*
She spent the evening in an old horse’s stall in the town center of Shrewsbury, scratching at the wooden walls, catching the whispers of her captors. She understood few of their words and even fewer of their implications. She did not even comprehend the nature of her punishment nor how it would be enforced, beyond that they would burn her hands, and how the burns healed would determine her fate.
Upon bringing her to the reeve named Wuffa, Eadric had spoken kindly on her behalf, claiming that the details of the incident remained unclear to him. “All I saw was the two of them wrestling,” said Eadric, “and when I rode closer to investigate, that’s when Aidan accused her of theft. I brought her to you because it is my duty to report wrongdoing. But in this case, I must confess, I am not sure which was the one doing wrong.”
Hildred thought this a strange way for Eadric to describe the situation, as if somehow placing suspicion on the monk. But she did not argue with it. She said nothing at all: not even when Wuffa asked her to describe her own version of the story. She knew she was guilty. To admit it would be to condemn her body. To say otherwise would be to condemn her soul. “You see?” Eadric had said, a strange look on his face. “She is as shocked and confused as I am.”
So it seemed that somehow, either Aidan or fire would proclaim her guilt.
Nearly as puzzling as her portending punishment was Lord Eadric’s opinion of her. Their long journey to town together had confused rather than enlightened her. At first, when leaving the monk, he had seemed cold and dismissive. He discussed the personalities and customs of his neighboring thegns and clergymen with Truman—a man who seemed to be both his swordsman and mentor. He spoke of Hildred as if she was not being dragged alongside them, listening to every word they said. And yet in his next breath he invited her up onto his saddle, helping her mount the horse with her hands still bound, then settling himself behind her. He sat steadfast against her, his stomach and chest lined against her back, his arms locked around her elbows, so that she could not decide whether his posture was an embrace or an imprisoning grip. Whatever the case her blood rushed with heat whenever he spoke, his lips rustling the hair near her ear, and her breath faltered whenever his hands brushed idly over her arms and legs.
Once when he heard her stomach growl, he offered her food from the sacks in his saddle. He held a piece of bread to her mouth while she bit from it. As the soft grains filled her belly, she realized with shame that her body hungered for more than just food. She could not remember the last time anyone noticed her, much less touched her, the way that Eadric did. It was silly to assume that a thegn like him thought of her at all, and completely ridiculous that he might somehow care for her; and yet the possibility made her heart sprint against her chest.
What would it matter, anyway, if in a day her hands would be burned? If the monk appeared tonight and spoke to the reeve, he would condemn her to hang by the neck. If not, the question of her guilt would be raised to God. In the morning, Wuffa and the local mertis would bring her to a fire and stick a poker in the flames; once glowing they would put it in her hands and force her to walk nine paces with the poker in her grasp. After that they would bind her burned hands and throw her back in the stall. If the wounds were not healing in a week, then she was guilty, and would hang.
She knew she was guilty; she knew her wounds would not heal. And even if they did, how could she return to laboring in the fields with scorched fingers? She and her father would both starve to death.
Nothing mattered. Nothing could be done. Her mind spun and spun in circles, and soon it would find silence in the grave.
Hildred’s last hope—that the monk named Aidan may not bother coming to town to present his case—shattered quickly when she heard him outside the stall door. The man who responded to his words was Eadric himself. As the two men strolled closer to her prison, she struggled to piece their conversation together from the middle. She sensed from their tones that Aidan had not yet gone to the reeve. Instead it sounded as if Eadric and Aidan were in the midst of bartering.
“I know it meant a lot to you,” Eadric was saying, “but there is always more ale.”
“I thought you said your supply was low?”
“Indeed, but I can still acquire more. The result is only that it will cost you a few extra cabbages.”
“The other monks will start to notice.”
Hildred wondered if this had something to do with the sacks of food Eadric had obtained from the monk. Not all monks were allowed spirits, but whether Aidan was allowed them or not seemed beyond the point. One way or another, he was getting more than his fair share, and Eadric was clearly his supplier.
“Perhaps you’re right.” It seemed they had stopped just outside her door, and Eadric’s voice rang clearly through the wood. She strained to see him through the cracks. “I can hardly imagine the life you lead, Aidan. It must be so difficult, going without so many simple pleasures—things I take for granted, like ale and wine and meat whenever I can obtain it.”
“Yes.” She thought she heard the monk force down a watery swallow.
“You must have so much self-control, Aidan! To think, you are a cook, and yet you abstain from filling your belly until you’ve served everyone else first. It is truly self-less of you. You deserve to indulge in a few extra spirits on occasion. By God, if I were you I would indulge in much more.”
Eadric laughed, and Aidan laughed nervously with him. After a moment, the monk asked, “What sort of things would you indulge in?”
“Ah, my dear Aidan, your mind is so pure you don’t even know what I’m talking about! For your own sake I should shut my mouth right now.”
“Never mind.” The monk sounded testy. “Tell me what you meant!”
Eadric lowered his voice, and yet she could still hear every word. “If I were you I would have taken justice into my own hands today. Did you even see the beauty of the sinful wench who stole from you? I am sure your mind was too close to God to notice how her lips looked as sweet as mead, her flesh as soft as dough, and yet ripe as fruit in all the right places.”
Hildred drew back from the door, her stomach turning unpleasantly.
The monk heaved a sigh. A terrible silence followed the sound of his breath.
“If you do notice such things, and resist anyway, I am all the more awed by you,” Eadric went on. “Surely no one would blame you for a little indulgence now and then.”
When the monk finally spoke again, his voice was weak. “You … you don’t think so?”
“Of course not! Dear God, how innocent you are.”
“You know I’m not so innocent,” snapped Aidan, as if affronted.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. In any case, to make the maiden pay for her crime with a fate less than death would be a mercy, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean!” said Aidan. But he spoke too quickly to be telling the truth.
“I’m sure I don’t know either.” She could hear the smirk on Eadric’s voice, and it made her blood turn cold. How horrible it seemed to her that earlier today she had been eager for his attention, and enjoyed the touch of his breath! Now she thought his tongue must drip poison. She felt as if she could hear the monks’ mind turning, even in the heavy silence, and she shivered through her core.
“What do you think, Aidan?” said Eadric after a time. “Should I fetch the reeve so he can hear your accusation? Or do you think you could find some manner of forgiveness within yourself?”
“I … I don’t know.” The monk sounded breathless. Hildred backed further and further from the door until she was against the far wall of the stall. His shadow filled the cracks. Now, he was the one peering through the wood. “Is she in there now?” asked Aidan.
“And her hands are bound,” said Eadric. “Perhaps ... I should give you some time to think it over?”
“Perhaps.”
“I see. I’ll stall the reeve until you’re ready, then.”
&nb
sp; As Hildred listened to Eadric’s departing footsteps, she felt as if she melted into the rotted hay, and she wished that she actually would.
She could hear Aidan shuffling around on the other side of the door, and if she listened too closely she could hear him breathing heavily. The sound filled her with disgust and dread.
“I suppose you heard all that,” he said at last. His voice was terribly faint, not much stronger than a whisper, but it struck her like a slap. “Perhaps a little indulgence would do us both some good. After all, you don’t want to hang, do you?”
She didn’t know what to say. Why had Eadric done this to her? Now she knew that he was even more vile and cruel than people suspected him to be; he was completely evil. When he let her share his saddle and eat his bread he must have been toying with her, enjoying the extent of her humiliation and despair. She felt as if she truly wanted to die now; and yet some cruel survival instinct kept her from muttering a sound, kept her from saying, “Yes, I’d rather hang.”
Aidan’s fingers fumbled with the door lock. His voice fell even lower. “You must promise not to make a sound. If you do, this doesn’t have to be so bad. After all, I’m sure you’ve done things like this before, haven’t you? Why else did you dress all pretty today? You like tempting men, don’t you? And you deserve to be punished. But it’s true, I am merciful; merciful enough to keep you from hanging, if you’ll do what I ask.”
The door creaked open and his shadow fell over the hay. Just as quickly he closed the door behind him, though now it was unlocked, and thicker shadows fell over his shape. Hildred wondered if it was better that way. She could not see his face as he moved closer, though she imagined his fierce green eyes, now blazing with lust.
She knew she should scream. Doing so would save herself from this foul violation, but she would condemn herself to hang on the noose tomorrow. She thought of little Coenred. She wondered if he had survived the day. She wondered if there was any way yet she might save him, if she lived.
She flinched as his fingers found her knee. He drew back again. She realized even he feared the repercussions of his behavior.
“Well?” he hissed. “Do you want to do this or not?”
Something strange happened then. Behind the monk’s looming form, another shadow filled the cracks of the stall doorway. But she had never heard anyone approach.
“Do ... do what?” She was not sure how she found her voice, but there it was, wheezing out of her throat.
“You know full well, you little witch.” She repressed a whimper as his hand found her breast, bolder now, and squeezed. She felt a tremble go through his grip.
She glanced at the doorway again, but Aidan was too far-gone to notice. The shadow was still there, moving slightly. Someone definitely stood outside. Spite filled her as she imagined Eadric, listening in on her torment. Perhaps he had encouraged the monk to do this so that he could enjoy the show. She hated him with all her being.
“I want you to say it,” she managed at last. “I want you to swear to God that you’ll let me go if I .. if I ...”
“Give yourself to me?” His other hand reached out, pulling at the fabric of the dress. “Yes,” he said, more urgently now. “Yes, I swear I’ll let you go after this, if you don’t make a sound ...”
The door behind him creaked open. His fingers froze in place, his body going as tense as a yanked rope, as torch-light spilled onto his figure. He turned slowly, his horror only rising as he looked upon the intruder. For there behind him stood none other than the reeve himself, Wuffa.
Next to the reeve stood Eadric, a somewhat pained and disgusted look on his face.
“What the devil is going on here?” cried Wuffa.
Very belatedly, Aidan drew his hand from Hildred’s chest. “I … I … I ...” He swallowed thickly.
“I don’t know about you, Wuffa,” said Eadric, “but I heard very clearly what was going on.” His voice sounded strained. “The monk said it himself.”
Flinching with rage, Aidan straightened somewhat and found his voice. He left Hildred’s dress gaping open, and she burned with the shame. But the sight of her exposed chest made Aidan look all the more guilty to Wuffa. “She stole from me,” Aidan burst at last. “She’ll hang tomorrow, so I might as well—”
“Not anymore, she won’t,” snapped Wuffa. Hope stirred within Hildred, but the sensation was faint beneath her ongoing humiliation. “Eadric tells me he saw nothing but the two of you wrestling, and suspected you had some trick like this up your filthy sleeves. Get out of my sight before I tattle to your abbot.”
Aidan’s lips blubbered helplessly a moment. “But … you wouldn’t!”
“I will, unless you hurry along, pig!”
The monk let out a very fitting snort, then stormed away per Wuffa’s advice. When passing Eadric, he paused, but the young thegn did not look at him.
“You—you!” cried Aidan, as if he could not even think of an insult. Then he rushed out.
Wuffa, long wearied of the entire affair, turned to follow the monk’s footsteps. On his way, his shoulder knocked forcefully against Eadric’s, as if on accident, but he did not bother to apologize. Eadric did not acknowledge this. He stood still with his head bowed, saying nothing and staring into the floor until only he and Hildred remained.
At last, Eadric looked at her. “I’m sorry about that,” he said weakly. “I wouldn’t have let it go much further … but of course you didn’t know that. Good move on your part, making him state his … intentions.” He grew quiet again, and she realized he was staring at her breasts.
She flushed, drawing her knees up to cover herself. The slight movement made her realize how violently she was shaking.
“Sorry again,” said Eadric. “Perhaps you should turn around?”
Feeling faint, Hildred lifted herself to her knees and turned as he suggested. The hay rustled as he moved towards her, causing a fresh onslaught of tremors to wrack her body. His touch was so gentle on her wrists that she thought she imagined it at first, and when his grip tightened she did not flinch; then with a sharp tug, he sliced a dirk through her bindings.
She scurried away, using awkward fingers to shut her dress and tie it back together. Now that she was freed, a feeling of urgency overcame her. “My brother,” she gasped. “He’s only a baby. He’s dying.”
“Of starvation, I suppose? And that’s why you stole the milk?”
She glared at him, tears of rage and sorrow flooding her vision. “What would you know of it? You, whose tenants and livestock are the fattest in the land! Did you achieve that with lying and deceit as well?”
“How could you say that?” He actually looked hurt, his blue gaze crinkling. “I helped you, didn’t I? I saved you from the noose!”
“You really did arrange all that on purpose?” She couldn’t help but be impressed.
He shrugged. “I know Aidan well. I knew what he would do.”
Her anger returned to her. “In that case you tempted a monk into sin,” she said, “like the devil himself.”
“Oh really?” He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his clean-shaven chin. “And was it the devil who made you steal?”
“I … I ...” She wiped her tears from her cheeks. “I suppose so.”
“No it wasn’t,” snapped Eadric. “It was you who stole, and you did it to save your brother, which sounds to me like a noble cause. And if you’re still feeling proactive, perhaps we should go and check on him.”
“We?”
“Unless you’d like to walk home in the dark, while you’re still half-starving?” His tone was sharp now, reprimanding her. Feeling duly humbled and grateful for his help, Hildred bowed her head and followed him out.
This time, when they rode together, she sat behind him. She tried at first not to grip him, but sometimes she had little option but to wrap her arms around his stomach so she didn’t fall off. He offered no reaction, nor said a word for a long time. The sun fell behind them, and the fields took o
n gradient hues of green and gold. In this light, they did not seem so withered and rotten as they truly were.
It occurred to her to wonder why Eadric had bothered to help her. After all, he had benefited from his underhanded dealings with the monk; why turn on him now? Was it because he had truly run out of ale and thus would get no more business from Aidan anyway? Was it because he wanted something from her? Or perhaps he had never made a plan to help her at all, and simply played along with the events as they unfolded? She could not figure it out, but she did not think Eadric was the sort to do something without reason.
Eventually her small home peeked out from behind a slope of shrubs, its thatched roof glowing with the warm colors of the sunset. But the sight did not comfort her, for sitting outside was her father, his head clasped in his hands.
Eadric reined his horse to a stop. Hildred slid to the ground and rushed to her father’s sobbing form. She held him, and together they wept until the moon appeared in the pale sky, taunting them like a freshly-minted coin beyond their reach.