Page 59 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
“Wait, no! I am not absolutely certain yet. We need to speak calmly about it and find a solution. That’s what I came to tell you.” She threw a quick glance toward the door where servants came and went. Indeed, this was not the right moment or the right place for such an important discussion. “Come and see me tonight. Do not speak to my husband until we cannot avoid it. It might never come to that in the end.”
This last comment made him frown. She seemed panicked at the idea of him confronting her husband. That was, perhaps, understandable, as the news was bound to send him into a rage, but there was something about her urgency that made William think. If she was so adamant they should wait until she was certain she had fallen with child, why had she come now?
“All right, I will not see your husband just yet,” he agreed reluctantly. “I will come to you tonight, although perhaps we should wait until you know for sure.”
“No, it has to be tonight. Come to the disused barn by the stables. My husband is away, so there will be no chance of being caught.”
“We will not be caught as we will do nothing but talk,” he told her sternly.
Was that what she had in mind? Luring him into her arms one last time? It would never happen. The only woman he would bed tonight was the Saxon girl. He had promisedhe would come to her and nothing Cwenhild attempted would make him break his word.
“I need to know I can rely on you if I do have to face my husband,” she pleaded.
“Yes, you can.”
As much as he disliked the idea of having a child with Cwenhild, he would stand by her if she truly was carrying his child. He would not let her face Ecberg’s wrath alone.
An image of the Comtesse de Vallon being kicked by her husband flashed through William’s mind. Though she had been unfaithful to him, she had not deserved such a treatment. He would not run the risk of Cwenhild being injured when the blame for their affair was shared.
He would meet her tonight, for he wanted his mind to be clear when he went to the Saxon girl, and there were a few things he wanted to ascertain for himself. For one, he wanted to know the state of affairs between Cwenhild and her husband. William had been surprised to hear she’d not shared her husband’s bed for months. Such a piece of information would surely have been mentioned when she had tried to ensnare him if that were true.
Secondly, he wanted to be sure she did not have any other lovers. Was he the baby’s father or was it someone else? Experience had taught him not to be naïve.
“Yes. I will meet you later,” he said before walking away.
20
The darkness was almost complete. William could not distinguish much, apart from the table in front of him. His ears pricked at a shuffling sound from his right, indicating he wasn’t alone in the barn. His hand instantly went to the hilt of his sword. Then he heard a voice.
Cwenhild’s. “It’s him.Now. Get him!”
Though the words were not spoken in his language, he understood. He only had time to draw his sword before men jumped him. There could have been five or six of them; in the dark he could not tell. Swinging his arms in wide arcs, he managed to wound at least two of his attackers, but a man could not realistically hope to fight six men at once, even if he had been able to see.
A shove on the back of his knees sent him to the floor. A moment later, his sword was taken from him and his hands were tied behind his back.
“We have him.”
A man bearing a torch walked into the room, lighting the whole scene.
Cwenhild was standing in front of him, a grimace on her face.
“It’s him. The man who killed my husband.” She repeated these words in his language for his benefit before carrying on in hers. “He’s just like the other Normans. They want the Saxon lords dead and replaced by their own kin, they want to stamp their supremacy over us in every way they can. This man tried to seduce me. When I refused to submit, he took his revenge out on my husband.”
She spoke slowly, aware his knowledge of the Saxon tongue was sufficient for him to know what she was saying. Frustratingly, William could indeed follow the gist of her accusations, yet he could not answer in detail.
“No, I am not guilty,” was all he could say. “It’s ridiculous. Your husband isn’t even dead, I saw him yesterday. We spoke together. And why would I want to take my revenge on him for you refusing me your advances? It doesn’t make any sense,” he said in his own language, knowing Cwenhild would understand. Maybe one or two of the men around her would as well. He saw from the reaction of the lord to his right that he, at least, could follow what he was saying.
“How did I kill Ecberg?” he asked, articulating for his benefit.
There was a slight pause. Evidently, Cwenhild had not imagined he would challenge her thus and had not prepared any answer to such a question.
“How would I know? Was it a dagger or a sword? I am a woman, not a bloodthirsty warrior, I do not know what weapon you used to pierce his heart. All I know is that I found him lying in a pool of blood.” After she answered him, she shouted her translation for everyone to hear. The men gave various exclamations of anger.
“Who else saw this?” William looked at each of the men in turn, eyes ablaze. “Has any of you seen Ecberg’s corpse?” Silence followed his question. The men stole uneasy glances at each other. “No one has even seen any proof of this supposed murder, then,” he stated, sure of himself. “Take me to see the corpse if you—”
“Enough!” Cwenhild interposed. “You’re a murderer. We do not need to obey your orders any longer. Tomorrow, you will die. Take him.”
It was obvious to William that the Saxon lords would not demand to see any proof of the murder before condemning him. Cwenhild’s accusation was enough to justify their punitive expedition. In this climate, any reason would serve to get rid of a Norman baron. If necessary, they would blame her later for misleading them. In the meantime, they would have disposed of an enemy. It was all that mattered.
