‘Well, my lady, what is it to be? Shall we hack off a foot or have the varlet hamstrung?’
‘Have mercy, lord, I beg you.’ Elgiva fought back tears. ‘Do not maim these men.’
‘It is the standard punishment. They tried to escape.’
‘Surely there can be no blame in that. The battle was lost, the place overrun. Who could think of aught at such a time beyond the need to survive?’
Wulfrum’s face was expressionless as he looked down into hers. For the hundredth time, Elgiva found herself wishing she might know what he was thinking. Seeing he did not immediately brush her aside, she pressed her case.
‘You said the slaughter was over, my lord. That you had need of every able-bodied man available. Does it make sense to cripple these? Spare them, and they will serve you well.’
At her feet Drem hung on her words, ashen faced. Then both of them turned to Wulfrum, though in truth he saw only one. Elgiva was trembling now, her beautiful eyes pleading.
‘Show mercy, lord.’
‘Leniency may encourage further transgressions. Would you have me show weakness to these people?’
‘Mercy is not weakness. All here know you are the lord of this domain and its people and that your will is law. The matter is now beyond dispute. What purpose will be served by fuelling their hatred and their fear? Give them this chance, I beg you.’
Wulfrum appeared to meditate the matter. Beside him Elgiva bit her lip, heart pounding in her breast. Would he heed her at all? The wretch at her feet closed his eyes.
‘Very well, then. Since it is your wish I show mercy, it shall be so.’ He turned to the guards. ‘Henceforth these prisoners shall wear the iron collar of the slave as a reminder of where their duty lies. In addition, each man will receive ten lashes. Carry out the punishment.’
Elgiva let out the breath she had been holding. All around her she heard a similar exhalation and the tension eased as the watching Saxons gave silent thanks for the deliverance of the prisoners. A flogging was a painful reminder of the new order, but Wulfrum had let them off lightly and everyone knew it. The first glimmer of hope awakened in their hearts that perhaps the worst was truly over. In silence they watched as each of the prisoners was forced to kneel by the wooden block while the iron collar was fastened around his neck and then closed with a hot rivet. Elgiva had no desire to witness their humiliation and would have quitted the scene then, but Wulfrum’s hand closed round her arm.
‘You will stay, my lady, and watch the sentence carried out.’
Swallowing hard, she looked up at him, but his expression permitted no further parley and she knew she must obey. Her heart filled with pity for the men beneath the lash, but she also knew that Wulfrum had shown great forbearance in this punishment. Even so, as the strokes were counted, Elgiva had to bite her lip to fight down the nausea she felt. Only with an effort could she prevent herself from flinching at each blow. However, she knew it was nothing to the way she would have been feeling now if he had followed his first thought.
Eventually it was over and the gathered crowd began to disperse. Elgiva would have left then, but Wulfrum held her beside him, seemingly in no hurry to let her go, watching his men break off into smaller groups while the serfs returned to their allotted tasks. From the buzz of conversation it seemed that recent events were much under discussion. Elgiva turned to look at her husband.
‘Thank you for sparing those men.’
‘No thanks are necessary,’ he replied. ‘I have need of them and now they will all live to serve me well.’
Elgiva caught the gleam in his eye and a suspicion began to form in her mind.
‘You never had any intention of doing anything other than flogging them, did you?’
‘No.’ Wulfrum smiled. ‘But it was important that they believed otherwise.’
Elgiva stared at him as the extent of the plan became apparent. ‘You knew I would plead for them too, didn’t you?’
‘I thought you would try to intercede,’ he acknowledged, ‘and you did. Most eloquently, I might add.’
For a moment she was speechless before the sheer brazen effrontery of the man. Then anger replaced disbelief and she hit him hard.
‘You let me think you were really going to maim those men. You let me make a fool of myself.’
Wulfrum caught her wrist before she could deal a second blow.
‘No, you didn’t make a fool of yourself. Anything but.’
‘I believed you back there.’ Elgiva tried in vain to disengage herself from his hold. ‘I really believed you.’
‘Yes, I know. I needed you to believe it.’
‘So you used me to make yourself look magnanimous.’
‘No, I used you to resolve a dilemma. Believe me, I am grateful.’
‘Oh, good.’
Wulfrum smiled down into the amber eyes, thinking how very attractive she was when she was angry. ‘Come, now, admit that this was better than the alternative.’
Elgiva was silent, but under her ire she knew he was right. He was also detestably arrogant and high-handed and much too close for comfort. The silence stretched between them.
‘Admit it.’
‘All right, the way it worked out was better,’ she conceded. ‘Let’s just say I don’t approve the means.’
‘Then for that I am sorry.’
Elgiva wondered if she had heard aright, but there was no trace of mockery in his face or his tone.
‘I must govern these people, Elgiva, and they must learn to obey me. In that way only lies their peace. The sooner they learn it, the better.’
He let her go then and she watched him walk away, turning over his words in her mind. Knowledge of the stratagem still rankled, however, and she felt foolish to have been so easily deceived. In truth, she had played her part to perfection. He must have enjoyed it enormously. Elgiva kicked a loose stone at her feet. Men! They were devious and ruthless in the pursuit of their goals, and Wulfrum was no exception. In future, he would not find her so easy a dupe. She had to admit his apology had sounded sincere enough, but then so had everything else. It was impossible to tell whether he meant it or merely wished to placate her.
She began to walk back to the bower, her annoyance still simmering. Part of it was directed at herself for having fallen so easily for a ruse. Surely she should be able to read him better. He was her husband, after all, and yet it seemed to her now that she knew nothing about him. On the other hand, he seemed able to read her with uncanny precision. He could read a situation too, and manipulate it for his own ends. The man was insufferable. Worse, he was right—on this occasion, at least. The matter had fallen out better than she or anyone else could have devised. Except that he had devised it, of course.
‘Hateful brute!’
Elgiva sent another stone scudding out of her path. He was an arrant knave, a domineering, overbearing rogue. However, he was not cruel. Sweyn would have punished the prisoners with the utmost rigour and would have enjoyed doing it. She shivered. Wulfrum was the lesser of two evils, although bad enough. Glancing across the intervening space betwixt herself and the barn, she saw him there speaking with some of his men. By chance he glanced round and she saw him smile. Disconcerted, Elgiva returned him a cool look and kept on walking.
Chapter Eight
As Wulfrum’s men began to set about the necessary repair work, Elgiva experienced mixed feelings. More than anything she wanted to see Ravenswood prosper again, but could never have foreseen the circumstances in which it might happen. That Wulfrum was a strong and capable leader was in no doubt. His word was obeyed without question and he supervised the work with a critical eye. Nor was he above getting involved when occasion demanded it. Gradually, life began to move into a routine as a sense of order and purpose were established.
Wulfrum too noted this with satisfaction. He determined that Ravenswood would be prosperous again and bent his energies to that end. Slackness and mediocrity had no place in his scheme of things and he oversaw the ongoing work with a keen and critical eye. The Saxon workforce might resent his presence, but they were quick to recognise a master who would not be trifled with and bent themselves to their tasks accordingly. They discovered also that he was fair. While he would not tolerate poor workmanship of any kind, he was ready to praise when praise was merited. Nor did he punish lightly. However, a culprit got only one warning. The message was not lost on the rest. Moreover, no one knew where he would be at any given time and he tended to appear when least expected.
One morning, having left Ida to supervise the serfs clearing a ditch, Wulfrum decided to see how the repairs on the root store were progressing. Heading that way, he had barely taken a dozen strides when a movement near the women’s bower caught his eye and he saw a small child running from the doorway. He recognised Ulric. Wulfrum grinned, expecting to see an anxious Hilda appear in pursuit at any moment. Even so, he kept his eye on the boy, following his erratic progress, only to see him stumble on a stone a moment later and fall hard. For a second there was silence. Then the air was rent by howling.
Wulfrum sprinted across the intervening space and picked the child up. A swift inspection revealed little actual damage. The tears were more about fright than pain. Lifting Ulric into his arms, he held him close and spoke as he might to soothe a timid horse, letting him understand he had nothing to fear. Eventually the tears abated and the sobs quieted to shuddering breaths. Wulfrum ruffled the child’s hair and smiled. Very shyly Ulric smiled back.