Chapter 15
The men on the walls at Ashlin manor watched with careful interest, then amazement as the ragged figure stumbled across the fields, scattering the sheep. It clambered its way up the hill to the walled manor, hands outstretched in apparent supplication. As it crossed the lowered drawbridge, it became obvious the creature was a female.
"Help me!" she rasped, and collapsed just short of the raised portcullis.
For a moment the men-at-arms at the entry hesitated. Was this some clever Welsh trick? Realizing, however, that there was absolutely no one else in sight and the men on the walls had a clear view of the surrounding countryside, they ran to help the woman.
"Jesu! Mary!" the first man to reach her said. He looked down at the poor creature, who was scrawny to the point of being starved, and black-and-blue with many a severe beating. The man-at-arms didn't know what to do, and stood helplessly looking down at the woman.
"I'll go for Fulk," his companion said, and ran off leaving the first man with the woman.
"Help me," the woman said piteously, reaching out for the man-at-arms, who jumped back nervously.
"Sim’s gone for the captain," he managed to say. "He'll help."
The woman nodded weakly, and laid her head upon the ground.
Fulk came running with the other man-at-arms. Looking down at the woman, he shook his head. "An escaped slave," he said wearily. Bending, he lifted the woman’s head. "You're a slave?"
"No more," the woman said with distinct meaning.
Fulk shook his head despairingly "Will they come after you?"
"I don't know," the woman answered. "I think I killed him."
"Well, let’s hope you did, lass," Fulk said, "or if they think it’s worth their while, they'll be after you soon enough. What’s your name?" Reaching down, he helped the frail woman to her feet.
"Arwydd" came the reply.
"Welsh? You speak good English for a Welsh girl," Fulk noted.
"My mother was English, from Hereford" was the answer.
"How did you end up a slave?" Fulk began to walk the girl slowly through the portcullis into the manor enclosure.
"My mother was taken years ago. Her captors raped her, and I was born. The man whose slave she became named me. She be dead many years now. He killed her when she objected to his interest in me. I was eleven when he first used me, the pig!" Arwydd spat weakly.
"Is he the one you killed?"
"Aye," the girl replied. "He thought it would be amusing to share me with his friends. They did everything to me that a man can do to a woman. So when he was drunk several days ago, I slit his throat and ran away. I haven't eaten in three days, sir, but what berries I could find, and I was afraid to eat most of them, for fear I'd get poisoned. Please, help me!"
"I'll take you to my mistress," Fulk said. He didn't know if the girl was to be believed or not. She was battered and bruised enough to be sure. She looked as if she had been starved for years, and she probably had been. Her story had a certain ring of truth to it, yet she worried him. She did not quite meet his eye when he looked at her. Was her sudden arrival some clever Welsh trick? He would advise the lady, and he would watch this wench carefully.
He brought her to the lady Eleanore, where Arwydd told her story again. Fulk took his mistress aside while old Ida and Willa took Arwydd off to bathe her. "I don't entirely trust this wench, my lady," he sad quietly. "There is something about her that doesn't seem quite right. I cannot help but wonder how she ended up here at Ashlin when we are so far off the beaten track."
"Perhaps God directed her to us, Fulk," Elf said quietly. "She is fearfully wounded. God knew I could help her regain her health."
"Perhaps, lady," Fulk answered. He always wanted to shout with despair when the lady spoke so sweetly. She still did not fully realize how cruel and fierce a world it was beyond the boundaries of Ashlin and St. Frideswide’s Convent. "Heed my words, however, lady," he pleaded with her. "Listen to all the girl says, but do not trust her, I beg you. It is too dangerous to trust a stranger in these times."
"While I prefer to look on the brighter side of life," Elf told her captain, "I am not quite the simpleton you believe me to be, Fulk." She laughed when he flushed. "I will heed your words, I promise," she attempted to reassure him.
He bowed to her, then went about his duties.
"She’s thin as a sapling, lady," Willa said coming back into the hall. "Old Ida has bathed her, gotten the nits from her hair. She’s black-and-blue all over, though. How anyone could be so cruel to so frail a lass, I do not know."
"Has she said any more?"
Willa shook her head. "Naught, but to thank us for our kindness."
"We'll keep her with us until she heals," Elf decided.
"I agree," Willa said. "Poor lass has never known kindness."
Arwydd was settled into the household. Within a few weeks she had lost her pallor and showed signs of gaining weight. Her bruises were beginning to heal, fading from black to purple to yellow, brown, and green, to finally just the faintest shadow before they were completely gone. While Arwydd’s face was round and plain, there was a certain prettiness to it. Her blue eyes grew lively with her returning health. She was set to doing light tasks after a few days, and she did them well. Her greatest talent, however, seemed to be in the arranging of flowers. She loved them, and filled every container she could with the blooms from garden and field, which she mixed freely. Elf encouraged her, for the truth was, she liked Arwydd’s flowers and told her so.
Fulk found it interesting that no one came looking for the wench. Surely her murdered master had someone who cared, yet no one arrived at Ashlin in search of Arwydd. This concerned Fulk greatly. He became convinced she was a spy, probably for the Welsh, yet the girl did nothing that he could deem suspicious. Still, instinct nagged at him, so he kept on his guard. He asked Arwydd once who her mother’s people had been in Hereford, but Arwydd claimed not to know, so he couldn't send the wench along to blood kin, and thus be rid of her.
August came, but they did not go to the Lammastide Fair this year, for with the Welsh raiding, it was considered too dangerous. September came, and by month’s end the harvest was almost all in, but for the orchards, which would take several weeks of picking. On Michaelmas roast goose was served to everyone on the manor, serf and freeborn alike. The servants were paid their wage for the coming year. Several days afterward, however, a man dressed in servant’s garments arrived at Ashlin to tell them that the convent of St. Frideswide’s was under siege from the Welsh bandit, Merin ap Owen. The abbess had sent him to Ashlin to beg for their help before they were all killed.
Elf was horrified. "You must take a troupe of men and go at once to help them," she said to Fulk.
"Do you know this fellow?" he demanded of her suspiciously.
Elf shook her head. "But it does not matter," she said. "He wears the abbess’s badge, and many of the servants were old at St. Frideswide's. He may have replaced one."
"Aye, lady, I did," the man quickly spoke up. "I am the son of Walter, who tended the pigs."
Elf could not remember the swineherd’s name, but he had been an old man and this man could indeed be his son. Besides, the convent was being attacked, and they had to help him. She fixed a challenging look on her captain. "There is no reason for this man to come here and claim the convent is under siege if it isn't. You will take a troupe of men, and go to St. Frideswide’s now, Fulk. Drive the Welsh off, and secure the convent for the abbess. If necessary pursue the enemy, and destroy as many of them as possible. May God have mercy on their wicked souls! You have your orders. Go, now!