Fire and Ice (17 page)

“No, babbies are innocent when they come into this world, but they don’t stay that way, unfortunately!”

They sat in compatible silence while Juliana finished her hot drink and Tom returned, knocking first before entering at his mother’s call.

“’Ow’s things then?  Are yer feelin’ better?” he looked towards Juliana for an answer.

“I’m a lot better, thank you,” she answered shyly
when she noticed he was gazing with interest at her face and hair.

“Yer’ve got ‘air like me father,” he said shortly
and then continued quietly as if wanting to purge his memory.  “Normans came to our village and killed everyone, including me sister.  They raped her first, three of ‘em took turns; then they killed her.  Ma and me was watching from barn but me father tried to save ‘er.  That’s when they killed ‘im.  They set fire to the village and the fields ‘afore they went and left us wi’ nowt.  Ma managed to save some straw and a wagon so we came ‘ere.  All animals was killed so we would ‘ave starved except for some kind folk who said this ‘ouse was left empty when two brothers died.  We’ve been ‘ere ever since.”

Juliana looked at Ma and saw the horror of the memories reflected in her eyes and reached out to comfort her by taking her hand.  Ma squeezed Juliana’s hand in return but
she covered her face with her hessian apron and wept.

***

Kyle had been following Juliana’s scent along the highways and byways, always running ahead of the men, but suddenly he stopped and sniffed the snow.  He began to dig frantically until Ulfric shouted to him to stop, and then he sat howling until they caught up with him.  Fresh snow had hidden the pool of blood from Juliana’s head wound but Kyle had searched it out and now was ready to follow the scent for the rest of the way.  Thorvald and Ulfric looked down at the blood stain and their own blood ran cold in their veins.

“I wonder if it belongs to Juliana?” Thorvald said.

“It must do or the dog wouldn’t be making such a fuss.”

“It could be de Gant’s?  Maybe she’s escaped from him but had to fight him first.”

“No.  I know its Juliana’s.  I don’t think Kyle would have bothered with anyone else’s scent.”

Ulfric
noticed the edges of the track leading away.  “Let’s hope she took this track and Kyle will find her soon.  We’re nearly in York I think, so hopefully she’ll be with her uncle.  We’ll check there first before we do anything else.”

Kyle was pleased to be allowed to follow his nose again and ran
ahead in search of his mistress.  He had grown into a large, strong dog and had proved invaluable to Ulfric and Thorvald over the last few months.  They hadn’t expected it to take so long in finding Juliana, but de Gant had been as sly as usual, leading them on a long and freezing cold journey.

In
a few hours they were approaching Coppergate but Kyle was straining at the leash which had been put around his neck to stop him from running all over the city.  The stout oak door opened just as they were about to knock and once they had explained who they were, the servants invited them in and took them through to a partitioned room where Juliana’s uncle, Ragn, was sitting.  He was a big man and almost dwarfed the chair he reclined in.

The servants brought wine, ale and food for the travellers once Ragn was satisfied that Ulfric and Thorvald were looking for Juliana.  They explained about his sister, Hilde, and Ragn drew himself up to his full height of well over six feet and bellowed his anger at these Norman invaders.  Ulfric thought he was going to have a seizure, such was his anger, and tried to calm him down.  It turned out that Juliana had not visited him, nor was she hiding anywhere that he knew of.  Ragn was ready to send people out looking for her there and then but Thorvald explained that first thing in the morning would
be soon enough as they were very unlikely to find anyone in the dark.  Gradually, Ragn calmed down and became the genial host he was known to be, offering shelter to his visitors and vowing he would join forces with them to find his niece.  Kyle slept by the fire after enjoying a hearty supper.

Chapter 19

Sir Richard de Gant stared blankly into his empty cup which had once held
a frothing amount of ale. His thoughts were lost in his imaginary world of wedded bliss with Juliana.  His fantasies were interrupted by a picture of him beating her and his body recoiled sharply at the unwanted memory. He must have been out of his mind to hurt her like that, and to leave her helpless body lying in the snow was unforgiveable.  His father had always chided him for his impatience and lack of control.  He called to the serving girl to pour more ale and then went back to his ponderings.  Juliana was probably dead by now he thought, and was torn between heartfelt sorrow for a love lost and his cowardly fear of Ulfric finding out.  As for that heathen who followed him around like a pet dog, who knew what he would do if they found him.  Thinking of the pet dog reminded him of Kyle and he considered whether the tide had risen far enough to drown him or if he had been rescued. 

Suddenly, he drank his ale in one gulp and
got unsteadily to his feet.  If Kyle had indeed escaped and they were using him to find his mistress, then his days were numbered.  He needed to get away, return to France or rejoin William’s troops who were even now fighting further north.  Throwing coins to pay for his ale in front of the landlord who had been keeping a wary eye on him, he turned on his heels and left the inn. 

He stumbled out into the s
pring sunshine squinting at the unaccustomed sun and bumping into three men who were about to enter the inn.  He tried to muscle his way through them until one of them grabbed his arm.

“Hold on there, who do you think you are?”
It was Ragn.

De Gant looked up straight into the faces of Ulfric and Thorvald.  His blood froze in his veins
.  He shook his arm free from Ragn’s grasp but knew he was cornered. 

“Well, well – Sir Richard de Gant!” Ulfric
despised the name on his tongue.  “What a surprise seeing you here.  You know
Sir Richard
, don’t you, Thorvald?”  He made a mockery of bowing to de Gant.  “Let me introduce you to our friend here,” he pointed to Ragn.  “This is Juliana’s uncle and he’s been very keen to meet you.”

Sarcasm dripped off Ulfric’s tongue while de Gant wished the ground would open up and swallow him.  “So this is the
brave knight who preys on defenceless women?” roared Ragn.  He grabbed de Gant again, this time by the throat and squeezed, careful to give pain and fear but not to kill him.

Ragn was a large man standing head and shoulders above de Gant who seemed to have shrivelled since the other men had last seen him.  Ulfric saw that de Gant was dangling from Ragn’s grip, and his eyes were beginning to pop
so knew he would have to rescue him before long, but enjoyed seeing his extreme discomfort.

Ragn dropped his prey at that moment and de Gant was left gasping for breath
coughing and holding his throat.  Kyle had been sitting watching the proceedings but now bared his teeth, ready to attack, just waiting for the command.

Ulfric sat on his haunches to soothe the dog.  “I think we’d better take you along with us and you can tell us where Juliana is. 
The dog is waiting to taste your flesh, de Gant, so you’d better make sure you leave nothing out.”

Ragn withdrew his axe from a strap across his back and rested it on de Gant’s shoulders.  The edge had been sharpened that morning and the blade was tantalisingly close to the Norman’s neck.  They walked back to Coppergate with de Gant trying not to move too quickly or the blade would surely sever an artery.  Once back in his home Ragn ordered food and drink for all but de Gant
, who was left in a corner with Kyle keeping guard.  The Norman could almost feel those teeth tearing the flesh from his bones and kept as still as possible.  The smell of food made his stomach rumble but his hunger was to go unsatisfied for the foreseeable future. Kyle received rib bones with meat still clinging to them which he devoured in front of de Gant.

Once the men had eaten they returned to their
hungry prisoner and demanded answers.

“We became separated...” de Gant began his explanation.

“Don’t lie to me!” roared Ulfric, his temper threatening to boil over.  “The dog found the bloodstains in the snow so we know Juliana is injured.  WHERE IS SHE?”

De Gant moved back against the corner of the wall trying to roll himself into a tight ball in case the men attacked him.  “I tell you – I don’t know where she is,” he insisted.

“We don’t believe you!” Thorvald joined in and made a great show of removing his knife from its sheath.

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you.”

De Gant began with his story about his attack on Juliana and by the time he’d finished the men knew he was telling the truth.  Ulfric was shocked to the core to find out about the baby and would have rung de Gant’s neck there and then if Ragn hadn’t claimed the right to kill the man himself. De Gant shivered in his corner.

***

As her brother feared for his life in York, Giselle de Gant was slowly coming to terms with her life in the Goxhill convent.  All her ranting and raving had made no impression on the nuns because as soon as she started her abuse and complaints she was escorted back to her cell and locked in.  After a few weeks she realised that the only person she was hurting was herself.  Gradually, she tried to fit in with the nuns’ wishes and although she hated the menial work, it was better than sitting alone day after day with nothing but bread and water for sustenance.  Father Matthew was the only visitor she was allowed who conducted communion with her and preached the word of God to her alone.  One day she was surprised to be invited to communion with the nuns and although suspicious, she made an effort to be agreeable, although her motives were selfish.

“Welcome, my dear,” said the Mother Superior.  “We are so glad you dec
ided to join us.  Father Matthew has brought a young man with him who is to take Holy Orders in a few months’ time.”  She led Giselle forward and introduced her to a tall, young man who went by the name of Luke, soon to be Father Francis.  His habit declared him to be a monk from the monastery in Barrow, a few miles down the road, but presently she could not see his features due to his hood shadowing his face.

“Good morning, Father,” Giselle gave her best curtsey and bowed her head in humility.

“I understand you are visiting here for a while, my lady.   I hope you are well rested after your er... troubles,” he said, his rich deep voice sounding unfamiliar in this female sanctuary.

Giselle almost snapped that she was not visiting but trapped there, but
she managed to curb her tongue until she could get the measure of the man.  A bell sounded and they moved into the chapel where Father Matthew entered into the traditional communion service, offering each nun a wafer to symbolise the body of Christ.  Giselle was careful to keep her eyes down as she accepted the dry offering which almost choked her until Luke came along with the wine which eased the wafer down her throat.

“It looks like the blood of Christ has saved you twice, my lady,”
Luke whispered in her ear when she had recovered her breath.

“Indeed, sir, thank you.”

After the service Giselle made her way to the cloister and walked around the arched porticos enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.  Finding a shaded area she sat down and admired the gardens which she too had planted with sweet smelling herbs and flowers.  From her vantage point she could see the doorway into the chapel and was surprised when Luke came out and looked around.  He had removed his cowl and Giselle caught her breath as she looked at the handsomest face she had ever seen.  His head was unshaven as yet and his hair hung in thick waves of chestnut brown to his shoulders. She could see that he was younger than her, but her heart fluttered in a way it had never done before.  She watched him walk along the cloister, a plan hatching in her mind as he approached.

“Oh, my lady, forgive me, I thought you had returned to your cell,”
Luke began as he nearly fell over her feet.  “The shade has made you almost invisible.”

“No forgiveness is necessary, Father.  Please join me for a while, won’t you?”

Luke hesitated and looked around before seating himself next to Giselle who wasted no time in putting her plan into practice.

“Tell me, Father.  Are you not a little young yet to be living such a sheltered life?  Don’t you long for adventure, a family maybe, or something else ...”

Luke looked taken aback by the personal content of her questions but his quick thinking turned the tables on her.

“You aren’t much older than me, my lady, and if I may say so, very beautiful, so perhaps I can ask you why you wear the habit of a nun?”

Giselle had not expected this and looked deeply into his dark brown eyes, seeing a flicker of interest which excited her.  “You must know, sir, that I am a prisoner here and wear these clothes only because my own have been taken from me.”

Luke
studied her face and saw the truth in her words.  “I had heard that you had troubles, my lady, but I know not what those troubles are or were.”