“He loves you, lass, as does his daughter. He would marry you for Sibley’s sake, if not his own, but it is the love he bears you that makes him draw back from confessing it. As he should, Ralf thinks he is too rough a man for the tender creature he sees in you.”
“I am not bruised so easily,” Gytha protested.
“Few of us are, but, when he looks at you, he sees skin as pink and soft as a rose petal in early morning. He studies his callused hands and worries they will mark you. He longs to wake up with your hair soft against his cheek, then rubs his prickly beard and fears it will scratch if he kisses you.”
The innkeeper patted the young woman’s hand, then stood, fetched a jug of cooled ale with two cups, and set them on the bench between them. She poured and passed a mazer to the maid. “And he should have qualms about marrying you, Gytha, for he will hurt you in many ways, some of which he cannot help.”
“If you mean childbirth, I do not fear it.”
“That was not all I meant. He is crowner here, a position that is honorable and appropriate to his birth but dangerous because of the crimes he must solve.”
“It would be less perilous were he dishonest and accepted bribes, but I love him almost as much for his integrity as I do for his broad shoulders.” Gytha blushed with a self-conscious smile.
“And aren’t they though!” Signy laughed, then turned solemn. “That pursuit of true justice may bring him more trouble. King Edward rightly abhors the laxity allowed by his father in matters of law, but he may require an obedience that does not suit our crowner. Ralf has always kept to his own path. When his father died, he turned over his small inheritance to his eldest brother and became a mercenary, choosing to earn his own wealth. He came back a man of some means, more than any here would know from his stained clothes and scuffed boots, and is just as stubborn as he was before he exiled himself.”
“Tostig says the brothers have made peace, and Sir Fulke frequents the king’s court. Surely that provides Ralf some protection.”
“Do not assume Sir Fulke would shield our Ralf. He was one of the few sheriffs to keep his post after King Edward returned to England and may believe that the king has granted him all the favor he dare expect. As for Ralf, we both know he is not a man who speaks softly or practices a graceful bow. He has refused to return to court or to marry another lady of rank. Instead, he remains here, chooses his friends amongst us and most probably his wife as well.”
“That I shall not be. My brother may be honored with his friendship. He scorns me.”
“Without doubt he has insulted you, but it was done in private. Most men would have shouted to all and sundry on market days that you were a whore, then called themselves virtuous for doing so. He did not do that.”
“He has never treated me dishonorably until now.”
“Although you are both virtuous and of worthy ancestry, Ralf stands higher in rank. Another man of his birth would have tried to make you his leman with no promise of wedding vows even if you quickened with his child.”
Gytha flushed. “He has never begged me to share his bed, let alone lain with me against my will.”
“Like most of his sex, Ralf wants to take a wife who is a virgin.”
“As I remain.”
Signy bent closer. “Of that I have no doubt, nor does your prioress, but consider what Ralf thought when he heard your story. He has behaved honorably, although I am sure it was with difficulty. Then he learned that another man tried to couple with you even if that was against your will. He was unable to think beyond the possibility that Kenelm might have stolen what he had wanted but denied himself. His rage blinded him to both truth and reason.”
“Prioress Eleanor reminded him that virginity can be proven. He chose not to accept that or take my word. I find that intolerable.”
Signy sipped her ale. “Ralf sinned against you. The difference between him and many others is that he regrets it and does not know how to beg forgiveness. For all his flaws, and he suffers many, he wants to be a good man and longs for a wife who knows him well, will listen to his doubts, forgive his weaknesses, but will keep all his secrets safe within her heart. That woman is you.”
“You think he will ever ask my pardon?”
Signy’s expression grew vague for a brief moment as if a forgotten memory had returned. She shook it away and smiled at the younger woman. “It will take him a while but he will. If he does, I advise you to forgive him. There are many men with greater wealth and softer hands that would wed you, but few of them are Ralf’s match in other ways.”
“I shall think on it as I go back to Tyndal,” Gytha said. “You are a wise and good friend.”
“Neither sage nor worthy, I am afraid, but merely selfish,” Signy replied with a laugh. “If you married some fine merchant from the north or the south, I would lose your companionship.”
Gytha bent over to kiss the innkeeper’s cheek. The two women rose, and Signy accompanied her to the door. Outside, the dog panted in contentment after his fine meal. He wagged briefly when Gytha spoke to him as she passed by.
***
Walking slowly back to the priory, she pondered what the innkeeper had said. Signy was wise, and she ought to take her advice. Although Gytha believed in charity, she never thought it prudent when reason suggested caution, but Ralf would not ridicule, beat her, or be disloyal. Indeed, he seemed to enjoy her teasing ways and blunt speech. Their times together had been warmed by good humor and easy conversation. He often sought her opinion and listened without disparagement. A goldsmith might drape her in rich ornaments. Ralf would give her gifts she valued more, even if he did lack in certain courtesies.
Near the mill pond gate, she stopped, remembering she had forgotten to visit Tostig as she had told the prioress she intended to do. At least he had not expected her, and he did have the prisoner to watch over. Perhaps it was best that she wait to visit him until after these murders were solved.
“Mistress Gytha! I am delighted to meet with you.”
The voice was familiar, and the maid turned to reply with the grace expected.
It was a courtesy she regretted.
29
Ralf was drenched in sweat. Raising his fist, he beat against Oseberne’s door with a ferocity that caused a dog trotting down the street to turn and flee.
No one answered.
He pounded again and shouted, threatening a myriad of plagues if no one answered his demand for entry.
Slowly the door inched open.
Ralf grasped his sword hilt.
A boy’s spotty face appeared in the small opening, his eyes round with dread. “My lord?” His voice cracked between the two words.
Whatever ire he felt for the baker because of the crimes he believed he had and might still commit, the crowner did not wish to scare an innocent. Ralf swallowed his fury and tried to grin warmly. “Is your father within?”
The lad stared in silent terror at him.
Deciding that the sight of his teeth had probably reminded the baker’s youngest of a hungry dragon, Ralf shut his mouth. “Your father? Is he home?” he asked with lips barely open.
The boy shook his head.
“Do you know where I might find him?”
Another head shake.
He hesitated. Presumably the boy was telling the truth. It usually took a few more years than this child owned to learn successful dissembling. “Ah, well,” he sighed. “My need for his bread must wait.”
“Shall I tell him that you would like to see him, my lord? Perhaps you could tell me what you require. I will let him know when he returns.”
Ralf felt a sharp stab of guilt. “Nay, lad. It is of no moment. I am sorry I was so rude before. My intent was…” He had a hard time coming up with something that was far from his true purpose. How could he explain to this child that he wanted to find the father whom he might hang for murder? It was better not to finish the phrase. “Anon,” he said, stepping back and waving.