Fire and Ice

Chapter 24



Freya had taken water to Sir Richard who had grabbed it and drunk thirstily. He had eaten almost everything she had provided and what little was left he had stored away in the bag, determined he would take it with him. She stood in front of him once again and could not help but feel a little attracted to this Norman. Her father would kill her himself if he found out she had helped him, but this had only added to the excitement. Her eyes were as bright as the moonlight which shone into the building and her fair hair took on a luminous quality. De Gant was in awe of her beauty. There had been no one since Juliana who had made him feel this way and he thought he would charm her into his arms this very night, but he would have to be careful, if her father were to find her he would kill him.

“I want to thank you, Freya, for your kindness. Is there anything I can do for you in return?” he asked and felt the mounting tension between them.

“Thank you, sire, but there is nothing – only...” she hesitated.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Take me with you!” she blurted out and then stepped back afraid of his rejection.

“Why do you want to come with me? What would your father say if he caught us?”

“I think he would kill us both, sire, but I’m ready to take that chance. I’m bored here. I hate my life tied to this place. My sisters are silly giggling creatures and my mother does as she’s told. I’m expected to sew a fine stitch and read the psalms, but I’m tired of all that. I want some adventure and I believe you could give me that.”

Sir Richard held out his hand and she placed her own into it. He drew her forward into his embrace and kissed her passionately, awakening feelings in her body she never knew existed. She began to melt into his arms and he knew he had won a great prize so he picked her up careful not to frighten her and took her to some dry straw where he placed her down gently. He was about to join her when they heard a noise outside and both tensed but Freya jumped up and ran to the door.

“Stay back!” she hissed, and de Gant moved back into the shadows.

A deep masculine voice called, “Freya, where are you? Come, it’s too dark to be out here alone.”

“It’s my father,” he wants me to go in. “Will you wait for me until tomorrow?”

“Of course I will. I’ll wait forever for you.” She looked back longingly at him and he realised he had missed the opportunity to seduce this girl. He would promise her the sun, moon and stars, but could he afford to wait until it was light?

Freya let herself out of the old building and rushed to her father’s side. “I’m here, Father I was just enjoying the moonlight.”

“I’ve told you too many times that it’s dangerous to stay out after dark. Don’t you realise this by now?”

“I’m sorry - I just thought how beautiful the moon was. I’ll come in now.”

With a last look at the moon she walked back into the house on the arm of her father. De Gant was watching through a crack in the door and saw a giant of a man with long blond hair and beard walking beside Freya. Her father reminded him of Ragn and he decided there and then that he would leave immediately. He waited until the house had settled for the night and made a move, slinking out into the bright moonlight. He was moving towards the woods again and had just reached the trees when he heard the sound of horse’s hooves travelling swiftly in his direction. The floor of the wood was damp with leaves where the sun had not had time to dry them which he was grateful for as they made no sound as he threw himself down.

Thanks to the moonlight he could see events unfolding before his eyes and was not pleased with what he saw. His heart leapt into his mouth and then just as quickly fell to the pit of his stomach when he recognised Thorvald’s voice and that of Ragn. He knew that if they found him he would be a dead man.

A lamp was lit in the house as the horses skidded to a halt. Voices were raised and Ragn began to explain that they were looking for an escaped Norman. Freya’s father appeared to be acquainted with Ragn and slapped him on the back and invited them into the house. Within a few minutes they were out again searching the very building de Gant had just vacated. It was only when he attempted to move that he realised he was done for. He tried to get to his feet but was warned by a deep growl that he had better stay down. Kyle was baring his teeth very close to de Gant’s neck and both dog and man could smell each other’s breath. Kyle howled and barked which fetched Thorvald and the other two men to the scene immediately.

“We meet again, de Gant,” Ragn smiled dangerously.

“Is this the man who stole your horse and took your niece?” asked Freya’s father.

“The one and only, Bjorn, this is Sir Richard de Gant,” Ragn answered.

“Bring him out into the moonlight so that I can get a good look at him,” Freya’s father sounded menacing. They dragged de Gant to his feet and out into the garden where Kyle kept his teeth bared and nipped at his ankles for good measure. “I believe those are my son’s clothes you are wearing – where did you get them?”

Sir Richard struggled against the men and the dog. He saw his life flash before his eyes as he tried to think of an answer. “Your daughter gave them to me,” he replied in order to save his skin.

“My daughter?” the man roared. “Which daughter?”

“Freya, Freya gave them to me. She wanted to come away with me but I thought better of it and decided to leave now.” De Gant was grasping at any straw he could find and if it meant betraying Freya then so be it.

Ragn watched as his friend’s mouth twitched and knew immediately what was coming. In a flash Bjorn snatched the axe which was resting between Thorvald’s shoulder blades and smashed it down to land fully inside de Gant’s ribcage. No sooner had de Gant fallen to the damp earth than a knife followed and within seconds the blood-eagle had been performed there and then on the lawn.

“Bjorn, what have you done?” Ragn gasped.

“I didn’t like him. Pity he wasn’t still alive,” was the short answer.

“He is... or was a knight of King William. He and his father fought at Senlac. How are we going to explain this?”

“We’ll bury him somewhere and no one will be the wiser. You can go back to York and carry on as normal. I need to deal with my daughter.”

All three men had witnessed the blood-eagle before but performing this on Norman nobility was a dangerous game. They immediately set to and moved the unsightly body to the woods where they dug a deep hole and dropped de Gant’s body into it. They covered it again and threw leaves over the makeshift grave hoping it would look undisturbed.

“In a few weeks it will be as before and nobody will be any the wiser,” Bjorn said, more to comfort himself than anyone else.

They went into the long house as if nothing had happened and accepted food and drink together with a bed for the night, but Thorvald was wondering what Ulfric would say to the news of de Gant’s death. The next morning Freya was called to speak to her father and at this point Thorvald and Ragn decided to take their leave. The ride back to York was silent, both men aware of the consequences should William find out about de Gant.



***



The Easter parade in Goxhill was well underway and for once the weather was settled. The sunshine though was tempered with a cold easterly wind causing people to pull their shawls over their heads and huddle together as they followed the monks and nuns, singing praises and giving alms. Luke and Giselle had made plans for their escape by arranging to meet in Barrow and slip away. They would beg a lift to Bertone if they could, where Giselle intended to write to her father and ask him to come to her. They hoped their religious clothes would give them immunity from questions and with the hustle and bustle of the day they would not be missed for a few hours. The parade started at Goxhill and ended at the monastery in Barrow where feasting and celebrations would include both villages. There should be ample opportunity for them to slip away.

Everyone was pleased to enter the monastery as the sun had gone down and the easterly wind blew keenly, sawing through their clothes. The final prayers were said in the church and as it was next door to the monastery many people were milling around. Luke caught Giselle’s eye and nodded discretely which was her signal to make her way into the kitchens as if she was going to help. He was about to follow her when Father Matthew caught up with him.

“Ah, Luke – it will soon be time for your vows to enter the monastery. We must make a time when we can both pray and seek God’s word for your future. I will come and find you later and we will discuss this at length.”

Luke almost groaned with frustration but managed to smile and nod. It had been a long day and what he wanted most was to be in front of the roaring fire in the hall at Bertone which Giselle had told him about.

“Thank you, Father. You are too kind to me. I thank you for your kind perseverance and teaching, but perhaps we can do this tomorrow. It has, after all, been a very long day.”

Father Matthew looked at the tired young face and nodded his assent before he left to speak to one of the townspeople. Keeping to the walls of the monastery Luke made his way to the kitchens and saw the Mother Superior speaking to Giselle. He thought his lady love looked tired too but even so he thought her the sweetest thing he had ever met. Giselle was pointing to things around the kitchen and the Mother Superior was listening intently. She then patted Giselle on the arm in a friendly gesture and went to join some of the other nuns in a different room. Sidling up to Giselle he whispered, “Now, let’s go now. We need to be away quickly before they miss us.”

Without a word Giselle finished cutting the bread and slid the knife inside her habit, just in case she needed it. Luke’s eyes opened wide with surprise when he witnessed this but he was in too much of a hurry to say anything. The kitchen door was ajar and they were through it and into the open air before anybody had seen them. Keeping to the shadows they moved away and headed for the hill which would take them to the road to Bertone. People were milling around but took no notice of two hooded people in the darkness. Giselle was out of breath as they quickened their pace up the hill but they made it to the road safely where to their utmost relief a carrier had brought his cart to pick up some people and take them back to Bertone. They were crushed together by the number of passengers trying to get on, but when the last person boarded they moved off. The poor horse laboured to pull such a heavy wagon alone, and the carrier shouted to the younger men to get down and walk which after much argument they did. The lighter wagon did not mean a quicker journey though as the carrier slowed down to keep pace with the young men. Silently cursing their bad luck at such slow progress they were elated when eventually they arrived in Southgate and Luke helped Giselle down from the cart.

“Come quickly, my lady, we need to get into the Hall as soon as possible. We need to get out of these clothes.”

There were no servants rushing around and everyone seemed to have retired for the night. Giselle tried the door hoping it had not been barred from the inside and breathed a sigh of relief when it opened. Looking carefully around everything appeared to be just as she remembered so she crept in and beckoned for Luke to follow. The only light came from the fire which was still smouldering and they could not resist warming their hands from the residue of heat its embers still gave off. Even the dogs had failed to bark at them and Giselle was congratulating herself on her success when a figure strolled towards the firelight.

With a deep intake of breath Giselle took the knife from the folds of her habit when she recognised Erik, waving it in front of him.

“I see you’ve returned to the fold, Giselle,” Erik murmured, obviously unafraid of the weapon she wielded. “And who is this you have with you?”

His gaze turned to Luke who was feeling guilty enough about entering the Hall without permission. “Giselle, put the knife away, we don’t need it. I’m sure once we’ve explained ourselves this man will allow us to stay.”

“You don’t know him like I do. This is Erik, Ulfric’s reeve. He will do anything for him and his precious Juliana.”

“Even so, I think the knife is unnecessary,” he replied.

Erik was looking at them both half expecting Giselle to make a move to stab him, but she faltered and Luke’s hand shot out to take the knife from her. She snarled at him as he disarmed her and he withdrew from the ferocious gleam in her eyes as she berated him for his betrayal.

“Calm down, Giselle. I’ve no intention of sending you back to the Nunnery,” Erik said, taking the wind out of her sails and causing her to gape open-mouthed at both of the men. “Sit down and listen to me,” Erik added.

All three sat in front of the dying embers and they waited for Erik to speak. “Your father has sent word that he is coming to the Hall in a day or two to take you home. When he was advised of your behaviour he felt that he owed it to Ulfric to take you back to Normandy.”

Giselle relaxed into her chair and smiled to herself but her thoughts were interrupted by Luke.

“We can ask your father for permission to marry, Giselle. We can both go to your homeland together as man and wife.”

Giselle looked at Luke as if he was a stranger. “Marry? I don’t know, I have to think.”

“I thought that was the reason we left Goxhill and Barrow, so that we could go to Normandy. You promised.”

“Did I? I don’t remember,” she added vaguely.

“I think you should go to your room, Giselle and sleep. We can sort this out tomorrow. Your friend can sleep here in front of the fire.” Erik advised.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” she said still in a dreamlike state.

She left the two men sitting by the fire with Luke looking bewildered.

“I think you should rest, sir. We have a lot of things to discuss tomorrow.” Erik looked knowingly at Luke whose gaze was blank, totally incapable of understanding what had just happened.