Enchantress Mine Part 27

Eric smiled softly. "You liked that, didn't you?" He took the other nipple, and pinched it, his smile widening when she protested his action. "Pain," he said, "can be pleasurable, my pet." He swung himself over her body, straddling her with his thighs, the fingers of one hand digging into her head as he grasped her harshly by her long, thick hair. "You did not answer me, Mairin. You like it when I hurt you a little, don't you?"

"No!" she whispered.

Yanking her up by her head, he slapped her cruelly several times. "Liar!" he said. "I've known women like you before. Cold little b.i.t.c.hes who need their bottoms warmed before they can enjoy a man. Before I took you that first night I whipped you, and you were hot for me afterward. The last time you lay like a sodden lump beneath me, and I realized what your problem was."

"That is not so!" she protested.

"Then perhaps there is something else you need to excite your fires. Something forbidden, but infinitely delicious." Releasing his hold upon her hair, he pushed her back, and sliding himself down her body, pulled her legs apart with strong fingers to plunge his head between her thighs. She felt his lips fasten about her flesh there, and she shrieked a protest, struggling wildly to evade him.

Raising his head a moment he glowered threateningly at her. "Do not fight me, Mairin," he warned, "or I will beat you again, and still have my way with you in the end." Then lowering his head again, he feasted upon her shrinking flesh.

Mairin shivered violently. The bruise upon her cheekbone was only just disappearing. If he beat her she would not be able to go to court and make good her escape from this madman. It was better to allow him to have his way, wasn't it? It was better to allow him his way, she kept repeating to herself as his hateful mouth fastened upon her, and his probing tongue began to lick at her, and despite her aversion to him, she could feel her body beginning to weaken, beginning to warm and respond to this horror.

No, she silently told herself. I feel nothing. I feel nothing. Heat was beginning to seep into her veins, followed by a delicious languor. Mairin was shocked by her reaction. How could her body be responding to this man who was violating her? She despised him. She lived for the moment she might escape him and for her revenge. Yet her hips would not stay still, and to her immense horror, she could feel her crisis approaching. No! No! No! she screamed silently, and then with a vocal sob of submission, she slid over the brink.

She did not linger long within pa.s.sion's embrace, for her guilt was overwhelming. Desperately she clawed her way back from the soft and warm darkness to find her captor grinning over her, and it was all she could do in that moment to keep her hatred of him from spilling over, and clawing his eyes out.

"So," he gloated, "that is what you need to fan the flames of your desire!" Then his fingers were once more pushing into her, and he was muttering vile obscenities into her ear as he thrust those hateful fingers over and over again within her helpless body.

Afterward, however, he did not sleep immediately as he had the other nights, and she was forced to bear his attentions twice more before he was satisfied. She was nervously exhausted by the time he finally slept, and as his loud snores ripped the fabric of silence, she allowed herself the luxury of tears. Tears which she had not shed since her capture by this maniac.

She wanted Josselin. She wanted to be home at Aelfleah with little Maude and Eada and Dagda. Dagda! If Dagda had been with her, Eric Longsword would have never gotten away with this abduction. He had wanted to come, not liking the idea of her traveling without him, but she had refused her permission. She was a grown woman now, she had told him. He was bailiff of Aldford, and must remain with the half-built castle. It was his duty, she had told him grandly. Now she wished she had not. Tears still wet upon her cheeks, she finally fell into troubled sleep.

Eric Longsword informed his captive on the following morning that they would be going to the Scots court the next day. Then he left her alone in the house without a word as to where he was going, or when he would be back. He seemed to a.s.sume that she would not attempt to escape, and he was correct in that a.s.sumption. Not that Mairin did not consider the possibility, but she realized a woman alone was prey to both two-legged and four-legged animals of which there were many between Edinburgh and Aelfleah. She had no money, and she had no horse. She was better off taking her chances at the Scots court.

While he was gone, she took the opportunity to wash her camise, placing it before the fire to dry. When it was once more wearable she put it on, and set to work sponging stains and brushing the dirt from her indigo-blue skirts which were made from fine-spun Aelfleah wool, and the slightly lighter blue brocatelle tunic she had been wearing when he had kidnapped her. She looked critically at the garments. They were well made, and of the best fabric, and she was grateful that her girdle was an elegant twisted golden rope, and that her earrings were fat, showy pearls and deep red garnets. It had been Christmas Day, and she had dressed in the best of the little clothing she had brought with her to York.

Her hair needed to be washed, and she lugged water from the well in the garden to heat over the fire. When it was ready, she scented it with two cloves which she removed from her pomander and crushed. The pomander ball, a Spanish orange stuck round with precious cloves, was another indication of her social status, and would hopefully help to convince the Scots that her story was a true one. Josselin had given it to her the day before Christmas to commemorate their three years of marriage. She had no idea of where he could have found such a rare and valuable item within the ruined city, but she had been delighted by the gift which hung from her girdle. Toweling her long, wet hair to help it dry, she sniffed its elusive scent and smiled. It made her feel that all was not lost. That she would be rescued.

The rest of the day pa.s.sed uneventfully. Eric returned in late afternoon with no explanation as to where he had been. He again brought them supper, and after eating they went to bed, but strangely he did not seem interested in her and slept almost at once. With a soft sigh of relief, Mairin rolled onto her side, and slept herself until dawn. In the morning, she was well-rested for the first time since her capture. She could eat little, for her excitement was too great, a fact which seemed to amuse Eric as he wolfed down the remainder of the past evening's meal.

Mairin took hot water from the kettle and washed her face, neck, and hands. Carefully she dressed herself, taking time to braid her long, beautiful red-gold hair into plaits which she looped gracefully and fastened with golden pins above her ears. She had her gold gauze veil and the little gold-and-pearl chaplet, for she had been wearing them when Josselin had left her. Hopefully, she looked every inch the lady she was, and could convince the Scots of her plight.

Eric Longsword seemed pleased by her appearance. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world," he said. "I will kill anyone who dares to even look at you."

"Thank you for the compliment, my lord, but it will not do your case any good if you appear quarrelsome before these Scots. After all, we are strangers in this land. You need have no fears, for I would never stray from your side. There is none to compare with you, my lord."

He grinned at her, obviously quite pleased by her words. "How envied I will be," he said pridefully. "Every man who sees you will want you, but you are mine."

"Of course, my lord," Mairin replied smoothly. "There can be no other for me but you."

He pulled her suddenly into his arms, and kissed her noisily. "What a woman you are!" he said.

She smiled up at him. "You have only just begun to know, my lord," she said sweetly.

Chapter 15.

Tince the sixth century there had been some building representing authority upon the great Edinburgh rock. In the beginning it had been a fortified place, a place to defend, but now there was only a small castle upon the rock that served as the king's house when he was in Edinburgh. It was here that Eric Longsword brought Mairin, who was trembling with excitement at the thought of escaping her captor. She had heard while in York of the marriage that had taken place in late summer between the widowed Scots king, Malcolm Ceann Mor, and Edgar the Atheling's eldest sister, Margaret.

The Anglo-Saxon heir and his family had taken refuge with the Scots, and from the moment Malcolm had seen Margaret, he was like a man possessed. He wanted the serene beauty for his wife as he never wanted any woman. Widowed several years, he certainly did not lack for women companions. His first wife, Ingeborg, had been the Earl of Orkney's daughter, and they had had three sons, only one of whom was living: Duncan, the eldest. Flaxen-haired Ingeborg had been loyal throughout all the years of turmoil only to die as he finally attained his complete victory. She had been a good woman, and he had been genuinely fond of her.

At the age of thirty-eight, however, love had found Malcolm Ceann Mor for the first and only time in his life. Margaret of England had entered his world, and he knew immediately that he could never really be happy until he had made her his wife. Beautiful Margaret, with her heavy dark red braids and her gray-blue eyes, was past twenty, and having not yet found a husband, had concluded that G.o.d wanted her for himself. She had full intention of returning to her mother's native Hungary where she had spent the first half of her life, and entering a convent with her younger sister, Christina.

When her royal host pursued her with the kind of pa.s.sion she had hitherto only heard sung about in epic poems, she was frightened, angry, indignant, intrigued, and flattered by turns. She was related on her mother's side to Henry, the Holy Roman Emperor, but her father was a poor exile. No matter he was a legitimate heir to the English throne, he was an exile. No one had ever made a fuss over Margaret, and once Edgar was finally born, she and Christina faded even more into the background of their world. Everything was for Edgar, and even more so after their father's death when Edgar became the Atheling.

But Malcolm Ceann Mor would not be denied. He wanted the lovely Margaret for his bride, and neither her protests of a religious calling nor her brother's reluctance to override his sister's desire would stand in his way. Margaret's mother was a shrewd woman. When she saw which way the wind was blowing, she sat herself down and considered all the possibilities. She didn't really believe for one moment that her eldest child had a true religious vocation, although she could not deny that Margaret was deeply devout. A husband, Agatha of Hungary decided, was just what her child needed. Although the large, bluff man who demanded Margaret for his wife was not the match she had envisioned for her daughter, he was not unsuitable either.

He was a king, and if he was not a prestigious one, neither was he a poor one. He had but one living heir whose two brothers had died in their youth. Margaret was young enough yet to bear a husband several children. If the king's only heir managed to get himself killed in one of those border skirmishes the Scots seemed to be always having with the English, then Margaret could easily be not only a Queen of Scotland, but the mother of a King of Scotland. Agatha smiled to herself. It was much better than languishing in a convent the rest of her days. There was also the advantage for Christina in having a reigning queen for a sister. A good match might also now be provided for her second, and equally dowerless, daughter. If Edgar was not going to be King of England, and as much as she wished it, she knew in her heart it would never come to pa.s.s, then it was not a bad thing to have a daughter who was a queen.

Agatha set about to win her eldest child over to the king's suit. Did Margaret ever stop to consider that they had been led here to Scotland for a purpose? Here was King Malcolm, a good man and a widower with but one living child and in desperate need of a wife. True, Scotland was still very much a tribal society, but they were a Christian country. Their church, Agatha noted to her daughter, was not the most orthodox of Catholic churches, having many Celtic influences. Perhaps Margaret had been led here to be the king's wife and to reform the Scots church. To bring it into conformity with the Holy Mother Church before it cut itself off from Rome as did the rebellious church in Byzantium.

Margaret pondered her mother's words, and glanced across the hall at Malcolm Ceann Mor. He stood well over six feet in height. He had to be at least a foot taller than she was. He was a big man with ma.s.sive shoulders and a large head of black hair. She would make him shave that bushy beard of his when they were wed. She did like his smoky gray eyes, however, and the little laugh lines at the corners of those eyes. Perhaps . . . just perhaps, she considered thoughtfully.

Malcolm Ceann Mor adored Margaret of England. He would have slain dragons for her, Agatha realized too late, the marriage contracts being already signed. He had been generous though. Margaret would have her own income, free of anyone else's interference. She would be crowned Queen of Scotland, and have whatever she might desire within reason. Christina would be provided for with a suitable husband, and Agatha would be given her own estates so she might retire in peace. As for Edgar, here the king grew canny. He could help his brother-in-law just so much, Malcolm told Agatha, but Edgar would always have a home and a welcome in Scotland. With that, Agatha was forced to content herself, for to ruin Margaret and Christina's chances for happiness chasing a will-o'-thewisp for Edgar was foolish, and Agatha was not a foolish woman.

The wedding had been celebrated in late summer of 1069, and now in January of 1070, Margaret of Scotland already bloomed with the visible evidence of her husband's love. Their first child would be born in late spring. Most men attaining their deepest and dearest desire would have long since grown bored, but not so Malcolm Ceann Mor. With each day that pa.s.sed, he grew more and more enamored of his young wife. There was nothing, the gossips declared, that he would not do for his Meg. Mairin counted upon that factor, for she had no intention of appealing her plight to the king. It was the queen upon whose mercy she intended throwing herself.

The young queen had brought the sophistication of the Hungarian court to her new home. The Great Hall of the king's house was clean, warm, and cheerful. It was a large rectangular room with gray stone walls and carved oak beams that held the soaring ceiling. At the far end of the room was a single window, arch-shaped, that had real gla.s.s in it. On either side of the room were blazing fireplaces, each large enough to take several whole logs. Into their chimney fronts was carved the king's coat of arms. The wooden floors had fresh rushes upon them, and the monotony of the otherwise gray room was relieved by the brightly colored banners that were hung from the walls upon gilded pikes. Among those banners was one that Malcolm Ceann Mor had captured from his uncle, MacBeth, when he had taken back his crown.

Eric Longsword paraded Mairin about amongst the half-savage lords of the Scots court. Her cheeks grew bright pink on more than one occasion as the openly admiring glances of these men touched her. Her captor was enjoying himself hugely, blatantly displaying her beauty and loudly proclaiming to any who would listen his s.e.xual prowess with her. They moved at a snail's pace through the hall, Mairin keeping her eyes modestly lowered all the while, for she was greatly embarra.s.sed by Eric's loud and constant bragging. Finally they reached the royal dais where the king and queen sat.

"So, Eric Longsword, this is your long-lost wife," said Malcolm Ceann Mor.

"Yes, my liege. I promised her I would bring her to court, for she vowed she could not be happy with me again unless she came."

"What is her name?"

"Mairin of Aelfleah, my liege."

"Look at me, Mairin of Aelfleah," the king commanded her. "I would see your face."

Mairin raised her eyes to him. His mouth, she thought, was like Josselin's. It was a large and sensuous mouth. Her heart hammered wildly, and she almost cried out her plight to him, but with a supreme effort of will, she restrained herself. She must wait to meet the queen.

"You are very beautiful, Mairin of Aelfleah, as Eric Longsword has told us," the king said in a kindly tone. "Your husband is a fortunate man." He looked back to Eric. "You may present your wife to the queen now."

"My gracious lady," said Eric, politely bowing to Margaret, "I would present to you my lady wife, Mairin of Aelfleah."

The young queen smiled graciously at Mairin. "You are welcome to Scotland, my lady."

To the queen's surprise Mairin knelt, and catching the queen's gown, kissed the hem of the garment and said, "Madame, I beg of you to help me!"

Margaret looked startled at this sudden turn of events, and the king said, "What is this? What is it you want, lady?"

Mairin felt Eric Longsword's fingers digging cruelly into her shoulders. "My wife is not well, my lord," he said, trying to drag her to her feet. "Her captivity amongst the Normans has weakened her mind. I can never be certain when these terrible spells are going to come upon her."

"My lady queen," persisted Mairin, refusing to allow him to move her, "in the name of the Blessed Holy Mother Mary, I beg you to hear me out. I am not mad!" She raised her eyes to the queen, silently pleading with her, and Margaret, who knew fear when she saw it, said, "Take your hands from your wife, Eric Longsword. I believe her when she says she is not mad. I would hear what she would say to me." The queen then turned to the king. "This woman is afraid, my lord, and comes to me for aid. I would know why."

The king nodded his agreement. There was nothing he would deny his Meg. "Speak, Mairin of Aelfleah, but bear in mind the delicate condition of the queen as you do so."

"My lord king," said Mairin, "I would not hurt your lady. I know the joys of motherhood. I have a little daughter, Maude, who will be a year old in another few weeks." She then turned to the queen. "My lady, I beg you to help me for the sake of my child. Eric Longsword is not my husband. I am the wife of Josselin de Combourg, the lord of Aelfleah. Eric Longsword kidnapped me from York on Christmas Day where I had gone to join my husband for King William's Christmas court." Unbidden tears slipped down her cheeks. "I want to go home to my husband, and our child. Please help me, my lady! I beg of you!"

Before the queen might reply, Eric Longsword said, "She is mad, my liege. The coming of the Normans caused her to miscarry our child, and she has never accepted it. Let me take her back to our house." He put his hands once more upon Mairin's shoulders.

"He lies!" Mairin said furiously, shaking him off. "I am the daughter of Aldwine Athelsbeorn and his wife, Eada. I am the wife of Josselin de Combourg, the lord of Aelfleah. This man sought my hand in marriage before the coming of King William, but my father would not give me to the heir to but five hides of land! Eric Longsword has admitted to me that he sought my father and brother out at the battle of Fulford, and slew them both. Would I wed with the murderer of my father and brother?"

"What proof can you offer, Mairin of Aelfleah, that what you say is true?" asked the queen.

"I was wed to my lord husband, Josselin de Combourg, the day before the feast of Christmas in the year 1066. We were wed in the presence of King William, the ceremony performed by his brother, Bishop Odo. You have but to send a messenger to England to the king. Josselin must be frantic. He will not know where to look for me! If you could but send a messenger to Aelfleah too. My mother will be so worried. She could also confirm the truth of my words."

"It is deep winter," said the king. "It would be hard to get a messenger through now, particularly after this last storm."

"Do not let this man take me back!" begged Mairin. "Do not force me into an adulterous state, and imperil my immortal soul, my lord king! If not for my sake, then think of my little daughter who weeps for her mother! I would be a servant in your house before I would go with Eric Longsword again, or slay me now, my lord, but do not force me back with this man!" Mairin bowed her head in submission as if a prisoner awaiting the axman's blow.

"She shall not return to him," said the queen firmly.

"Margaret, Eric Longsword is my liegeman," said the king.

"Malcolm, I will not allow this poor girl to be further abused. Until the truth of her words can be proved or disproved, she will remain with me."

"Very well, Meg," the king said quietly. "It will be just as you wish it." He looked at Eric Longsword. "Mairin of Aelfleah will remain with the queen until this matter can be straightened out."

Eric Longsword glared at the back of Mairin's head, but she didn't see him. Her whole body was awash with relief, and for the moment she was incapable of even rising. "Thank you, my lady," she said gratefully to the queen, and looking down into the incredibly beautiful face, Margaret knew with unwavering instinct that Mairin was telling the truth. At a nod from the queen, the laird of Glenkirk came forward to help Mairin to her feet.

"Take the lady Mairin to my apartments," she instructed the laird, and then looking to the abbess of St. Hilda's asked, "Will you accompany them also, my lady abbess?"

The abbess, an elderly woman with a worn and kindly face, nodded her a.s.sent, and moved to Mairin's side. The trio turned to exit the hall, to be momentarily blocked by Eric Longsword. Automatically the laird's hand went to his dagger, and the abbess set herself protectively near Mairin.

"You will regret your actions, Mairin of Aelfleah," Eric said venomously. "You are mine, and you always will be!"

"No," Mairin said quietly, "it is you who will regret your actions. Josselin will kill you for what you have done."

He stepped aside then, and they moved past him leaving the Great Hall of the king's house to find their way to the queen's abode.

"Puir child," sympathized the abbess. "What a terrible experience ye hae had. Ye were wise to ask the queen's aid. Never has there been such a good woman as our Queen Margaret."

"Bride stealing is one thing," said the laird of Glenkirk, "but stealing another man's wife is a foul deed. Yer husband will hae to kill him if he has any honor at all."

"I wish I could kill him!" said Mairin fiercely, and the young laird grinned at her.

"Child, child," admonished the gentle abbess, "ye must na say such a thing. Dinna put yer precious soul in danger of h.e.l.lfire over the likes of a man like that."

They reached the queen's apartments, and seeing them safe inside, the laird of Glenkirk took his leave of them. The abbess explained to the queen's serving women that Mairin was to be the queen's guest, and then she motioned Mairin to sit with her by the fire while they awaited Margaret's coming. The young queen did not keep them waiting long, arriving with her mother and sister several minutes later.

"Eric Longsword attempted to cajole my lord, the king, into returning you to his custody," the queen said with a chuckle. "He but succeeded in annoying Malcolm. You will be quite safe with me, my lady Mairin. Now tell me just how you came to be in this man's clutches." The queen settled herself into a chair by the fire facing Mairin, instructing her and the abbess to reseat themselves. The queen's mother sat by her eldest daughter while her younger daughter sat down upon a stool by her mother, resting her head upon her parent's knee.

"My husband and I live on the manor of Aelfleah which is close by the Welsh border near Hereford and Worcester. My husband came from Normandy with the king, and being his liegeman, went with him to subdue the recent rebellions in the north." Here Mairin stopped, and blushed. She felt somewhat uncomfortable speaking before Edgar the Atheling's mother, but Agatha, realizing her plight, waved her hands and said, "Do not be embarra.s.sed, my lady Mairin. I have faced the fact, if others haven't, that Edgar will never be King of England. I dislike all this killing in his name. Go on with your story."

"The king ordered that his Christmas court be held at York," Mairin said. "My lord sent for me to come and join him, and I did." For a moment her eyes were sad with the memory of her trip from Aelfleah. "The devastation was too terrible to behold," she said simply.

"A king must be strong," said Agatha approvingly.

"I reached York safely," Mairin continued. "We celebrated the third year of our marriage together, and Josselin gave me this." She held up the pomander, which was admired by the other women. "On Christmas morning we attended Ma.s.s, and all through the service I felt as if someone were staring at me, but from my vantage point I could see no one, and I dared not turn. Finally when the Ma.s.s had been concluded I did turn about, and I thought I saw Eric Longsword, but then he was gone. I told Josselin, and he said that perhaps Eric had sworn fealty to Gospatric or Waltheof, for their men were beginning to reenter the city prior to their master's submission to King William.

"A royal page came then, and told my lord that the king wished to speak with him. We were leaving early the next day, and the king was busy. Josselin escorted me to our tent, and left his squire, Loial, to look after me. The boy admires me, and I told him he might join me inside if it became too cold. I entered the tent, and it was there that Eric Longsword accosted me, putting an arm about my throat, and threatening to kill poor Loial if I cried out. He said he was taking me with him to Scotland, that I should be his by right. When I said I would not go with him, he hit me in the jaw rendering me quite unconscious. When I awoke we were far from York."

"How absolutely terrifying!" said the queen's sister, Christina.

"It was very terrifying," Mairin admitted, "and the thought that my lord husband would have no idea of where I was, was even more frightening."

The queen glanced about at her serving women, all of whom had been listening, and were now goggle-eyed by Mairin's tale. "Leave us, all of you," she said in a no-nonsense tone of voice, and the women reluctantly departed. "There is no need for any more gossip than this incident will engender naturally," she said.

"Thank you, my lady," replied Mairin. "I am so shamed by all of this."

"How did you first meet Eric Longsword?" asked Margaret.

"My father, Aldwine Athelsbeorn, was sent by King Edward to the emperor, Constantine Ducas, in Byzantium. It was my father's duty to negotiate a trade agreement between the two countries. My mother and I went with him, leaving my brother, Brand, at Aelfleah. We were in Constantinople over two years, during which time I was wed to Prince Basil Ducas, the emperor's cousin."

"You are a princess of Byzantium?" Christina was now very impressed.

"I was once," said Mairin, "but Basil died unexpectedly in the first year of our marriage so I returned with my mother to England. Eric Longsword was a member of the emperor's Varangian Guard which is made up of Anglo-Saxons and Nors.e.m.e.n. He escorted our party home to England as he and his troop were due for leave. I was in mourning for my first husband then, and yet he dared to approach me. I rebuffed him. Later he suggested to my brother, Brand, that he would be a good match for me, but Brand laughed and told him no.

"He thought that if I were alone and helpless I should turn to him, so he killed my father and brother in the battle with Harold Hardraade. Then King William overcame Earl Harold, and not realizing that I was legally my father's heiress . . ." here Mairin smiled. "He did not know that my father had a daughter. So not being aware of my existence, King William sent Josselin de Combourg to be Aelfleah's new lord, but the manor was my legacy, and the only dowry I could bring a husband. Josselin and I were at immediate loggerheads. He claimed Aelfleah by right of conquest, I by inheritance. What was worse, the king had charged him to build a castle to help keep the peace. Aelfleah is very isolated, and the main reason for our prosperity over the years has been that we have escaped marauders because no one knew we were there. Josselin wanted to build his castle upon the boundary of our western hills, but I did not want him to do so."

"But how did you come to be wed?" burst out Christina.

Mairin laughed. "Josselin and I decided that marriage between us was the only solution to settle Aelfleah's ownership. We went to London with my mother for King William's coronation, and the king agreed with us. He ordered us married in his presence, and that of his closest friends, and by his brother, Bishop Odo. It was not quite the wedding I envisioned," she admitted.

"Do you love each other?" the curious Christina persisted.

Mairin's face softened and her eyes grew dreamy. "Oh, yes, I love him very much," she said.

"I think that is the most romantic story I have ever heard," young Christina sighed.

"When did you see Eric Longsword again?" asked the queen.

"Several months after our marriage, Josselin went to aid Bishop Odo at Dover. While he was gone Eric Longsword led Eadric the Wild to Aelfleah. He had told Eadric that I was his betrothed wife, and that we would hold Aelfleah for Eadric." Mairin had wisely amended her story so as not to offend Edgar the Atheling's family who were sheltering her. "I was expecting our first child at the time," Mairin continued. "I lost that baby shortly after Eadric and his raiders left us." She then went on to explain how, knowing that Eadric and his men would be coming to Aelfleah, she had helped and led her people so that the manor's harvest was saved instead of being burnt. She explained to the listening women how they had hidden the livestock to prevent their being driven off, and hidden the castle workers and master craftsmen, and sent the young girls to a nearby convent for safekeeping. "The last time I saw Eric Longsword before he kidnapped me from York was as he rode off with Eadric the Wild," Mairin finished. "I know he probably felt very much a fool, having been publicly proved a liar. I never expected, however, that I should ever see him again."

"Did he ravish you?" Christina's blue eyes were wide with curiosity.

"Christina!" Both her mother and her sister spoke simultaneously. Their tones were equally shocked.

"Nay," said Mairin, "it is all right. That is the strangest thing of all. He did not, but he believes he did." Mairin turned to the lady Agatha. "Lady, this is not a tale for an innocent girl."