“There is no sign of Edwin or Morcar,” Rolfe informed him.
William’s brother, Bishop Odo, and one of his most powerful nobles, Roger of Montgomery, were the only others present. They sat relaxed, although alert, with refreshments. “I hope, Your Grace,” Odo said smoothly, “that there will be no clemency this time?”
Rolfe and Roger both winced at Odo’s blunt referral to the past. Edwin and Morcar had not taken up arms against William at Hastings (fortunately for William, Rolfe knew), for they had been weakened in the years prior by an attack from the king of Norway. Both had sworn allegiance to William at his coronation, and had followed William and his court back to Normandy when the south of England was secured. Edwin had been given what amounted to one third of England, including most of his lands in Mercia, and Morcar’s Northumbrian holdings. He had also been promised William’s daughter, the lovely Isolda, as a bride. Any other Norman bride would not have been controversial, but even Rolfe was leery of the magnitude of power that this would give the dangerous Saxon eaorl. In the end, William had reneged, and Edwin and Morcar had gone home furious.
A year later they had almost taken York, having roused the entire north to arms against the king. Although Rolfe had participated in the battle for York, abruptly thereafter he was sent to quell disturbances in Wales. Edwin and Morcar had repledged their allegiance, but this time William had left loyal vassals in their territory, to build and garrison and man royal castles.
And now it had happened again. The two northern lords had again led a rebellion, this time with a concurrent (coincidental? Rolfe thought not) invasion by the Danes. This time they had escaped, and there would be no royal forgiveness for their treason. For York had been demolished. A hundred Normans had been slain.
“Never again,” William was roaring. “Those two Saxon traitors will hang if it’s the last thing I ever do!” He turned abruptly to Rolfe. “Your place is here, it’s clear,” he said.
Rolfe stared but did not let any of his consternation show. What of his estates in Sussex and Kent, awarded to him after Hastings for his valor and loyalty? As the fourth and youngest son of the Comte de Warenne, Rolfe had become a mercenary soldier, the only recourse left to him. His eldest brother, Jean, was the Comte de Warenne in Normandy. The second brother was a priest. His other brother, William, had small holdings in Normandy, but had also followed the Conqueror to England. After Hastings he had been given Lewes, just as Rolfe was awarded with Bramber, Montgomery with Arundel, Odo with Dover, William fitz Osbern with the Isle of Wight. This handful of powerful vassals immediately secured Sussex and Kent. Rolfe had not returned to Normandy that year, for he was busy with fortifying his position. For now, for the first time in his twenty-eight years, he had his own land, a patrimony for his unborn son. And he knew, as did all the vassals who had followed William to England, whether from loyalty or greed or land hunger, that the possibilities were limitless.
“I am giving Bramber to Braose,” William continued forcefully.
Rolfe’s expression did not change.
William smiled at him. “I give you castellanship of the new castle you will build at York.”
Rolfe’s jaw tightened.
William’s smile broadened. “And Aelfgar.”
Roger of Montgomery gasped.
Rolfe smiled. Aelfgar was a huge fief, and with castellanship of York … he would be one of the most powerful lords of the north. Aelfgar had been the seat of Edwin’s honor. He realized that this meant the two Saxon rebels were dispossessed. He also knew it would not be easy to secure his new fief, yet still, his pleasure with this vast reward was huge.
“Your borders are uncertain. You may extend them north as far as you can go,” William said, smiling.
“And to cement things nicely, you may also have their sister, Alice. After all, she is now sole heir.”
Rolfe was grinning. The possibilities were limitless! The sister to secure his position!
“A fine move,” Odo told his brother. “Holding these border countries is no easy task. If anyone can do it, Rolfe can.”
“Yes, with Rolfe in the north, and Roger in the marches—I have given Shrewsbury to Roger,” William said. “I have high hopes these rebellions will become fruitless, quickly.”
Rolfe remembered himself and dropped to one knee. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
William smiled. “Up, Rolfe the Relentless, up. Bring me the heads of Edwin and Morcar and I’ll give you Durham too.”
That stunned everyone, including Rolfe, who doubted that the king meant it. For if such should happen, his power would rival the king’s, and William was no fool.
He had been on his way to inspect Aelfgar and claim his land and his bride a few days later when he had encountered the Saxon rebels. Now it looked as if his own bride might be a Saxon spy and was apparently thought to be a witch. He smiled. Rolfe was not a superstitious man. He supposed it was possible that such a thing as witches existed—but he had never met one, and doubted he ever would. Most so-called sorceresses were frauds, hoodwinking others for their own prosperity. A witch? She was no witch, but a flesh-and-blood woman. And even if she were a witch, she was first and foremost a woman. His woman.
But she might be a Saxon spy. Just the mere thought infuriated Rolfe—and worried him. He was taking over his fief, an alien invader, surrounded by enemies. Morcar and Edwin were still alive, as far as anyone knew, obviously in hiding, but they would not take the granting of Aelfgar to a Norman lightly—they would fight for what had been theirs. Rolfe knew it without a doubt, just as he knew the two rebels, knew the quality of men that they were. It would be a tough battle, but Rolfe was confident that he would emerge the victor. His name was not Rolfe the Relentless for nothing. He was always victorious in his quests, and this time, with Aelfgar and with the woman, would be no different.
She would be a difficult one to tame, and until she was tamed, a dangerous thorn in his side. But he couldn’t help it, he liked the sound of that—he liked the thought of that. Taming his bride. He felt the surge of his lust again. Her place was at his side, taking care of him and his needs. Her place was in his home, in his bed. She would learn this, maybe not quickly, but she would learn. And of course she hadn’t known, until he had told her, that the king had given her to him. He recalled clearly her shock. She would get over that too. He tried to imagine her reaction when she found out he was now the lord of Aelfgar. Unfortunately, he knew exactly how she would look. A woman enraged.
His bride—his enemy.
He must remind himself never to forget it.
Alice was to marry the Norman.
Ceidre realized she was pacing the confines of the tent. What did this mean? How had it happened? Ceidre feared the worst. If William had given the Norman Alice … Panic, icy cold, rose up to shrink her guts. If only there were news of her brothers! They had to be all right! But there had been nothing, no word, since the fall of York, and that had been a sennight ago.
She would not think the worst.
