Part Three of five

Her mouth tasted of ashes and her tongue seemed cleaved to her palette. She was chilled and shivering as she slowly opened her eyes into the grey dawn. Her cheek was pressed against something soft, and hazily, she recognized it-- her gown. Puzzled, she tried to raise herself and realized why she was so cold. Her shawl was all that was covering her. Shocked, she sat upright, setting off an explosion of pain in her head, and causing her stomach to roil. She retched, worsening the hammering inside her skull. Never had she felt so ill.

Pushing herself to her feet, Amanda folded the shawl more closely about her, as she searched for some water. Her throat was raw and her mouth so dry, she could hardly swallow. A short distance from the cold ashes of the fire, there was a small stream. She staggered to its edge, trembling with cold, and knelt down to drink deeply. Feeling slightly better, she washed her face. Her head cleared a little.

What had happened? Her memory was fogged by the wine, and all she could recollect was Randall's sweet voice, singing her love songs, and then, a kiss. No, she remembered suddenly, there was more. He had said he loved her, yes, he said he was mad for her, and then... She groaned, and closed her eyes, as the scene flashed into her memory. But, she rationalized, he told her that this is how men and women show their love for each other, that made it all right. She smiled tentatively. Of course, it was all right, he loved her. She looked about for Randall, but there was no sign of him. With a shudder of dread, she realized, he was gone.

She stood unsteadily, gazing around the dawning forest, at the ghostly wisps of mist curling around the trees, listening for any human sound, any sound at all. An eerie silence persisted as if the forest were holding its breath. As she was holding hers, trying not to give in to the desperation that threatened to overwhelm her. A terrible thought occurred to her.

He wouldn't, she thought, he couldn't have... Amanda bent to her crumpled gown and picked it up. The thong which tied the purse inside her skirt was cut. Her money was gone! She felt panic beginning to engulf her as she shook the gown in case she was mistaken. A silver coin fell from its folds and clinked on the ground. Payment? A token of his contempt?

A howl of outrage and pain burst from her as she clenched the coin in her fist, preparing to hurl it far into the forest. But she stopped herself. It was all the money she had. With trembling fingers, Amanda loosened some stitches from the hem of her gown and squeezed the coin in, securing it by drawing the thread tight.

As the sky lightened, she knew she had no choice but to go on. First, she would wash away the shame of her seduction. Despite the chill of the morning air and the bracing cold of the stream, she waded in and bathed, scrubbing her skin vigorously with sand. Drying with the shawl, she put on her gown.

Her comb and other personal articles were scattered around where she had slept. She tied them into the shawl and found her way back onto the road.

The sun hovered overhead as Amanda trudged along the dirt road. It almost seemed she was the only mortal left in the world. She passed no habitations or other travellers. Her headache had cleared, but the melancholy remained. Since early morning she had run the gamut of emotions from anger to guilt, from outrage to self-pity. She felt burnt out, destroyed.

The longer she walked, the more keenly she felt betrayed and the angrier she became. Her heart was set on vengeance at the last, an act she had never considered before, no matter what the harm done to her. Amanda held no grudges against anyone, though she was all too often the object of other's retribution. Now, she solaced herself with visions of her own retaliation should she ever meet with her seducer. He would suffer, she promised herself, in the same measure as he had caused her to suffer. She smiled grimly and drawing in a deep breath, straightened herself, and began to pace more swiftly as if she had some destination in mind.

From behind, Amanda caught the sound of a waggon, rattling along the road. As it drew nearer, she could see it was a sturdy cart, pulled by a heavy-boned black horse. She stepped out of the way, waiting for it to pass. Instead, the driver pulled rein and stopped. She looked him over warily, as he also mistrustfully regarded her.

His blue, rather pig-like eyes squinted at her watchfully from the florid, glistening vastness of his round face. A battered felt hat, stained with sweat, sat on his sandy hair and he scratched his large belly thoughtfully with a beefy red hand. He looked perplexed at finding a lone woman on the road in these dangerous times.

"Where are you going, girl?" he asked. "Don't you know what could happen to a woman travelling alone these days?"

Amanda laughed bitterly, and said, "I have nothing to fear. But, good sir, I would welcome a rest from my weary trudging. Would you allow me to ride with you for a distance?"

The driver looked her over, considering if she could pay for such a favour, and deciding by her appearance, she could not, replied, "It is a small thing to ask, and I would welcome the company of such a comely maid. The road is long and lonely for a carter." With that, he reached out his hand to help Amanda onto the bench beside him. His hand was clammy with sweat.

She glanced back into the waggon and saw many packages, wrapped in various cloths. She was curious. "What is in those parcels, sir?"

"Trade goods, mostly. I deliver goods, receive the payment and take a fee for myself. It is a good business, but a lonely one. Usually, one of my children accompanies me but my wife fears the plague which now rages in Rouen and Paris. So far, we have been spared in our small town."

"There is plague in Paris?" Amanda's heart sank. How could she go there now to seek her benefactress, with the threat of death from plague?

"Rouen has been sacked by Norsemen, and Paris is in peril. Nowhere is safe near the Seine. Those devils in longboats destroy everything in their path. If you are thinking of going to Paris, think again. The plague is bad enough, you might even survive it. But the Norsemen, with a maid who looks like you..." He gestured openly with his hands.

He had left the sentiment unfinished, but Amanda's imagination finished it for him. She shuddered. Where could she go now, she wondered. Impulsively, she asked, "Is there work in your town for a freewoman?"

With a slow calculating look, the carter's eyes took in her appearance and he seemed to come to some decision. An crafty smile stole over his features for a moment, and Amanda sensed danger.

"My own mother could use a maid. She is infirm and needs much help. My wife and daughters are very kind to her but she requires more than they can do. Mama insists on living in her own house. She will not come to live with me. Very independent, and a bit cranky too," he laughed with fondness. " It needs a lot of patience to deal with her. Would you wish to work as a maid?" he asked, taking in her unkempt appearance. There was something different about this girl, he thought. Her clothing is that of a peasant, but her face belongs to the nobility. The work seemed beneath one such as she.

To his surprise, she answered, "If your mother agrees to hire me, I will work for her. How shall I be paid?"

The carter studied the road for a few moments, as if considering this weighty question. Finally, he replied, "You will receive board and lodging and a monthly stipend. Would that be sufficient?

Amanda required to know how much the stipend would be, and for several minutes, they haggled over the amount. The meagre wage he would pay was so low, she was insulted, and disgustedly considered refusing the post. The silver coin in her hem was more than what he offered as a whole year's wage! Yet, she had to accept in the end as she saw no options before her. Rather sullenly, she said, "I agree to your terms, sir, if your mother will accept me."

The carter gave Amanda a self-satisfied smirk, congratulating himself on his hard bargaining, his shrewdness in getting a slavey for such a wage. And, he thought, his eyes sliding over her graceful body with a lecherous, lingering glance, perhaps even more could be got from her than work. She seemed desperate enough for money, he speculated, taking in her dishevelled appearance, what else might she not do for him?

Amanda turned and caught a glimpse of the lascivious look in his porcine eyes, and forced herself not to recoil. Taking a deep breath she said, "My name in Amanda. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

The carter seemed pleased by her deferential manner. It boded well for what he had in mind. He introduced himself. "I am Aeglfinn. My mother is Ghislaine. We live in the village of Beauchamps. It is a small place, but we have a fine church, plus a manor house. Our seigneur, Comte Geoffrey de Beauchamps, has several large farms and many serfs. He protects us from those Viking devils with his men-at-arms."

These things did not trouble Amanda. She was more concerned what sort of woman Ghislaine would turn out to be. This is not what I would have thought my life would be, she admitted to herself. In fact, she acknowledged, her expectations were hazy at best, when she thought about her future. But, it certainly did not include being a servant in someone's house. And at a serf's wage.

She was downcast but realized her situation was now quite precarious with the loss of her purse, and any work was better than none. With no money, rather haphazard domestic skills and no man to support her, Amanda knew she was lucky to find this position with Aeglfinn's mother. She would have to make the best of it.

Amanda was enchanted by the countryside. It was the furthest she had ever been from her home, and everything seemed exotic, strange and wonderful. As they passed the farms, Aeglfinn would point out what was growing there, who the farm folk belonged to. Her gloom dissipated as she began to hope that this would be a new start for her, in this land where no one knew her.

The village of Beauchamps came into view after they had passed miles of tilled farm fields, cattle and sheep pens, barns and byres. The land looked fertile and new green shoots poked up from the dark rows. So different from her own river valley, the land was flat and expansive, with the fields cleared and fringed by hedgerows.

Beauchamps followed the usual plan of villages which were dependent upon a manor. On either side of the main road, the rude cottages of the villeins lay, their properties stretching out behind the huts as long, narrow fields. These fields or crofts were farmed by serfs who subsisted on their own produce and paid a tithe to the seigneur in exchange for his protection. Serfs were tied to their liege lord almost like slaves. They could not move off his lands without his permission, nor marry unless he gave them leave. Like a stern parent, the seigneur wielded almost absolute power over all the lives within his demesne.

Being a freewoman, Amanda had little understanding of the manorial system which existed in villages like Beauchamps. She had no experience with serfdom, other than viewing the endless toil of the labourers. Having shared in that toil for a short while on the Abbey farm, she understood the wretchedness of their lives. She had always felt her family was a class above that of the serfs, and paid them scant attention, almost as if they were beasts in the fields.

It was with that view that Amanda and the carter drove past the sweating labourers, hardly noticing the folk who scythed the hay or piled the haywains. She thought it made a pretty sight, the peasants at their work, the bright sun casting harsh shadows on the ground, and the warm breeze blowing the chaff around like snow.

"Here we are," said Aeglfinn, halting the waggon in front of thatched-roof cottage near the centre of the village. The road opened into a large common and the cottage stood back from this greensward. The small patch of ground in front of the hut was surrounded by a twig fence, which penned in a small flock of chickens. They fluttered in alarm as Amanda and the carter descended from the waggon.

Aeglfinn held out a restraining hand to Amanda as she was about to follow him through the gate. "Wait here, and I will speak to my mother." He went inside the cottage, leaving Amanda standing by the waggon.

In the road dust, she saw something glitter. It seemed to be a couple of coins. Aeglfinn must have dropped them when he got down from the waggon. She glanced about to see if anyone was watching and bent to pick them up. For a moment, Amanda considered returning the money to Aeglfinn, then recalling his miserly haggling over her wage, she squeezed the coins in her hand. Bending down as if to tie her shoes, she placed a coin in each. A slight twinge of conscience assailed her, but then with a sly smile she thought, these coins amount to about two month's wages. It would help to make up the difference in what she thought her labour was worth.

Sudden exhilaration seized her, and she suppressed a giggle. There were definitely easier ways to get money, she decided. Her spirits rose and she felt stronger somehow. He was trying to take advantage of her, and she had outwitted him. It felt good. She was still smiling when Aeglfinn came out of the cottage and beckoned to her.

Nervously, Amanda entered the dim interior of the cottage. The smell of things rotting, excrement and other noxious odours greeted her, and she tried not to breathe. But the stink of the unclean house was almost overpowering. The soot-blackened walls reflected little of the light that came in from the door and small windows. In the gloom, she could see Aeglfinn standing near a cot on which a very old woman sat propped.

The earthen floor was damp and slippery, and Amanda tried not to see what she was stepping on as she crossed the room, avoiding as she went, the dogs which skulked and growled as she passed. Reaching the cot, she waited for the woman to speak.

Amanda's first impression of Ghislaine was of a sharp-beaked bird of prey. The old woman's beady black eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on the young girl, and she sucked at gums which were long bereft of teeth. Her shrunken body seemed bony and frail, but her severe face with its great hooked nose and those piercing eyes still showed a stubborn strength.

Amanda sensed the woman was taking her measure, and finding her wanting. Perhaps, she thought, half-hopefully, she will not hire me. She did not relish spending any more time in this reeking, gloomy house.

But to her surprise, the old woman cleared her throat, spitting on the floor, and said in a raspy high pitched voice, "Come closer, girl. Let me look at you." She nodded approvingly to Aeglfinn and he sighed with relief. "You're big for a girl. Are you strong?"

"Yes, madame," Amanda replied respectfully.

"What were you doing wandering around by yourself, girl? Are you a whore?" the old woman asked, her voice strident as she peered myopically at Amanda.

"No! Madame, I was looking for work. Your son offered me a job and I am willing to undertake it, if you wish to hire me." Amanda felt her face flush with embarrassment, glad of the dimness to cover her anger.

"Well, girl, we will see if you are worth your keep. Bring in my packages, and I will tell you what your duties will be. Aeglfinn, show the girl which parcels are mine," she said sharply to her son. He hastened to the door, and Amanda followed, glad to get out into the fresh air.

"I think she likes you, Amanda," Aeglfinn stated, as he piled some parcels into her arms. "Your work will be light. I just wanted someone to care for her. You can see how frail she is."

Amanda met this with an incredulous stare. Frail? she thought. The old harridan rules her son like he was still a child. Her limbs might be weak but her mind and her tongue are sharp enough! She deliberated leaving and trying her luck elsewhere, but hunger made her feel desperate. She had not eaten that day, and was beginning to feel light-headed, especially after the fetid atmosphere of that room.

"Take these inside, and unpack them. I must continue on my deliveries. I shall see you tomorrow." With that, the carter hauled himself onto the bench and clucking to the horse, rumbled off down the road.

Amanda stood uncertainly for several seconds, then with a heavy sigh, entered her new employer's house to begin her duties.

"She can't cook, she can't sew, she's disobedient and lazy..." Ghislaine's shrill voice carried out of the cottage into the croft garden where Amanda was pulling weeds. The old woman was nagging at her son as usual. Amanda was glad it was his turn this time. For three weeks she had borne the brunt of Ghislaine's evil temper.

Upon entering her service, Amanda has set about cleaning the cottage to a habitable condition. In her former home and in the convent, she had learned to keep her surroundings clean and tidy. The cottage disgusted her with its smell and the garbage that lay everywhere. She could not live like this.

Amanda went to the carpenter's shop and got a sack of sawdust. She spread this on the greasy floor, explaining to Ghislaine that the old woman would be less likely to slip on it. The woody scent soon overlaid most of the other odours. She also picked catmint and lavender, and sprinkled these around. In a few days, the air in the cottage was distinctly improved. She then concentrated on clearing out the piles of refuse that mouldered in heaps near Ghislaine's cot, burying them in a midden that she dug at the end of the garden.

All the while, Ghislaine nagged and complained, ordering her to do the most menial tasks. The old woman scarcely moved from her cot except to relieve herself in the back privy. From dawn to dark, Ghislaine's piercing voice followed Amanda, always carping and never satisfied by anything she did. Amanda had decided that when she received her month's wages, she would leave.

Now, listening to her cavilling at Aeglfinn over her shortcomings, Amanda seethed with indignation. Everyone in the vicinity could hear her! The evil old witch, Amanda thought. I hope when I grow old, I never turn into a miserable creature like her! She ripped ferociously at the weeds, uprooting some vegetables as well.

"Mother, I have an idea that will make us more money than you ever dreamed of," Aeglfinn said. His voice dropped to a nearly inaudible whisper. "Where is the girl now?"

Amanda sensed he was about to say something about her. Intrigued, she slipped closer to the cottage, and caught the last of what he was proposing.

"...and each man will pay in coin for her. What do you think, Mama? At least, as you have said, she will earn her keep."

Amanda could hear the wheedling in his voice, as he strove for her approval. She could almost feel sorry for him, having such a mother. Not waiting to hear Ghislaine's answer, Amanda went back to the garden, trying to fathom what she had heard. What was she to do for money? Was she to share in it? Somehow, she didn't think so. This was some financial arrangement between mother and son for some work which she would do. But for what work was she suited that men would pay in coin?

A chill invaded her suddenly as a thought crept into her mind. No, they could not mean that! It was too wicked to contemplate. But, what else could it be? Ghislaine's first question to her was, are you a whore? Did they think to make her one? In spite of the warmth of the autumn sun, Amanda shuddered. She had felt disgusted by Aeglfinn's lecherous looks and his efforts to touch her whenever he got near her. Amanda had learned to keep a safe distance. Was this his way of retaliating for repulsing his advances?

Lost in her own thoughts, Amanda started when a shadow fell across her, and Aeglfinn said, curtly, "Tomorrow you will accompany me on my errands. I will need extra help for a few days."

"Why not take one of your children? Your mother needs me here."

He leered at her with a mean smirk. His porcine eyes gleamed with greed as he watched her stand up. She was taller by several inches, and he let his gaze travel over her with evident lust. Her face must have shown her aversion, as he said, "A woman's place is at the command of a man. You will do as you are told. I am your master!" With that he went back into the cottage, where Amanda could hear a hushed conversation, punctuated by Ghislaine's nasty cackling laugh.

The sky was barely light when Aeglfinn rattled up to the cottage in his waggon. Amanda stepped out into the cool dawn. There was the hint of winter coming. The air was bracing and fresh. She climbed onto the bench beside Aeglfinn and he clucked the horse into a slow gait out of the still sleeping village.

He glanced at the girl beside him. And grinned wickedly, congratulating himself on his fine idea. His mother was proud of him. He would make them both rich.

She was hardly aware of his scrutiny, wandering in her own inner landscape. Amanda had already decided to leave, this new turn of events hastening her departure. She had made a hasty plan, and just waited for the time to be right.

The two travellers rode in silence as the sun rose higher to warm them and they began to pass other travellers going in the opposite direction. Amanda wondered where he was taking her, as they passed through several small villages. Around mid-day, they arrived at the outskirts of a large town and drove down the main road into its centre.

Amanda stared around in fascination. She had never seen so many buildings of so many types. Aware of her interest, Aeglfinn pointed out the purposes of some of the structures.

"That is the local inn," he said, "And there is the weaver's, the tanner's, the tinsmith..." Aeglfinn seemed to know all the businesses in the town. He drew up in the town square near the well, and climbed down. "Wait here," he ordered as he turned toward the inn and disappeared inside.

Amanda could hear a sudden commotion of loud male voices and laughter. A few faces appeared at the inn window. She felt the scrutiny of many eyes. Rage began to seethe within her as she waited for Aeglfinn to return. She searched the town for a place of refuge or a way to escape.

He strode back from the inn, wiping ale foam from his lips, wearing a self-satisfied grin. Climbing back onto the bench he flicked the traces and the cart started forward.

"Have we no business in this town, Aeglfinn?" Amanda asked, trying to keep her voice level She was beginning to tremble with dread, not knowing what he planned to do with her.

"Soon enough," he chuckled, shooting her a malicious look.

As they left the town, Amanda glanced back to see they were being followed by some men. The cart topped a hill and they were lost to sight. It was then she jumped from the moving waggon, and clambering over the stone fence which bordered the road, ran into the fields toward a small woods. Her breath seared her throat as she raced into the trees, searching for a place to hide. It was an old woods with not much undergrowth she realized with panic. No cover. She ran on for what seemed an eternity, finally seeing a field on the far side of the woods.

The serfs gathering grain stared in amazement at the girl running toward them, her gown torn and her face flushed with exertion. She rushed into the middle of the group of women stooking sheaves, and panted, "Your master sent me to help with the harvest." She made a shooing motion at them and the serfs, exchanging puzzled looks, went on with their work.

Seeing a young lad with a wooden pail and pannikin, Amanda accosted him and dipping out a large draught of water, drank thirstily, then poured some water over her neck. Her strange actions attracted the attention of the workers, but she joined the women and began tying and stooking the sheaves with enough skill to allay their mistrust of a stranger somewhat.

She laughed with the exhilaration of her escape, and especially, the prize she had taken from Aeglfinn's vicious mother. After hearing of their plans for her, she had decided she would not leave empty-handed. A few weeks earlier, while cleaning the cottage, she had discovered a pouch of coins hidden in a jar of herbs. Last night as Ghislaine lay snoring noisily on her cot, Amanda had stealthily taken the purse from the jar, refilling it with herbs. The leather pouch was now tied securely under her skirt where she felt its comforting weight, causing her to laugh again.

The autumn sun was hot, and the chaff from the grain stuck to her, itching madly. But Amanda stayed with the serfs, sharing their labour while wondering when it might be safe to get back onto the road. As they worked, the serfs chatted in Gaelic, a language with which Amanda had scant familiarity. Her foster father, Cedric, spoke it sometimes and had taught Amanda some basic phrases. She knew they were talking about her, but could not understand enough to catch their meaning.

"I am Amanda," she said in Gaelic, causing a moment of confusion, then broad smiles as several women and men also introduced themselves. Her use of their own tongue seemed to calm any lingering doubts about her being what she said she was, and the serfs accepted her as of one their own. She took comfort in their warm stolidity.

One of the women suddenly said, "Ah, here comes our meal." The serfs stopped work for a moment, watching the approach of a waggon coming toward them from the end of the field, accompanied by a rider on horseback. Seeing the rider, the serfs exchanged looks, and busied themselves with the grain harvest.

Amanda understood the word 'meal', but wondered why the rider caused them concern. She bent back to work, her hands sore from blisters and splinters of straw. When she had done serf work before, as a penance on the Abbey farm, she had vowed she would never again labour like a beast in the field. Yet, here she was, sneezing from the flying chaff, her gown stuck to her like a second skin, and so ravenously hunger, she felt faint. The prospect of food made her mouth water. She would join their meal, then leave as soon as she could.

The waggon stopped a short distance from the serfs, and the driver got down and threw back a canvas covering the back of the waggon. Amanda could see loaves of bread, cheeses, meat, as well as several flagons. The women came forward and began to pass the food around, taking some for themselves and going to rest under the trees bordering the field. Amanda accepted a portion and joined them.

The rider had alighted from his horse and was checking the grain, squeezing the kernels in his fingers. He seemed satisfied, and smiled at the workers, his smile disappearing when he encountered Amanda's face in the group. He looked puzzled then suspicious. He beckoned her over.

Amanda had been watching him covertly, wondering who he was. He was just under her own height with the sturdy build of a man of the land. His ruddy face was surrounded by pale blond hair, and she could see just a whisp of beard at his chin. He wore a white linen blouse, trimmed with colourful borders, overtopped by a dark brown tunic which was tied at the waist with a leather belt from which hung a knife and a sword. His leggings were of a lighter brown and his hose were gaitered with red leather thongs which tied just under his knee. She thought by his demeanour, he must be the steward, though he was richly dressed.

Amanda had managed only a few mouthfuls of food, and now feared she would be sent away before she could satisfy her hunger. With as much deference as she could muster, she genuflected to him, and waited for him to speak.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my fields, girl?" he demanded, his cold blue eyes narrowing as he glared at this stranger among the farm serfs.

"I am just a peasant girl looking for work, sir," she said, keeping her eyes lowered. She added, "I hoped if you saw how well I can work, you might hire me for the harvest, sir."

He was clearly at a loss to deal with her. No one had ever voluntarily come to work as a serf that he had ever heard. Frowning, he asked, "How long have you been working here?"

"Since early this morning, sir," Amanda said, venturing a look at him.

Coming to a decision, he said abruptly, "Finish your meal, and then go. I don't need any more workers." Reaching into a pouch on his belt, he pulled out a coin and handed it to her. "Your day's wages." With that, he strode back to his horse, and was about to mount, when he stopped, and took another long look at her. A considering glance crossed his face and he returned to her, leading his horse.

"Maybe we do have some work for you, girl. Come up to the manor when you have eaten. You may ride back on the waggon." He mounted and cantered up the field, leaving Amanda in a quandary.

Should she take up the offer of work, or go on down the road? Was Aeglfinn anywhere nearby? Perhaps she would just see what he was offering then decide. Amanda went back to the women's group and finished her meal. The other workers now regarded her with their former suspicion and she felt their chilly disapproval.

She helped the women pick up the remnants of the meal, and put it back into the cart. She climbed onto the bench and the driver clucked the horse into a walk toward the manor house.

From their vantage point, Amanda could see nothing of the manor, as the cart slowly made its way down the edge of the fields, avoiding the stooked grain. A small woods lay at the end of the field and as they drove through it, Amanda caught sight of a large red building. At first, she thought it was a church, but as they drew nearer, realized it was surrounded by many outbuildings. The cart track passed barns, byres and stables, as well as chicken coops, a brewery, smithy and then wound around a large pond, behind which the manor stood grandly reflected on its serene surface.

Amanda was quite unprepared for this splendour and gasped aloud. The driver nodded and said, "The seigneur, Gilbert de Bretagne, is a very rich man, as you can see. But he is a good master." He stopped the cart in front of the manor, allowing Amanda to alight, then drove around behind the imposing building.

The rider from the field strode out of the stable toward her, as Amanda hung back, irresolute, fearing to enter such a grand place. He took her arm, ungently, and propelled her to the entrance.

"Does your master allow you to enter his abode so familiarly?" Amanda asked, her voice hushed, as she gazed around at the vaulted ceilings and walls of the great hall into which they had entered. Along the walls, below the stained glass clerestory windows, were banners, weapons, coats of arms. It was an awesome sight to a girl raised in a small village. She felt diminished, out of her depth, and oppressed by the sheer weight of all that stone.

Impatiently he said, "I am the master here. Follow me." He walked swiftly to a doorway and up a narrow spiral staircase which turned right throughout its height. He stepped through another doorway into a corridor and, with Amanda at his heels, he stopped in front of a wooden door and knocked.

A muffled reply bade him enter. He left Amanda in the corridor where she could hear a muted conversation between the master and a woman. The door opened, and he beckoned her to come into the room.

Inside it was hot and airless, and smelt of sickness. At the far end of the large room was a canopied bed, its curtains drawn aside so Amanda could see a woman lying there propped on white pillows. She favoured Amanda with a disdainful glance then to the man said, "Gilbert, it is too vexing to train a new girl. Lenore can do for me. She doesn't mind."

"Eleanor," he said gently, "You need someone stronger to help you get around. Lenore is too weak. And you cannot have a man tending to your personal needs. This peasant girl is big and strong. She is used to hard work. Look at her. She will do for you." He entreated her kindly, but the woman seemed to mistrust Amanda on first sight. Her narrowed gaze suggested suspicion and something more, dislike.

"Where did she come from?" Eleanor asked him, as if Amanda were invisible. Gilbert shrugged.

Amanda tried to suppress the indignation that boiled within as they continued to talk about her as if she were a dumb animal. She tried not to let her anger show, but finally, when Eleanor suggested that Amanda was not intelligent enough to carry out her duties, she burst out with, "Madame, perhaps if you or the master could enlighten me as to what my duties might be, I could answer for myself."

Her angry dark eyes flashed from the man to the woman as they both regarded her as if a horse had spoken. It was all Amanda could do to not to laugh.

"I see she is insolent," Eleanor said, continuing to ignore Amanda. "I will not stand for that in a servant," she added, pointedly looking at Gilbert.

Gilbert turned to address Amanda. "I know you are just a peasant girl but you will learn to speak to your lady with proper respect, if you wish to remain here."

"Excuse me, madame," Amanda said, lowering her eyes. "I do wish to know what will be required of me, if you accept me."

Eleanor laid back on her soft pillows as if the conversation had exhausted her. Her wan face seemed sunken and the dark smudges under her eyes betokened her ill health. She waved wearily at Gilbert and said, "Have her if you like, husband. Let Lenore tell her what she is to do. Now, please leave me, for this wrangling has quite worn me out." She turned her head and closed her eyes, allowing for no further dialogue.

Gilbert hesitated for a moment, then nodded to Amanda to follow him into the corridor. He strode down the stone staircase and in the great hall, beckoned to a servant. "Bring Lenore to me. I wish to speak with her."

"My wife has lost our latest child and has not recovered her health so quickly this time. She needs to carried from her bed to her bath, and other personal needs. Do you understand, girl?" Amanda nodded.

He studied Amanda for a long moment, and seemed about to say something more but a young girl of about fourteen appeared at the end of the hall accompanied by the servant. She was petite, with the same fair hair as her father, and the bluest eyes Amanda had ever seen. She was richly gowned with fine jewelled brooches on either shoulder, and walked with the sedate dignity of a princess. Lenore simpered at her father, then directed a haughty glance at Amanda, dismissing her as of no importance.

Unused to this arrogance, Amanda found herself again focussing on the floor to avoid Lenore seeing the anger in her eyes. These nobles, she thought, treat others as dirt under their feet. I shall not put up with it. I am a freewoman, after all. Thus reassuring herself, she raised her eyes to meet Lenore's and was surprised by the calculating malevolence that flashed there momentarily.

"Lenore," her father began, "you will instruct this girl - what is your name?"

"Amanda, sir."

"You will instruct Amanda in her duties of caring for your mother. This will relieve you of that burden, my dear child. Amanda is more suited to this type of work than you." Gilbert kissed his daughter on the top of her head, and without a look at Amanda, went out of the hall.

The two girls eyed each other for several moments, then Lenore said, "Well, girl, if you are to look after Mama, then come with me. I will show you what to do."

"Where shall I stay, mademoiselle?" Amanda asked.

"You may share Yolande's room. I will introduce you. Follow me."

Continued in Part Four of Five