Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

Aelgar stared guiltily at the bare table and Forne searched for words to heal the slight rift he had just opened.

‘I am sorry to speak out of turn, Golde,’ he said.

‘But you didn’t,’ she replied, contriving a smile. ‘If you are to join our little family, you must feel free to comment on all its members. And that includes Ralph. He will certainly not hold back any comments about you, I can promise you.’

‘I offended you.’

‘Not really.’

‘Please forgive me.’

‘What is there to forgive?’ asked Golde brightly, trying to dispel the awkwardness. ‘It’s hardly surprising that Aelgar had qualms about me because I had several myself. The last thing in the world I expected to do was marry a Norman. To ally myself with an enemy, so to speak.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘It’s just that Ralph is the friendliest enemy I ever met, and the kindest possible husband.’

‘I hope to meet him very soon.’

‘You will, Forne.’

But she could see that he still had doubts about her and Golde felt even more uncomfortable. She had stepped back into an old life but part of her remained immovably in her new world. It was not just the fine clothes she now wore which set her slightly apart from her sister. There was something deeper, some change of perception, some subtle shift of loyalty. Forne was an irretrievable Saxon. Ready to love his future sister-in-law, he would never be able to shake off a latent resentment against her husband and that saddened Golde. It would colour her relationship with her sister. Aelgar looked up and reached out to put a hand on Forne’s arm. It was a telling gesture. She was his now.

Golde tried to move the conversation to more neutral ground.

‘What news of Hereford?’ she asked.

‘Little has changed,’ said her sister.

‘And our old neighbours?’

‘They send their love.’

‘Take mine back to them. I miss Hereford.’

‘I’m not sure that I will.’

‘Why not?’

‘Forne and I will be together.’

‘We may need to visit the town on occasion,’ he said. ‘Indeed, we may even be compelled to do so. I hope that does not happen but I put Aelgar’s safety before all else.’

‘Safety?’

He nodded sadly. ‘Our holdings are not far from the Welsh border. That has never worried me. I have Welsh neighbours and have always been on good terms with them. But there have been stirrings across the border. Raiding parties have been sighted.’

‘I thought that peace had finally been imposed,’ said Golde.

‘It has,’ he explained, ‘but there are some hot-blooded Welshmen who refuse to accept it. Rumours are spreading like wildfire.’

‘Rumours?’

‘Of a possible attack on Hereford.’

‘Not again!’ sighed Golde.

‘It is one of the reasons I was glad to bring Aelgar here,’ he said, putting a protective arm around her. ‘I wanted her out of Hereford until the danger blows over. We are completely safe in Gloucester.’

Hooves clacking on the hard road, the horses thundered on through the darkness. There were a dozen men in all, most of them armed and every one a seasoned rider. Night had started to close in on them and they were not entirely sure at what point they actually crossed the border into Gloucestershire and left Gwent behind. It was of no concern to them. In their hearts, they did not accept that the border really existed. As they urged their horses on, they believed that they were still in Wales.

They were some miles short of their destination when the tall figure at the head of the column brought it to a halt with a loud yell. Iron bits were tugged in soft mouths and the horses slowed instantly. The leader of the band turned to his tall companion.

‘Why have we stopped?’

‘Because this is where we part, Madog.’

‘There is still some way to go.’

‘We will ride on alone.’

‘But we are your escort.’

‘And I’m most grateful to you,’ said the other, raising his voice so that all could hear. ‘It is easier to ride faster in a pack.’

‘Why dispense with us then?’

‘You are no longer needed, Madog.’

‘Danger may lurk on the road ahead.’

‘We will be careful.’

‘You are both unarmed.’

‘We have God to protect us.’

‘You’ll need more than Him at your side when you meet those Normans,’ said Madog bitterly. ‘They’re treacherous. Look what they’ve done to Wales.’

‘I am never likely to forget that. Now, turn back.’

‘Let us at least get you within reach of Gloucester.’

‘We are within reach,’ soothed the other, ‘and if the two of us arrive alone, they might even let us into the city at this hour.

Ride there with your men at our back and we would certainly be spurned.’

‘We will not be far away.’

‘That is reassuring.’

‘You know where to find us.’

‘I do, Madog.’ They exchanged a wave. ‘Goodbye, my friend.’

‘ Yn iach! ’

The other riders gathered around to offer their own respectful farewells then the tall man was joined by the monk who had been at the rear of the column. Watched by their escort, the two of them set off at a more gentle pace and were soon swallowed up by the night. Unlike his companion, the monk was apprehensive.

‘Will we be safe on our own?’ he asked querulously.

‘Of course,’ said Abraham the Priest. ‘This should, by rights, be Welsh territory. We are travelling on home ground.’

Ralph Delchard and his wife talked long into the night. It was the only opportunity they had to be alone together and to exchange details of how they had spent their respective days. Over the delicious meal served in the hall that evening, they had been too busy talking to their hosts to pay much attention to each other and they were determined to make up for it. When they were finally alone, conversation was preceded by an act of spontaneous passion, always their most pleasurable and effective means of communication.

As they made love with uninhibited vigour in the privacy of their bed, the warm night brought them out in beads of perspiration and left them in a state of joyful exhaustion. When Ralph eventually rolled over on to his back, his face and chest were glistening.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered, cradling her in his arms.

‘And thank you, Ralph.’

‘Have I pleased you?’

‘Delightfully.’

‘Does that mean you will keep me on for a while?’

‘A week or two more,’ she joked, nestling into him. ‘If you think that you can last that long.’

‘Watch me!’ They shared a laugh. ‘I strive to be a satisfactory husband. Do I succeed?’

‘Every time.’

‘Good.’

‘Not that I am keeping score, mark you.’

‘I hope not! That would be calculation in every sense.’ He kissed her on the temple and drew her closer. ‘Well, my love, I think that we can be sure of one thing.’

‘What is that?’

‘The sheriff and his wife are not lying in each other’s arms.’

‘How do you know?’

‘They have long gone past that stage.’

‘I am not so sure.’

‘I am,’ said Ralph. ‘My guess is that the lady Maud keeps a cold bed. Durand may not even share it with her any more.’

‘That is idle comment,’ she replied. ‘And why blame her for any coldness between them? It is far more likely to arise from the sheriff’s neglect of his wife.’

‘Is that what she told you?’

‘It’s what I have gathered, Ralph. He is very attentive to her in public but that may be consolation for his disregard of her in private. What I do know is this. His work totally eclipses his wife. When his duties call him, she might just as well not exist.’