The Running Vixen

Chapter 3

Miles, lord of Ashdyke, watched his youngest grandson leap and turn and, with his wooden sword, cut beneath the defences of an imaginary foe. The old man sighed deeply and propped his aching legs on the footstool that Heulwen attentively fetched for him.

‘It’s a long time since I was even half so agile,’ he told her wistfully. ‘He’s faster than a flea.’ In his eyes there was pride, for he recognised much of himself in the slight, elfin boy, or as he remembered himself in the unfettered days of a long-distant childhood.

Heulwen watched her half-brother too, wincing as he clipped the laver and almost sent it crashing over. ‘I suppose you let him wear you out, Grandpa,’ she scolded gently, bringing him a cup of wine.

‘Not in the least.’ Miles grinned. ‘It has been a pleasure to have him with me. He’s deadly with a slingshot. Brought down two big pigeons that had been damaging the seedlings in the garth — and very tasty they were too.’

Heulwen smiled dutifully, the expression not quite reaching her eyes which were full of care. Miles sought her fingers and squeezed them. She looked down at his hand. It was brown and mottled with a twisting blue rootwork of veins, but it was hard and steady and it was her own young unblemished one that trembled. She cast him an anxious look, which he returned with the serenity of long years. ‘We had a visitor while you were away with William.’

Miles slowly nodded and smiled. ‘I know. Young de Lacey. Eadric told me when I arrived. I dare say when I’ve rested these old bones enough to want to sit a saddle again, I’ll ride over to Thornford and welcome him home.’ His gaze was shrewd. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’

Heulwen looked down. ‘I’ve quarrelled with Adam,’ she said in a small voice and swallowed, thinking of the incident of two nights since. She had asked him to the solar, forced her dilemma on him, and then, when his sympathy had turned into something far more dangerous, she had reacted like a wild animal striving to break free of a trap. Even worse, she had accused him as though it had all been his fault, when she knew to her shame that it was not. Her own body had quickened readily to desire, and when she had run from him, she had been running from herself. The following day she had pleaded a megrim as an excuse not to come down to the hall, and Adam, without personal invitation, could not go above. He had asked to speak to her and she had sent her maid Elswith to tell him she was unwell. He had taken the hint, gathered his men and ridden out, and the silence left behind weighed heavily on her conscience.

‘There’s nothing new in that, as I recall from your childhood,’ Miles said wryly.

William danced up to them. Heulwen opened her mouth, but said nothing. Panting, the child paused to regain his breath, and bestowed upon her a dazzling, impish smile. The youngest of her father’s sons, he had a profusion of bouncy black curls, green-blue eyes like her own and their grandfather’s and a way with him that could charm the birds from the trees.

‘Heulwen, can I go and see Gwen’s pups? Papa’s gone into the town to talk to the merchants and Mama’s busy in the dairy. Eadric said I had to ask you.’ He put on his pleading face, managing to look almost as soulful as Gwen herself, so that Heulwen was forced to laugh.

She tousled his hair. ‘Go on then but be careful, and don’t get too close. She’s still very protective.’

‘I won’t, I promise. Mama says I can have one for my very own when they’re old enough to leave Gwen. I’ve seen the one I want — the black dog with the white paws. I’m going to call him Brith.’

Heulwen felt a pang for childhood’s earnest enthusiasms, the passionate joy in small things, the blissful ignorance of wider concerns, and the tragedies forgotten in the time as it took to wipe away the tears. William gave her a brief, tight hug and, sword still in hand, ran off down the hall.

‘And Judith worries about Renard and women!’ Miles chuckled. ‘William is going to outstrip him a hundredfold when the time comes. I can only be glad that I won’t be here to wince as the sparks fly!’

‘Don’t say that!’ Her tone was sharp.

‘It’s the truth, girl, and we both know it. I’m borrowing time hand over fist these days, and when I do go, I dare say I’ll be glad.’ He leaned back against the carved oak chair and steepled his fingers against his lips. His eyes were still keen, his voice steady without the quaver that so often affected the elderly, and his face betrayed to Heulwen none of the fatigue that was inwardly sapping him. He could not however sustain bursts of energy for long periods these days, and had to husband his strength like a housewife coddling a contrary tallow flame. He was more than four score, an age seldom attained and, slowly but inexorably, his body was failing his will.

‘Now then,’ he said comfortably, ‘what about this quarrel of yours. Can it not be mended?’

Hesitantly at first, but gaining impetus, Heulwen told him the tale, omitting the details about the suspect silver in Ralf ’s strongbox. ‘I know I should have been more tactful, Grandpa, but I was frightened. One moment he was comforting my grief, the next he was kissing me. ’

Miles closed his eyes and conjured up the image of Adam de Lacey. A quiet young man of serious countenance and direct gaze. A superlative horseman, good with a sword, even better with a lance, and not given to the kinds of folly just described to him. He looked thoughtfully at his granddaughter, well aware that she had not told him the whole tale, and she knew he knew, because she had lowered her eyes and her cheeks had turned pink.

‘Foolish,’ he snorted, ‘but not to be wondered at. In part you brought it on yourself. You do not need a gazing glass to know you are attractive to men. Their eyes have always told you.’

‘I didn’t bring that on myself!’ she objected.

‘You interrupted me,’ Miles said with a shake of his head. ‘I was going to say that any young man who found himself alone with you, at your invitation, in the darkest hours of the night might well be pushed over a brink he didn’t even know was there. His first intention probably was to offer comfort. As far as I know, Adam de Lacey is no womaniser. Your father never had trouble with him the way he did with young Miles and his lechery.’

‘Do you think I owe him an apology?’ she asked with a sinking heart.

‘Not necessarily, but I think you were a little harsh with him. You have created a mountain out of a molehill.’

Heulwen looked down and fiddled with the raised embroidery on the belt at her waist. Her grandfather’s great age had in no way incapacitated his wits, and his shrewd scrutiny was making her uncomfortable. She said quickly, ‘Grandpa, I think you’re right. I’ll make amends as best I can.’

The light caught the silver tips of stubble on his throat as he swallowed. ‘You could do worse than consider Adam de Lacey for a husband. Obviously he is attracted to you, and he’s well thought of by men who recognise honour in other men.’

She dropped to kneel beside him, her knees weakening at the very suggestion. Her mind scurried, necessity making it nimble, finding an excuse out of what had once been the truth but was now the truth no longer. ‘Grandpa, I couldn’t, it would be like marrying one of my own brothers. Anyway, I’m as good as spoken for already.’

‘I see,’ he nodded wisely. ‘So you are still set on accepting de Mortimer’s offer?’

‘Yes, Grandpa. After Ralf, I’ll be grateful for a man whose absences are not going to send me into a jealous frenzy.’

She had known passion, he thought, and been burned by its heat, but there had been no healing balm of love to temper its destructive force, only lies, deceit and self-delusion, and she had been too young to understand. A marriage that was purely a business arrangement would suit her very well for the present, but what of the future? Her braids were the colour of liquid fire and they reflected her spirit. No good would come of trying to squash herself into a niche for which she was not made — but how to explain it to her when for the nonce she could not see the wood of the future for the trees of the past. ‘Heulwen. ’ he began and then subsided as a seeping weariness overcame him. He felt as if all the marrow was trickling from his bones and soaking away.

‘Grandpa, are you all right?’ She leaped to her feet in fear. ‘Here, drink some more wine.’

Miles watched her fumble for the flagon and then closed his eyes. When she pressed the cup back into his hands, he forced his lids open again, feeling as though the death pennies were already weighing them down.

Her voice trembled. ‘Grandpa, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.’

He put out his free hand and lightly touched her face as she bent over him. ‘Nay, love, don’t fret,’ he said with a forced smile. ‘I’m all right, just very tired. We’ll talk again when I’ve had a chance to rest.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Grandpa. I’ll make my peace with Adam, and as soon as Warrin returns from Normandy I’ll accept his offer, and that’s the end of it. I’ll go and get Mama.’

‘Child, never mind the end, what about the beginning? ’ he whispered, but to thin air, for she had gathered her skirts and was running down the hall.