Merin ap Owen turned to Elf. "I think there is a tapestry frame and a loom in the attics that used to belong to my grandmother. I will go and see if I can find it, my lady Eleanore. Gwyll, is there needle and thread to be had in this castle?"
"I do not think so, my lord," Gwyll said, surprised by such a request. "Perhaps in the attics with the loom?"
"Let Gwyll take me, my lord. Surely you must have more important things to do than seek for women’s toys."
"Very well, lady," Merin ap Owen responded. "Besides, I should not know what I was seeking. You will. Gwyll, take her, and remain by her side at all times."
"I understand, my lord," Gwyll said with meaning. He didn't like his master’s English mistress. She was a truly evil woman.
Elf had little hope of finding what she needed, but to her surprise she did. There was a loom and a frame both, along with a basket of colored wools. Then Gwyll discovered a smaller woven container with sewing materials.
"I wonder to whom these belonged," she said softly.
Gwyll did not answer her, but shrugged, apparently as mystified as she was, although he was not. The tapestry frame had belonged to the lord’s grandmother. The loom and its wools had belonged to his master’s first wife, who had come dreamy-eyed and full of hope to Gwynfr, only to discover her bridegroom was a monster. She, poor lass, had been so in love with Merin ap Owen, she could not bring herself to face the truth. She had died for her love; and there had been no one to revenge her, for she had been an orphan. The sewing basket he thought might have belonged to her, too. "If you have what you need, lady, we had best return to the hall," Gwyll said. "I'll set up the loom and the frame for you, if you wish it. Mayhap by the fire?"
"That would be perfect," Elf answered him, placing the sewing accoutrements atop the basket of wools, then stepping carefully down the narrow staircase of the half-ruined tower. Here and there a stone from the walls had fallen into the passageway. Elf was surprised that the roof in the attic had been in such good condition else her treasures would have been ruined. She really did need something to do if she was going to be here for even a short time.
Back in the hall Gwyll set up the equipment next to the fire as he had promised Elf. When he had finished, he set a chair by it, then turning to Elf asked her, "Will you weave now, lady, or would you like to go out-of-doors and seek for plants? There is but a light rain today."
"I think I shall remain indoors today, Gwyll. I am still damp from my long ride," she told him with a small smile.
"Do you think you will be with us long, lady?" he asked her politely as he seated her before the loom, setting the tall basket of wools by her side. "Perhaps I should spread them out on the floor for you to see, and then you can decide which colors to use," Gwyll offered helpfully, tipping the container and separating the hanks for her to view.
"Thank you," Elf answered him. "I don't know. It depends when my husband returns from Normandy." Bending, she began to separate the colors, filling her lap with those she wanted. "Put the others away now, Gwyll," she said as she started to string the loom.
"Ohhh! How sweet and how domestic" came a sneering comment.
"Good morning, Isleen," Elf replied dryly. "What do you do with your day? Gwynfr is hardly the most stimulating atmosphere I have ever been in, and I am used to using my time wisely."
"So pious. So good. My lord Merin coddles you. If you were my prisoner, I should chain you in the dungeons to be nibbled at by the rats. Your husband could have whatever was left when he paid the ransom! He'd probably be glad to be rid of you. You cannot be of any interest to him in his bed. Do you pray when he mounts you, and takes what small pleasure he can gain off your skinny body?" Isleen stood directly before Elf’s loom, glaring down at her, her bright blue eyes filled with her anger.
"But I am not your prisoner, Isleen, although I have been given to understand I have you to thank for my current predicament," Elf replied. There was, Gwyll noted, just the faintest hint of anger in her voice.
"So he told you it was my idea, did he? Well, it was!" Isleen crowed triumphantly. "If your husband is willing to ransom you, it will cost him everything. I wonder if he is willing to give up all he gained when he wed you just to have you back. I hope he won't pay the ransom. Then, I shall put you in my whorehouse to earn your keep!" She laughed when she saw how Elf paled.
"You make me ashamed of myself," Elf responded. "For the first time in my life, I feel an anger so deep that I want to kill you!" She arose from her chair, and glared furiously at her adversary. Her small fists were clenched into tight little balls. "You are a horrible creature, Isleen de Warenne! God forgive me, but I hate you!"
Isleen stepped back, surprised by the rage in Elf’s silvery eyes. Those eyes blazed, and Isleen had not a doubt that Elf would, if driven much further, attack her person. "So," she snarled, "you are human after all. Good! A weak enemy would offer me little amusement."
"I will offer you none," Elf said coldly. Then she sat back down again and continued stringing her loom.
Isleen looked to Gwyll. "Leave us!"
"I cannot," he said. "Master’s orders, lady. I am to remain with the lady Eleanore at all times and take my orders from no one but the lord hisself." There was a faint smile on Gwyll’s lips as he spoke, and a determination in his eyes Isleen knew could not be swayed.
Angrily she slapped him. "Impudent serf!" she shrieked, then fell back, her hands going to her face. Astounded she stared at Elf, who once more stood. "You… You hit me!" she screamed disbelievingly.
"Do not raise your hand again to the servants," Elf warned her. "Gwyll was but doing his master’s bidding. You are not lady here."
"Nor are you!" Isleen shot back. She frantically rubbed her cheek. "If you have marred my beauty, I will find a way to punish you no matter your faithful watchdog! I swear I will!"
"You are not injured fatally," Elf said dryly. "The mark of my hand and fingers will fade in a few hours' time, Isleen. As you warn me, however, I warn you. Do not mistreat the servants. Did your mother teach you no better? My Ashlin folk are well rid of you."
"Servants are servants," Isleen said with emphasis.
"They are God’s people even as we are," Elf said. "Even you, Isleen, for all your wickedness, are God’s creation."
"I hate you. I hate you!" Isleen shouted, and stamped from the hall.
"You have a bad enemy there, my lady," Gwyll noted.
"She was always my enemy even when she knew me not," Elf told the puzzled man. "Now, however, I am wise enough to be hers."
"I'll defend you," Gwyll said. He was still amazed that the lord’s gentle captive had defended him against the unjust anger of the lord’s mistress. There were none here at Gwynfr who would do the English bitch a good turn, and so he thought the lady Eleanore relatively safe. Ever since the lord had hanged those two men-at-arms for poaching on his preserve, the men could not be suborned by the whore. Only poor little Arwydd was loyal to her, but Arwydd had not the stomach for murder. Still, Gwyll thought, he saw he must guard his charge most carefully.
From the first Elf had seen that weeping and bemoaning her fate would do no good, so she had settled into life at Gwynfr Castle as best she could. While her thoughts were with Ranulf and their son, those two were safe. And, reassured by such thoughts, she spent hours weaving at the loom by the fire, and going out on the hillsides to search for medicinal plants with which to make a store of medicants.
One day when her gaze wandered to the hills about them and remained too long, she heard Gwyll’s voice say gently, "You don't even know which way is England, do you, lady? You are safer here. Do not think of escape."