Fire and Ice (15 page)

Christmas
had come and gone and now the New Year brought snow and wind making their advance even harder. 

“Where are you taking me?” she asked for the thousandth time.

“I’ve told you, wait and see,” he replied once again.

“Can we not find shelter, sire?  The wind is cold and the sky is full of snow.  If we get caught in a blizzard we will both die.”

De Gant looked at Juliana and for once gave in to her demands.  They found shelter at an inn at the next settlement and ate bread and cheese washed down with ale before Juliana stretched out on a bench and fell asleep in front of the fire, wrapped in her voluminous cloak.  The innkeeper glanced at the strange couple and wondered what had happened to cause them to travel in such weather.  He looked out of the window and saw the first flakes of snow fall.

“Sir, it’
s snowing now.  Do you want beds making up for yourself and your wife?  I can tell my wife to ready pallets for you.  She’s a good cook too and will be topping up the broth later which will warm you both through,” he called over to de Gant.

The cauldron hung
from the beams, bubbling away over the central fire.  The thought of hot food was enough to convince Sir Richard that they should stay for a while.  If the snow was too bad for them to travel through then it would be too difficult for Ulfric and Thorvald.  He knew they would be following them and had deliberately taken the most winding route to York just to confuse them.  He nodded his consent to the innkeeper who called through to the kitchen for his wife to ready a pallet each for them.  Palliases were placed on top of each pallet and de Gant picked Juliana up and placed her down on one tucking in her cloak around her before settling himself on the other.  The flickering tallow candles provided a gloomy light and the smell of the boiling vegetables and meat drew de Gant into a dreamless sleep.

Juliana dragged herself awake thanks to the persistent shaking she was receiving.  She opened her eyes to see who was rudely interrupting her blissful slumber.  A woman was leaning over her putting her fingers to her lips to warn her to be quiet.  Fully awake now, Juliana sat up and looked around allowing her memory of the past days to fill her mind. 
The woman was wearing a woollen cloak with the hood pulled up keeping her face in shadow.  She beckoned for Juliana to follow her to the far end of the room which was in darkness.  Juliana could see that de Gant was sleeping heavily and quietly left her pallet to join the other woman.

“My lady, Juliana, is it really you?” the woman whispered.

Juliana was taken aback to hear her name spoken by this stranger.

“Yes, I’
m Juliana,” she whispered back, “who are you?”

The woman pulled her hood down and Juliana’s face broke into a smile as she recognised Alice.  “What are you doing here?”
they both asked together as they embraced.

“I’
m married to the innkeeper here, my lady,” Alice said.

“But I thought you were staying with my uncle in
York.”

“I did stay with him for a while but I lost the child I was carrying and once I was recovered I knew I couldn’t come back to Bertone so I had to make a living for myself.  I cooked and served behind the bar of the Black Boar in York, which is where I met
Sigurd, my husband.  We moved to this place about six months ago.”

“And are you happy, Alice?”

“I’m very happy, thank you, my lady.  But what I can’t understand is why you’re with that filthy Norman over there.”

“It’s a long story, Alice, but things didn’t get any better when you left. When his sister turned up and I had to put up with her taking over the Hall and terrifying my mother to the point of losing her wits, I was pleased when Ulfric and Thorvald sent her to the nuns at Goxhill. 
De Gant doesn’t know that though, not yet, so don’t say anything.”

“I won’t say a word, but that doesn’t explain why you are here with
him
, of all people.”

“He took me by force from the banks of the Humber and we have been wandering all over this shire.  Where are we Alice?  Where do you think he’s taking me?”

“We’re just outside York.  I’ve no doubt he’s taking you there for some reason of his own.”

“I haven’t been to York, for many years.  I was but a child when my mother took me to see my uncle.  Is it a good place?”

“Your uncle lives in Coppergate, as you know, and he has a comfortable home, but there are parts of York where I would not go.  You must be careful, my lady!”

“Don’t worry, Alice.  I’m sure Ulfric and Thorvald will be looking for me.  It has been two months at least since
we began our journey,” she hesitated and then confessed, “I’m carrying Ulfric’s child, Alice.  Its three months since I last saw him and I’m afraid he won’t believe me and think that it’s de Gant’s child.”

“He’ll know you would never willingly give yourself to de Gant, my lady.  I know what it’s like be away from home with no hope
.  Please - let me help you.  I’ll do anything that is in my power to help you to escape, if that’s what you wish.”

“No, Alice.  You’d better stay out of sight.  If he sees you and recognises you, then who knows what he’
ll do?  Look – he’s stirring, I’d better go back to the pallet.  Explain to your husband that
he
must serve us and not you.”

“I will, my lady.  He’s a good man and we’
re very happy.”

Juliana smiled her pleasure and carefully made her way back to the fire where she sat on the end of her pallet and stared into the flames.
  She looked across at de Gant who was sleeping peacefully again unaware that she now had an ally, one who would never let her down; one who would tell Ulfric, if she saw him, that she had been here and hopefully the news would spur him on.  She would have been heart-warmed to know that they were only a day behind them.

***

Ulfric and Thorvald had followed
as Kyle led them from village to village hoping to catch up with de Gant and Juliana, and in each one the news was the same.  Yes, people had seen two strangers, one of whom had a collar around her neck they were informed, which made Ulfric’s blood boil.  Thorvald’s thirst for blood was even more drastic, he threatened to perform the
‘blood-eagle’
on the worthless Norman, which made Ulfric smile.  On the surface Thorvald appeared to have adopted the English ways, but deep down his roots were firmly entrenched in the old, Norse customs of torture and execution.  Ulfric remembered the sagas telling stories of the
‘blood-eagle’
being performed two hundred years earlier, when the Norsemen invaded the shores of England in their longboats.  Anyone standing against them when they raided and pillaged the coastline were killed by being spread-eagled on the ground, and their bodies subjected to the horrific ordeal of having their heart and lungs revealed whilst still alive.  He shook his head to clear away such deadly thoughts. 

Kyle
lay in front of the fire, twitching his feet and whimpering as he chased imaginary things in his sleep.

“It’s still snowing,” Ulfric said unnecessarily.

“I know,” Thorvald muttered under his breath.  They had been cooped up in the village inn for two days and his patience was wearing thin.  He and Thorvald had been friends for virtually all their lives, but of late, Thorvald himself was used to some space between them.

“I’ll buy another
jug of ale each and you can insult me and tell sagas like we did in the old days.  Then I’ll insult you back and we can sleep off the ale until tomorrow when hopefully it will have stopped snowing,” Ulfric smiled, knowing what was going through his friend’s mind.  They both laughed and Ulfric raised his arm for the innkeeper to bring more ale.

But it hadn’t stopped snowing the next day, nor the next.  It was a full week before they could once again set out on the quest to find Juliana and dispose of de Gant in any way they saw fit.  There would be no mercy from either of them, never mind that William had decreed there would be no fighting between his knights.  This was different and Ulfric was determined to see his own justice done.

Chapter 17

Giselle slowly opened her eyes and shut them again quickly as the bright winter sun pierced her brain.  She felt cold and didn’t recognise her surroundings.  She made a mental note to tell the servants to bring her more furs but as her memory returned and she moved her head to survey her room, what she saw brought her no comfort.  A faint movement caught her eye and she heard scurrying under her bed causing her to sit up and hug the coarse woollen blanket closer to her chest.  She sat wide-eyed when she saw rats scurrying along the cold stone floor, hugging close to the wall line.  A scream erupted from her throat and she stood on the hard wooden bench which had served as her bed.  No one heard her screams, or if they did, she was ignored.  Mice were also running around in the straw and rushes which partly covered the stone floor.  Noting an earthenware jug on a battered table next to the bed she grabbed it and threw it as hard as she could at the offending vermin.  It shattered easily spilling water on the floor and up the walls, but still they scampered in the darker corners.

             
She screamed again and again and at last someone came to her.  She ran to the woman and started shaking her.

“Where am I?” she yelled, “I want to go home.  Do you know who I am?”

“My lady, calm yourself, of course we know who you are.  Now please be quiet or I’ll have to quieten you myself.”

Giselle was shocked at the expression on the woman’s face.  She was dressed as a nun
and her demeanour was threatening but Giselle, in her trauma, continued with her tirade.

“I demand to see my brother,
Sir
Richard de Gant.  I am living at Ulfric’s Hall in Bertone.  Send word immediately, do you hear?”

Her hysterics were ended by a sharp slap to her face.  “You are here under instruction from my lord Ulfric, and Father Matthew has confirmed the matter, so I suggest you sit down and I will tell you what we intend to do with you.”

Giselle’s mind could not take in what had just happened and she was stunned into silence, holding the side of her burning cheek.

“That’s better.  Now let me introduce myself, I am Sister Margaret and you are going to live with us here in Goxhill until my lord Ulfric sends for you.  Is that clear?”

“Wh...at?  Why?  I demand you send for my father, he is with the King’s court.  He will come for me.”

“You are in no position to demand anything. 
Now that you have finished sleeping you can follow me and I will take you to our Mother Superior and then show you your tasks for today.  You will then join us for prayer.  We meet for prayer every four hours which includes through the night, so I hope you are well rested.”

“Oh, no, I’m not a nun.  You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.”

“We’ll see about that,” Sister Margaret concluded and grabbed Giselle by the arm and holding her firmly, dragged her to a small room similar to the one she had left but much cleaner.  “Here, remove your clothes and put these on.”  She pushed some coarse material into Giselle’s hands and stood back but Giselle made no move to comply.

“I said, put these on. 
There is no display of finery in here.  We live simply and your clothes are not suitable for the work we have for you.”

“I’m not a servant.  How dare you treat me this way?
”

“
We are all servants of the Lord here.  Now do as you’re told or there will be no food or water for you today.”

Giselle’s stomach was grumbling already and slowly she began removing her outer clothes, leaving on a fine linen shift which had belonged to Hilde.  She was about to put the dress over her head when Sister Margaret stopped her. 

“No, my lady!  You will take off your undergarment too, as I’ve told you we have no need for finery.  It will teach you to appreciate how privileged you have been since your birth.”

Giselle was about to argue when Sister Margaret took a step clo
ser with her hand raised as if to strike her again.

“Alright, alright.  I’ll remove the shift but I’ll remember this day when my father or brother come to claim me.  You will regret having crossed me.”

“We’ll see who regrets what,” was the only reply she received.

Giselle took off the rest of her clothes and wriggled uncomfortably when
she realised that the dress was in fact a habit like the nun’s wore, but a different colour.  Theirs were black and hers was a dirty brown which felt as if it was infested with lice.  She itched and scratched until her skin was red raw but no sympathy was forthcoming.

“The Mother Superior would like to see you now,” Sister Margaret explained as she led Giselle along another corridor.

“Good.  I’ll give
her
a piece of my mind when I see her.”

“I wouldn’t bother trying.  She’s the one who gave me instructions on how to deal with you.”

Sister Margaret paused before a heavy oak door and knocked three times before a muted “Enter” was heard.  The heavy door yielded under pressure and Giselle was led, still scratching, into the room.  An older woman with rosy cheeks and wearing the same sort of habit as Sister Margaret sat behind a weighty-looking table. She wore a large cross around her neck and keys hung from a chatelaine at her waist. Giselle was guided, none too gently to stand in front of the Mother Superior.