frown on Domnall’s face cleared. “Ah. I understand. Those who came upon you lived not to tell of it. Well, that is the way of things in war.”
“We took care to insure there were not so many. Those unlucky few we did encounter were outlaws, and unwisely chose to fight.”
Domnall nodded and inclined his head in the direction of Fallewydde.
“In summer, the site becomes a merry place where merchants stop for a time to set up booths to sell their wares. Many needful things—and many things of strange nature—may be had from the market at Fallewydde that cannot be found elsewhere. By grant of the king, faires are held every summer, and many sorts of travelers from nigh and far come to enjoy themselves with food and drink, and with dance and song.” Wistfulness flickered briefly in Domnall’s eyes. “In my younger days, the king himself would come, and then the merry-making would be especially boisterous, and the lasses, ah, but they were fine! Did he find a willing lass to occupy his time with lively pursuits, a man might spend a seven-day at the faire and leave having seen little of it.” A shade of regret crept into his voice. “The faires have been not the same since the coming of King William. Too many have been lost in the fighting, and the roads are not so safe for travel as they once were.”
Fallard glanced at him. “William works to improve that situation.”
“Aye, I know it. My words were meant not as criticism, only a statement of fact.”
Fallard pointed with his chin to an edifice abutting the wall below them. Beyond it, filling most of the space in the western side of the island, were the orchards. “What building is that? It looks like a chapel.”
“’Tis, but ’tis rarely used since Lord Renouf came.” Domnall eyed him. “My lord, there is a door in the back of the nave that leads into the crypts.”
The crypts were another half-buried structure that stretched along the southwest wall. They were similar to the holding pits, but more extensive.
“There is an underground corridor, then, between the chapel and the crypts?”
“Aye, a short one. ’Tis a secret of which but a handful know. Both entrances are concealed. You must ask Father Gregory to show you the door on the chapel side. Lord Renouf was not a religious man. He forced Father Gregory to give up his post, when the man had been priest for nigh onto twenty twelvemonths and thought to live out his life here. For Lord’s Day services once a month, and weddings and such, the priest over at Ashbyrn Hall presided. He was not a good father, being a man who would do aught he was asked—for a price.”
“Hmmm. I believe that situation is one I will rectify. When Father Gregory left, where did he go?”
“Not far. He has a cottage in the forest behind the mill.”
“If he wishes to return, see he is restored to his service at once. Where is Ashbyrn Hall?”
“Ashbyrn is one of Wulfsinraed’s fiefs. It lies but seven leagues to the northwest.”
“What about the other fiefs, how far are they from Wulfsinraed?”
“All lie within a seven-day’s travel, my laird, even Blackbridge burh which sits on the outskirts of London. Most of Wulfsinraed’s revenues for wool production come from Blackbridge. Those revenues are profitable.”
“I am aware. That is all for now. I thank you, Sir Domnall. Return to your duties.”
CHAPTER SIX
Fallard left the wall through the west guard tower. He hurried back toward the hall along the cobbled stone of an old road that wound through the trees of the orchard. He needed to see Ysane again, to hear from Luilda some hope she might live. He crossed the courtyard with swinging strides, nodding to those he passed and sending a brown hen that got in his way squawking in panic. As he reached the steps to the hall, there came a trumpet blast and shout from the main guard tower announcing the arrival of friendly travelers.
“Thegn D’Auvrecher!”
He tamped down frustration at
“We took care to insure there were not so many. Those unlucky few we did encounter were outlaws, and unwisely chose to fight.”
Domnall nodded and inclined his head in the direction of Fallewydde.
“In summer, the site becomes a merry place where merchants stop for a time to set up booths to sell their wares. Many needful things—and many things of strange nature—may be had from the market at Fallewydde that cannot be found elsewhere. By grant of the king, faires are held every summer, and many sorts of travelers from nigh and far come to enjoy themselves with food and drink, and with dance and song.” Wistfulness flickered briefly in Domnall’s eyes. “In my younger days, the king himself would come, and then the merry-making would be especially boisterous, and the lasses, ah, but they were fine! Did he find a willing lass to occupy his time with lively pursuits, a man might spend a seven-day at the faire and leave having seen little of it.” A shade of regret crept into his voice. “The faires have been not the same since the coming of King William. Too many have been lost in the fighting, and the roads are not so safe for travel as they once were.”
Fallard glanced at him. “William works to improve that situation.”
“Aye, I know it. My words were meant not as criticism, only a statement of fact.”
Fallard pointed with his chin to an edifice abutting the wall below them. Beyond it, filling most of the space in the western side of the island, were the orchards. “What building is that? It looks like a chapel.”
“’Tis, but ’tis rarely used since Lord Renouf came.” Domnall eyed him. “My lord, there is a door in the back of the nave that leads into the crypts.”
The crypts were another half-buried structure that stretched along the southwest wall. They were similar to the holding pits, but more extensive.
“There is an underground corridor, then, between the chapel and the crypts?”
“Aye, a short one. ’Tis a secret of which but a handful know. Both entrances are concealed. You must ask Father Gregory to show you the door on the chapel side. Lord Renouf was not a religious man. He forced Father Gregory to give up his post, when the man had been priest for nigh onto twenty twelvemonths and thought to live out his life here. For Lord’s Day services once a month, and weddings and such, the priest over at Ashbyrn Hall presided. He was not a good father, being a man who would do aught he was asked—for a price.”
“Hmmm. I believe that situation is one I will rectify. When Father Gregory left, where did he go?”
“Not far. He has a cottage in the forest behind the mill.”
“If he wishes to return, see he is restored to his service at once. Where is Ashbyrn Hall?”
“Ashbyrn is one of Wulfsinraed’s fiefs. It lies but seven leagues to the northwest.”
“What about the other fiefs, how far are they from Wulfsinraed?”
“All lie within a seven-day’s travel, my laird, even Blackbridge burh which sits on the outskirts of London. Most of Wulfsinraed’s revenues for wool production come from Blackbridge. Those revenues are profitable.”
“I am aware. That is all for now. I thank you, Sir Domnall. Return to your duties.”
CHAPTER SIX
Fallard left the wall through the west guard tower. He hurried back toward the hall along the cobbled stone of an old road that wound through the trees of the orchard. He needed to see Ysane again, to hear from Luilda some hope she might live. He crossed the courtyard with swinging strides, nodding to those he passed and sending a brown hen that got in his way squawking in panic. As he reached the steps to the hall, there came a trumpet blast and shout from the main guard tower announcing the arrival of friendly travelers.
“Thegn D’Auvrecher!”
He tamped down frustration at
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