World Without End (95 page)

Wulfric lit a lamp and built up the fire while Gwenda put the boys to bed. Although there were bedrooms upstairs - they were still living in the large house that had been occupied by Wulfric's parents - nevertheless they all slept in the kitchen, for warmth.

Gwenda felt depressed as she wrapped the boys in blankets and settled them near the fire. She had grown up determined not to live the way her mother did, in constant worry and want. She had aspired to independence: a patch of land, a hardworking husband, a reasonable lord. Wulfric yearned to get back the land his father had farmed. In all those aspirations they had failed. She was a pauper, and her husband a landless laborer whose employer could not even pay him a penny a day. She had ended up exactly like her mother, she thought; and she felt too bitter for tears.

Wulfric took a pottery bottle from a shelf and poured ale into a wooden cup. 'Enjoy it,' Gwenda said sourly. 'You won't be able to buy your own ale for a while.'

Wulfric said conversationally: 'It's amazing that Perkin has no money. He's the richest man in the village, apart from Nathan Reeve.'

'Perkin has money,' Gwenda said. 'There's a jar of silver pennies under his fireplace. I've seen it.'

'Then why won't he pay us?'

'He doesn't want to dip into his savings.'

Wulfric was taken aback. 'But he could pay us, if he wanted to?'

'Of course.'

'Then why am I going to work for food?'

Gwenda let out an impatient grunt. Wulfric was so slow on the uptake. 'Because the alternative was no work at all.'

Wulfric was feeling that they had been hoodwinked. 'We should have insisted on payment.'

'Then why didn't you?'

'I didn't know about the jar of pennies under the fireplace.'

'For God's sake, do you think a man as rich as Perkin can be impoverished by failing to sell one cartload of apples? He's been the largest landholder in Wigleigh ever since he got hold of your father's acres ten years ago. Of course he has savings!'

'Yes, I see that.'

She stared into the fire while he finished the ale, then they went to bed. He put his arms around her, and she rested her head on his chest, but she did not want to make love. She was too angry. She told herself she should not take it out on her husband: Perkin had let them down, not Wulfric. But she
was
angry with Wulfric - furious. As she sensed him drifting off to sleep, she realized that her anger was not about their wages. That was the kind of misfortune that afflicted everyone from time to time, like bad weather and barley mold.

What, then?

She recalled the way Annet had fallen against Wulfric as she stepped down from the cart. When she remembered Annet's coquettish smile, and Wulfric's flush of pleasure, she wanted to slap his face. I'm angry with you, she thought, because that worthless, empty-headed flirt can still make you look such a damn fool.

On the Sunday before Christmas, a manor court was held in the church after the service. It was cold, and the villagers huddled together, wrapped in cloaks and blankets. Nathan Reeve was in charge. The lord of the manor, Ralph Fitzgerald, had not been seen in Wigleigh for years. So much the better, Gwenda thought. Besides, he was Sir Ralph now, with three other villages in his fiefdom, so he would not take much interest in ox teams and cow pasture.

Alfred Shorthouse had died during the week. He was a childless widower with ten acres. 'He has no natural heirs,' said Nate Reeve. 'Perkin is willing to take over his land.'

Gwenda was surprised. How could Perkin think of taking on more land? She was too startled to respond immediately, and Aaron Appletree, the bagpipe player, spoke first. 'Alfred has been in poor health since the summer,' he said. 'He's done no autumn plowing and sown no winter wheat. All the work is to be done. Perkin will have his hands full.'

Nate said aggressively: 'Are you asking for the land yourself?'

Aaron shook his head. 'In a few more years, when my boys are big enough to help, I'll jump at such a chance,' he said. 'I couldn't handle it now.'

'I can manage it,' Perkin said.

Gwenda frowned. Nate obviously wanted Perkin to have the land. No doubt a bribe had been promised. She had known all along that Perkin had money. But she had little interest in exposing Perkin's duplicity. She was thinking of how she could exploit this situation to her advantage, and get her family out of poverty.

Nate said: 'You could take on another laborer, Perkin.'

'Wait a minute,' Gwenda said. 'Perkin can't pay the laborers he's got now. How can he take on more land?'

Perkin was taken aback, but he could hardly deny what Gwenda was saying, so he remained silent.

Nate said: 'Well, who else can cope with it?'

Gwenda said quickly: 'We'll take it.'

Nate looked surprised.

She added quickly: 'Wulfric is working for food. I have no work. We need land.'

She noticed several nodding heads. No one in the village liked what Perkin had done. They all feared that one day they might end up in the same situation.

Nate saw the danger of his plan going awry. 'You can't afford the entry fee,' he said.

'We'll pay it a little at a time.'

Nate shook his head. 'I want a tenant who can pay right away.' He looked around the assembled villagers. However, no one volunteered. 'David Johns?'

David was a middle-aged man whose sons had land of their own. 'I would have said yes a year ago,' he said. 'But the rain at harvest time knocked me back.'

The offer of an extra ten acres would normally have had the more ambitious villagers fighting among themselves, but it was a bad year. Gwenda and Wulfric were different. For one thing, Wulfric had never ceased to long for land of his own. Alfred's acres were not Wulfric's birthright, but they were better than nothing. Anyway, Gwenda and Wulfric were desperate.

Aaron Appletree said: 'Give it to Wulfric, Nate. He's a hard worker, he'll get the plowing done in time. And he and his wife deserve some good luck - they've had more than their fair share of bad.'

Nate looked bad-tempered, but there was a loud rumble of assent from the peasants. Wulfric and Gwenda were well respected despite their poverty.

This was a rare combination of circumstances that could get Gwenda and her family started on the road to a better life, and she felt growing excitement as it began to seem possible.

But Nate was still looking dubious. 'Sir Ralph hates Wulfric,' he said.

Wulfric's hand went to his cheek, and he touched the scar made by Ralph's sword.

'I know,' said Gwenda. 'But Ralph's not here.'

52

When Earl Roland died the day after the battle of Crécy, several people moved a step up the ladder. His elder son, William, became the earl, overlord of the county of Shiring, answerable to the king. A cousin of William's, Sir Edward Courthose, became lord of Caster, took over the rule of the forty villages of that fiefdom as a subtenant of the earl, and moved into William and Philippa's old house in Casterham. And Sir Ralph Fitzgerald became lord of Tench.

For the next eighteen months, none of them went home. They were all too busy traveling with the king and killing French people. Then, in 1347, the war reached a stalemate. The English captured and held the valuable port city of Calais, but otherwise there was little to show for a decade of war - except, of course, a great deal of booty.

In January 1348 Ralph took possession of his new property. Tench was a large village with a hundred peasant families, and the manor included two smaller villages nearby. He also retained Wigleigh, which was half a day's ride away.

Ralph felt a thrill of pride as he rode through Tench. He had looked forward to this moment. The serfs bowed and their children stared. He was lord of every person and owner of every object in the place.

The house was set in a compound. Riding in, followed by a cart loaded with French loot, Ralph saw immediately that the defensive walls had long ago fallen into disrepair. He wondered whether he should restore them. The burghers of Normandy had neglected their defenses, by and large, and that had made it relatively easy for Edward III to overrun them. On the other hand, the likelihood of an invasion of southern England was now very small. Early in the war, most of the French fleet had been wiped out at the port of Sluys, and thereafter the English had controlled the sea channel that separated the two countries. Apart from minor raids by freelance pirates, every battle since Sluys had been fought on French soil. On balance it hardly seemed worthwhile to rebuild the compound walls.

Several grooms appeared and took the horses. Ralph left Alan Fernhill to supervise the unloading, and walked toward his new house. He was limping: his injured leg always hurt after a long ride. Tench Hall was a stone-built manor house. It was impressive, he noted with satisfaction, though it needed repairs - not surprisingly, for it had remained unoccupied since Lady Matilda's father died. However, it was modern in design. In old-fashioned houses, the lord's private chamber was an afterthought stuck on to the end of the all-important great hall, but Ralph could see, from the outside, that here the domestic apartments took up half the building.

He entered the hall, and was annoyed to find Earl William there.

At the far end of the room was a large chair made of dark wood, elaborately carved with powerful symbols: angels and lions on the back and arms, snakes and monsters on the legs. It was obviously the chair of the lord of the manor. But William was sitting in it.

Much of Ralph's pleasure evaporated. He could not enjoy his mastery of the new manor under the scrutiny of his own overlord. It would be like going to bed with a woman while her husband listened outside the door.

He masked his displeasure and formally greeted Earl William. The earl introduced the man standing next to him. 'This is Daniel, who has been bailiff here for twenty years, and has taken good care of the place, on my father's behalf, during Tilly's minority.'

Ralph acknowledged the bailiff stiffly. William's message was clear: he wanted Ralph to let Daniel continue in the job. But Daniel had been Earl Roland's man and now he would be Earl William's. Ralph had no intention of letting his domain be managed by the earl's man. His bailiff would be loyal to him alone.

William waited expectantly for Ralph to say something about Daniel. However, Ralph was not going to have that discussion. Ten years ago he would have jumped feet first into an argument, but he had learned a lot in the time he had spent with the king. He was not obliged to get his earl's approval for his choice of bailiff, so he would not seek it. He would say nothing until William had gone, then he would tell Daniel he was being assigned to other duties.

Both William and Ralph remained stubbornly silent for a few moments, then the deadlock was broken. A large door opened at the domestic end of the hall and the tall, elegant figure of Lady Philippa came in. It was many years since Ralph had seen her, but his youthful passion returned with a shock that felt like a punch, leaving him breathless. She was older - she had to be forty, he guessed - but she was in her prime. Perhaps she was a little heavier than he remembered, her hips more rounded, her breasts fuller, but that only added to her allure. She still walked like a queen. As always, the sight of her made him ask resentfully why he could not have a wife like that.

In the past she had barely deigned to notice his presence, but today she smiled and shook his hand and said: 'Are you getting to know Daniel?'

She, too, wanted him to continue to employ the earl's retainer - that was why she was being courteous. All the more reason to get rid of the man, he thought with secret relish. 'I've just arrived,' he said noncommittally.

Philippa explained their presence. 'We wanted to be here when you met young Tilly - she's part of our family.'

Ralph had commanded the nuns of Kingsbridge Priory to bring his fiancée here to meet him today. Interfering busybodies, the nuns had obviously told Earl William what was happening. 'Lady Matilda was the ward of Earl Roland, rest his soul,' Ralph said, emphasizing that the wardship had ended with Roland's death.

'Yes - and I would have expected the king to transfer her wardship to my husband, as Roland's heir.' Clearly Philippa would have preferred that.

'But he did not,' Ralph said. 'He gave her to me to wed.' Although no ceremony had yet taken place, the girl had immediately become Ralph's responsibility. Strictly speaking, William and Philippa had no business to invite themselves here today, as if playing the role of Tilly's parents. But William was Ralph's overlord, so he could visit whenever he pleased.

Ralph did not want to quarrel with William. It was too easy for William to make Ralph's life difficult. On the other hand, the new earl was overreaching his authority here - probably under pressure from his wife. But Ralph was not going to be bullied. The last seven years had given him the confidence to defend such independence as he was entitled to.

Anyway, he was enjoying crossing swords with Philippa. It gave him an excuse to stare at her. He rested his gaze on the assertive line of her jaw and the fullness of her lips. Despite her hauteur, she was forced to engage with him. This was the longest conversation he had ever had with her.

'Tilly is very young,' said Philippa.

'She will be fourteen this year,' Ralph said. 'That's the age our queen was when she married our king - as the king himself pointed out, to me and to Earl William, after the battle of Crécy.'

'The aftermath of a battle is not necessarily the best moment to decide the fate of a young girl,' Philippa said in a lowered voice.

Ralph was not going to let that pass. 'Speaking for myself, I feel obliged to comply with the decisions of His Majesty.'

'As do we all,' she muttered.

Ralph felt he had vanquished her. It was a sexual feeling, almost as if he had lain with her. Satisfied, he turned to Daniel. 'My wife-to-be should arrive in time for dinner,' he said. 'Make sure we have a feast.'

Philippa said: 'I have already seen to that.'