The Innocent

'He went to check the pigpens to see if any of his beasts had escaped the conflagration,' the second replied.

'How long ago?' Fulk demanded.

The second shrugged helplessly.

'He was one of them for certain, and we will not see him again, for he has surely gone to rejoin his master,' Fulk said.

They waited impatiently for almost an hour while the torches were prepared. About them the twilight deepened into night. Without a moon it would be as black as the inside of an empty wineskin. Finally the abbess came through the open half gate, followed by six or so nuns, their arms filled with torches. They passed them out among the men, lighting them from the torch that the abbess carried. Each man was given two extra unlit torches, which they stowed behind their saddles.

'Thank you,' Fulk said. After turning his mount, he led his troupe slowly away from the convent. Above them the sky was a gray-black. The earlier rain had subsided, but the dampness made the night even darker than usual on a moonless night. The flaming torches flickered in the light breeze, dancing eerily as the men moved along. There was no choice but to go slowly, for the track was narrow and the night murky. Fulk was frothing with impatience. He had been gulled as neatly as any country lad in the city for the first time.

If anything happened to the lady Eleanore or the little lordling, what was he to tell his master when he returned from Normandy? He had failed in his duty to protect them, and his heart was sore weary with the knowledge. Instinct had warned him that something was wrong, but he had hesitated to question his mistress. He should have. She was young and inexperienced. Her convent upbringing caused her to look at the world with an especially kind eye. She trusted too easily. It could be the death of her, he feared. By the rood! A turtle could move faster than they were going! How far had they come? A mile? Three? He would wager that they weren't even halfway there.

The bell tolling from the manor church alerted them to the fact that they were practically at Ashlin. It was as if they were being guided home. But why was the bell pealing? Fulk stopped his troupe to consider a moment. Without the torches, they couldn't see their own hands outstretched before them. That meant that neither could the enemy. No one could be lying in wait for them under these circumstances. Had the Welsh broken into the manor enclosure itself? Anything was possible, but something told him this had not happened. He signaled his men forward. The bell was tolling an alarm, he decided. Now suddenly he could see the lights upon the walls of Ashlin. He hurried his troupe a bit faster. He could see the shadowed outlines of the walls and sheep in the fields and meadows on either side of the track. This was odd. If the Welsh had come, why hadn't they taken the livestock?

Fulk moved his companions up the hill to the manor enclosure. The drawbridge was lowered, and the portcullis raised. He stopped again, cautious and confused. What was going on? Then he heard Sim calling to him. Signaling his men to remain where they were, he moved his mount forward to meet his second in command.

'Captain Fulk! Is that you? They have taken the lady!' Sim cried. 'They have taken the lady!'

Fulk waved his men forward. 'How?' He snapped the question as he rode into the enclosure. 'Lower the portcullis, and raise the drawbridge when all have entered,' he said. Dismounting, he flung his reins to a young stableboy. 'How?' he repeated.

'We are not certain.' Sim’s voice quavered.

'Who was on the gate, and what of the men on the walls?' Fulk asked, manfully keeping his temper in check.

'Alfred was on the gate. He and the men on the walls were drugged, Captain. They slept for no more than an hour, and naught was believed to be amiss. Then old Ida come screeching from the house, crying the lady was gone. Willa had taken the little lordling to Lady Eleanor to be fed, and she was not in her bed. They searched the house, but she could not be found. The women are hysterical, and the little lordling cries for his supper,' Sim concluded.

'Go to Orva, and tell her we need a wet nurse immediately for the little lord. Then come to the house. I am going to search it myself,' Fulk told the man-at-arms. By the rood! By the holy rood! He had known that something was wrong! Why hadn't he listened to his voice within instead of blindly obeying the wishes of a sweet, but very naive, young woman? His search of the house would be futile, he knew, from the raised portcullis, the lowered drawbridge, and the open gates, but he had to satisfy himself that she really was gone. His grizzled features grim, Fulk entered the house and was immediately surrounded by howling women. 'Be silent!' he roared at them, and they ceased their wails. His glance lit on Willa, dry-eyed and looking calmer than any. 'What happened?' he asked her, 'and the rest of you keep your mouths shut!'

'We went to bed shortly after the sun had set as we usually do unless there are guests. Shortly before midnight the little lord became restless, and Alyce, his nurse, brought him to the lady to be fed, but the lady was not there. We searched for her, but could not find her, and it was then we raised the alarm.'

'Were you all in the hall tonight?' Fulk asked Willa.

'All but Alyce.'

'Arwydd?'

'Nay, Arwydd ate in the kitchens earlier, for she was working in the lady’s herbal gardens,' Willa replied. 'She has spent the last few days carefully digging and covering the plants for winter.'

A brief grim smile touched Fulk’s lips. They had all been given some sort of mild sleeping draught, all but for Alyce, who had been tending her little charge, and Arwydd, who had probably administered the potion into the food and drink that was served; her presence in the kitchens earlier being the key to the puzzle. 'Where is Arwydd?' he asked. 'When was the last time you saw her?'

Willa thought hard, and then she said, 'I have not seen Arwydd since yesterday afternoon when she told me she was going to work in the gardens, and asked the lady’s permission to eat early in the kitchens.'

'Christ’s bloody bones!' The fierce oath burst forth from Fulk’s mouth with such violence that the women jumped back, whimpering. 'I knew that wench was false, but I could not prove it, worse luck!' His balled fist drove into his palm. 'Jesu! Who would want so badly to kidnap the lady that they would plan so cunningly? Who? And why?' His brow was contorted as he struggled for an answer. The lady surely had no enemies. Did the lord? They knew little about his life before he had come to Ashlin, save that he was a loyal knight of King Stephen and had once had family in Normandy. In Fulk’s mind it was unlikely that Ranulf de Glandeville would have an enemy this vengeful. He was simply not that kind of man. Who, then?

'It is that witch that killed our lord Richard,' old Ida suddenly said.

'Why do you say that?' Fulk asked her, dismissive of the elderly woman, but nonetheless curious.

'Has there not been a Welsh bandit riding with a golden-haired woman these many months?' Ida demanded. 'Did not the bitch escape from her father’s custody as she was about to be clapped into a nunnery? Did she not intend to wed our sweet lady to her cousin then kill her as she had killed her husband? And all so she could have the cousin and Ashlin for herself? But our lady was saved from the bitch’s evil plotting, and the lady Isleen'-Ida spat upon the floor-'given punishment by the king himself. A punishment which she escaped. She is the only person I can imagine who would hold such a hard grudge against our sweet lady.'

'What you say holds a possibility of truth in it,' Fulk replied thoughtfully. The old woman could have hit upon something, he considered. 'But why take the lady? Why not steal the livestock instead?'