and severe if discipline was to be maintained on his desmesne and, from what she had seen of him, he would rule with an iron hand and not encased in a soft leather glove, either!
Aldith, still weeping, gathered up a bundle of her own clothing and Sigurd’s and one or two items she specially prized as being of her husband Rolf’s fashioning, and Gisela briskly promised that she would send two men with a cart later to convey the one or two pieces of crudely fashioned furniture the two possessed.
Neither woman dared give voice to the fear that Sigurd would not live to require his belongings. Oswin took up the former nurse pillion behind him and they rode back to Brinkhurst in sombre mood.
Both disturbed and angered by her encounter in Allestone wood, Gisela rode into the courtyard of the Brinkhurst manor, dismounted hurriedly and handed her reins to a young groom who hastened to serve her.
She instructed Oswin to see to it that Aldith and her bundles were conveyed to the kitchen quarters, where she must be fed and cosseted until Gisela had had opportunity to explain what had occurred to her father and make arrangements for Aldith’s reception into the household.
She hastened up the steps before the undercroft and into the hall. Her father was seated by the fire, for the November day was chill and raw, and a man seated opposite rose instantly and came towards her with a delighted cry. She almost ran to meet him, her own anxious expression lighting up with unexpected pleasure.
“Kenrick, how good it is to see you. I didn’t know you were expected or I would not have gone out this morning to see Aldith.”
“And how is she?” Her father smiled his welcome as his daughter divested herself of her mantle and came to his side near the fire.
Kenrick of Arcote, their nearest neighbour, only a few years older than Gisela and her friend from babyhood, caught his breath, as he always did at sight of her these days. Gisela of Brinkhurst was now on the brink of womanhood.
She was not over-tall for a woman, but stately of poise and already her youthful, budding breasts were thrusting tight against the cloth of her blue woollen gown. He was sure he could have encircled her waist, cinched in tightly with her ornamental leather belt, with one hand, so slight of form was she. Her luxuriant tawny braids caught golden lights from the fire as she moved nearer to her father.
He thought her heart-shaped face with its small, slightly tip-tilted nose, her luminous blue eyes and generous, sensuous mouth with its slightly fuller lower lip, even the remains of the summer freckling on nose and cheeks—for Gisela rode out in all weathers despite her former nurse’s warnings about the ruination of her fair complexion—quite enchanting. Now he saw, as her father had already noted, that something had disturbed her badly.
Sir Walter urged her down upon a stool beside him and placed a gentle hand upon her bowed head.
“What is it, Gisela?” His heart thudded against his ribcage as he thought she might well have been accosted, even molested, on this ride into Allestone wood. “You have not encountered masterless men abroad and had to ride hard to safety?”
“No, nothing like that,” she assured him hastily and turned, a little uncertain smile parting her lips, to face the anxious frown she could see gathering on Kenrick’s brow.
“No, I have been in no danger. It is Sigurd, Father. He—he attacked the Lord Baron of Allestone Castle and—and he has been arrested and imprisoned there. It is very serious. Aldith is terribly upset and I have brought her here to Brinkhurst. You will give her shelter?”
“Of course, child. You know we owe so much to Aldith we can never repay her adequately. You say Sigurd dared to attack Alain de Treville? How in the world could that happen with the Baron well guarded? Is he seriously hurt?”
Gisela choked back tears as she tried to marshal her thoughts to tell of the encounter coherently. She explained the Baron’s determination to oust Aldith and her son from their home and his reason for clearing the land and her own objections and attempts to dissuade him.
Her eyes clouded with tears as she burst out, “Then—then he refused point blank to reconsider and made to move away. Sigurd—he—sprang at him with a knife—and—and the Baron’s arm was injured. Fortunately he had the presence of mind to turn in time or—or—he might have been killed.”
She read the dawning horror in both her listeners’ eyes and added, tearfully, “I—I blame myself for what—what happened. I should not have interfered. I think—poor Sigurd took that as encouragement for his cause and—and he lost all control.” She stopped and turned away.
“Father, I know how terrible a crime this is, to attempt to kill your lord. In spite of everything, Sigurd is still just a boy and—and you will try to save him, won’t you, for Aldith’s sake?”
Walter of Brinkhurst let out an explosion of breath and leaned back in his chair, considering for a moment.
“Gisela, as you’ve said, this is a very serious matter indeed. Sigurd may well hang for this, or be maimed, at the very least. The boy is getting past control. I’ve said as much to Aldith many a time recently. Now, child, stop weeping, you will make yourself ill. You cannot blame yourself. The boy could well have done this whether or no you were present.”
Kenrick gave a hasty nod of agreement to this last statement.
Walter went on, “Though, I have to say, you were unwise to come to odds with Lord Alain over this. He is quite within his rights to clear his own land for defensive purposes and Aldith’s assart was cut by Rolf unlawfully. It is to be hoped that your disagreement with the Baron has not further prejudiced him against the boy. Such a man is unlikely to countenance any criticism of his orders, especially before his men.
“I cannot say how I would have reacted to that myself. However,” he added hastily, as he saw his daughter’s eyes begin to brim with tears again, “what’s done is done and we must make the best of it we can. Certainly I will plead for the lad at the manor court, but I have to warn you that my intercession is unlikely to be received well by my neighbour. From what I hear of the man, he makes his own decisions, consulting with no one, and likes to keep himself to himself.”
Gisela reached up to hug her father. She loved him dearly, this broad-built, heavily muscled, still-active and attractive man, whose brown hair was beginning to recede now from his brow. His round, blunt-featured face with the brown eyes that were often disposed to twinkle whenever he gazed on his lovely daughter, the apple of his eye, but which now had darkened with concern for her distress and the reason for it, began to take on an expression of very real alarm.
Baron Alain de Treville had been sent by King Stephen expressly to assist the shire reeve of Oakham to keep the peace in this district and Walter of Brinkhurst felt distinctly uneasy at being the man to oppose him on any matter. He fervently wished his daughter had never met and come into open conflict with his most powerful neighbour.
He gave another heavy sigh. “We may have need of this man in the future, so be circumspect in your dealings with him. Kenrick has come to inform us of another attack on a nearby manor, this time only five miles on the far side of Oakham, more than likely the work of that devil, Mauger of Offen, or the rabble of unruly routiers he keeps to attend him.”
Gisela turned a horrified face to Kenrick. “Were people killed?”
“Fortunately not. The family was away attending a wedding in Leicester Town. When the place was attacked the household servants fled into the forest land nearby and only returned when it was all
