The food had been late in coming, served cold, and was of poor quality. That the serving girl had carelessly spilled a cup of ale on him was the last straw. Hugh seized the wench and raised his hand to punish her with a slap.
"Tu canis agresti! Numquid non est de cultu concidit in vobis?" It was a mature feminine voice that spoke with an edge of anger.
("You’re an ill-mannered dog! Is there not a shred of civility in you?")
The shock of being rebuked in the elegant language of High Court while standing upon the dirt floor of a country tavern stayed his hand. His eyes searched the squalid hall and found a older woman seated at a table against the wall. She took a supper of simple fare while wearing a cloak against the evening chill.
The woman eyed him calmly then raised her goblet for another draught. "Let go of her."
"This is none of your affair, old woman."
"The girl is a Saxon. That alone makes it my affair." The woman lowered the goblet. "If you strike her, I'll see to it that you will lose that hand."
Hugh released the wench, who then fled into the kitchen. "Your impertinence knows no bounds. I demand an apology!"
"I mistook you for a nobleman. In my ignorance, I gave you the grace of courtly speech. I'll apologize for that much."
"Permit me an introduction. I am Hugh, nephew of Count Geoffrey of Mortagne, and Squire to Sir Robert Fitzosbourne."
"Well then, you're a high-born dog and I pity the Norman bitch that had the misfortune to whelp you."
Stung by the affront, Hugh strode across the room to confront the insolent old woman. As he approached, she arose and her cloak fell away, revealing a half-drawn broadsword.
The two stood motionless for a long moment when she gave him a subtle smile. "It seems we're at an impasse. There's a Saxon way to resolve such things."
"I am not a Saxon, and I know nothing of their customs."
"Then it's time you Normans learned some civilized ways. I'll buy the first drink and you must buy the second. If it continues, we'll both live to see the morning with nothing worse than headaches.
"Sit down." She motioned him to an empty chair at her table. He hesitated. "That was a simple command; humor me. I'm accustomed to being obeyed."
Hugh took his seat. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t much like being called a dog…”
“You’ve no cause to complain. I’ve shown you as much respect as you gave the wench.
“I should warn you," she continued, "there are several of my Housecarls in this tavern. You have no idea how fortunate you are. Had they seen you approach me with bared steel, they would have cheerfully hacked you to pieces."
"A Saxon Housecarl is no match for a Norman. That was proven at Hastings."
"You’re too young to have been at Hastings. Have you ever seen a dead Housecarl?"
"No, I can't say that I have."
"Pray that you never do. Every battle-slain Housecarl that I've ever seen had the bodies of at least four of their foes scattered about."
The first round of ale passed mostly in awkward silence… "I know something of steel-craft…" Hugh struggled for the next words…"It's unusual for a woman to bear arms - especially with so fine a blade…"
"I received it from a Norman knight."
"You must have rendered him a great service to merit such a gift."
"It wasn't a gift and no service was rendered. Rather it was more of an exchange. Besides, he had no further use for it."
"You exchanged swords?"
"He had my blade and wouldn’t give it back…"
"Pray tell, why would he want your weapon?"
"I’m sure he didn’t want it - at least not the way I gave it to him. My sword went through him clear to the quillon. Try as I might, I couldn’t pull it free."
The old woman paused before continuing. "Have you ever been struck by a mounted knight? It's like being hit by a tree. Somehow, I managed to maim his horse. He dismounted and came back to finish me off. I was barely on my feet when his first blow glanced off my shield and knocked my helm off. ‘Twas then that he realized that his opponent was a woman.
“In his surprise, he hesitated." The woman took a deep draught of ale. "I didn't."
"Where did this happen?"
"Hastings - on the Saxon right flank, close to the woods. I was at the shield wall with my thegns. It was soon after this that Godwinson fell. When a number of Housecarls saw that their king was dead and the battle lost, they all but dragged me from the field."
Hugh caught his breath. “My father’s body was found at Hastings - close to the woods."
There was a long silence. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Hugh’s face.
“Your sire met death with courage. When it comes for you, do no less.” The woman arose, unsheathed her sword and laid it on the table. “It’s yours, I have no further use for it.
"It's late and I've lost my taste for this ale. When you return to London, tell 'William the Bastard' that Ealdgyth of Mercia yet lives." With that, she turned and walked away.
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