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1348

As usual, the serfs and villeins that lived in Topsham Manor were up long before the pale sun washed its light over their ramshackle homes. They had been busy from the moment the cockerel, again, became a little too enthusiastic in its job. For the last three weeks it had crowed at four o’clock in the morning and annoyed everybody a great deal. It wouldn’t do that after today as, in an unlucky accident, it would be hit over the head with a pan. The same pan that, incidentally, it would later be boiled in.

The serfs had been dressed and working for an hour before the nobles in the manor house dragged themselves out of their beds. The serfs knew that the nobles slept longer than they did and did less physical work, which was why they paid Simkin, the pig boy, to let his pigs loose in the village once a month. It satisfied them immensely to know that the noise they made would raise the dead, and not just the lord and lady of the manor.

Later that morning, Jack the miller’s britches fell down, as did Mother Harding’s fence when he tripped over it, and Betty the milkmaid got confused and tried to milk a sow instead of a cow. The sow gave Betty a dirty look, but Ailyth missed all of this too. She, at that point, had more important things to worry about.

She stared dreamily out over the battlements of the manor’s great stone keep, picking a heart shape out of the moss that grew on the wall. Maybe he would come to see her today. Maybe he would be coming home. Maybe today they (and here she allowed herself a small chuckle of glee) would walk together in the fragile spring sun. He would pick her a small posy of bluebells and weave her a chain of ivy to wear on her head, and tell her that her beauty was far more impressive than anything nature had to offer. Or maybe he would tell her that he had missed her all the time that he had been away. Or maybe...

“Young Lady!” Heloise. Again. Ailyth ducked around the corner of the keep wall and clasped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The sharp-eyed old goat had caught her. The last thing she needed to interrupt her daydreams was her crusty old nursemaid telling her to be reserved and calm and well behaved, like a lady. God’s teeth, was the woman determined to spoil all of her fun?

“Young Lady, now don’t you go thinkin’ I can’t see you there, what with your long hair a-blowin’ out in that there wind and your second best gown all scuffed and floating up around your; oh! My lady, do cover yourself up, you’s showin’ your undergarments to all the serfs of the field!”

Ailyth cursed again and adjusted her dress. One of the pig-boys whistled at her - apparently she hadn’t been as well hidden as she’d thought - and she made a rude gesture at him. A gesture that, unfortunately, Heloise caught.

“Why you rough little madam, you mind I don’t tell your mother that you’s been acting up like this, like the poor lady-dear don’t have enough to worry her head about, what with your brother Ranulf sick and her not knowing when your father’s comin’ home, and the cook drunk again and now you flashin’ yer knickers at all the boys...”

“Aye, and it would be wind that wouldn’t be attackin’ you if you’s was in ‘ere like a good Lady gettin’ yerself ready like yer mother asked. Ooooh, I’ve a mind to crack you over the skull something rotten if you don’t get your backside in here fast, and no mistake about it! Do you hear me girl?” she bellowed. “Or do you want me to come out there and do it in front of all yer fancy-men?”

Ailyth doubted very much that Heloise could have squeezed her fat behind through the narrow window for all the spices in the East. She would have liked to have told her so, but the nursemaid was going very red in the face and was brandishing a ladle. She knew if she didn’t do as she was told she’d have to remain trapped on the keep walk-way for several hours and, with all the excitement of the day ahead, she wasn’t too keen for that to happen.

“Fine,” she said, slipping through into the manor hallway. “Jesu woman, stop telling me what to do, or I’ll tell my mother I saw you getting drunk and singing rude songs about the men who come from Kernow.”

It was spring, and life on the manor was still subdued after the difficult harvest they’d had the year before. Many of the serfs had secretly been talking about whether there would be enough food to last them over the coming months, and nothing could distract them from the fear that maybe, just maybe, they might all starve. Ailyth’s father, Lord Unwin, had been gone from the manor since late December, visiting the Baron de Monbardier’s estate to beg for aid. Tristran had gone with him as part of his training to become a knight. This hadn’t done much for Ailyth’s mood these last few months. She would never know that her brothers and sisters prayed that he’d come home soon almost as much as she did.

If truth be told, Ailyth was beginning to despair of them ever coming home. They had been gone for so long and each minute dragged as long as a year. The pain of Tristran's absence was always present, always lurking in the background, and she longed for him to return soon. It was a depressing time and Ailyth whiled away her hours by casting charms that would reassure her in some way. Each night she’d place an apple under her pillow, to help her dream of him, and she quickly grew accustomed to leaving milk and bread out for the brownies to eat. She left coins by the hearth and tried to grow bluebells in her small vegetable garden, in the hope that the hidden people would help her, but nothing had happened. The rats had eaten the food and now she had been caught by Heloise, trying to carve Tristran’s name into the walls.

As she dodged Heloise Ailyth decided to ask Edward, the steward left in charge of the manor, if he had heard any news. The one good thing about having her home constantly filled with squawking maidens from neighbouring manors was that they had taught her her most powerful bargaining tool; how to flirt. And Edward, who had a bald head and no wife, always appreciated a flirt.

Ailyth made her way to the banqueting hall, where she knew Edward would be. Seeing that he was in the middle of a rather terse-looking disagreement with one of the serfs, she hung back. Servants, serfs, orphans, maids, widows, all went about their business as though the raven-haired girl was not in their way. She clung to the pillar, angry at being overlooked by everyone who shared her home. Sometimes she felt very small in the manor’s echoing hall.

He strode towards her with his hands outstretched. As he took her's in greeting, Ailyth noticed that he had a large piece of grey meat stuck to the corners of his greasy lips. She grimaced.

“And what can I do for you today?” he slithered. “Perhaps you would like to help me run the manor? Or would you like to attend court today? See what I do to those villains who break Baron de Monbardier’s and your father’s laws?”

The steward beamed at the girl, dressed up in an ermine trimmed, pale blue woollen dress, her straight black hair plaited with silver ribbons down her back. “Why, little lady,” he said, “every day I marvel at how a young girl like you, only fifteen summers old, should have learned to speak so pleasantly. Your father, my good lord, should be proud!”

Ailyth raised an eyebrow at him, wondering whether her father could even remember her name after a few ales. But, forcing herself to smile, she reminded herself exactly why she had gone looking for him. It was too late. Edward had spotted his favourite serving girl and had disappeared into the crowd.

“Sir, sir!” she called, tripping over the hem of her dress and ripping it whilst trying to keep up with him (Heloise was going to beat her for that later, she knew it), “I wanted to ask you...”

Edward was leering and dribbling at the poor maid, who looked like she was going to be violently sick thanks to his attentions. When he saw that Ailyth was still trailing him he shot a filthy look in her direction.

“Ah!” Ailyth cut in, seizing her opportunity to make a swift exit from his company. “My father is coming home? Thank you Edward, that is what I wanted to ask you!” She curtseyed for a final time and with one quick glance back, to be absolutely certain that he wasn’t going to follow her, she ran to the chapel.

The chapel in summer was the most pleasant room in the manor house, as it always seemed to be cool. In spring, however, it was still cold and uninviting; so cold that Ailyth’s breath hung about her in an icy cloud. The things she did for love! No-one else would go into the room unless they were forced. Kneeling before the heavy wooden cross that had been placed on the simple altar she clutched the cloth dyed her family’s colours of red and green. When her father came home he would find his eldest child praying, like any good Christian. Then, if Tristran had not managed to do it first, she would raise the subject of a good Christian wedding.

Only, Tristran and her father didn’t come. Not that day, nor the next. As the week grew old Ailyth began to fret, worrying that something terrible had happened to them. Her morning routine changed abruptly; instead of rising with her brothers and sisters as the sun rose, and dodging Heloise’s bad-tempered blows before morning mass, she now rose almost as early as the servants and ran into the solar before her mother was even awake. The first time Lady Eleanor woke to find Ailyth sitting eagerly on the edge of her crib she had been mildly amused. The second time she had grunted and called for her maid to escort her wayward daughter back to her own room. The maid had not been pleased to get up so early, and had told Ailyth so in no uncertain terms. From then on she had waited by the door until she could hear the women moving around, before leaping into the solar to ask her daily question: “Will they be back today?”

“Mayhap,” her mother had replied the first time. That quickly changed to, “I hope so,” followed the next day by, “I don’t know!” When seven days had passed Lady Eleanor had grown tired of her daughter’s pestering and had finally snapped; “Listen, child, I do not know when your father will be back! Edward does not know when your father will be back! He has been gone these four months and I am sure he will return soon, but please - no more! Now go and get you dressed. I will not have the people in this house seeing you in your night-garments.”

Heloise was disapproving on finding Ailyth sitting on a swing the next morning when she should have been busy. The girl was kicking the grass with her boots and looking thoroughly miserable.

“Oh, it’s all right for you, I suppose,” she said, “to be sittin’ here while there’s me runnin’ about the manor trying to tell your lady-mother that no, you haven’t done your embroidery, not flown your hawk or spun the wool. I bin runnin’ around like my backside’s on fire looking for you!”

Heloise looked worried. She crouched down onto her heels and looked the girl straight in the eye. “Now, jus’ what’s up with you?” she asked. Ailyth shrugged. “You got the trots?” Ailyth shook her head. “Fleas?”

For a tiny shard of extra sympathy, as Heloise didn’t try to be nice unless she was really worried, Ailyth made her voice sound as tiny as possible. She whispered, “Well, I was just a little bit concerned...about my father...”

“Well then, you’ll be giddy to find out that your father’s banners can be seen in the distance, and I’ll bet you a pretty penny that your young man’ll be back with you afore midday.”

Ailyth let out a scream of joy and jumped to her feet. Heloise was right; in the distance, a good two hours away, a cluster of green and red dots could be seen making their way towards Topsham Manor. They were finally home! And what was she doing talking to her maid, when she could be out there waiting for them as they entered the manor? She could wave them in with the other girls or, if her mother had her way, stand as still as a stone wall, like a well-brought up lady. Either way, at least she would see Tristran.

Tristran had come to Topsham Manor a year before, under his noble father’s instruction, to learn to be a man. Sixteen years old, long fair hair, summer-day eyes and perfect. Ailyth liked him best of all the people on the manor. He bathed as often as was necessary, mayhap every three weeks like herself, and this impressed her. It had impressed everyone, now that she came to think of it. She had lost many friends in those early days; or rivals, as she liked to call them. Not that she ever seriously thought he could be interested in her. Despite this, she’d still secretly hoped that he’d see the potential for a good wife buried within her gawkishness.

In an effort to catch his attention, she’d brushed her hair so that it was nearly capable of shining, wore her most colourful clothes and stared at him longingly whenever he walked by.

Then came the day when, joy of joys, he’d come over to talk with her while she’d been flying her hawk. As his words filled her head she stared into his eyes and willed him to fall in love with her; appearing interested yet unconcerned, pleased to see him yet aloof. “Your nose is bleeding,” he said after a while.

Benedicte! Blood had dripped all down her face and, in horror, she’d fled back to the manor house. The next time he saw her he teased her about it and made her blush. And again the next time.

Ailyth considered herself to be a patient girl. She was good, God-fearing and virtuous. But, like so many people, she had a breaking point. “Say that to me one more time,” she barked one day when Tristran had brought some of his friends along to witness his astonishing wit, “and I’ll set the dogs on you.” He’d laughed at her, his friends had laughed at her, and she’d stormed away; red in the face and determined to hate him.

So of course it came to pass, as it nearly always does, that as soon as she’d decided she hated him Tristran was everywhere. And he kept smiling at her. Hatred, Ailyth soon discovered, quickly turned into love.

Now, so many months later, they were souls-mates, and her darling had even talked of marriage. Now he was coming back she could give him her answer. Nothing could keep her still over the next few hours - not even her mother, who seemed to be unhappy that her husband was nearly at home. First she gripped the silver platter in the banqueting hall and examined her face thoroughly to make sure there were no new spots. Then she cupped her hands to her mouths and breathed out, before cursing the meat liberally doused in garlic that she’d eaten the night before. Then, for good measure, she cursed the cook for having run out of ginger on the very day she needed her breath to be sweet.

As Ailyth hopped to the window of her draughty chamber every five seconds, whilst Lady Eleanor tried to plait her hair with red ribbons, her mother grew irritated and slapped her daughter’s hands.

“Will you stay still!” she cried in exasperation. “It would be easier to plait the breeze while you’re like this.” She tugged her daughter’s head straight. “Remember your lessons; stand as straight as the wall, as silent as the worm, and have your mind on pure things. And if you move one more time while I’m fixing your hair, I swear I’ll...”

She stood back for a moment to view her work but, before she’d had a chance, Ailyth ran out of the door. Striding to the window, Lady Eleanor could already see the shape of her daughter running into the distance.

Ailyth clambered up onto the rough stone wall that bordered the manor and leaned on a patch of soft-moss. She wasn’t the only person there - several women had come to see their men home, although the goose-girl leaning next to her gave Ailyth a funny look. It wasn’t usual for the daughter of the manor to be out alone but Ailyth didn’t care and she gave the goose-girl a funny look back.

The family colours were held high above the heads of the men as they approached the manor, and a little shudder of delight floated up Ailyth’s spine. He was home, he was finally home. Hidden somewhere amongst the weary men who could barely keep their backs straight, riding horses that plodded on slowly and tired, was Tristran. She strained her neck to see him but each man rode with his head down as he passed through the gate, too exhausted to even look up.

“Come on,” a voice behind her scolded, and Ailyth turned to see Heloise winking at her and adjusting the great, dirty-white wimple that covered her head and shoulders. “They’ll go straight to the banqueting hall. Why don’t we meet them there? But lack-a-mercy, wash your hands! You’re all covered in mud.”

He saw her first, when she sped into the great hall and stopped abruptly in front of the imposing figure of her father, and it was a sight that made strange and not altogether unpleasant feelings of joy rise in his throat. He almost burst with wanting to fling his arms around her. The days had been too long since they’d parted. She looked an absolute state, and he was so pleased she hadn’t changed. Her raven hair had come loose and was all askew around her face, her cheeks were bright scarlet from running and he wouldn’t have swapped her for all the jewels in the kingdom. He longed to hold her but, with her father and all of the nobles of the court around him, he instead made do with grinning at her wildly.

“Daughter!” Lord Unwin boomed, holding his arms out to her. Ailyth pulled a face and curtseyed, guessing correctly that he had forgotten her name again. “Oh, you are a welcome sight for this old man’s eyes!” he cried.

He strode towards her and clamped her against his chest. Ailyth could smell months of sweat and grease on the battered fur wrapped around his shoulders. She struggled out of his grip as soon as possible and glanced shyly at Tristran.

“I missed you,” Tristran mouthed at her. Whilst Lord Unwin greeted his other sons and daughters and, finally, his wife, they started edging towards each other. They couldn’t touch, couldn't touch, but somehow just being next to each other made up for it. Ailyth longed to be able to cause an outcry more than anything, but she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of any of her mother’s sharp slaps. Lady Eleanor had just been presented with a large golden ring and Ailyth could well imagine how much of a dent it would leave on her face.

While Lord Unwin was being cuffed heartily on the back by Edward, Tristran pointed to the door and nodded. Ailyth understood straight away and began quietly drifting towards the exit, followed by Tristran who was trying to look as subtle as could be. As the fresh daylight touched their faces Ailyth broke into a spontaneous run and flung herself out of the door, hurtling out towards the meadows beyond the manor, with her love close behind her. Neither cared that Lady Eleanor was shouting at them from inside the house. They didn’t stop until they had both reached the crumbling stone wall that slouched around the manor and, glancing over their shoulders, they saw that Heloise was in pursuit, although still some distance away.

“She’s going to catch us!” Ailyth giggled. Looking again at the red-faced old wench, huffing and puffing and having to stop and bend over a stile, she and Tristran burst into fits of laughter. Impulsively she grabbed his hands and they began their chase again, only this time laughing and skipping and goading their pursuer on.

Tristran raised an eyebrow and flashed a dazzling smile, which instantly made Ailyth realise that she would do anything he asked her. “She’ll probably do that now anyway...” he said. “You might as well give her something worth punishing you for.”