Enchantress Mine Part 2

Within the hour Fren was set up and ready to do business. True to his word he had placed about Mairin's slender little neck a heavy leather collar, fastening the lock with a click of an iron key that hung from a large ring attached to his girdle. "There!" he said with a smug and satisfied smile as he tested the strength of the collar. "You'll not be slipping off into the crowd with my merchandise now, giant. This little wench you guard so carefully for me is prime goods. Her youth and innocence paired with her rare coloring will bring me a fortune in Constantinople! She will bring me enough gold to buy me a villa in which to spend my old age."

"You would sell her to some vile and depraved pervert, slaver, wouldn't you? Do you think I am too stupid to know your evil plans? Where is your conscience?" Dagda demanded, but Fren just laughed, and Dagda felt the anger beginning to burn deep within him. It was the kind of anger that had once developed into a blood l.u.s.t that had made him such a feared warrior in his youth. Fren, however, had turned away, and did not see the Irishman's blazing eyes.

The Saxons no longer believed in slavery, but they were still not above buying an occasional slave as cheap labor, and then allowing them to work off their price plus what it cost their buyer to feed, house, and clothe them. The buyer always profited under the arrangements, but slaves brought to England prayed for an Anglo-Saxon master. It was the best chance many of them had for regaining their freedom, as most of them had not been born slaves. It was also an inexpensive way to obtain help, for the price of slaves was set according to the law.

Fren had not come to England to seriously sell slaves, for the market was basically poor. Rather he came to obtain fair-skinned, fair-haired, and light-eyed Saxon maidens who would bring him a goodly profit in the teeming markets of the Levant. How he obtained such merchandise was a matter better left alone, but it was safe to say he never visited England without obtaining sufficient remuneration to encourage his return.

Dagda watched with interest, as the slaver plied his trade. Four of the men and two of the women were quickly sold off. Now Fren bargained fiercely with an innkeeper for the sale of the third woman, a young and pretty girl with thick dark brown braids.

"The wench can cook, spin, sew, and," here he paused for effect, giving the innkeeper a broad wink, "she's got a plump backside to warm yer bed on a cold, damp night."

"I've got a young wife," said the innkeeper. "Believe me when I tell you that she keeps me busy the whole night long."

"Don't tell me a fine fellow like yerself doesn't like a little something on the side," said Fren jovially, poking the innkeeper. "Besides, forbidden fruit is always sweetest. This girl can help in the kitchens, serve your customers, and make you a few extra coppers abovestairs, if you get my meaning. She's not a bad looker, and believe me when I tell you that she's a hot and juicy f.u.c.k."

The innkeeper let his eyes slide over the girl, and reaching out he fondled her plump b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The girl moved slightly into his hand, and smiled slowly and encouragingly into the man's eyes. His tongue flicked nervously over his lips as he seriously considered the wisdom of such purchase. "Is she gentle-natured?" he asked Fren. The innkeeper, who had actually had no intention of buying a slave today, was visibly weakening.

"Like a ruddy lamb," replied the slave merchant, and he turned to the girl.

"Aye, master, I be a good girl," she said with a provocative wiggle of her hips.

"I'll not pay more than the posted price," said the innkeeper, swallowing hard, and fumbling for his purse.

"I'd ask no more, sir," said Fren, his voice slightly tinged with hurt, but knowing the sale was made. The bargain was quickly concluded, and the girl went off with her new master, Fren grinning broadly as they went down the street.

One of the slave merchant's a.s.sistants laughed. "How many times is it that you've sold Gytha now? By the rood the wench makes more for you on the block than she does on her back!"

"She's good at luring the wenches for me," said Fren. "With her tales of Byzantium she has 'em practically begging me to enslave 'em. By the time we return to England next year she'll have a harvest of fair young beauties for us, you can be sure. Look how well she did for us two years ago in York. Tomorrow we'll head for Winchester. I'm eager to see the crop of girls Alhraed has enticed for us this past year. There's another fine Judas goat I own who's more than worth her keep."

The first of the morning business completed, Fren and his a.s.sistants settled down to wait for other customers. Dagda, newly enlightened of Fren's ruthlessness and business ac.u.men, began to seriously consider the possibility of simply grabbing Mairin and making a run for it. That meek little man who had been so fearful in the forest was actually quite vicious and dangerous, and a genuine threat to Mairin. Then as she sat within the protective circle of his big lap he suddenly became aware of a tall serious-faced Saxon who stood staring at the child. The man was very well dressed, and obviously of the upper cla.s.ses. He stood pondering, obviously considering something, but then as he slowly approached Fren two other men rudely pushed by him, and began shouting questions to the merchant about three of the male slaves.

The tall Saxon hesitated, but then catching Dagda's curious gaze he walked up to him and asked, "Do you speak English? Is the child for sale?"

Slowly Dagda nodded, and scanning the depths of his memory, spoke the correct English words. "What would you want with her?" His look was fierce, and extremely protective.

"My name is Aldwine Athelsbeorn. I am a king's thegn, and my estate is in Mercia. My little daughter died this past spring, and my wife cannot cease her grieving. This child reminds me of our Edyth."

"You would buy her to give her to your wife?" Dagda's heart pounded. Aldwine Athelsbeorn's face was one that concealed nothing. It was an honest face marked by life, yet kindly.

"Is the child your daughter?" the Saxon inquired, curious.

"Nay, sir," returned Dagda. Then he began to speak quickly in a low voice, hoping that Fren and his a.s.sistants would be kept busy long enough for him to make sense to the Saxon. This, he realized, was their way to escape from Fren! "The child's parents are dead, and her stepmother sold her off in order that she might steal my lady's inheritance. The child is of the n.o.bility in Brittany, sir. I was her mother's servant, but now I am a freedman. It is a very long story. In the name of the good Jesu, sir, I beg you buy the child! I will pledge myself to your service for five years or more to repay you whatever expense you may incur. The slaver would transport my lady to Byzantium, and sell her to a l.u.s.tful pervert!"

Aldwine Athelsbeorn did not even question Dagda's word in the matter. He was an educated man in a time when few were. Although the giant's words shocked him, he knew enough of the dark side of human nature not to disbelieve him. Suddenly all his previous hesitancy fell away and brus.h.i.+ng Fren's other customers aside he demanded in an authoritative voice, "What price on the child, slaver? I fancy her as a serving maid for my wife."

"The child is not for sale, sir," replied Fren.

"Not for sale? What trick is this you attempt to play, slaver?" The Saxon's voice had risen now so that he was beginning to attract a small crowd. "If the child is not for sale, then why is she wearing a slave collar, displayed here for all to see? Is it that you seek to gain an unfair profit, or perhaps use her for immoral purposes? Speak up, man!"

Fren's face grew mottled with nervousness, and he sputtered impotently but no intelligible words could be heard.

"By our Blessed Lady Mary, that is what this rogue intends!" the Saxon shouted. Turning, he appealed to the jostling and interested crowd. "This low fellow would offer this little one, who is practically still a baby, for vile usage! Can we allow such a thing, my friends? Will someone not fetch a priest to try and bring this wicked fellow to repentance? Find me the sheriff! This villain had displayed the child in order to appeal to the evil ones, but I, Aldwine Athelsbeorn, King Edward's thegn, have found him out!" finished the Saxon dramatically.

The crowd, seeing little Mairin's innocent beauty, which Dagda, entering into the spirit of the Saxon's game, displayed by lifting the child up so she might be viewed by all, began to mutter ominously and shake their fists at Fren. The English loved their children for children were a man's immortality. Then one fellow, a bit brighter perhaps than the others, called out, "Why do you seek to buy the child, Aldwine Athelsbeorn? Are your motives pure?" The crowd's interest swung from the slaver to the thegn.

"This child reminds me of my dead daughter," said Aldwine Athelsbeorn. "I would bring her home to soothe my grieving wife. There is no crime in that."

"How do we know he speaks the truth?" cried another voice from the crowd, and looking toward Fren, Dagda saw one of his two a.s.sistants was missing.

The Saxon proudly drew himself up. "I am Aldwine Athelsbeorn, Kind Edward's thegn. In Mercia there is none who would doubt either my words, my motives or my courage!"

"This ain't Mercia! This be London!"

The crowd was becoming dangerous. Dagda's arms wrapped themselves protectively about his charge. For a minute he had thought the clever Saxon could use the crowd to his own advantage, but alas it hadn't worked. He looked to see whether or not in the ensuing uproar that was sure to transpire he might not make good his escape with Mairin. The collar about her neck did, however, pose a problem for it was too tight for him to cut or even get a grip upon so he might break it open and free her; but he would solve that problem after he brought his lady to safety.

Then suddenly amid the din he heard cries of, "Make way for Bishop Wulfstan!" and the angry crowd parted to allow the powerful and popular churchman through. "Well, Aldwine?" said the bishop sternly, but Dagda saw a twinkle in his eyes. Reaching the platform where they all stood, he demanded, "What is this all about?"

"Look at this child, my lord bishop. Does she not remind you of our little Edyth, may G.o.d a.s.soil her innocent soul. I wish to buy this little girl to bring home to my Eada so that perhaps she will cease her lamentations over our daughter and live again. She has mourned without ceasing since the spring. The slave merchant displays the child, but then demurs on selling her to me. I believe he seeks to use the child wrongfully."

The bishop glanced at Mairin, but if there was a resemblance between this beautiful little girl and Athelsbeorn's dead daughter, he could not see it. Oh, Edyth had been about the same age probably, and she had red hair, but it was hardly the glorious color of this child's hair. Still if his friend could see a resemblance, and if he wished to rescue this pretty creature so that he might ease his wife's pain and give her a new interest, then it was a good and a Christian thing that he did.

He glared fiercely at the slaver, and did not like the look of him. "The child is displayed, which under our laws means that she is for sale," he said. "The price for a child of tender years is set at five copper pennies. You must therefore sell the child to the Thegn of Aelfleah. What is your name, man?"

"F-F-Fren, your lords.h.i.+p."

"Fren?" The bishop's brow furrowed for a moment. "Fren," he repeated thoughtfully, and then a knowledgeable look sprang into his eyes. "There was a slaver in York two years ago who was called Fren, and when he departed that city nearly a dozen women including two of good families were missing." The bishop's voice was soft, but beneath the softness Fren heard the ominous threat. No one could connect the slave merchant with the disappearance of those young women, Fren knew; but Bishop Wulfstan was a powerful man and he could spoil everything that Fren had worked hard to build.

He glanced at Mairin with her wonderful hair, and those perfect features on that flawless skin. For a moment he contemplated challenging the cleric's authority, then decided against it. He had not lived this long and prospered in his business by being an emotional fool. With a deep sigh of regret he allowed logic to prevail within him as it did in all his dealings. She was lovely, and she would have brought him a fortune in Byzantium. She was not, however, worth destroying a lifetime of hard work, which was what it would come to should he persist in attempting to retain her.

"If the n.o.ble thegn will step this way," Fren said loudly and unctuously, "I will take his coppers, and we will finalize the sale of the child."

With murmurs of disappointment the crowd began to melt away. The short drama was over. Eager to be rid of Aldwine Athelsbeorn and Bishop Wulfstan, Fren scribbled a bill of sale for the Saxon, took his copper pennies, and unlocking the collar from around Mairin's neck said, "She is now yours, n.o.ble thegn. Take her and depart." Then he laughed ruefully. "You have made a better bargain than you possibly know. The Irish giant is her personal guardian, but then he will tell you. If your desire for the child is an honest one you have gained a man-at-arms as well. If, however, your desire is an unholy one, the giant will undoubtedly kill you."

Aldwine Athelsbeorn looked at Dagda, and said but one word, "Come." Then in the company of the bishop he strode off down the street, and away from the marketplace.

Safe in Dagda's arms Mairin finally spoke. "What is it? Where are we going?" She could see Fren behind them sifting some coppers from one hand to another while he regretfully watched their departure.

Dagda explained to his small mistress what had happened, and the little girl nodded her understanding. "Then I belong to this Saxon now," she said.

"He is a good man, this Aldwine Athelsbeorn. I can see it in his eyes," replied Dagda. "He will take you home to his wife. You will be safe if his wife likes you. If she cannot overcome her own grief, and your presence distresses her, I will work for the thegn until our debt is paid. Then we will depart for Ireland to find your mother's family."

"Am I still a slave?"

"Saxons do not hold with slavery any longer, my little lady. You may trust that you were free from the moment the thegn paid Fren his coppers." He chuckled. "I do not think this is quite the fate the lady Blanche envisioned for you. It restores my faith that G.o.d has seen to your safety in the guise of the thegn."

"What is this thegn, Dagda? Is he a n.o.ble like my father?"

Dagda thought a moment. "Yes," he said, "thegns could be called n.o.bles. They are freemen with large holdings of land. They may also possess other forms of wealth. From the richness of his clothing, his cultured speech, and the fine brooch he wears, I suspect that Aldwine Athelsbeorn is a wealthy man, and perhaps more educated than most. Certainly he must have some influence, for this bishop was willing to aid him."

They followed the Saxon and Bishop Wulfstan through the streets, along the riverbank, and had Dagda not been such a big man himself he would have been hard put to keep up with them. Finally they entered a small well-kept two-story house. The building was set next to an orchard on the edge of the city itself. Two well-dressed servants hurried to escort them into the hall of the house where a fire burned taking the chill from the damp afternoon.

"Sit down, sit down," the thegn said to the bishop, and to Dagda. Then he looked to his servants. "Bring wine," he said quietly, and he turned to Dagda. "Tell us the child's story, but first I would know your name."

"I am called Dagda mac Scolaighe. Once I was a warrior to be feared, but the priests brought me to Christ, and a king in Ulster gave me his child, Maire Tir Connell, to raise. My lady Maire wed when she was fifteen to a Breton n.o.bleman, Ciaran St. Ronan. Shortly after she bore their child she died, but before her death she put my lady Mairin into my keeping as her father had once done with her. After several years my lord remarried to a woman who hated my small mistress, and when lord St. Ronan died of the injuries he suffered in an accident, this wicked creature sold my little lady to the slaver Fren."

"Why?" The question was put to him by Bishop Wulfstan.

"The lady Blanche was expecting her own child. She feared if it were a female then it would be my mistress, of course, who would be the heiress to Landerneau, her father's estate. By ridding herself of her dead husband's elder child she opened the way for her own. She did not even wait to learn the s.e.x of her own child. There was no one to protect my lady Mairin but me, and what power would a poor man have over a n.o.bleman's widow? None of my lord's family was left to oppose her actions. Landerneau is remote, and so who would protest the child's disappearance?" Dagda had deliberately left out the fact that Blanche St. Ronan had managed to have Mairin declared a b.a.s.t.a.r.d by the bishop of St. Brieuc. Churchmen were notorious for sticking together in a situation although this bishop Wulfstan did not look like a man to be fooled. Still the man was a stranger as far as Dagda was concerned, and he couldn't be too careful with his lady's reputation. It was unlikely they would ever be involved with the lady Blanche and her uncle again. He had Mairin to protect. His story was a simple and plausible one. It was not unheard-of for a second wife to try to rid herself of children from the first marriage.

Bishop Wulfstan nodded with understanding. "This Blanche St. Ronan does not sound like an admirable woman," he noted with great understatement. "You have done a good thing, Aldwine, my friend. I think this child will prove a solace to your wife's grief. Eada is a good and gentle woman. The child's story will touch her heart." He looked at Mairin. "Why does the child not speak, Dagda? She does not look simple."

A small smile touched the corners of Dagda's mouth. "I have learned the English tongue because I fought the English at one time, but my lady Mairin, although born in Ireland, has lived most of her short life in Brittany, and speaks only Breton or Norman French. She is intelligent, however, and will learn quickly."

Aldwine Athelsbeorn looked at Mairin, and smiled his gentle smile. She was probably the loveliest thing he had ever seen. Holding out his hand to her he said in careful Norman French, "Come to me, my child. Do you understand me?"

"Aye, my lord," said Mairin, and she slipped from Dagda's lap, and walked over to the Saxon thegn.

"Mairin," he said reflectively. "It is not a Breton name."

"No, my lord, it is not," replied the child. "It is an Irish name. I was named for my mother, Maire. Mairin means little Maire in my mother's native tongue. May I have some wine? I am very thirsty."

He offered the child his cup, and she sipped eagerly from it, smiling up at him as she handed it back. "I am going to take you home with me to my wife," he told her.

She nodded. "Dagda has explained to me that your own daughter died this spring past. What was her name?"

"It was Edyth."

"Was she pretty? How old was she? What did she die of?" The questions tumbled forth from Mairin's mouth.

"Her mother and I thought she was pretty," he answered her. "She died of a spring sickness. She would have been six this summer. How old are you, Mairin?"

"I will be six on Samhein," she said proudly. "They say I am wise beyond my years. Where do you live? I hope not in this awful city!"

"Samhein?" He looked puzzled.

"All Hallows' Eve, October 31st," supplied Bishop Wulfstan, who now also spoke Norman French.

"I was born at the precise moment of sunset as the fires were lit," said Mairin proudly. "Dagda says it means I am blessed by the old ones. He says my head was like a flame pus.h.i.+ng out into the world from between my mother's legs."

"G.o.d has indeed blessed you, my child," said the bishop, an amused look upon his face. He suspected his friend Aldwine had taken on more than he knew with this bright and beautiful fairy child. Reaching out the bishop patted Mairin's head and continued. "G.o.d gave you the good Dagda to look after you, and brought my old friend Aldwine Athelsbeorn to your rescue. You will be glad to know that he does not live here in London but in the countryside."

"My home is called Aelfleah," said Aldwine Athelsbeorn. "It lies in a hidden valley between the Wye and the Severn rivers on the edge of The Forest."

"Aelfleah," said Mairin, feeling the strange word with her tongue. "Aelfleah. What does it mean, my lord?"

"Fairy's Meadow," came the reply.

"Is Aelfleah a Saxon word, my lord?"

"Yes, my child, it is. I think it fortunate that the first word of our language that you have learned is the name of the place which is to be your new home."

Mairin nodded at him, a serious look upon her child's face. Then she said, "Please, my lord, do you think that your lady wife will really like me? My stepmother did not like me for she was jealous of me. What of your other children? Will they like me?"

"My Eada cannot fail but like you, my child, and as for the rest of my family, there is only our son, Brand. Saxon families are usually large, but neither my wife nor I came from big families; and now there are none of them left but we three. No," he amended, "we four, for you, my little Mairin, shall take the place of the daughter we lost." Then reaching out Aldwine Athelsbeorn took the child upon his lap, and kissed her gently upon the forehead.

For the first time in many months Mairin felt safe. She had adored her handsome father, and for most of her life he had loved and spoiled her, but after his marriage to the lady Blanche everything had changed. Seeing his bride's ill-concealed dislike of his little daughter the Sieur de Landerneau had attempted to placate his new wife by lessening his attentions to the child of his first marriage, and increasing his attentions to Blanche. He had believed that if he could rea.s.sure Blanche her jealousy toward Mairin would cease. He had not been aware of the evil in his new wife's character.

The little girl, of course, had not understood, and had been frightened by this withdrawal of affection. Now suddenly here was someone who offered her the love she had lost. Looking up into the Saxon's face, Mairin touched his cheek with a delicate touch gently stroking the thegn's rough beard with her little fingers. Then she smiled at him, and seeing her face transformed Aldwine Athelsbeorn drew his breath in sharply with wonder.

Bishop Wulfstan chuckled. "I think you may have taken on more than even you antic.i.p.ate, my friend. A face like that could one day gain you an earl for a son-in-law. Do not be in any hurry to match her lest you lose your advantage."

The servants brought them food, and the child ate hungrily for she had not eaten since the night before when they had been fed a cold gruel and some hard brown bread. This food was hot. A succulent capon that was so tender it fell from its bones. Her even white teeth tore at the meat, yanking it off the leg. She next ate freshly caught prawns that had been boiled with herbs, the taste of the sea contrasting strongly with the slices from a joint of rare beef that was also served. Warm, newly baked bread, a sharp, hard cheese, and sweet apples, the first of the season, completed the meal. Content, she had fallen asleep in the thegn's lap, and Aldwine Athelsbeorn had smiled with pleasure.

Early the next morning they departed London for Aelfleah, which was a good four days' ride from London. Bishop Wulfstan traveled with them for he was returning to his seat at Worcester which although it lay another day's journey from Aelfleah was in the same direction. They traveled west and had the good fortune to encounter fine weather the entire way. The roads over which they traveled had been built, Aldwine explained to Mairin, hundreds of years before by a people called the Romans.

Mairin nodded at his words. She was but half-listening. She was far more concerned with Aelfleah which was to be her new home if the lady Eada liked her. She put her mind to concentrating on that for she had learned early that she could will something to happen if she really wanted it. She also had concerns more important to her than some long-dead roadbuilders called Romans.

"Is this forest you spoke of nearby, my lord?" she questioned him.

"Yes, my child," he answered her, "but you must be careful for it is a deep and dense wood. I would not have you lost."

"I am not afraid of a forest," she answered him. "My home is, was," she corrected herself, "in the Argoat, an impenetrable and thick place of enchantment that has been there since the dawn of time. The forest is my friend. Old Catell, the wisewoman of our region, was teaching me of herbs and healing. She says I have the gift, and I do! I can see things that other people cannot," she boasted with her child's pride.

"Can you see how much my Eada and I will love you?" he asked her.

Mairin, who had been riding ahead of Aldwine Athelsbeorn upon his horse, leaned back against the Saxon, and tilted her head up to look into his blue eyes with her own deep violet ones. Mairin instinctively knew that this man would indeed love her with the unquestioning love of a father. In that instant she knew that she had found a place of refuge. "Would you really be my father?" she asked him softly, not quite able to believe her good luck.

He nodded gravely. "Yes, Mairin, I would."

"I will not forget my real father," she warned him.

"I would not expect you to, my child."

"I think you will be a good father to me," she said, and the matter was settled between them then and there.

Gently he kissed the top of her small head. As he raised his own head up his eyes met those of Dagda, who smiled, his glance one of approval. Aldwine Athelsbeorn smiled back, realizing that for the first time in many months he was truly happy. There was not a day that would go by in his life that he would not regret Edyth's loss. G.o.d was good, however, for he had given him Mairin. She needed him every bit as much as he needed her and he said a silent prayer that his wife would concur with him for he did not think now that he could part with this fairy child who had so suddenly and unexpectedly burst into his life.

At the thought of Eada his heart quickened its pace for he loved her as he was certain no man could love a woman. He was the last of his own family having lost both his brothers-the elder of a wasting sickness, the younger to the sea. His only sister had died in a childbirth that had also taken his father's only grandchild. It had therefore been his duty to find a wife as quickly as possible, his father had argued. A dutiful son, he had immediately set out to look over the marriageable daughters of the neighboring thegns who had not already been promised elsewhere.

He fell in love the first time he saw Eada in her father's hall, and he could not believe his good fortune that she was not promised to someone else, someone of importance. Particularly in light of the fact that her mother was a cousin of Earl Leofric's wife, G.o.diva. Eada's father, Daelwine, believed that his daughters should have some say in their choice of a husband. Although many had come to woo Eada, none had pleased her.

But if he had been instantly taken with her, Eada was equally enamored of him. Pleased by what they considered their daughter's sensible choice, Daelwine and his wife, Fearn, agreed to the match. It was celebrated with much rejoicing on the part of both families.

Before Aldwine's father died he had witnessed the birth of his first living grandchild, a boy called Brand, who was now ten years of age. Eada, who had so easily conceived Brand, bore but one more child four years later. Their daughter, Edyth. Still it had been a happy marriage, and thinking of his wife with her dark red hair, and her milk-white skin, Aldwine's loins quickened. It would be good to get home. The wind was coming from the north as they rode, its chill reminding him of the coming winter and the delightful games he and his wife played beneath the furs within their bed.

Just after the noon hour of the fourth day of their journey from London they reached Aelfleah. Warned of her husband's impending arrival by an advance rider, the lady Eada awaited her lord before the manor house. Her soft gray eyes widened with curiosity as she saw the small figure upon the saddle before her husband. Then those gentle eyes filled with quick tears for Aldwine used to carry Edyth before him in that same manner. She swallowed back her sadness. It was not seemly to greet her returning lord with the sound of weeping. She turned her glance to the huge stranger who also rode with her husband, and was that not Bishop Wulfstan? Devil take the outrider that he had neglected to warn her of that!

Her mind tumbled over the simple preparations she had made for dinner. They would have to broil a brace of rabbits in addition to what she had already ordered prepared, as well as a haunch of venison. There was yet time to send a boy to the millstream to catch a trout or two. The bishop was as good a trencherman as her husband, and the giant who rode with them did not look like he stinted himself at the table either! Blessed St. Cuthbert! Would there be enough bread? Had Byrd, the baker, baked today?