Elizabeth Chadwick - The Running Vixen

A guard ascended the wall walk, a huge fawn mastiff padding beside him on a leash. He saluted Adam, who acknowledged him, admiring the dog’s armoury of teeth from a wary distance before turning to pace the battlements. Another guard in a cowled cloak was leaning against one of the merlons, his face in shadow. When he failed to salute, Adam paused in surprise and stepped back. Ravenstow’s constable took the keep’s discipline seriously and would lean hard on a man neglecting his duty.

‘Look sharp, soldier!’ he snapped, realising too late as the figure turned with a startled gasp, that it was not a guard at all. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, almost angry that even up here on the wall walk in the dead of night there was no escape.

Heulwen stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. He could see the starlit gleam of their whites. ‘I came here to think,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘It’s open here; your thoughts are not squashed by walls.’ She considered him, her head cocked on one side. ‘And you?’

‘I came for solitude,’ he said harshly, then swore beneath his breath. ‘I’m being a churl again, aren’t I?’

He sensed the deepening of her smile. ‘Yes, you are.’

‘I–I had a nightmare, and my squire was making a fuss.’ He looked down. ‘I don’t remember what happened, and I don’t believe I want to.’ He shivered, the hairs on his forearms standing straight up.

‘At least yours was only a dream.’ She turned, putting down the hood of her cloak so that her face emerged, framed in the silvery nocturnal light.

Adam swallowed. Her hair was exposed, braided in a thick plait ready for bed, its glorious colour cooled and muted by the starlight. His mind and body blended into one dull ache. ‘I know you grieve deeply for Ralf,’ he said unsteadily.

One side of her mouth turned up. ‘Ralf!’ she exhaled mockingly. ‘Jesu God, I’ve been grieving for years, but not for him.’ She glanced at him quickly. ‘I had to have him, Adam, whatever the cost. Do you know what it is to burn? I don’t suppose you do. Well, I burned until everything turned to ashes, and if I have taken it badly, it is because that is all I have left.’ She rubbed her arms within her miniver-lined mantle.

Adam, who knew precisely what it was to burn, could only stare at her, burning still, barred from touching. ‘Heulwen, I. ’

‘No, don’t commiserate.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘I don’t think I could bear it, and besides, it doesn’t suit you.’ She laid an impulsive hand on his sleeve. ‘Look Adam, I know it’s late, and I know you came here for solitude, but there is a matter sorely troubling me, and I need to talk to someone.’

He gnawed his lip, desiring to deny her and bolt for the safety of the restless bed from which he had so recently absconded, but he was powerless to refuse the pleading note in her voice He looked down at her hand gripping his. It was slender and long-fingered, the feminine image of her father’s and adorned on the wedding finger by a ring of braided gold.

‘How could I refuse?’ he asked with a grim smile, and wished he knew the answer.

The wine made a musical sound as she poured it into two goblets of trellised glass. The candles were reflected in the bronze flagon, which had a handle shaped like a dragon’s head, the eyes inlaid with garnets and the tongue curling between sharply incised fangs. An embroidery frame stood near the brazier and he went to peruse the boldly worked pattern. It was the hem of a man’s tunic, sewn with couchant leopards in thread of gold on a dark woollen background. Lady Judith’s work, he thought, recognising the style. Heulwen had never owned the patience for more than the most rudimentary needlecraft.

‘It’s a new court robe for my father.’ She handed him the wine. ‘He’ll be needing it, if what I heard is true.’

‘That all the tenants-in-chief are summoned to swear for Matilda, you mean? Yes, it’s true.’

‘Ralf said something about it before he was killed. About Matilda being our future queen.’

Adam swallowed a mouthful of his wine to be polite, and put the cup down. ‘It was fairly obvious once Henry summoned her from Germany.’

Heulwen gave him an appraising look. ‘There was more to it than that. He knew something, and it was setting him on edge. I asked him to tell me, but he laughed and said that it was nothing — patted me on the head like a dog, and rode away to his death.’ She paused as if debating whether to take the final step, then drew a swift breath. ‘When the funeral was being arranged, I had cause to check our strongbox. Ralf always kept the keys himself; he wouldn’t let me near it, so I never knew until he was dead how rich we actually were — too rich for our standing. I know he made a good profit from the horses, but not to the tune of what was in that chest.’

Adam looked at her sharply. ‘You mean it was ill come by? Heulwen, how much?’

‘Two hundred marks.’

Adam whistled. ‘Christ, if I had that much to my name, I’d be a happy man! That’s more than an inheritance relief on some baronies!’

‘A great amount for a “nothing”,’ she said savagely.

Adam’s lips remained pursed. ‘But,’ he mused, ‘was he being paid to keep it a “nothing”, or was he being paid to reveal it in all its glory? Or perhaps both?’

Her voice was alarmed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Ralf travelled far and wide. He was renowned for his skill and valued for it by men of much greater estate than himself. I know for a fact that on more than one occasion he carried messages between Henry and Fulke of Anjou. ’ He paused. Her eyes had gone wide with shock. ‘You didn’t know?’

The wine shook in one hand, while the other was clenched in the folds of her gown. ‘I was ever the last one to know,’ she said bitterly. ‘I suppose it is common knowledge.’

‘Not common knowledge,’ he said gently, ‘except to those of us involved in that kind of game.’

‘Adam?’

He gave her a quick, vinegary smile. ‘It’s a night for surprises, isn’t it?’

‘You are saying that you and Ralf were — are spies for Henry?’

‘I wouldn’t quite say that. We have occasionally carried messages — verbal ones that could not be entrusted to parchment.’ His look became thoughtful. ‘But the payment for such was never a tenth so high.’

‘Then betrayal. ’ she whispered, appalled.

Adam shrugged. ‘I’d certainly say he was dabbling his fingers in a murky broth, but how deep I don’t know.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Have you spoken to anyone else about this?’

‘No, I’ve kept it to myself — half the reason my temper has been so foul. Papa has too much on his trencher already, and it was easier to pretend it didn’t exist.’ She shivered. ‘But it does, and I’m frightened.’

It was the lost, forlorn note in her voice that finally undid him. Until then he had succeeded in maintaining a neutral front, but the sight of her so close to tears, trembling with fear, her spirit subdued, was unbearable and before he could rationalise the move, think better of it and step away, he had put his arm around her and drawn her against him. ‘It’s all right, Heulwen,’ he said with a mingling of tenderness and desire, ‘I won’t let any harm come to you.’

A sob wrenched from her throat, followed by another. She pressed her face into his chest, stifling her grief in the dark wool of his tunic. Adam murmured reassurances and stroked her braid. Her hair smelt faintly of herbs and he was intensely aware of her body pressed to his. He slipped his arm down to her waist. ‘Heulwen. ’ he muttered and lowered his head, seeking sideways, finding and kissing her cheek and temple, and then, as she raised her head in surprise, her mouth. It opened beneath his, pliant and warm, sweet as wine. His hand slipped down over the curve of her buttocks, moulding her closer. For less than the space of a heartbeat her body undulated and yielded to his, and then she jerked like a skittish horse fighting a saddle, tore her mouth from his, and shoved herself violently out of his embrace.