World Without End

“We go to the clearing where I’m growing the madder. That’s sort of where it started.”

“And how long has this been going on?”

“More than a year.”

“It’s serious, then.”

“I want to marry her.”

“I’m so pleased.” She looked fondly at him. “You’re still only twenty, but that’s old enough if you’ve found the right person.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“What village is she from?”

“This one, Wigleigh.”

“Oh?” Gwenda was surprised. She had not been able to think of a likely girl here. “Who is she?”

“Mother, it’s Amabel.”

“No!”

“Don’t shout.”

“Not A

“You’re not to be angry.”

“Not to be angry!” Gwenda struggled to calm herself. She was as shocked as if she had been slapped. She took several deep breaths. “Listen to me,” she said. “We have been at odds with that family for more than twenty years. That cow A

“I’m sorry, but that’s all in the past.”

“It’s not – A

“That’s your problem, not ours.”

Gwenda stood up, her sewing falling from her lap. “How can you do this to me? That bitch would be part of our family! My grandchildren would be her grandchildren. She’d be in and out of this house all the time, making a fool of your father with her coquettish ways and then laughing at me.”

“I’m not going to marry A

“Amabel will be just as bad. Look at her – she’s just like her mother!”

“She’s not, actually-”

“You can’t do this! I absolutely forbid it!”

“You can’t forbid it, Mother.”

“Oh, yes I can – you’re too young.”

“That won’t last for ever.”

Wulfric’s voice came from the doorway. “What’s all the shouting?”

“Davey says he wants to marry A

Earl Ralph surprised Nathan Reeve when he said he wanted to look at Davey’s strange crop. Nate mentioned the matter in passing, on a routine visit to Earlscastle. A bit of unlicensed cultivation in the forest was a trivial breach of the rules, regularly dealt with by a fine. Nate was a shallow man, interested in bribes and commissions, and he had little conception of the depth of Ralph’s obsession with Gwenda’s family: his hatred of Wulfric, his lust for Gwenda, and now the likelihood that he was Sam’s real father. So Nate was startled when Ralph said he would inspect the crop next time he was in the neighbourhood.

Ralph rode with Alan Fernhill from Earlscastle to Wigleigh on a fine day between Easter and Whitsun. When they reached the small timber manor house, there was the old housekeeper, Vira, bent and grey now but still hanging on. They ordered her to prepare their di

Ralph recognized the plant. He was no farmer, but he knew the difference between one bush and another, and on his travels with the army he had observed many crops that did not grow naturally in England. He leaned down from his saddle and pulled up a handful. “This is called madder,” he said. “I’ve seen it in Flanders. It’s grown for the red dye that has the same name.”

Nate said: “He told me it was a herb called hagwort, used to cure a wheezy chest.”

“I believe it does have medicinal properties, but that’s not why people cultivate it. What will his fine be?”

“A shilling would be the usual amount.”

“It’s not enough.”

Nate looked nervous. “So much trouble is caused, lord, when these customs are flouted. I would rather not-”

“Never mind,” Ralph said. He kicked his horse and trotted through the middle of the clearing, trampling the bushes. “Come on, Alan,” he said. Alan imitated him, and the two of them cantered around in tight circles, flattening the growth. After a few minutes all the shrubs were destroyed.

Ralph could see that Nate was shocked by the waste, even though the planting was illegal. Peasants never liked to see crops despoiled. Ralph had learned in France that the best way of demoralizing the population was to burn the harvest in the fields.

“That will do,” he said, quickly getting bored. He was irritated by Davey’s insolence in planting this crop, but that was not the main reason he had come to Wigleigh. The truth was that he wanted to see Sam again.

As they rode back to the village he sca

Sam and the man he thought was his father – Wulfric – were ploughing with a horse-drawn light plough. Something was wrong, for they kept stopping and adjusting the harness. When they were together it was easy to see the differences between them. Wulfric’s hair was tawny, Sam’s dark; Wulfric was barrel-chested, ox-like, where Sam was broad-shouldered but lean, like a horse; Wulfric’s movements were slow and careful, but Sam was quick and graceful.

It was the oddest feeling to look at a stranger and think: my son. Ralph believed himself immune to womanish emotions. If he had been subject to feelings of compassion or regret he could not have lived as he had. But the discovery of Sam threatened to unman him.

He tore himself away, and cantered back to the village; then he succumbed again to curiosity and sentiment, and sent Nate to find Sam and bring him to the manor house.

He was not sure what he intended to do with the boy: talk to him, tease him, invite him to join them for di

Ralph spoke without forethought. “Sam was not born to be a serf tilling the fields.” he said. He saw Alan Fernhill look at him in surprise.

Gwenda looked puzzled. “Only God knows what we are born for,” she said, playing for time.

“When I want to know about God, I’ll ask a priest, not you,” Ralph said to her. “Your son has something of the mettle of a fighting man. I don’t need to pray to see that – it’s obvious to me, as it would be to any veteran of the wars.”

“Weil, he’s not a fighting man, he’s a peasant, and the son of a peasant, and his destiny is to grow crops and raise livestock like his father.”

“Never mind his father.” Ralph remembered what Gwenda had said to him in the sheriff’s castle at Shiring, when she had persuaded him to pardon Sam. “Sam has the killer instinct,” he said. “It’s dangerous in a peasant, but priceless in a soldier.”

Gwenda looked scared as she began to divine Ralph’s purpose. “What are you getting at?”

Ralph realized where this chain of logic was leading him. “Let Sam be useful, rather than dangerous. Let him learn the arts of war.”

“Ridiculous, he’s too old.”

“He’s twenty-two. It’s late, but he’s fit and strong. He can do it.”

“I don’t see how.”

Gwenda was pretending to find practical objections, but he could see through her simulation, and knew that she hated the idea with all her heart. That made him all the more determined. With a smile of triumph he said: “Easily enough. He can be a squire. He can come and live at Earlscastle.”

Gwenda looked as if she had been stabbed. Her eyes closed for a moment, and her olive-ski

“He’s been with you for twenty-two years,” Ralph said. “That’s long enough.” Now it’s my turn, he thought, but instead he said: “Now he’s a man.”