Part 2 (1/2)
Within the hour Fren was set up and ready to do business. True to his word he had placed about Mairin's slender little neck a heavy leather collar, fastening the lock with a click of an iron key that hung from a large ring attached to his girdle. ”There!” he said with a smug and satisfied smile as he tested the strength of the collar. ”You'll not be slipping off into the crowd with my merchandise now, giant. This little wench you guard so carefully for me is prime goods. Her youth and innocence paired with her rare coloring will bring me a fortune in Constantinople! She will bring me enough gold to buy me a villa in which to spend my old age.”
”You would sell her to some vile and depraved pervert, slaver, wouldn't you? Do you think I am too stupid to know your evil plans? Where is your conscience?” Dagda demanded, but Fren just laughed, and Dagda felt the anger beginning to burn deep within him. It was the kind of anger that had once developed into a blood l.u.s.t that had made him such a feared warrior in his youth. Fren, however, had turned away, and did not see the Irishman's blazing eyes.
The Saxons no longer believed in slavery, but they were still not above buying an occasional slave as cheap labor, and then allowing them to work off their price plus what it cost their buyer to feed, house, and clothe them. The buyer always profited under the arrangements, but slaves brought to England prayed for an Anglo-Saxon master. It was the best chance many of them had for regaining their freedom, as most of them had not been born slaves. It was also an inexpensive way to obtain help, for the price of slaves was set according to the law.
Fren had not come to England to seriously sell slaves, for the market was basically poor. Rather he came to obtain fair-skinned, fair-haired, and light-eyed Saxon maidens who would bring him a goodly profit in the teeming markets of the Levant. How he obtained such merchandise was a matter better left alone, but it was safe to say he never visited England without obtaining sufficient remuneration to encourage his return.
Dagda watched with interest, as the slaver plied his trade. Four of the men and two of the women were quickly sold off. Now Fren bargained fiercely with an innkeeper for the sale of the third woman, a young and pretty girl with thick dark brown braids.
”The wench can cook, spin, sew, and,” here he paused for effect, giving the innkeeper a broad wink, ”she's got a plump backside to warm yer bed on a cold, damp night.”
”I've got a young wife,” said the innkeeper. ”Believe me when I tell you that she keeps me busy the whole night long.”
”Don't tell me a fine fellow like yerself doesn't like a little something on the side,” said Fren jovially, poking the innkeeper. ”Besides, forbidden fruit is always sweetest. This girl can help in the kitchens, serve your customers, and make you a few extra coppers abovestairs, if you get my meaning. She's not a bad looker, and believe me when I tell you that she's a hot and juicy f.u.c.k.”
The innkeeper let his eyes slide over the girl, and reaching out he fondled her plump b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The girl moved slightly into his hand, and smiled slowly and encouragingly into the man's eyes. His tongue flicked nervously over his lips as he seriously considered the wisdom of such purchase. ”Is she gentle-natured?” he asked Fren. The innkeeper, who had actually had no intention of buying a slave today, was visibly weakening.
”Like a ruddy lamb,” replied the slave merchant, and he turned to the girl.
”Aye, master, I be a good girl,” she said with a provocative wiggle of her hips.
”I'll not pay more than the posted price,” said the innkeeper, swallowing hard, and fumbling for his purse.
”I'd ask no more, sir,” said Fren, his voice slightly tinged with hurt, but knowing the sale was made. The bargain was quickly concluded, and the girl went off with her new master, Fren grinning broadly as they went down the street.
One of the slave merchant's a.s.sistants laughed. ”How many times is it that you've sold Gytha now? By the rood the wench makes more for you on the block than she does on her back!”
”She's good at luring the wenches for me,” said Fren. ”With her tales of Byzantium she has 'em practically begging me to enslave 'em. By the time we return to England next year she'll have a harvest of fair young beauties for us, you can be sure. Look how well she did for us two years ago in York. Tomorrow we'll head for Winchester. I'm eager to see the crop of girls Alhraed has enticed for us this past year. There's another fine Judas goat I own who's more than worth her keep.”
The first of the morning business completed, Fren and his a.s.sistants settled down to wait for other customers. Dagda, newly enlightened of Fren's ruthlessness and business ac.u.men, began to seriously consider the possibility of simply grabbing Mairin and making a run for it. That meek little man who had been so fearful in the forest was actually quite vicious and dangerous, and a genuine threat to Mairin. Then as she sat within the protective circle of his big lap he suddenly became aware of a tall serious-faced Saxon who stood staring at the child. The man was very well dressed, and obviously of the upper cla.s.ses. He stood pondering, obviously considering something, but then as he slowly approached Fren two other men rudely pushed by him, and began shouting questions to the merchant about three of the male slaves.
The tall Saxon hesitated, but then catching Dagda's curious gaze he walked up to him and asked, ”Do you speak English? Is the child for sale?”
Slowly Dagda nodded, and scanning the depths of his memory, spoke the correct English words. ”What would you want with her?” His look was fierce, and extremely protective.
”My name is Aldwine Athelsbeorn. I am a king's thegn, and my estate is in Mercia. My little daughter died this past spring, and my wife cannot cease her grieving. This child reminds me of our Edyth.”
”You would buy her to give her to your wife?” Dagda's heart pounded. Aldwine Athelsbeorn's face was one that concealed nothing. It was an honest face marked by life, yet kindly.
”Is the child your daughter?” the Saxon inquired, curious.
”Nay, sir,” returned Dagda. Then he began to speak quickly in a low voice, hoping that Fren and his a.s.sistants would be kept busy long enough for him to make sense to the Saxon. This, he realized, was their way to escape from Fren! ”The child's parents are dead, and her stepmother sold her off in order that she might steal my lady's inheritance. The child is of the n.o.bility in Brittany, sir. I was her mother's servant, but now I am a freedman. It is a very long story. In the name of the good Jesu, sir, I beg you buy the child! I will pledge myself to your service for five years or more to repay you whatever expense you may incur. The slaver would transport my lady to Byzantium, and sell her to a l.u.s.tful pervert!”
Aldwine Athelsbeorn did not even question Dagda's word in the matter. He was an educated man in a time when few were. Although the giant's words shocked him, he knew enough of the dark side of human nature not to disbelieve him. Suddenly all his previous hesitancy fell away and brus.h.i.+ng Fren's other customers aside he demanded in an authoritative voice, ”What price on the child, slaver? I fancy her as a serving maid for my wife.”
”The child is not for sale, sir,” replied Fren.
”Not for sale? What trick is this you attempt to play, slaver?” The Saxon's voice had risen now so that he was beginning to attract a small crowd. ”If the child is not for sale, then why is she wearing a slave collar, displayed here for all to see? Is it that you seek to gain an unfair profit, or perhaps use her for immoral purposes? Speak up, man!”
Fren's face grew mottled with nervousness, and he sputtered impotently but no intelligible words could be heard.
”By our Blessed Lady Mary, that is what this rogue intends!” the Saxon shouted. Turning, he appealed to the jostling and interested crowd. ”This low fellow would offer this little one, who is practically still a baby, for vile usage! Can we allow such a thing, my friends? Will someone not fetch a priest to try and bring this wicked fellow to repentance? Find me the sheriff! This villain had displayed the child in order to appeal to the evil ones, but I, Aldwine Athelsbeorn, King Edward's thegn, have found him out!” finished the Saxon dramatically.
The crowd, seeing little Mairin's innocent beauty, which Dagda, entering into the spirit of the Saxon's game, displayed by lifting the child up so she might be viewed by all, began to mutter ominously and shake their fists at Fren. The English loved their children for children were a man's immortality. Then one fellow, a bit brighter perhaps than the others, called out, ”Why do you seek to buy the child, Aldwine Athelsbeorn? Are your motives pure?” The crowd's interest swung from the slaver to the thegn.
”This child reminds me of my dead daughter,” said Aldwine Athelsbeorn. ”I would bring her home to soothe my grieving wife. There is no crime in that.”
”How do we know he speaks the truth?” cried another voice from the crowd, and looking toward Fren, Dagda saw one of his two a.s.sistants was missing.
The Saxon proudly drew himself up. ”I am Aldwine Athelsbeorn, Kind Edward's thegn. In Mercia there is none who would doubt either my words, my motives or my courage!”
”This ain't Mercia! This be London!”
The crowd was becoming dangerous. Dagda's arms wrapped themselves protectively about his charge. For a minute he had thought the clever Saxon could use the crowd to his own advantage, but alas it hadn't worked. He looked to see whether or not in the ensuing uproar that was sure to transpire he might not make good his escape with Mairin. The collar about her neck did, however, pose a problem for it was too tight for him to cut or even get a grip upon so he might break it open and free her; but he would solve that problem after he brought his lady to safety.
Then suddenly amid the din he heard cries of, ”Make way for Bishop Wulfstan!” and the angry crowd parted to allow the powerful and popular churchman through. ”Well, Aldwine?” said the bishop sternly, but Dagda saw a twinkle in his eyes. Reaching the platform where they all stood, he demanded, ”What is this all about?”
”Look at this child, my lord bishop. Does she not remind you of our little Edyth, may G.o.d a.s.soil her innocent soul. I wish to buy this little girl to bring home to my Eada so that perhaps she will cease her lamentations over our daughter and live again. She has mourned without ceasing since the spring. The slave merchant displays the child, but then demurs on selling her to me. I believe he seeks to use the child wrongfully.”
The bishop glanced at Mairin, but if there was a resemblance between this beautiful little girl and Athelsbeorn's dead daughter, he could not see it. Oh, Edyth had been about the same age probably, and she had red hair, but it was hardly the glorious color of this child's hair. Still if his friend could see a resemblance, and if he wished to rescue this pretty creature so that he might ease his wife's pain and give her a new interest, then it was a good and a Christian thing that he did.
He glared fiercely at the slaver, and did not like the look of him. ”The child is displayed, which under our laws means that she is for sale,” he said. ”The price for a child of tender years is set at five copper pennies. You must therefore sell the child to the Thegn of Aelfleah. What is your name, man?”
”F-F-Fren, your lords.h.i.+p.”
”Fren?” The bishop's brow furrowed for a moment. ”Fren,” he repeated thoughtfully, and then a knowledgeable look sprang into his eyes. ”There was a slaver in York two years ago who was called Fren, and when he departed that city nearly a dozen women including two of good families were missing.” The bishop's voice was soft, but beneath the softness Fren heard the ominous threat. No one could connect the slave merchant with the disappearance of those young women, Fren knew; but Bishop Wulfstan was a powerful man and he could spoil everything that Fren had worked hard to build.
He glanced at Mairin with her wonderful hair, and those perfect features on that flawless skin. For a moment he contemplated challenging the cleric's authority, then decided against it. He had not lived this long and prospered in his business by being an emotional fool. With a deep sigh of regret he allowed logic to prevail within him as it did in all his dealings. She was lovely, and she would have brought him a fortune in Byzantium. She was not, however, worth destroying a lifetime of hard work, which was what it would come to should he persist in attempting to retain her.
”If the n.o.ble thegn will step this way,” Fren said loudly and unctuously, ”I will take his coppers, and we will finalize the sale of the child.”
With murmurs of disappointment the crowd began to melt away. The short drama was over. Eager to be rid of Aldwine Athelsbeorn and Bishop Wulfstan, Fren scribbled a bill of sale for the Saxon, took his copper pennies, and unlocking the collar from around Mairin's neck said, ”She is now yours, n.o.ble thegn. Take her and depart.” Then he laughed ruefully. ”You have made a better bargain than you possibly know. The Irish giant is her personal guardian, but then he will tell you. If your desire for the child is an honest one you have gained a man-at-arms as well. If, however, your desire is an unholy one, the giant will undoubtedly kill you.”
Aldwine Athelsbeorn looked at Dagda, and said but one word, ”Come.” Then in the company of the bishop he strode off down the street, and away from the marketplace.
Safe in Dagda's arms Mairin finally spoke. ”What is it? Where are we going?” She could see Fren behind them sifting some coppers from one hand to another while he regretfully watched their departure.
Dagda explained to his small mistress what had happened, and the little girl nodded her understanding. ”Then I belong to this Saxon now,” she said.
”He is a good man, this Aldwine Athelsbeorn. I can see it in his eyes,” replied Dagda. ”He will take you home to his wife. You will be safe if his wife likes you. If she cannot overcome her own grief, and your presence distresses her, I will work for the thegn until our debt is paid. Then we will depart for Ireland to find your mother's family.”
”Am I still a slave?”
”Saxons do not hold with slavery any longer, my little lady. You may trust that you were free from the moment the thegn paid Fren his coppers.” He chuckled. ”I do not think this is quite the fate the lady Blanche envisioned for you. It restores my faith that G.o.d has seen to your safety in the guise of the thegn.”
”What is this thegn, Dagda? Is he a n.o.ble like my father?”
Dagda thought a moment. ”Yes,” he said, ”thegns could be called n.o.bles. 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.