World Without End (121 page)

Another figure followed him in and stood by the door, a big man with a small head, and Caris recognized his long-time sidekick, Alan Fernhill. Both were armed with swords and daggers. Caris was acutely aware that she was alone in the palace. She tried to defuse the scene. 'Would you like some ham, Ralph? I've just finished dinner.'

Ralph was not to be diverted. 'You've been stealing my peasants!'

'Peasants, or pheasants?'

Alan Fernhill burst out laughing.

Ralph reddened and looked more dangerous, and Caris wished she had not made that joke. 'If you poke fun at me you'll be sorry,' he said.

Caris poured ale into a cup. 'I'm not laughing at you,' she said. 'Tell me exactly what's on your mind.' She offered him the ale.

Her shaking hand betrayed her fear, but he ignored the cup and wagged his finger at her. 'Laborers have been disappearing from my villages - and when I inquire after them, I find they have moved to villages belonging to you, where they get higher wages.'

Caris nodded. 'If you were selling a horse, and two men wanted to buy it, wouldn't you give it to the one who offered the higher price?'

'That's not the same.'

'I think it is. Have some ale.'

With a sudden sideswipe of his hand, he knocked the cup from her grasp. It fell to the floor, the ale spilling into the straw. 'They're
my
laborers.'

Her hand was bruised, but she tried to ignore the pain. She bent down, picked up the cup, and set it on the sideboard. 'Not really,' she said. 'If they're laborers, that means you've never given them any land, so they have the right to go elsewhere.'

'I'm still their lord, damn it! And another thing. I offered a tenancy to a free man the other day and he refused it, saying he could get a better bargain from Kingsbridge Priory.'

'Same thing, Ralph. I need all the people I can get, so I give them what they want.'

'You're a woman, you don't think things through. You can't see that it will all end with everyone paying more for the same peasants.'

'Not necessarily. Higher wages might attract some of those who at present do no work at all - outlaws, for example, or those vagabonds who go around living off what they find in plague-emptied villages. And some who are now laborers might become tenants, and work harder because they're cultivating their own land.'

He banged the table with his fist, and she blinked at the sudden noise. 'You've no right to change the old ways!'

'I think I have.'

He grabbed the front of her robe. 'Well, I'm not putting up with it!'

'Take your hands off me, you clumsy oaf,' she said.

At that moment, Brother Thomas came in. 'You sent for me - what the devil is going on here?'

He stepped smartly across the room, and Ralph let go of Caris's robe as if it had suddenly caught fire. Thomas had no weapons and only one arm, but he had got the better of Ralph once before; and Ralph was scared of him.

Ralph took a step back, then realized he had revealed his fear, and looked ashamed. 'We're done here!' he said loudly, and turned to the door.

Caris said: 'What I'm doing in Outhenby and elsewhere is perfectly legitimate, Ralph.'

'It's interfering with the natural order!' he said.

'There's no law against it.'

Alan opened the door for his master.

'You wait and see,' said Ralph, and he went out.

67

In March that year, 1349, Gwenda and Wulfric went with Nathan Reeve to the midweek market at the small town of Northwood.

They were working for Sir Ralph now. Gwenda and Wulfric had escaped the plague, so far, but several of Ralph's laborers had died of it, so he needed help; and Nate, the bailiff of Wigleigh, had offered to take them on. He could afford to pay normal wages, whereas Perkin had been giving them nothing more than their food.

As soon as they announced they were going to work for Ralph, Perkin discovered that he could now afford to pay them normal wages - but he was too late.

On this day they took a cartload of logs from Ralph's forest to sell in Northwood, a town that had had a timber market since time immemorial. The boys, Sam and David, went with them: there was no one else to look after them. Gwenda did not trust her father, and her mother had died two years ago. Wulfric's parents were long dead.

Several other Wigleigh folk were at the market. Father Gaspard was buying seeds for his vegetable garden, and Gwenda's father, Joby, was selling freshly killed rabbits.

Nate, the bailiff, was a stunted man with a twisted back, and he could not lift logs. He dealt with customers while Wulfric and Gwenda did the lifting. At midday he gave them a penny to buy their dinner at the Old Oak, one of the taverns around the square. They got bacon boiled with leeks and shared it with the boys. David, at eight years of age, still had a child's appetite, but Sam was a fast-growing ten and perpetually hungry.

While they were eating, they overheard a conversation that caught Gwenda's attention.

There was a group of young men standing in a corner, drinking large tankards of ale. They were all poorly dressed, except one with a bushy blond beard who had the superior clothes of a prosperous peasant or a village craftsman: leather trousers, good boots, and a new hat. The sentence that caused Gwenda to prick up her ears was: 'We pay twopence a day for laborers at Outhenby.'

She listened hard, trying to learn more, but caught only scattered words. She had heard that some employers were offering more than the traditional penny a day, because of the shortage of workers caused by the plague. She had hesitated to believe such stories, which sounded too good to be true.

She said nothing for the moment to Wulfric, who had not heard the magic words, but her heart beat faster. She and her family had endured so many years of poverty. Was it possible that life might get better for them?

She had to find out more.

When they had eaten, they sat on a bench outside, watching the boys and some other children running around the broad trunk of the tree that gave the tavern its name. 'Wulfric,' she said quietly. 'What if we could earn twopence a day - each?'

'How?'

'By going to Outhenby.' She told him what she had overheard. 'It could be the beginning of a new life for us,' she finished.

'Am I never to get back my father's lands, then?'

She could have hit him with a stick. Did he really still think that was going to happen? How foolish could he be?

She tried to make her voice as gentle as possible. 'It's twelve years since you were disinherited,' she said. 'In that time Ralph has become more and more powerful. And there's never been the least sign that he might mellow toward you. What do
you
think the chances are?'

He did not answer that question. 'Where would we live?'

'They must have houses in Outhenby.'

'But will Ralph let us go?'

'He can't stop us. We're laborers, not serfs. You know that.'

'But does Ralph know it?'

'Let's not give him the chance to object.'

'How could we manage that?'

'Well...' She had not thought this through, but now she saw that it would have to be done precipitately. 'We could leave today, from here.'

It was a scary thought. They had both lived their entire lives in Wigleigh. Wulfric had never even moved house. Now they were contemplating going to live in a village they had never seen without even going back to say good-bye.

But Wulfric was worrying about something else. He pointed at the hunchbacked bailiff, crossing the square to the chandler's shop. 'What would Nathan say?'

'We won't tell him what we're planning. We'll give him some story - say we want to stay here overnight, for some reason, and return home tomorrow. That way, nobody will know where we are. And we'll never go back to Wigleigh.'

'Never go back,' Wulfric said despondently.

Gwenda controlled her impatience. She knew her husband. Once Wulfric was set on a course he was unstoppable, but he took a long time to decide. He would come around to this idea eventually. He was not closed-minded, just cautious and deliberate. He hated to make decisions in a rush - whereas she thought it was the only way.

The young man with the blond beard came out of the Old Oak. Gwenda looked around: none of the Wigleigh folk was in sight. She stood up and accosted the man. 'Did I hear you say something about twopence a day for laborers?' she said.

'That's right, mistress,' he replied. 'In the Vale of Outhenby, just half a day southwest of here. We need all we can get.'

'Who are you?'

'I'm the plowman of Outhenby. My name is Harry.'

Outhenby must be a large and prosperous village, to have a plowman all of its own, Gwenda reasoned. Most plowmen worked for a group of villages. 'And who is lord of the manor?'

'The prioress of Kingsbridge.'

'Caris!' That was wonderful news. Caris could be trusted. Gwenda's spirits lifted further.

'Yes, she is the current prioress,' Harry said. 'A very determined woman.'

'I know.'

'She wants her fields cultivated so that she can feed the sisters, and she's not listening to excuses.'

'Do you have houses at Outhenby for laborers to live in? With their families?'

'Plenty, unfortunately. We've lost many people to the plague.'

'You said it was southwest of here.'

'Take the southerly road to Badford, then follow the Outhen upstream.'

Caution returned to Gwenda. 'I'm not going,' she said quickly.

'Ah. Of course.' He did not believe her.

'I was really asking on behalf of a friend.' She turned away.

'Well, tell your friend to come as soon as he can - we've got spring plowing and sowing to finish yet.'

'All right.'

She felt slightly dizzy, as if she had taken a draft of strong wine. Twopence a day - working for Caris - and miles away from Ralph, Perkin, and flirty Annet! It was a dream.

She sat back down beside Wulfric. 'Did you hear all that?' she asked him.

'Yes,' he said. He pointed to a figure standing by the tavern door. 'And so did he.'

Gwenda looked. It was her father.

'Put that horse in the traces,' Nate said to Wulfric around mid-afternoon. 'It's time to go home.'

Wulfric said: 'We'll be needing our wages for the week so far.'

'You'll be paid on Saturday as usual,' Nate said dismissively. 'Hitch that nag.'

Wulfric did not move toward the horse. 'I'll trouble you to pay me today,' he insisted. 'I know you've got the money, you've sold all that timber.'

Nate turned and looked directly at him. 'Why should you be paid early?' he said irritably.

'Because I shan't be returning to Wigleigh with you tonight.'

Nate was taken aback. 'Why not?'

Gwenda took over. 'We're going to Melcombe,' she said.

'What?' Nate was outraged. 'People like you have no business traveling to Melcombe!'

'We met a fisherman who needs crew for twopence a day.' Gwenda had worked out this story to throw any pursuit off the scent.

Wulfric added: 'Our respects to Sir Ralph, and may God be with him in the future.'

Gwenda added: 'But we don't expect to see him ever again.' She said it just to hear the sweet sound of it: never to see Ralph again.

Nathan said indignantly: 'He may not wish you to leave!'

'We're not serfs, we have no land. Ralph cannot forbid us.'

'You're the son of a serf,' Nathan said to Wulfric.

'But Ralph denied me my inheritance,' Wulfric replied. 'He cannot now demand my fealty.'

'It's a dangerous thing for a poor man to stand on his rights.'

'That's true,' Wulfric conceded. 'But I'm doing it, all the same.'

Nate was beaten. 'You shall hear more of this,' he said.

'Would you like me to put the horse to the cart?'

Nate scowled. He could not do it himself. Because of his back, he had difficulty with complicated physical tasks, and the horse was taller than he. 'Yes, of course,' he said.

'I'll be glad to. Would you kindly pay me first?'

Looking furious, Nate took out his purse and counted six silver pennies.

Gwenda took the money and Wulfric hitched up the horse.

Nate drove away without another word.

'Well!' said Gwenda. 'That's done.' She looked at Wulfric. He was smiling broadly. She asked him: 'What is it?'

'I don't know,' he said. 'I feel as if I've been wearing a collar for years, and suddenly it's been taken off.'

'Good.' That was how she wanted him to feel. 'Now let's find a place to stay the night.'

The Old Oak was in a prime position in the market square, and charged top prices. They walked around the little town looking for somewhere cheaper. Eventually they went into the Gate House, where Gwenda negotiated accommodation for the four of them - supper, a mattress on the floor, and breakfast - for a penny. The boys would need a decent night's sleep and some breakfast if they were to walk all morning.

She could hardly sleep for excitement. She was also worried. What was she taking her family to? She had only the word of one man, a stranger, for what they would find when they reached Outhenby. She really ought to have sought confirmation before committing herself.

But she and Wulfric had been stuck in a hole for ten years, and Harry Plowman of Outhenby was the first person to offer them a way out of it.

The breakfast was meager: thin porridge and watery cider. Gwenda bought a big loaf of new bread for them to eat on the road, and Wulfric filled his leather flask with cold water from a well. They passed through the city gate an hour after sunrise and set off on the road south.

As they walked, she thought about Joby, her father. As soon as he learned that she had not returned to Wigleigh, he would remember the conversation he had overheard, and he would guess she had gone to Outhenby. He would not be fooled by the story about Melcombe: he was an accomplished deceiver himself, too experienced to be taken in by a simple ruse. But would anyone think to ask him where she had gone? Everyone knew she never spoke to her father. And, if they did ask him, would he blurt out what he suspected? Or would some vestige of paternal feeling cause him to protect her?