hundredth time for the opportunity he had been given. He kissed his proud mother farewell, and mounted his new horse. Ranulf smiled at the young man’s excitement. He knew that Pax had never been off Ashlin lands in his whole life, and for him a grand adventure awaited.
Elf forced back her tears. She would not behave like a silly fool. Ranulf was not going to war, just to Normandy. 'I will pray you have a safe journey, my lord,' she told him quietly. 'I will pray you are successful, and return home safely to us as quickly as possible.'
'The hour of my departure but means I am closer to returning home to you, petite,' he told her. Then his arms enfolded her, and he kissed her with tender passion. 'Keep Simon and Ashlin safe for me, Eleanore,' he said, releasing her from his embrace.
'I will, Ranulf,' she promised him. Was there something different in his look than had been there before? She had begun to sense of late that perhaps love was not an emotion foreign to him. If only she could tell him what was in her own heart! She watched him as he mounted his great warhorse. He reached down and lifted her up for a final kiss.
Their eyes met, and for a moment Elf thought she was floating. 'Farewell, petite,' he said setting her back upon her feet. By the rood, her look had been more than just responsive! Was it possible she might harbor warmhearted feelings for him? Did he dare to hope? He sighed as he kicked his mount into a walk. It would simply have to wait until he returned. Besides, he wanted to be absolutely certain of his position in her life. If she loved him, he wanted to hear it from her lips. He needed to know for sure else he make a fool of himself. He wanted her love, not her pity.
Elf watched until her husband and his squire were no more than a speck upon the road. Then, with a shake of her head, she returned through the gates of Ashlin to her daily round of duties. She had to speak with Fulk, John, and Cedric this morning. There would be crops to harvest in the coming month, and the fields to be tilled and planted with the winter crops. The sheep needed to be shorn if they were to have new coats for the winter and Ashlin have wool to sell at the Lammas Fair. There was so much to do.
On the edge of a wood bordering Ashlin, Merin ap Owen lurked. He did not trust any of his men to scout a possible target for him. This was something he always did himself. It was the secret of his success as a raider. He looked up the hill and saw Ashlin’s walls. They were far higher than Isleen had told him. Had she lied? Was she stupid-or had the walls been rebuilt? He opted for the latter explanation, for Isleen was many things, but she was not stupid. He needed to get closer. Isleen had said there was a shallow moat, but if the walls had been elevated, then surely the moat had been deepened.
He moved from the wood onto the narrow path leading up to the walled enclosure. He was dressed simply in greens and browns, the better to blend in with his surroundings. On his back he carried a knife-sharpener’s wheel. It was a disguise he used often. There were always knives to be sharpened on any estate, although one such as this one probably had its own wheel. Still, Merin ap Owen did not appear to be a suspicious character and would be granted a night’s lodging if he asked, which he would. It was the best way to gain the lay of the land. Servants gossiped, and a woman servant well pleasured talked the most of all. He smiled wolfishly, his step firm.
He was, as he had expected, welcomed to Ashlin. His sharp eye determined that the moat was indeed deeper. Not only that but the earthen bridge across it had been dug away to be replaced by a thick oak drawbridge. There was a platform around the inner walls where the men-at-arms stood on watch, and there were certainly more armed men than he had anticipated. Further, they seemed well trained. Ashlin would be a far greater challenge than he had thought. It would take careful planning to gain hostile entry here. Was it worth it, he wondered?
As he sat in the hall that evening looking about him, he thoughtfully considered the risks, weighing them against the profits of such a venture. The sheep and the cattle were pastured outside the walls. They would appear to be Ashlin’s greatest assets, and they could easily be stolen with probably no loss of life. While the hall was comfortable, there was no silver plate displayed, or anything else of great enough value to warrant taking. Isleen’s passion for vengeance was what drove her, but his whore did not ever overrule his common sense.
The lady of the manor had married a good man. He divined that by the well-trained men-at-arms and the additional precautions that had been taken to evade raiders such as himself. He smiled. They were the exact foresights he would have taken under such circumstances. The lord, however, was away, he learned from the chatter about him. It would appear to be as good a time as any to raid Ashlin’s livestock.
His eye went to the lady of the manor. The little nun, as Isleen called her, was probably one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her pale red-gold hair was neatly braided, and contained beneath a modest veil. There was a serenity about her that he had never known to encompass a woman. His eyes narrowed. He could see her servants both loved and respected her by the way in which they served her. He realized he was, for the first time in his life, in the presence of a
Merin ap Owen was given a sleeping place by the fire, and some bread and cheese when the morning came. As they did not need a knife sharpener’s service, he took his leave of Ashlin, making his way for the next few days over the hills back into Wales and to Gwynfr. Arriving at his small castle, he went to Isleen’s chambers and sent for her to come to him immediately.
'So, you are back, my lord,' she said, entering her private apartment. She was garbed in a blue silk gown that favored her eyes, and her golden hair was loose.
'Get on your back, and raise your skirts,' he commanded her. 'I have missed your hot and eager sheath, Isleen. When you have pleasured me we will talk, my pretty bitch.' He fell upon her immediately and used her lustily. She was not as eager as he, although she pretended to be. He knew then she had been betraying him with one or more of his men. He said nothing. Let her believe she could hoodwink him. While he enjoyed her wantonness, he knew that one day he would send her back to Clud, for he could not allow her to make a fool of him, lest his men believe him weak. Finished with her, he arose and straightened out his clothing. 'Get up,' he told her. 'Now we will talk.'
'You will attack Ashlin?' she asked avidly.
'Much has changed since you held sway there as Richard de Montfort’s wife, Isleen.' He went on to explain to her, then said, 'The sheep and the cattle we will steal, but there is nothing in the hall worth risking the lives of my men.'
Merin ap Owen laughed. 'But I don't love you, Isleen,' he said. 'What ever made you think I did? Because I took you for my whore? You are as dangerous as a rabid cat, my pretty bitch. I re-connoiter my target personally because only I can be the judge of its worth. Cattle and sheep are all Ashlin possesses that interest me. There is no value in anything else there. The lady Eleanore’s lord is away right now, and so the time is most auspicious to raid their livestock.'
He caught her wrists in a cruel grasp.
