Ken Follett - World Without End

As she had feared, she felt strange making love to him. The more she tried to put Ralph out of her mind, the more he intruded. Fortunately, Wulfric never noticed her mood. He made love to her with such enthusiasm and joy that it almost swamped her guilty conscience – but not quite.

And she had the consolation of knowing that he would inherit his family’s lands after all. That made up for everything. She could not tell him this, of course, for then she would have needed to explain what had changed Ralph’s mind. She had told him about her conversations with Philemon, Caris and Merthin, and had given him a partial version of her encounter with Ralph, saying only that he had promised to reconsider. So Wulfric was hopeful, rather than triumphant.

“Come to the manor house, right away, both of you,” Nathan said, putting his wet head around the door.

Gwenda said: “What does the Lord Ralph want?”

“Will you refuse to go if the proposed topic of discussion fails to interest you?” Nathan said sarcastically. “Don’t ask stupid questions, just come.”

She put a blanket over her head to walk to the big house. She still did not have a cloak. Wulfric had money, from the sale of his crops, and could have bought her a cloak, but he was saving for the heriot.

They hurried through the rain to the manor house. It was a small version of a nobleman’s castle, having a great hall with a long dining table, plus a small upper storey, called the solar, for the lord’s private chamber. Now it bore the signs of a house occupied by men without wives: the walls were bare of tapestries, the straw on the floor gave up a pungent smell, the dogs snarled at the newcomers and a mouse nibbled a crust on the sideboard.

Ralph sat at the head of the table. On his right was Alan, who gave Gwenda a smirk she did her best to ignore. A minute later, Nathan came in. Behind him followed fat, sly Perkin, rubbing his hands and bowing obsequiously, his hair so oily it looked like a leather skullcap. With Perkin was his new son-in-law, Billy Howard. Billy shot a triumphant glance at Wulfric: I Ve got your girl, he was thinking, and now I’m going to get your land. He had a shock coming.

Nathan sat on Ralph’s left. The rest of them remained standing.

Gwenda had been looking forward to this moment. It was the reward tor her sacrifice. She eagerly anticipated the expression on Wulfric’s face when he learned that he had inherited after all. He would be overjoyed – and she would too. Their future would be secure, or at least as secure as was possible in a world of unpredictable weather and oscillating grain prices.

Ralph said: “Three weeks ago, I said that Wulfric, son of Samuel, could not inherit his father’s land because he’s too young.” He spoke slowly and ponderously. He loves this, Gwenda thought: sitting at the head of the table, pronouncing judgement, everyone hanging on his words. “Wulfric has been working the land since then, while I have considered who should succeed old Samuel.” He paused, then said: “But I’ve come to doubt my rejection of Wulfric.”

Perkin started. He had been confident of success, and this shocked him.

Billy Howard said: “What’s this? I thought Nate-” Then Perkin nudged him, and he shut up.

Gwenda could not restrain a smile of triumph.

Ralph said: “Despite his youth, Wulfric has shown himself capable.”

Perkin glared at Nathan. Gwenda guessed that Nathan had promised the land to Perkin. Perhaps the bribe had already been paid.

Nathan was just as shocked as Perkin. He stared open-mouthed at Ralph for a moment, turned to Perkin with a baffled expression, then looked suspiciously at Gwenda.

Ralph added: “In this he has been well supported by Gwenda, whose strength and loyalty have impressed me.”

Nathan stared at her speculatively. She could tell what he was thinking. He realized she had intervened, and he was wondering how she had managed to change Ralph’s mind. He might even be guessing the truth. She did not care if he did, so long as Wulfric remained ignorant.

Suddenly Nathan seemed to make a decision. He stood up and leaned his twisted torso across the table. He spoke to Ralph quietly. Gwenda could not hear what he said.

“Really?” Ralph said in a normal voice. “How much?”

Nathan turned to Perkin and murmured something to him.

Gwenda said: “Wait a minute! What’s all this whispering?”

Perkin looked angry, but said reluctantly: “Yes, all right.”

“All right to what?” Gwenda said fearfully.

“Double?” said Nathan.

Perkin nodded.

Gwenda had a feeling of dread.

Nathan said aloud: “Perkin offers to pay double the normal heriot, which would be five pounds.”

Ralph said: “That makes a difference.”

Gwenda cried: “No!”

Wulfric spoke for the first time. “The heriot is laid down by custom, recorded in the manor rolls,” he said in his slow, boy-man voice. “It’s not for negotiation.”

Nathan said quickly: “Heriots can change, though. They’re not in the Domesday Book.”

Ralph said: “Are you two lawyers? If not, shut up. The heriot is two pounds and ten shillings. Any other money that changes hands is none of your business.”

Gwenda realized with horror that Ralph was on the point of reneging on their deal. She spoke in a low, accusing voice, slow but clear. “You made me a promise.”

“Why would I do something like that?” Ralph said.

It was the one question she could not answer. “Because I pleaded with you,” she replied feebly.

“And I said I would think again. But I made no promise.”

She was powerless to make him keep his word. She wanted to kill him. “Yes, you did!” she said.

“Lords don’t bargain with peasants.”

She stared at him, lost for words. It had all been for nothing: the long walk to Kingsbridge, the humiliation of appearing naked in front of him and Alan, the shameful act she had performed on Ralph’s bed. She had betrayed Wulfric, and he still would not inherit. She pointed a finger at Ralph and said bitterly: “God damn you to hell, Ralph Fitzgerald.”

He went pale. The curse of a genuinely wronged woman was known to be powerful. “Watch what you say,” he replied. “We have a punishment for a witch who casts spells.”

Gwenda drew back. No woman could take such a threat lightly. The accusation of witchcraft was easy to make and hard to refute. Still she could not resist saying: “Those who escape justice in this life will find it in the next.”

Ralph ignored that and turned to Perkin. “Where is the money?”

Perkin had not got rich by telling people where he kept his cash. “I’ll letch it right away, lord,” he said.

Wulfric said: “Come on, Gwenda. There’s no mercy for us here.”

Gwenda fought back tears. Anger had been replaced by grief. They had lost the battle, after all they had done. She turned away, head lowered to hide her emotions.

Perkin said: “Wait, Wulfric. You need employment – and I need help. Work for me. I’ll pay you a penny a day.”

Wulfric flushed with the shame of being offered a job as a labourer on lands his family had owned.

Perkin added: “Gwenda, too. You’re both young and willing.”

He did not intend to be malicious, Gwenda saw. He was single-minded in the pursuit of his own interests, and he was eager to hire two strong young labourers to help him farm his amalgamated holding. He did not care, or perhaps did not even know, that for Wulfric this was the final humiliation.

Perkin said: “That’s a shilling a week between you. You’ll have plenty.”

Wulfric looked bitter. “Work for a wage, on lands that my family has owned for decades?” he said. “Never.” He turned away and left the house.