have never distressed this manor as they have others.'
'The nearby Welsh and I have an agreement, my lord. I don't take liberties with their daughters, leaving them with half-English babes, and they don't attack Ashlin, forcing me to kill them, thus leaving their wives and daughters helpless to me.' He grinned in a congenial manner.
Ranulf chuckled appreciatively. 'Sit down, Fulk of Ashlin, and do not give these young men of yours bad ideas. From the look of them, they have enough of their own.'
The men-at-arms laughed, and raised their cups to the new lord of Ashlin, wishing him a long life and many sons.
The younger of the serving girls in the hall wondered if Ranulf de Glandeville would be a kind master, or if he would rampage among them as Saer de Bude had done. The serfs were mostly Saxon and old English. They did not like these Normans in general, but the de Montforts had been good masters. Hopefully the de Glandevilles would also be.
After the meal Ranulf joined Fulk and his men by the fire. They drank and spoke on the things men are wont to speak of when they are without women. The new lord told them that they must build the wall surrounding the demesne higher. That they must train more men to protect Ashlin, as the Welsh were growing restless again. They must be able to resist any attack come the spring, for the king desired that Ashlin be kept safe. The men nodded, pleased.
'We would have done this long ago, my lord, except that poor lord Richard had but one interest from the day he wed with his wife. She consumed him, and then when he grew ill, he could not be bothered. We were fortunate not to look prosperous. Raiding parties have passed us by many times, but taken only a few sheep or cattle. We have let them, and they have left us in peace.'
'We will not let them steal from us in the future, Fulk,' Ranulf said. 'Nor will we allow them to succeed in any attack they make, for attack they will in time.'
The hour grew late. Outside the snow fell silently, for there was no wind. Fulk and his men wrapped themselves in their blankets upon their pallets. Ranulf arose from his place by the fire, and made his way into the solar. A fire burned low in the fireplace. The old woman, Ida, was snoring loudly on her pallet by the hearth. He walked past her and into the small bedchamber, closed the door, and gazed about. The fire here was also the only light. He added a few more sticks of wood to the hearth, and the flame sprang up again.
The curtained oak bedstead took up most of the room, he noted. There was a small square table with a basin upon it, and a three-legged stool near the fireplace. He washed his face and hands, drying them on the little square of linen by the brass ewer. Then sitting upon the stool, Ranulf drew off his boots and set them neatly beneath the table. Standing, he pulled off his tunic first, then his two undertunics, his drawers, and his chausses. He laid his clothing upon the stool, and stretched his big frame. Finally walking across the room, he drew back the curtains on one side of the bed. Elf lay sleeping. He dropped the curtain and walked about to the other side of the big bed, climbing in, and settling himself.
She had heard him come into the chamber, and could not believe he would dare to get into bed with her. He would surely sleep upon the trundle. She had wanted to, but had been embarrassed to let Ida know she would do such a thing. Then she had been so sleepy she had dozed off until she heard him come into the chamber. Now Elf heard Ranulf making his small noises as he prepared for bed. She had almost shrieked aloud when he had pulled the curtain back on her side of the bed, but he had let the curtain drop. She was about to heave a great sigh of relief when she felt the draft from the open curtain on the other side of the bed, and his great weight caused the bed to sag. 'W-what are you d-doing?' she squeaked nervously.
'I am coming to bed,' his deep voice answered her.
'Then, I shall sleep upon the trundle,' she said, moving to exit the bed.
His hand caught at her arm. 'You will not sleep upon the trundle, my Eleanore, nor will I. It is too cold a night.'
She gasped. 'We cannot share a bed!'
'Why not?' he asked her. 'We are husband and wife, Eleanore.'
'But… but…' she struggled to answer him.
'Turn about and face me,' he said, and pulled her over when she proved reluctant.
Now they were suddenly face-to-face, and Elf blushed a beet red as her heart beat a wild tattoo.
'Now, listen to me, my young wife. You are no longer a nun. As virgins go you are surely the most innocent of the innocent, and so you shall remain for a short time longer. I realize you know nothing of men except what you have heard in gossip from others, and God knows what that was. I am not some ravening beast, drooling lust, who must violate your virtue. How little you must think of me that you believe I would force you.'
'I don't know what to believe, or even who you really are, my lord,' Elf managed to say. 'I am apprehensive.'
His glance softened. 'You need not be, Eleanore. I pride myself upon my self-control. I will not have to amuse myself among the serf women to slack my burning desires, I promise you. We will learn to know one another. And eventually we will conjoin our bodies for the pure pleasure of it, and also in order to gain heirs. My destiny is to serve the king by watching over Ashlin and managing it well. Your duty is to be a good chatelaine and a good mother.
'How long will you give me?' she whispered.
'We will know when the time is right,' he reassured her. 'Now, go to sleep, wife. God give you a good rest.'
'And you also, my lord,' Elf told him, turning onto her side again. Her heart was still beating furiously. It was so odd being in bed with someone, let alone a man. She vaguely recalled sleeping with her mother. Was it in this bed? But in all her days at St. Frideswide's, she had slept alone upon her cot. She was used to sleeping alone. Unconsciously she edged away from him. Then his foot touched her in an innocent gesture. She moved farther toward the edge of the bed. 'Wh-what are you doing?'
His arm had reached out, wrapping itself about her, and drawing her back against him. The heat of his body through his knee-length chemise was very disconcerting. 'You will never get to know me, Eleanore, if you insist upon running away from me,' he told her, and she could have sworn there was a hint of laughter in his deep voice. 'Good night, again, petite.'
She lay stiffly against him at first, but then the warmth of him seemed to coax her into relaxation. He was already asleep, and his breath ruffled the hairs on the nape of her neck as his rhythmic breathing rose and fell. She thought of Isa and Matti, and all their ribald speech. She thought of Mistress Martha, the clothier’s wife in Worcester, and the careful, practical talk she had given Elf explaining the activity between a husband and a wife. It had been very enlightening, but she was not quite ready to put into practice what she had been told. However, she had to admit this man now holding her was not at all what she had expected. He could have had by force what he desired, and consummated their marriage. He chose to wait. To give her time to become used to this great change in her life. Perhaps, Elf thought, marriage will not be so bad after all.
When she awoke in the morning, he was gone. It was daylight, and therefore late. Elf jumped from the bed, wincing at the cold stone beneath her feet. On the table by the blazing fire was a fresh basin of water. She bathed, and then pulled on her clothing and house shoes. Hurrying from the bedchamber and through the solar, she entered into the hall. Ranulf was at the high board eating his morning meal.
'You should have awakened me,' she gently scolded him, crossing herself as she sat to be served. A small trencher of oat stirabout was put before her. She began to spoon it down.
'I thought you needed the sleep, Eleanore, and your old Ida agreed,' he
