Candle in the Window (17 page)

He reached up to help her down, and she smiled at
him in open satisfaction. “Aye, my lord. When you came to me
at Pertrade Castle and asked me to help your son, we never foresaw
such an ending, did we?”

She slid down, her hands on his shoulders, and he
examined her face with care. But whatever miracle had visited
William hadn’t touched her, and he smiled gently into her
beautiful violet eyes. “That we didn’t. I have stern
instructions not to come back without you.”

“Maud?” she guessed.

“Maud has been—”

“In a frenzy?”

“In a pitiful state,” he confirmed.

“Then let us return.” She grinned in
the direction of the exhausted knights straggling onto the path.
“Before my maidservant loses any more sleep.”

Her hand was wet.

William walked through the village clustered
beneath the protective walls of Burke. He led their mount, and she
sat alone in the saddle, but the crowd around them slowed their
progress to a crawl. So many of the loyal folk had kissed her
knuckles in their passionate welcome that it warmed her heart. But
her hand was still wet and she still very much wanted to get to her
chamber and rest. If she just made it across the drawbridge, she
promised herself she could collapse.

William responded to his castle, his people, his
home with an unfeigned pleasure. He called to the men by name,
kissed the old women and hugged the young ones.

She was happy to hear the joy in William’s
voice, but her head ached from thinking. Hands reached up and
snatched at her, wringing her tender fingers until the bones ached.
The horses’ hooves created a hollow sound as they clopped
over the wooden drawbridge. Her feeling of being exposed to the
great open spaces gave way to the more protected feeling she
experienced when in the bailey. If she just made it to the stairs,
she promised herself she could collapse.

The rumors of the miracle that cured
William’s sight had raced ahead to the castle folk and it
added to the babble that assaulted her ears. Questions shouted from
every direction
confused her, and she wanted to
cringe from the rampant curiosity.

“Father!” Kimball’s shout echoed
up to the battlements.

William uttered, “Kimball,” in a choked
voice and dropped the reins.

A hush fell over the pressing humanity, and then
the whispers floated up to her.

“See how they hug.”

“See the boy’s tears.”

“See Lord William. He can’t stop
lookin’ at Master Kimball.”

“Look at them twirl.”

The last was said with such affection, tears
pricked at Saura’s eyes, and the tension that had held her in
its coils for the last two days relaxed its hold. She held herself
erect with a combination of good manners and stubbornness, and some
of her weariness must have shown in her face. A large warm hand
wrapped around her thigh, and William called, “Come down, my
dearling.” Her arms trembled as he lifted her off the saddle
and set her on her feet.

“Saura?” Clare said timidly. “Are
you angry?”

Her brother stood next to her, stroking her hand
and worrying, just as he used to at Pertrade Castle when Theobald
rampaged about in one of his drunken rages.

“Why should I be angry?” With less than
her usual grace, she reached out and stroked his cheek.

“Because I didn’t save you from those
men!”

It was a cry from his sore heart, and for the
valiant little boy she could pull herself together for a few more
moments. “Didn’t you run to Lord Peter at once and tell
him we were captured?”

“Aye.”

She smiled at him. “Just as you
should.”

Two skinny arms wrapped tight around her hips and
his grubby head dug into her ribs. She hugged his neck and then as
his embrace loosened, she rumpled his hair. “My own
knight-errant.” She chuckled. “Will you wear my token
into battle?”

A sunny laugh answered her, and he stepped away as
if he were embarrassed to be caught cuddling with a woman.

Her knees wobbled, deprived of his support, and she
wondered if this unstructured ceremony would ever cease. If she
could just make it up to her room.

“Saura!” Maud’s cry cut through
the babble. “M’lady!”

Saura plunged toward that beloved voice, and it
seemed a path opened for her. Those motherly arms enfolded her,
that motherly voice scolded, “What have ye been doing?
Ye’re white as a ghost, your eyes as big as a full
moon.”

“She’s tired,” William said from
behind her. “She’s not used to such adventure, to
playing the part of warrior queen. Take her to her room and put
your little lambkin to bed so she’ll be fresh for the
celebration tonight.”

Maud watched him, watched his eyes that crinkled at
the edges. He looked at her and nodded, and she backed away from
him as if she’d gone mad. Bumping into Saura, she wrapped her
sturdy arm around her and led her to the stairway.

William stood staring after them. With a fierce
scowl wrinkling his brow, he vowed to Lord Peter, “That is
the woman I’m going to marry.”

Kimball said, “Oh, good,” and Clare
crowed like a rooster.

Glancing down at the boys with their identical
grins plastered on their dirty faces, William’s intense
determination broke down into relief. “So you like that, do
you?”

They nodded with huge up-and-down motions, their
enthusiasm bolstered by the optimism of youth.

“Then make sure you wash before dinner, or
Lady Saura will find out water hasn’t touched you since we
left, and you know what will happen then.”

The nods this time were subdued, and Clare groaned,
“Horse trough.”

“Exactly.” Catching Lord Peter’s
eye on him, William asked, “And what do you think of my
mate?”

Lord Peter shrugged and queried with a straight
face, “Are you sure she’s not too strong for you?
She’s ordered this household like the Queen of Heaven these
last few months, and she’ll order you, too.”

“Well, she’ll think she does,
anyway.” William guffawed in a superior, masculine way, and
Lord Peter slapped his shoulder and joined him.

Climbing the stair, Saura heard them and
stiffened.

The dinner that night was splendid. The great hall
of Burke shone with the light of torches, and the open fire at the
center leaped toward the ceiling. Every trestle table had been
pressed into use. The benches were so closely packed with men and
women the serving folk had difficulty reaching between them. All
the knights sworn to Lord Peter and William attended, worn out with
hurried preparation for war or siege. The men-at-arms and villeins
who had searched for their lord crowded the benches, their voices
loud with relief and speculation. Among them sat Alden, a simple
man whose loyalty to Saura had earned him the place of honor.
William sat at Lord Peter’s right hand, Saura at Lord
Peter’s left, and beside Saura lay the supine form of Bula,
sleeping the slumber of the just. Grinning in mindless jubilation,
Clare and Kimball performed their duties as pages, serving
the high table with an alacrity seldom seen in such
young men.

Mead and ale were served to those below the salt
and a cask of red wine tapped for the noble folk. Beneath the
harrying rod of Maud, the cook had outdone himself. The breads had
been formed into special shapes and made fragrant with herbs. The
earliest greens growing around the streams had been plucked and
minced and added to the thick
Charlette
, adding the longed-for taste of vegetable
to the curded beef soup. Maud’s recipe for
farced fesaunt
brought sighs of satisfaction as the
birds, stuffed with oats and dried apples, disappeared from the
chargers, and
luce
wafers added the
dainty flavor of fish to the meal. A sweet pudding sprinkled with
gilly flowers completed their repast.

When they had finished, Kimball poured water first
over Lord Peter’s hands and then over William’s and
Saura’s and Clare followed after, offering a towel. Glancing
at William, Lord Peter received a nod and stood as if this were a
prearranged signal. Pounding his fists on the table, he shouted,
“Silence!” The song of replete voices calmed as
neighbor shushed neighbor and the loudly drunk were quieted with a
simple knock against the chin. A hundred curious pairs of eyes
strained to see through the smoke, a hundred curious pairs of ears
strained to hear the story that promised to be the stuff of
legends.

When everyone’s attention was focused on him,
Lord Peter proclaimed in a booming voice, “My son William,
Lord of Miraval and Brunbrook, heir to Burke and Stenton, the
greatest knight on the isle of England and the duchy of Normandy,
has returned to us unharmed, thanks to the intervention of the
saints and the Blessed Virgin on the side of right and
honor.”

He paused for the cheer that boomed from every
throat.
“The tale of his going and his
return is one fraught with treachery and warmed with a sign of
God’s grace. He comes before us tonight to tell us the
tale.”

Beside him, William rose to his full height, a
height emphasized by the dais on which he stood. Lord Peter moved
to the other side of Saura, and William stepped to the place before
the salt. As the eager crowd transferred their attention, his
father sank down and smiled at Saura, an amused, impudent smile
that would have disturbed her had she seen it.

“My friends,” William began. He pitched
his great voice lower than Saura expected; loud enough everyone
could hear and low enough they had to strain to capture every
syllable. “The tale I will tell you is not so much the story
of myself, as the story of my Lady Saura and the miracle worked
through her.”

Saura’s spine sprang straight up, like an
arrow shot to the skies. What was William saying?

“An evildoer captured us both, submitting us
to the greatest indignities and cruelties, and I found myself
stimulated to a fury. In my blinded state, I fought the army of the
malefactor, and lost.” He sighed in a mighty gust, and all
the hall sighed with him. “A giant warrior beat me until I no
longer knew my surroundings, and then took us and threw us into a
dungeon.”

Saura’s lips twitched to hear Bronnie
characterized as a “giant warrior.” But what was
William saying?

“If not for my Lady Saura, I would have died.
She shamed them with her kindness and amazed them with her beauty,
and these outlaws brought her food and drink and blankets. She
bandaged my wounds, mending them with her touch. She protected me
from the demons of death with the flaming sword of her
righteousness. And as she lay in my bed, she healed my eyes with
her virtuous kiss.”

Like a great weight, Saura felt the attention of
the entire room shift from William. Every eye bore into her as she
sat with her mouth slightly open and a dazed amazement on her
features. What was William saying? What was he insinuating? How
were the folk in the great hall understanding his story?

“The night of our captivity, Lady Saura
folded me in her arms and roused my passions and became my bride.
Although the Church has not yet blessed our union, although I have
no bloodied sheets to display as proof, I bear witness now that she
was a virgin. My eyes bear witness, for all know of the curative
power of a virgin bride.”

Well! That spelled it out!

“And I declare now, in front of all
witnesses, I will take Lady Saura of Roget as my wife in the eyes
of the Church and honor her for the rest of our days
together.”

A large, firm hand gripped Saura’s as she was
pulled to her feet, and the mightiest hurrah of all shook the
rafters. As the sound ebbed around them, and he held her hand
aloft, fingers entwined, William said in her ear,
“You’ll not escape me easily, dearling.”

Lord Peter stood up beside them and
shouted, “A toast! A toast to Lady Saura, the wife of my son,
Lord William!”

Eager hands grasped the goblets, raised them high,
and drank.

“A toast!” Alden shouted. “A
toast to Lord William, the greatest warrior in all
England!”

Eager hands grasped the goblets, raised them high,
and drank.

“A toast!” Maud shouted, and the hall
quieted, for women didn’t usually propose a toast. “A
toast to their churching!”

A roar of laughter greeted her toast, but eager
hands grasped the goblets, raised them high, and drank.

Ale and mead sloshed freely from the pitchers to
the cups, and satisfied with his ruse, William sat down. The folk
of the castle and the tenants from beyond erupted in a spontaneous
babble, convinced by his logic, entertained by his wit, overjoyed
by the telling of such a love story and its pretty
ending. If they had any doubts, they had been firmly
squashed by the message from God, the message that cured their
master.

Now they sat back to visit with their friends in a
rare evening of leisure, to discuss the exciting events of the past
few days and to plan for the eminent wedding. They failed to hear
the quiet beginnings of the quarrel at the head table.

Watching Saura gather her weapons to assault his
resolve, William noted with pleasure that her pale and forlorn
delicacy of the afternoon had fled. Maud’s cosseting had
restored her self-assurance and her color. And if she were still
just a little subdued, well, so much the better. Dealing with a
woman of Saura’s stamina required all the advantages he could
obtain. Now he fortified himself with patience, knowing Saura would
never let their tale end so conveniently.

She sipped her wine, and turned to William, sitting
close against her thigh. “A pretty bit of fable, my lord. Do
you not feel a weight on your soul for telling such
lies?”

“Not lies, but as much truth as they wanted,
or needed. My father knows the whole truth, as do you, as do I. Who
else matters?”

“You must reconsider. ’Twas not my body
that brought you sight, but the end of Bronnie’s
stick.”

“I’m not going to marry Bronnie,”
William replied acerbically. “And I am not so bold as to
determine which cure God has granted.”

“Perhaps you’ve never slept with a
blind woman before, and I’m just a novelty.” Saura
chewed over that idea and found it unconvincing, and he destroyed
its credibility.

“God’s teeth, I’ve never slept
with a man before, but I have no desire to sleep with my
father
.”

Lord Peter blew a mouthful of ale across the table
in surprise. “Damn, ’tis thankful I am to hear
that.”

“Aye, but that’s incest, too,”
she couldn’t resist pointing out.

William grinned. How easily she was misled.

“You’d grow tired of having to be so
gentle with me,” she said.

The grin disappeared. How promptly she returned to
the argument. “Gentle?”

“Aye. You treat me as if I’m some rare
form of glass. You’d come to resent me, feeling obligated to
treat me with endless courtesy.”

William’s annoyance faded and a genuine smile
wrapped his face. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. In
my experience, dearling, the early time of tenderness dissipates
under the influence of the day-to-day irritations of marriage.
Tenderness is simply one of the early stages of love.”

Saura mulled that over. “You mean, as you got
used to me you’d grow out of the tenderness?”

“Not completely, we hope.”

“I am durable.”

“Is that supposed to convince me not to wed
you?”

“No. I didn’t mean it that way,
but….” She hesitated, aware her desire to marry warred
with her good sense. “I still say ’tis
infatuation.”

“So you think I’m not astute enough to
know whether or not I wish to marry you?”

His voice sounded light and amused to her, but an
under-current of something she couldn’t define made her
uneasy. Not uneasy enough to cure her of wanting to help him
overcome his odd obsession, but uneasy. “I think you’re
sagacious enough to do aught. I also think you’re feeling
grateful to the wrong person for the return of your sight. You
should be lighting candles in the chapel.”

“I already have.”

“Instead of feeling honor bound to marry me.
You’re doing everything as an honorable knight should, but I
tell you, I release you from your obligation.”

“You seem to be more than pleased to release
me. As my wife used to say, ‘love teaches even asses to
dance,’” he said even more pleasantly. “Is that
what you mean?”

Her hands trembled for just one moment, and she
wished he hadn’t mentioned his wife. Her surprise at the stab
of emotion made her disregard the extraordinary sweetness in his
tone when relating such an insolent statement. “I don’t
know if I’d put it so rudely. Not that your wife was
rude,” she corrected herself.

“Anne was unerringly rude,” Lord Peter
interjected, the fondness in his tone belying the insult. “My
daughters-in-law, for all their differences, have one thing in
common.”

Startled, Saura asked, “How many
daughters-in-law have you had?”

“Only two,” Lord Peter replied
promptly. “Anne and you.”

“I’m not—”

Lord Peter swept on, ignoring her objection.
“Both of you seem to have an unerring penchant for arguing
the wrong points for the most idiotic of reasons. Brimful of
intelligence and not a drop of horse sense between either one of
you.”

“Saura,” said William, solemn and
projecting his voice for the knights to hear. “I love
you.”

With a wave of her hand, she discounted his
declaration. “I certainly don’t think ’tis love,
and I’m sure with a little distance between us and a little
time, your infatuation will fade.”

“Do you advise me what I shall do?”

That thing in his tone strengthened, grown from a
wisp of warning to a blatant token from this man who refused to
take logical advice. As she had told him
earlier in the day, she did everything a woman of her status was
required to do, and so she proceeded with the pacification of her
man. “I would never be so bold, Lord William. ’Tis
simply my lowly belief I should not aspire to be the summit of your
household.”

“The summit of my—”

“Your wife. Yet, in my own way, I believe I
could fill a position here, at least until the time comes for you
to marry again.”

The noise of chatter was fading, distracted by the
scene on the dais.

“What kind of position?”

No doubt about it, irritation vibrated in his
voice, but Saura had faith in her ability to soothe her savage
lord. “I could tend your household and take care of your son
and if the evenings stretched too long, you and I
might—”

“You want to be my whore.” Saura
couldn’t see his face, but the others in the great hall
could. Benches scraped back, grown men picked up their eating
knives and migrated in a slow exodus toward the back of the
room.

No one left. No one could resist the drama foretold
by William’s reddening cheeks and clenched fists, and they
observed avidly the struggle between the master they adored and the
woman he would wed.

“That’s not the word I would
use,” Saura began, hurt by the word, but still seeking to
soothe.

“’Tis the word everyone else will
use,” he interrupted brutally.

For the first time she labeled that thing in his
voice as anger. Belated caution made her suggest, “My lord,
perhaps we should discuss this tomorrow.”

“A paramour usually has more experience, more
talents than you have.”

The hurt washed away with a rush of humiliation.
“You thought me talented enough this morning.”

“Tenderness, of course, has no part in an
arrangement between a lord and his harlot. When a lord wants to be
served, his meretrix strips down and services him.”

Saura felt him start to rise from the table, and
the intensity of his fury colored every word with fire. For the
first time since she had known William, the fear of him touched her
mind. It wasn’t the kind of fear her stepfather instilled in
her; this was the kind of fear that dampened her palms and made her
breath catch and urged her to push back her bench and prepare to
flee. She stood slowly, grasping the table for support and hoping
she’d misread his tone, but his next blast dispelled her
expectation and fed her alarm.

“When a man—a man who is bigger and
stronger and obviously smarter than his little, weak, damned stupid
woman—demands attention for his body, that woman had better
bow her head meekly and say, ‘Aye, my lord.’” His
feet stomped as he spoke, his voice amplified as he towered over
her.

Determined not to be intimidated, Saura
straightened her spine, lifted her chin. “I’m not
stupid.”

“I hadn’t thought so previously, but
events have proved me wrong.” He stripped the veil from her
head and tossed it aside, grasped her braid and tilted her head
back. “Say it. Say ‘Aye, my lord, I’ll service
you as you demand.’”

The foundation of her determination weakened,
undermined by the sheer bulk of him above her and around her.
“I won’t service you,” she faltered. “Not
without respect and a mutual regard.”

“Respect?” He roared it so loud the
rafters trembled and a few of the more cowardly villeins scooted
out the doors.

Saura wanted to clasp her hands over her ears, but
he held them to her sides with one massive arm around her
waist.

“Respect for a harlot? If you want respect,
you’ll never prosper as my meretrix. My dear, resign
yourself. ’Tis marriage for you. But let me reassure you
about that tenderness. No need to worry I’ll treat you like
glass tonight. Tonight I find all my tenderness dissolved in a brew
of boiling frustration!” His mouth found hers without the
subtlety or care he’d shown before.

A brew of frustration, indeed, as he ground his
lips against hers. “Open,” he ordered, and when she
tried to shake her head, his grip on her braid tightened and he
caught her lower lip between his teeth. His nip was quick and
almost painless, but the threat of his anger overcame her
reluctance. She parted her lips, but only a bit. What had been a
tiny concession became, beneath his plundering tongue, a
full-fledged surrender. With his mouth he imitated the surge of
love, opening her and arousing her for all to see. When her hands
were curled into his waist, when her face blushed with the flush
that bore no relationship to embarrassment, when her body sought
his with the unreasoning urge to mate, then he released her to
announce, “You, my Lady Saura, are the woman who’s
going to purge me of my frustration. Right. Now.”

He tossed her over his shoulder as if she were a
bundle of reeds, and a cheer from the men washed over her as she
hung face down across his back. She found relief by seeking the
bare flesh beneath his shirt with her nails. His immediate
retaliation brought a mortifying sting to that part of her that sat
highest on his shoulder, and again the men cheered. It wasn’t
his hard hand that convinced her to pull her nails
away, but the tremor of rage that developed in the
body beneath her. Caution blossomed and grew as he swung around and
bounded toward the door of the solar.

Maud spoke in front of them, and William skidded to
a halt.

“Ye can’t do this, my lord,” the
maid scolded, standing with solid tenacity before the door.
“The Lady Saura is a sweet and gentle woman, and I’m
responsible for her reputation. Ye cannot take her to your
bed.”

“Woman!” William spoke through his
teeth, and the tremor in his body grew in intensity. “Get out
of my way.”

“Damn, Maud, have you lost all your
senses?” Lord Peter shouted. He raced from the table to the
older woman. “Get out of the way!”

“I won’t!” Maud said, and Saura
heard a scuffle before them, heard Maud exclaim, “You
dare!” and the shouts of the crowd as it surged forward to
obtain a view.

William strode forward, slamming the door behind
him with a backward kick of his foot.

“Maud?” she insisted as he strode
forward.

His hand grasped her thigh under her skirt as he
rolled her onto the bed. “My father,” William said
clearly, “treats his women as they deserve to be treated. As
I do.”

“You dunce! As if women deserved more
obstacles than are already furnished them by simpleminded
men!” She sat up on her elbows and he pushed down with one
hand on her breastbone.

The hand on her thigh flexed in warning, and her
quick inhalation told him of the tingle that burst deep into her
body. “You don’t know when to shut up, but I’ll
teach you. I’ll teach you a lot of things tonight.”

William eased off the bed and stared at the
disgracefully satisfied woman asleep on the bed. Asleep! He
laughed. A weak word for the total exhaustion that blotted out that
too-active brain. He had allayed at least one of her fears tonight,
he knew, even as he allayed his own indignation. There were no
obstacles to their marriage, except those she erected in her mind.
And those, he knew from personal experience with the Lady Saura,
were as sturdy as the cliffs that lined the coast of England.

One person could help him tonight, and so with
quiet care he slipped into his clothes and opened the door. The
fire burned in the center of the great hall, and most of the
servants lay in the rushes on the floor, wrapped in their blankets
or with their lovers. Stepping over the bodies, William sought the
few hardy souls still gathered around one table to drink to the
health of their lord. “Here’s the bridegroom,”
they hailed.

He grinned at their mellow intoxication.
“Where’s Maud?”

“Maud?” One of the women gave an
amused, lopsided smile, numb with ale. “Last we saw of Maud,
she still lay on your father’s shoulder.”