London - Edward Rutherfurd [140]
She felt him quiver. She kissed him again.
“If you go on doing that . . .” he whispered.
“Do,” she said happily, rather to her own astonishment.
It had been a long time since Barnikel had made love and he had supposed that such a thing might no longer easily come to pass. Yet as he rose and took in his arms the young woman whom he had loved first as a daughter and then as a woman, all doubts seemed to vanish.
As for Hilda, experiencing for the first time the slow and delicate caresses of an older man and brought gently and lovingly to ardour, she found a warmth that was infinitely touching.
They stayed together until the early hours, when she stole back through the streets to her father’s house and slipped up to the chamber where he was asleep.
And so, after, a dozen years, Barnikel’s last love was consummated.
Soon after dawn, as Barnikel had requested, she slipped out of her father’s house and delivered two messages. One to Alfred. One to Osric.
And it did not occur to Hilda that on both her journey to Barnikel and her journey back, she had, as usual, been followed.
It was not until mid-morning that Ralph Silversleeves, accompanied by half a dozen men-at-arms, visited Barnikel at his warehouse at Billingsgate. Politely the Norman informed the Dane that they must make a search, and Barnikel, though he shrugged irritably, let them go about their business. Three of the men then went up to his house by All Hallows.
They were thorough. They took two hours, but at the end of the morning they gave up. At the same time, a man arrived from Alfred’s armoury. They had found nothing there either.
“I hope you have now set your mind at rest,” the Dane remarked to Ralph drily, taking the grimace he received in reply as a sign of assent.
As Ralph left, however, he had such an overwhelming sense of having been duped that once on the quay he told his men: “There are arms here somewhere. We’re not giving up.” And he was as good as his word. To the fury of the boatmen, he started inspecting their cargoes. Four more of the little warehouses were investigated. They went up the street and moved along the East Cheap, poking at carts and stalls, first to the terror of the traders, soon to their jeers. But if Ralph had ever been afraid of making a fool of himself, he did not seem to care now. Red-faced and determined, he ploughed on, moving eastwards towards the Tower.
It was in the early afternoon, within the lodgings by the Tower, that a new life entered the family of Osric the labourer. It brought him such joy that as he stood outside, gazing over the Tower into the sky, the squat little fellow was unable to speak for several minutes.
For he had been right. He had a son.
Barnikel was restless. He had been in his house all afternoon. The events of the last twenty-four hours had been taxing, and during the afternoon he had felt tired. Now, however, unable to bear his confinement any longer, he finally ventured out into the East Cheap to take the air.
It was still warm, although in the west the sky had turned a deep magenta. The stallholders in the market were packing up as he strolled along the East Cheap in the direction of Candlewick Street. It was just before he reached the end of the market that he saw Alfred walking calmly towards him.
Both men thought quickly. If they were being followed, it would be wisest to do nothing suspicious. They prepared to pass each other, therefore, with nothing more than a polite nod, and would have done so if, at that precise moment, a small figure had not suddenly rushed to join them, tugging at their sleeves with urgency.
It was Osric. He had been walking about the place for almost an hour in a daze of happiness. He had been told by Hilda at dawn that he must avoid Barnikel, but on seeing his two friends together, the little fellow had been so excited that for a moment he had forgotten everything and run up to them, his round face glowing.
“Oh sir,” he cried, “oh Alfred. I have such news.” And as Alfred paused and Barnikel looked down, he burst out: “I have a son!