safety in the guise of the thegn.”
“What is this thegn, Dagda? Is he a noble like my father?”
Dagda thought a moment. “Yes,” he said, “thegns could be called nobles. They are freemen with large holdings of land. They may also possess other forms of wealth. From the richness of his clothing, his cultured speech, and the fine brooch he wears, I suspect that Aldwine Athelsbeorn is a wealthy man, and perhaps more educated than most. Certainly he must have some influence, for this bishop was willing to aid him.”
They followed the Saxon and Bishop Wulfstan through the streets, along the riverbank, and had Dagda not been such a big man himself he would have been hard put to keep up with them. Finally they entered a small well-kept two-story house. The building was set next to an orchard on the edge of the city itself. Two well-dressed servants hurried to escort them into the hall of the house where a fire burned taking the chill from the damp afternoon.
“Sit down, sit down,” the thegn said to the bishop, and to Dagda. Then he looked to his servants. “Bring wine,” he said quietly, and he turned to Dagda. “Tell us the child’s story, but first I would know your name.”
“I am called Dagda mac Scolaighe. Once I was a warrior to be feared, but the priests brought me to Christ, and a king in Ulster gave me his child, Maire Tir Connell, to raise. My lady Maire wed when she was fifteen to a Breton nobleman, Ciaran St. Ronan. Shortly after she bore their child she died, but before her death she put my lady Mairin into my keeping as her father had once done with her. After several years my lord remarried to a woman who hated my small mistress, and when lord St. Ronan died of the injuries he suffered in an accident, this wicked creature sold my little lady to the slaver Fren.”
“Why?” The question was put to him by Bishop Wulfstan.
“The lady Blanche was expecting her own child. She feared if it were a female then it would be my mistress, of course, who would be the heiress to Landerneau, her father’s estate. By ridding herself of her dead husband’s elder child she opened the way for her own. She did not even wait to learn the sex of her own child. There was no one to protect my lady Mairin but me, and what power would a poor man have over a nobleman’s widow? None of my lord’s family was left to oppose her actions. Landerneau is remote, and so who would protest the child’s disappearance?” Dagda had deliberately left out the fact that Blanche St. Ronan had managed to have Mairin declared a bastard by the bishop of St. Brieuc. Churchmen were notorious for sticking together in a situation although this bishop Wulfstan did not look like a man to be fooled. Still the man was a stranger as far as Dagda was concerned, and he couldn’t be too careful with his lady’s reputation. It was unlikely they would ever be involved with the lady Blanche and her uncle again. He had Mairin to protect. His story was a simple and plausible one. It was not unheard-of for a second wife to try to rid herself of children from the first marriage.
Bishop Wulfstan nodded with understanding. “This Blanche St. Ronan does not sound like an admirable woman,” he noted with great understatement. “You have done a good thing, Aldwine, my friend. I think this child will prove a solace to your wife’s grief. Eada is a good and gentle woman. The child’s story will touch her heart.” He looked at Mairin. “Why does the child not speak, Dagda? She does not look simple.”
A small smile touched the corners of Dagda’s mouth. “I have learned the English tongue because I fought the English at one time, but my lady Mairin, although born in Ireland, has lived most of her short life in Brittany, and speaks only Breton or Norman French. She is intelligent, however, and will learn quickly.”
Aldwine Athelsbeorn looked at Mairin, and smiled his gentle smile. She was probably the loveliest thing he had ever seen. Holding
“What is this thegn, Dagda? Is he a noble like my father?”
Dagda thought a moment. “Yes,” he said, “thegns could be called nobles. They are freemen with large holdings of land. They may also possess other forms of wealth. From the richness of his clothing, his cultured speech, and the fine brooch he wears, I suspect that Aldwine Athelsbeorn is a wealthy man, and perhaps more educated than most. Certainly he must have some influence, for this bishop was willing to aid him.”
They followed the Saxon and Bishop Wulfstan through the streets, along the riverbank, and had Dagda not been such a big man himself he would have been hard put to keep up with them. Finally they entered a small well-kept two-story house. The building was set next to an orchard on the edge of the city itself. Two well-dressed servants hurried to escort them into the hall of the house where a fire burned taking the chill from the damp afternoon.
“Sit down, sit down,” the thegn said to the bishop, and to Dagda. Then he looked to his servants. “Bring wine,” he said quietly, and he turned to Dagda. “Tell us the child’s story, but first I would know your name.”
“I am called Dagda mac Scolaighe. Once I was a warrior to be feared, but the priests brought me to Christ, and a king in Ulster gave me his child, Maire Tir Connell, to raise. My lady Maire wed when she was fifteen to a Breton nobleman, Ciaran St. Ronan. Shortly after she bore their child she died, but before her death she put my lady Mairin into my keeping as her father had once done with her. After several years my lord remarried to a woman who hated my small mistress, and when lord St. Ronan died of the injuries he suffered in an accident, this wicked creature sold my little lady to the slaver Fren.”
“Why?” The question was put to him by Bishop Wulfstan.
“The lady Blanche was expecting her own child. She feared if it were a female then it would be my mistress, of course, who would be the heiress to Landerneau, her father’s estate. By ridding herself of her dead husband’s elder child she opened the way for her own. She did not even wait to learn the sex of her own child. There was no one to protect my lady Mairin but me, and what power would a poor man have over a nobleman’s widow? None of my lord’s family was left to oppose her actions. Landerneau is remote, and so who would protest the child’s disappearance?” Dagda had deliberately left out the fact that Blanche St. Ronan had managed to have Mairin declared a bastard by the bishop of St. Brieuc. Churchmen were notorious for sticking together in a situation although this bishop Wulfstan did not look like a man to be fooled. Still the man was a stranger as far as Dagda was concerned, and he couldn’t be too careful with his lady’s reputation. It was unlikely they would ever be involved with the lady Blanche and her uncle again. He had Mairin to protect. His story was a simple and plausible one. It was not unheard-of for a second wife to try to rid herself of children from the first marriage.
Bishop Wulfstan nodded with understanding. “This Blanche St. Ronan does not sound like an admirable woman,” he noted with great understatement. “You have done a good thing, Aldwine, my friend. I think this child will prove a solace to your wife’s grief. Eada is a good and gentle woman. The child’s story will touch her heart.” He looked at Mairin. “Why does the child not speak, Dagda? She does not look simple.”
A small smile touched the corners of Dagda’s mouth. “I have learned the English tongue because I fought the English at one time, but my lady Mairin, although born in Ireland, has lived most of her short life in Brittany, and speaks only Breton or Norman French. She is intelligent, however, and will learn quickly.”
Aldwine Athelsbeorn looked at Mairin, and smiled his gentle smile. She was probably the loveliest thing he had ever seen. Holding
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