responded softly, "but I am the stronger of us. Be warned, and do not forget."

"I will not," she said. No. She would not forget. It would cause her to be more careful, but steal the ransom from under his nose she would.

"Lift up your skirts," Isleen heard her lover command.

She complied, laughing as she did so. "You are such a wicked devil, my lord," she told him. "Shall I pretend I am your innocent captive? Oh, help! Help! God and His saints save me from this big, randy cock! No! No! You shall not have me!"

He slapped her, and Isleen laughed the harder. "Bitch!"

"Admit it! You wish I were her," she taunted him, "but she could never please you as I will please you, my lord Merin!" Then Isleen pulled his dark head down, and kissed him fiercely.


***

In her little chamber Elf shuddered as if something had just trod upon her grave. It had become so difficult of late to be with Merin ap Owen, to look at him when she spoke to him. From the moment she had seen the secret in his eyes, and realized he was in love with her, she had been uncomfortable with him. He had, of course, said nothing. He was careful now so that they did not even accidentally touch. But now and again she would glance up from her weaving and see him gazing with heartbreaking longing at her. She sighed sadly. Even had she been free, she could never love him, Elf knew. The darkness that surrounded him was too great for her to overcome. He frightened her.

And she pitied him as well. That, she knew, would be the greater injury, for him to know that he was pitied. She had learned these past weeks from Gwyll of the lord of Gwynfr’s two unhappy marriages. Poor man. He really did not know how to love. But now that she realized, was almost certain, that Ranulf loved her, now that she could admit that she loved Ranulf, her world had changed. She longed to be in her husband’s arms once more. She instinctively knew that the joy they had shared before would be a thousandfold better once they admitted their love to each other. Soon, my darling, she thought happily. Soon!


***

Eleanore. Ma petite. His heart called out to her, and he could almost swear that she responded to his cry. I love you, my darling. I adore you! When I have you safe in my arms again, I shall never let you go.

Dear God, please bring her back to me.

Sim returned to Ashlin, and reported to his master. "She is well, my lord, if a trifle pale. She has not been mistreated, I would stake my life upon it. Merin ap Owen has chosen the verge for the payment of the ransom and the exchange. First, however, he must have the gold. Only then, when he is satisfied you have not cheated him, will he himself bring the lady to you," Sim explained.

"I do not like it," Fulk said. "He frets to Sim about you cheating him, but how do we know we can trust him to return our lady?"

"We do not, any more than he knows we will bring the gold," Ranulf answered. "There comes a time in such negotiations, Fulk, when one must trust because there is simply no other way. We have reached that point. Sim will deliver the gold, then wait for my wife. We shall, however, be at Briarmere in hiding. It is but several miles from the verge. Once my lady Eleanore is safe, we shall follow after this Merin ap Owen, slay him, and reclaim our gold. Then I shall be able to purchase our flocks back from the bishop, and a new herd of cattle. My wife’s safety, however, is paramount."

"If you're going to kill the lord of Gwynfr," Sim said, "then you had best kill his whore as well. The lady Isleen is the major cause of all this misery, and she hates my lady Eleanore. Merin ap Owen would have been content to take our livestock had it not been for the lady Isleen. Still, I will say, he is master in his own house. He has treated our lady well when, I suspect, if the lady Isleen had had her way, our good mistress would be dead or close to it now. If you leave this woman alive, my lord, she will seek again to harm Ashlin and the lady Eleanore. She must die even if it not be chivalrous, for she is very wicked. Baron Hugh does not know where she is, and so he need not know she is dead, not that he would care, I'm thinking."

Ranulf de Glandeville nodded thoughtfully. "I am loath to order the death of a woman," he said, "but I believe you are right, Sim. You and Pax will take care of the matter when we get to Gwynfr. Be merciful, and give her a quick death. I take no pleasure in her suffering. I will see that Father Oswin absolves you both afterward."

The gold was counted and carefully placed into two soft leather pouches. It was a goodly sum for the cattle had brought a particularly high price. Ranulf had to admit to himself, if he admitted to no one else, that he had considered holding back some of the gold. Would the bandit really know? But then he pushed the idea from his head, for he would not endanger his precious Eleanore for a few paltry coins. They had held back sheep and cattle. Not many to be certain, but enough to give them a new beginning.

Ranulf did not know if anyone was still watching, and so Sim set out with only two other men-at-arms to protect him and the ransom he carried. They would remain at Briarmere awaiting their lord while Sim rode on to meet the Welshman’s courier at the verge. Ranulf and his party would start out two hours later. Anyone watching would have long gone on to Gwynfr with the news that the English messenger was coming.

The early spring weather was gray and damp. On the morning of the fourth day, after leaving Ashlin, Sim rode up the verge to where a mounted and cloaked horseman was awaiting him. He could not see the fellow’s face clearly, but what did it matter, he thought as he handed over the two bags. Merin ap Owen’s courier weighed each bag in his gloved hands. Then he growled, "Master will be pleased." Turning, he rode off down the Welsh side of the verge, and disappeared into a thick copse. Sim settled down to wait. It would be anywhere between four and five hours. It began to rain, gently at first, and then hard. Sim cursed his luck, and huddled beneath his cloak next to his horse. He sneezed, feeling the water seeping into his boots, which were already leaking. Soon his feet were soaking wet, and worse, they were cold. He waited, and he waited. Finally the rain stopped. Perhaps they had been delayed by the weather, Sim thought. The sun began to peep from behind the clouds, and Sim smiled to see a small arc of a rainbow spring out between the hills. He thought it a good omen, yet Merin ap Owen still did not appear with his lady.

Then his brother, Pax, hailed him from below the hill. Sim walked halfway down to meet him.

"No one has come?" Pax asked.

"If they had, would I still be here, wet and cold?" Sim snapped.

"But you delivered the gold?"

"Several hours ago to the Welshman’s courier. I know it was he for he wore the badge of Gwynfr upon his cloak. After I gave it to him, he said his master would be pleased," Sim reported. "I thought perhaps the rain had delayed the lady."