Candle in the Window (3 page)

Shaken by his appeal and his unexpected eloquence,
Saura
quelled her doubts. Sighing, she rubbed
her fingers across her forehead and nodded. “I will think,
and I will pack. Your situation cannot be worse than mine is here,
and perhaps I can help your son. No doubt I can set your house in
order, with the assistance of my good right hand, Maud. See what
you can do, my lord. See if you can convince Lord Theobald to wish
me Godspeed.”

“What is that smell, Maud?”

“I’m not sure, m’lady, but I have
my suspicions.” Maud marched into the rushes that covered the
floor and gingerly lifted them with the toe of her shoe.
“Decaying rushes, I suppose, and God knows what
underneath.”

Pinching her nose,-Saura answered, “Well,
I
know what’s underneath, I
don’t need the Almighty to tell me. Is this the great
hall?”

“If ye want to call it that.
Hospitality’s not the strong suit in Lord Peter’s
castle.”

As if to give the lie to her words, two gigantic
dogs bounded toward them, barking an enthusiastic welcome. Maud
swatted at them with her open palm. “Back, sirs.”

One dog bounded away, the other stood sniffing at
Saura’s skirt as if it were a meat-laden bone.

“Away, dog!” Maud clapped her hands at
the animal, but its growl sounded deep and clear, and she stepped
back.

Calmly, Saura reached out her hand and let the dog
assess it.

“M’lady, that lolloping beast will bite
it off,” Maud objected.

“Nonsense,” Saura returned. The dog
tasted her with a dainty lick of the tongue and then fought to get
his head
under her hand. When she obliged by
scratching around his ears, he quivered with ecstasy.

Maud laughed with unwilling amusement. “If ye
could only see him, m’lady. He stands with such a clottish
look of heaven on his droopy face.”

Snapping her fingers, Saura ordered the dog behind
her, and he obeyed with all the eagerness of a devoted servant.
Placing her hand on Maud’s shoulder, Saura inquired,
“Does this place look as bad as it sounds?”

“I’ll not close my eyes on this group
to find out how it sounds, thank ye. I thought Theobald fed a rough
bunch, but it seems no one is in control here. We got here just in
time, m’lady. They are taking advantage of Lord
Peter.”

The heavy clomp of feet behind cut them off.
“Find your way, Lady Saura?” Lord Peter asked heartily.
“Come in by the fire. You’re dripping with snow and
shivering with cold. I hope this is the last storm before
spring.”

“I doubt I would have had the courage to
come, my lord, if I had known the condition of the roads,”
Saura advised him.

“Dreadful, aren’t they?” he
agreed. “Since the breakdown of the government,
nothing’s been done for them, and they were none too fine to
begin with. Did the cart help?”

Exasperated, Maud voiced her displeasure. “A
bumpy, uncomfortable ride most of the way.”

“Most of the way?” he asked.

“Aye, except when it stuck in the snow and
the mud and we had to climb out to let the horses pull it out. What
manner of madman would ignore the signs and go out in such a
tempest?”

“You should be grateful I did.” That
silenced Maud, and he continued, “If it weren’t for the
storm, we undoubtedly would have been set on by brigands.
That’s another price we pay for the disorder that rules
us.”

“Lord Peter,” Maud snapped,
“you’ll frighten m’lady.”

“Damn, that’s right. I don’t want
her to run away now that she’s had a glimpse—or a
whiff—of the mess I’ve got her into. The place looks
even worse than when I left.” Lord Peter took Saura’s
elbow, but she gently disengaged her arm.

“Please, let me hold on to you,” she
directed, putting her hand into the crook of his arm. “It is
more effective.”

“Grandfather!” The shout echoed across
the smoky room, and a tall boy tripped across the rushes in his
excitement. “Grandfather, you’re back at last! We were
worried.”

“Kimball, surely you weren’t worried
about an old warrior like me?” Lord Peter leaned down to
embrace the smiling youth. “I’ve been absent only three
weeks. And you’ve grown since I left.”

“You say that every time you come back. I
can’t grow all the time. But I did lose another tooth,
see?” Kimball contorted his lips to show his grandfather the
gap, and then lowered his voice. “I wasn’t worried, not
really. But when it started to snow, Father began to fret. He said
the cold pained your joints and that he should be touring the
estates and when you didn’t return promptly—”
Glancing at the unknown ladies, he finished lamely, “Well,
you know.”

“I know. Thank you for supervising your
father.” Lord Peter laid a solemn hand on Kimball’s
shoulder.

“You are welcome, sir, but who is
that?” Kimball pointed a finger at the seven-year-old boy who
trudged through the door with a manservant at his heels.

Lord Peter swung around to see the miserable group
from Pertrade huddled together, unwilling to approach the fire
until properly directed. “Good God, Lady Saura, forgive me.
Take my arm.” He again offered his elbow. “Let me take
you to the hearth. Kimball, this is Lady Saura. She has come to be
our housekeeper. She is a distant cousin of your grand
mother’s. That boy is Clare, Saura’s half
brother. I’ve taken him for fostering. Will you make him
welcome, Kimball?”

“Of course, sir. It is an honor to meet you,
Lady Saura.” He bowed from the waist. “I hope you will
be happy in our home.”

Kimball obediently dropped back with Clare, and
Saura heard him tell her brother, “Many thanks for coming.
Grandfather’s a popular man for fostering, and I’ve
always had boys to fight with. But since my father’s trouble
all my friends left.” The boy grimaced dramatically, and
continued, “You’ve saved me from boredom.”

“Your grandson is as courteous as his
grandfather,” Saura said.

“I hope that’s a compliment.”
Lord Peter laughed, and Saura laughed back.

“I certainly meant it to be.”

Maud chimed behind them, “Pleasant! Lord
Peter is only pleasant if ye discount the blackmail and the
bribery.”

Lord Peter stopped and Saura could feel the warmth
of fire on her left side.

“A chair, Lady Saura,” he offered.

She touched the back and slid into the seat, and
before she was settled the dog flopped at her feet.

“Bula! Back!” Lord Peter commanded.

The dog snorted in response, lying against
Saura’s legs in a wallow of comfort.

“That dog, Lady Saura, is supposed to be a
hunting animal,” he said in irritation. “God knows,
he’s never even brought in a rabbit, but that doesn’t
mean I wish him to become a lapdog. You mustn’t encourage him
to behave like one.”

“’Tis a way she has with the
animals,” Maud chided, and
he turned back
to the maidservant to pick up their bickering where they’d
left off.

“My bribes can be very pleasant.”

“So far all I’ve heard is words,”
she returned. “Ye promised a private chamber for
m’lady, with a fire which we’d better get burning if
there is to be any warmth in there tonight.”

“Hawisa!” Lord Peter’s shout made
Saura wince. “Where is that damned Hawisa?”

“Probably down in the straw of the stable
making another of her everlasting brats.”

The voice from the other side of the fire startled
Saura. It resounded deep and as rich as imported cloth, the kind of
masculine voice that made her melt with pleasure. Yet it contained
elements she detested: sarcasm and pathos and fury.

“No.” Lord Peter laughed a little.
“It’s too cold in the stable. She’s probably
using my bed, if I know that slut.” His tone grew serious.
“How are you, William?”

William grunted, and his lack of courtesy stretched
into an uncomfortable silence that ended only when Maud intervened.
“If ye can command a few of these lazy churls to carry
firewood and show the way, I can get those fires built and the
chill out of the room. M’lady’s feet must be like
ice.”

“My feet are always like ice,” Saura
interjected.

Maud ignored her. “And have them bring up
m’lady’s trunks, she’s wet to the
skin.”

“Wet to the skin! My, my, that could be
interesting,” the glorious voice drawled again. “If
only I could see it.”

“The trip went well, William.” Lord
Peter’s voice lowered, deceptively projecting calm. “I
wish you had come with me.”

“Riding in a cart like an old woman, how the
vassals would have laughed at me,” the voice said
bitterly.

“Merwyn asked after you most tenderly. He
invited you to come when next I visit, and Raoul wished he could
have your military expertise to guide him when the raiders come in
the summer.”

The deep voice warmed with eagerness, bitterness
vanquished by interest. “Is he sure they will come
again?”

“Why would they not? They had rich pickings
last winter, cleaning out the harvest barns and raping the peasant
women.”

“And no one to stop them, with me lying
helpless in the keep and you hovering over me like a mother hen.
God damn their souls all to hell! The day I lay hands on the man
who bashed me on the head is the day he meets his Maker.”

Saura liked the voice better now. No longer
sarcastic, it echoed with resolve. Seeking to perpetuate his proud
defiance, she snapped, “But what will you do afterward? Come
back and sit next to the fire and stink?”

It was quiet. God, it was so quiet. She could hear
his gasp, and not another sound. Was everyone in the giant room
holding his breath?

“Madame, I do not know who you are, nor do I
care.”

Laden with fury, his voice caused shivers up her
spine. It was menacing, but patient, willing to wait for the moment
he could tear her heart out.

“No one has told you, apparently, that
I’m blind, and unable to do anything but to sit by the fire
and stink.”

Trusting her instincts about his slovenly
appearance, trusting that Lord Peter would protect her, Saura
assured William cordially, “I knew you were blind right away.
It seems you haven’t learned to feed yourself without
slopping sauce on your clothes. It seems you can’t find your
hair with a comb or a bath with your body. It seems all you can do
is drink and stink.” The servants’ shocked murmurs
filled the hall.

“Who are you?” The low snarl
interrupted her.

“I am Lady Saura, a distant relative of your
mother’s, and the new chatelaine. Your father thinks his home
is in chaos and that my order will prevail.” To Saura’s
satisfaction, the serving folk quieted. Not a sound escaped them.
Let the servants as well as the raging beast across from her
prepare to deal with her challenge.

“Listen to me, Lady Saura.” The golden
voice rang clear and low. “I’m not one of your
housekeeping chores. Stinking or drinking or an eyesore,
nevertheless, don’t try to clean me up. I’m happy as I
am.”

Sticking her little nose in the air and sniffing
haughtily, Saura replied, “I believe in turning to good use
everything available to me. I’m sure we can think of some use
for a blind half-man.”

A firm hand beneath her armpit jerked her erect and
Lord Peter issued an inarticulate command.

“But we can dust around you for a
while,” Saura conceded graciously, moving away under Lord
Peter’s constraint. “Just as if you were part of the
furniture.”

“
What in
God’s name possessed you to say such things to
him?
” Lord Peter’s question echoed in
Saura’s mind as she learned the layout of the castle. It
pursued her as she ventured down the privy stairs to the undercroft
below the great hall, and as she visited the dirty, appalling
kitchen hut in the bailey.

True, she could have used William’s support.
She had Alden, whose stick coerced, and she had Maud, whose salty
tongue converted cowering serfs into soldiers against filth. She
had Bula, whose guard-dog adoration convinced more than one servant
to cooperate with her wishes. Those three were worth more than a
dozen pikemen, but what she needed was a legion of knights. As Lord
Peter had hoped, spring followed fast upon the heels of the late
snowstorm and the time for a thorough cleaning rushed upon them. He
presented her the keys of the house with great ceremony, but the
serfs were sunk in sloth, without direction since the death of
William’s wife. They took a very human advantage.
Led by the slovenly Hawisa, they displayed a sly
perversity when given Saura’s orders. Sometimes they
misunderstood them; sometimes they were terribly slow about
completing them; sometimes they remembered the different ways Anne
had ordered things done.

Lord Peter endorsed her authority, but the warming
of the weather brought a miscellanea of work for him also, and he
seldom stayed within the walls of the keep. He did take the time,
however, to impress upon the churls the need for silence about
Saura’s blindness. Content with the alacrity with which they
obeyed him, Maud noted which servants helped enforce his command
and which ones gave him only bare obedience.

Yet, if Saura had been able to tap William’s
still-towering authority, it would have expedited her housekeeping
chores.

“
What in God’s
name possessed you to say such things to him?
”

Everyone treated William as if he were ill.
Everyone treated him like fine glass, tiptoeing around him with
sympathy and pity, and not one person had any empathy. Their pity
blinded them to his robust health and his sharp mind, their pity
spoiled William for any useful chore. So what in God’s name
had possessed her to say such things to him? Merely an unthinking
desire to jolt him from his stupor and make him function again.

She listened for a reaction from the lump called
William, but heard only grunts and curt commands. Nothing she had
said made any difference. Nothing she had said had reached him, she
decided.

But the things Saura said had jolted William.

For the first time since his accident, he was angry
at someone besides himself. Every warrior knows unavoidable
incidents occur in battle, but most warriors are not forced to face
such ghastly results of their accidents. Illness and infec
tion he could face, had faced before. But this
blindness!
The poor fool of a priest
told him to resign himself to God’s will; only his own
humility would earn him the kingdom of heaven. In the same breath
the priest suggested God was using him for His own good purposes.
Good purposes!

William cursed God. What kind of God would
humiliate him, handicapping him when he was most needed? The Isle
of England writhed in agony, rent by the struggle between Stephen
of Blois and Queen Matilda. Guilt haunted him for leaving his
father to supervise and defend their far-flung lands and castles.
Since his return to Burke Castle in a horse-drawn cart, he had
refused to set foot out of doors. And now That Infernal Woman
accused him of fear and weakness and uselessness.

That Woman had stolen his guard dog and tamed it to
her hand, but she’d never do the same with him.

“God’s teeth!” William slammed
his hand against the trestle table before him. That Woman was the
bane of his life. She brought the winds of change sweeping into the
fetid air of the castle and there was nowhere he could go to
escape. Unbidden, the thought slipped into his mind.

Hide?

Is that what he was doing? Hiding? Like a cowardly
ox, dumb and plodding unrelentingly toward the great
nothingness?

“God’s teeth!” he swore again.
That Woman was making him think: think about his roles here, think
about what he could do to help his father, think about the son he
had forsaken.

In the far reaches of his consciousness, her voice
and the activity it stirred commanded his attention.

“Today we are going to scrub the
kitchen,” Lady Saura announced. “All the walls, the
ceiling, the floors; all the
pots, the pans, the
spit, the ovens. We’ll be done by sundown.”

And at sundown:

“We are not finished cleaning the kitchen.
I’m sorry, Lord Peter, there is nowhere else to cook for the
castle. Until the serfs are done, we must all go hungry.”

William grinned at his father’s bellow and
realized how long it had been since his mouth had stretched back in
pure amusement. The sore muscles elongated, and he grinned again
for the joy of grinning.

Actually, That Woman didn’t say much to him.
Actually, she ignored him. There were no more challenges like the
one she had flung the first night. As she had promised, he appeared
to be no more to her than a piece of furniture, his rehabilitation
a poor second to the purging of the keep. Perhaps he had imagined
her interest in him. Perhaps she didn’t care about a blind
beggar like himself.

Still, her voice delighted his ear. A rare feminine
voice, soft and strong, it supported a range of emotion that
clearly foretold her moods. It was as if she had stopped and
listened to herself and modulated her voice to be pleasant.

He liked to hear her exasperation as she scolded
the giant dog who adopted her, adored her, tripped her, and
protected her with an amiable fierceness. He especially liked to
hear the iron in her as she dealt with the churls’ deliberate
incompetence.

“The trestle tables need to be placed against
the walls after breakfast,” Lady Saura announced. “Good
people, today we remove the rushes from the floor. They abound with
fleas. I’m tired of hearing the dogs scratch and I’m
tired of hearing you scratch.”

In the muttering and shuffling one woman’s
complaint echoed up to the arches. “That’s foolish. New
rushes won’t grow
tall till late summer,
an’ th’ floor’ll be bare. Lady Anne never made us
change th’ rushes in th’ spring.”

“When did she make you change them,
Hawisa?” Lady Saura asked courteously.

“Why, in th’ fall, of course.”
Hawisa snorted with derision, leading the chorus of laughter that
jeered at the lady’s ignorance.

“
Last
fall?” Saura’s voice dripped sarcasm, and when the
laughter died, her voice cracked the whip. “The floor will be
bare until new rushes are grown, and you’ll clean the floor
daily as atonement for your sloth. Today, we will remove the rushes
and brush the floor.”

The work proceeded at a crawl, and once when Alden
shouted at the slow servants, Lady Saura hushed him. Pricking his
ears, William listened for That Woman’s retribution, and as
bedtime approached she did not disappoint him.

“Where’re our blankets?”

“Blankets?” Lady Saura asked
blankly.

“Th’ blankets we wrap ourselves in
t’ sleep.”

“The blankets have been taken for washing.
The servants will be finished with them.” William could
almost see the pucker on her face. “About the time these
rushes are burned and the floors purged.”

“We can’t sleep on those benches
without blankets. ’Tis still too cold.”

“I suppose you’ll have to lie in the
rushes you have piled up,” Lady Saura answered without
interest.

“But they’re rotten.”

“Aye.”

Listening to her, day after day, he became quite
fond of the clever way she dealt with the childish evasions of the
serfs, hearing their grumbles as they began to do as she ordered
without question. Only a few held out, still sidestepping her
authority, and William began to feel impatience
boil within him. These flunkies were questioning the authority of a
woman of his class, a woman who spoke Norman French and understood
whole phrases of the barbaric English tongue. This woman demanded
nothing more of them than that they earn their supper.

“Today is the day we have longed for,”
Lady Saura announced at breakfast. “As soon as the trestle
tables are removed, we will shovel out the garderobes.”

A universal groan rose from the assemblage.

“Aye, I knew you would be pleased.”
William could hear the grim determination in her voice.
“They’re full, and this practice of shovelling out the
top layer of dung is over as of today.”

“I’ll do it not.” Hawisa made her
last stand. “I’m a sewin’ maid; me job’s
not carting shit, an’ ye can’t make me.”

William heard the defiance in her tone, heard Alden
step forward and the rustle among the serfs as they waited to see
her fate for open defiance. He didn’t know what compelled
him, but with grinding patience he called, “Hawisa, come
here.”

Instantaneous silence fell, caused by the
unprecedented intervention of their blind lord. William listened to
the shuffle of her feet as Hawisa approached him. It was a tribute
to his acute, new hearing that he knew where she came from and how
close she was, but he did not realize that the days of brooding had
gained him some ability.

“Kneel down where I can touch you,” he
instructed, and she pressed her body against his leg as she sank to
her knees before his chair. Carefully, he lifted his hand to her
face, locating her features with a light touch. When he had run his
thumb across her broad cheek he pulled his hand back and slapped
her flat-handed. The sharp sound echoed up the
stone arches and the girl whimpered and ducked.
Quickly, he caught her shoulders, raised her to face level and
shook her until her neck snapped. “If you are too good to
clean my house,” he said clearly, “you can step out
into the bailey and see if mucking out the stables would suit you
better.”

Hawisa’s round face bobbed with earnest
terror and the craftiness of a vixen run to ground.
“I’ll clean! ’Tis loyalty t’ your dear wife
that makes Lady Saura stick in me craw. ’Tis the airs she
feigns t’ convince us that she’s th’ new mistress
of Burke. Aye, and she nothin’ but a blind case of charity
Lord Peter has taken on.”

The scullions gasped, and Maud muttered,
“Here’s trouble,” but William heard only
Hawisa’s jibe about the blind and took it as a slur to
himself. His next slap knocked her away from his knee and made her
head ring. “Out!” he roared, raising himself to his
feet in one vital motion. “Out, you poison-fanged viper, and
don’t let me hear your voice again.”

The scurrying of feet rewarded him as Hawisa fled
the great hall, and he turned to face Lady Saura and her assembly
of rebels. For the first time in months he stood erect, his broad
shoulders back and his head up. His blond beard bristled with
indignation and the dimples in his cheeks creased with the grimace
of command.

“I have listened,” he began ominously,
“to the insolence and the complaining and the disobedience of
the serfs of this castle. I know those of you who are clever enough
to obey Lady Saura. I know those of you who are not. And to those
who have been sluggard and rude, I tell you now, the time of
retribution is at hand. Lady Saura is your better. Lady Saura has
taken my wife’s place in the management of the house. You
will obey Lady Saura as you obeyed Lady Anne. I don’t give a
damn how old and ugly Lady Saura is. I don’t give a
damn whether her blood is vinegar and she sweats
buttermilk. This woman is the chatelaine, chosen by my father and
endorsed by me, and the next insolent serf will answer to me. I
have the leisure to monitor your behavior, and by our Lady of the
Fountain, my blindness has not destroyed my good right
arm.”

He finished with a shout that jarred the wall
hangings and blasted the guilty back against the wall.
“Well?” he roared.

The hustle of many feet answered him. Maud ordered
the men outside to clean the cesspit from beneath. She divided the
women into scrubbers and shovelers and set them to work above. One
boy went scurrying to prepare the gardeners for a sudden influx of
dung and another ran for the garbage carts. William sank back into
his chair, seeking with his ears the Lady Saura, wanting her praise
for his mediation. In the hubbub he did not hear her approach, but
her light touch on his shoulder alerted him to her presence.

“Perhaps more than a blind half-man, my
lord,” her gracious voice said directly above his head.
“Perhaps more than a piece of furniture after all.”

“Lady Saura?”

She turned her head away from her consultation with
Maud, toward the respectful voice of Bartley.
“Aye?”

“M’lord’s askin’ for
ye.”

“Is Lord Peter home already?” She rose
with a frown. “Dinner is not ready.”

“Nay, Lady Saura. ’Tis Lord William.
He’s wishin’ t’ speak with ye.”

She puckered her lips in dismay. Had he thought of
his response to her taunt of the morning? She hadn’t
forgotten
the sound of his hand on
Hawisa’s flesh, nor the bellow of his rage. Still, this day
had been profitable. Hawisa had been given the very chore she
detested. She’d leaned deep into the holes and shoveled,
moaning all the while. Then she’d been ordered to clean
herself before reporting to the kitchens to turn the spit and scrub
the pots. She was no longer required in the keep.

The garderobes smelled cleaner, the floor seemed to
have scrubbed itself, the servants moved smartly to the new drill
of discipline.

And William; William had responded at last to the
bustle around him, to the real world outside his own head.

She had no feel for him yet, for the man who
endured inside. She could not observe anyone, their mannerisms and
habits, she could only listen to them and draw her conclusions from
their voices and intonations. In her own home, the family and
retainers she dealt with acknowledged her intelligence and
perception, but William seldom spoke and so she groped when she
dealt with him. To touch another being was her best insight, but
because of the role laid on her, that of a middle-aged woman, she
could never benefit by the perceptions open to her with grasp of
hand or kiss on cheek.