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"I am his father's widow," Wynne said. "He cannot treat me badly. Today he tried and he failed. There will be talk amongst our people, and Caddaric will not want to remain the butt of their jokes for long. His ego is great. He will want the incident forgotten, and the quickest way to attain that goal is to pretend it never happened. To ignore it. If he does not react, the jest will be quickly over."

"I pray it be so, Wynne," Eadgyth said anxiously, "but I fear it will not. Caddaric will not forget."

Wynne felt saddened on the following day to see that poor Haesel had a blackened eye and Dagian was covered in bruises. "Come to my pharmacea," she told them, "and I will treat your wounds."

"It is not fair that we should have to suffer for your behavior," Dagian complained as Wynne stroked a soothing lotion on her aching arms.

"Nay, it is not fair," Wynne agreed, "but I cannot give Caddaric children, and I will not allow him to rape me because of this obsession. I am sorry you have been beaten, but 'twas not I who beat you. It was Caddaric Aethelmaere. Blame him, not me!"

Dagian sighed bitterly. "I know," she said.

During the next few days an uneasy peace settled about Aelfdene. The women moved nervously and quietly as they performed their daily tasks. Caddaric Aethelmaere scarcely glanced at Wynne or the others, and then one evening as they all sat at the high board, the new thegn said,

"For Aelfdene to remain prosperous, we must all pull our weight and contribute to the manor." His cold grey gaze fastened upon Wynne. "You, lady, you and your children take much but give little."

"I am the manor's healer, my lord," she answered him softly, in an attempt not to arouse his ire. Caddaric was more volatile these days than ever before. This was leading somewhere, but she did not know where.

"What do you do in your capacity as our healer?" he asked her, and his tone was almost affable now.

"I gather and grow herbs in season. I dig for medicinal roots and seek barks which can be used for healing lotions. I prepare all potions and brews needed, treat injuries and wounds, and generally care for the sick," Wynne replied. "It takes a great deal of time, my lord, to do these things. There is no time of the year when I am not busy."

His brow furrowed in mock concentration, and then he said thoughtfully, "You cannot gather and grow herbs after the growing season is over, lady. Neither can you dig for roots or seek barks except in the warm seasons. Is your pharmacea well-stocked with the provisions you need right now, Welsh woman? Are you well-prepared for any emergency?"

"Aye, my lord, it is and I am. There are a host of remedies that I must have on hand, and others whose ingredients but wait to be mixed and blended," Wynne told him truthfully.

"I see." Caddaric almost purred the words, and suddenly all the women at the table were alert and wary of what was to come. The new thegn smiled toothily. "You do little, it appears to me, to pay for your keep and that of your children, lady. My half sister Averel is my responsibility, and one I shall not shirk; but your son, lady, is another matter. He takes the serf, Gytha, away from the fields, thus costing me her labor. How will you pay me for his keep and the loss of Gytha?"

Wynne was shocked by his question. What was she to say to him? She was his father's widow, and by all rights should not have to account for herself, or her children, or her use of the serfs.

"You refuse to cooperate with me in my efforts to sire a child on you, lady," he continued. "You curse my very vitality with your witchcraft. Is it possible if I wooed you more gently you would come to me of your own free will?"

"Never!" The word was out of her mouth before she might even think on it. She quickly attempted to soften the harshness of it with him. "Please, Caddaric Aethelmaere, please understand. I loved your father and, although I sympathize with your dilemma, to give myself to you would be a betrayal of Eadwine. I cannot betray a man who loved me, and who was so good to me, and whose daughter I bore."

"So be it," Caddaric said in a silky voice. "You have chosen your own fate, Welsh woman. If you will not be mine, then I shall make you the whore of the hall. You will pay for your keep and that of your son in this way." He smiled again, but his eyes were cold.

Eadgyth cried out as if she had been pierced with something sharp, and the others gasped, turning horrified eyes on Wynne. "Caddaric," his wife begged him, "do not do this thing, I beg of you."

"Be silent!" he told her, and then, turning back to Wynne, said, "Do you know who the whore of the hall is? She is the woman appointed by the lord to service his male visitors in whatever manner they so desire. There was no whore of the hall in my father's time, for he thought it a cruel practice to force a woman to such labor. I, however, see nothing wrong in offering my guests a full range of hospitality."

Wynne stood up and her voice was filled with distaste and loathing for the man. "I will do no such thing, Caddaric Aethelmaere. How dare you even suggest it? When I think that your father gave his precious life to save such as you, I grow ill with the memory of Eadwine's death."

"Disobey me and your brat will suffer for it," he told her dispassionately.

"Is this how you keep your sacred oath to your father to care for me and for our children, Caddaric Aethelmaere? You are dishonorable beyond the bounds of decency," Wynne told him furiously, her green eyes flashing.

"I did not promise my father that I should care for you, Welsh woman. I said I should look after my sister Averel, and that the boy would not suffer at my hands. He will not, but what is to prevent me from selling him to the first slaver I meet the next time I go to Worcester?" He laughed cruelly. "A pretty little boy like Arvel would fetch a handsome price and more than pay me back for my trouble. You will do what I tell you or I will take your son from you. How will you explain it to the boy's father when he comes someday to retrieve you both?" And the new thegn laughed again. "If indeed that story you told my father was truth, though I suspect it was not. How far will you go to protect your brat, Welsh woman? You are a good mother, aren't you?"

"I will take my children and leave Aelfdene," Wynne said quietly. "Somehow I will find my way back home."

Caddaric Aethelmaere rose to his feet shouting, "You will go nowhere, Welsh woman! You and your children will remain at Aelfdene, and you will whore for your son's keep! You might have been my woman, but since you find that so distasteful, you will be any man's woman. You will service the guests in my hall as the bitches in my kennels service the hounds. Do you understand me?" He grasped her upper arm, his fingers digging into the flesh hurtfully.

The rage boiling over in her, Wynne slapped him with her free hand, using every ounce of her strength. Then pulling away from him, she fled to the relative safety of her little chamber. It was there that Eadgyth found her, half tearful and frightened, yet angry and defiant. "I will kill him!" she said to her friend through gritted teeth. "I will cut his black heart from his hairy chest and eat it before his very eyes!"

"Do not fear," Eadgyth said calmly. "Caddaric may say what he wishes, but you will not be forced to whore for your living, Wynne. We will protect you. I promise you!"

"How?" Wynne demanded of Eadgyth. "You are all terrified of Caddaric. You will not defy him. I must leave here! There is no other way, and in that you can help me, for I will not leave my children behind."

"Caddaric need never know that we are helping you," Eadgyth explained patiently. "Calm yourself, Wynne, and think a moment. Few visitors pass through Aelfdene. When any do come and Caddaric offers you to them, we will see that the offer is not accepted. Trust us in this matter. We are your friends."

"How can you prevent a lustful man from his desires?" Wynne said. "And you cannot offer such a man another woman, for Caddaric would then wonder why his whore of the hall was not doing her duty. No, Eadgyth, it is impossible. I must flee Aelfdene!"