Castle of the Heart (7 page)

Her knees were shaking. She sank down on the
edge of the bed, then immediately stood up again. The bed. She
stared at it. She and Arianna had slept in it together since coming
to St. Albans, but tonight she and Thomas would sleep there. The
fresh sheets had been laid on it earlier that morning, and Arianna
was banished to a trundle bed in the chamber Lady Aloise shared
with Sir Valaire and their two younger sons. Tonight, only Thomas
and Selene would occupy this room. A man. Doing
that
to her.
Selene thought she would be sick.

If only she were not so confused. Her head
whirled whenever she thought of the people she had met since coming
to St. Albans and how different they seemed from Lady Isabel’s
descriptions of them. She could not understand it. They had been so
kind to her it was difficult not to like the members of her future
family. And Thomas. Isabel had not specifically warned her not to
like him, but Selene understood that it would be easier to do what
Isabel wanted her to do if she could avoid caring for Thomas. She
almost wished he were cold, or cruel, or brutal. She could have
despised him then, and not felt so guilty at the betrayal of a
husband’s trust that would be necessary.

She wished she had never met Isabel. But she
had, and every day for the three months of Isabel’s twice-extended
visit to Sir Valaire’s castle the older woman had flattered the
unhappy girl, charming her with kindness and professing complete
understanding of her feelings, until finally, in the name of the
friendship which had become precious to Selene, Isabel had made a
request. And, unaccustomed to having so much fond attention paid
her and overcome with love and pity for the woman she believed had
been mistreated and betrayed and wrongly sent into exile, Selene
promised to do what Isabel wanted. No, it was more than a promise.
With both her hands on the crucifix Isabel held before her, Selene
had sworn a solemn oath. She had been well trained by the nuns who
had taught her, and she knew that such an oath could not be
forsworn without imperiling her very soul. Once the ritual was
completed she was bound to do as she had vowed though it cost her
life.

Now that she was at St. Albans and the Narrow
Sea lay between her and Isabel, Selene had begun to regret the
impulsive oath. But there was no one she could talk to, no way to
ease her troubled conscience. She could not speak of what she had
done to the priest when she made confession because she feared that
part of her penance would be to reveal all to Baron Guy and Thomas.
She knew such a revelation would bring disgrace not only to herself
but to her entire family. She could not do that to her honest
father or her brothers. And now Arianna, her one-time confidante,
had been acting strangely, avoiding her in favor of Lady Meredith’s
companionship. Having noted their growing friendship, Selene knew
she dared say nothing of her pact with Isabel to Arianna. If she
asked advice of Arianna, the girl might say something to Meredith,
who would of course tell Baron Guy. It was plain to Selene that she
had no one to trust or depend upon but herself.

The bedchamber door opened and Lady Aloise
and Arianna appeared. Lady Aloise was garbed in her very finest
blue silk gown and all her jewels. Arianna, in a deep green dress
that brought out reddish highlights in her luxuriant dark brown
curls, looked oddly solemn and subdued. Selene’s glance only
flickered over the two women before her thoughts turned inward once
more, returning to her own problems. She paid little attention to
what they were doing as they picked up the wedding garments spread
out on the bed and began to dress her.

Her serving woman had helped Selene to bathe
earlier, in water scented with dried rose petals and violet
flowers, and had left her wrapped in a woolen robe, beneath which
she wore knee-length stockings held up by blue ribbons and soft
leather shoes trimmed with gold. Now Aloise slipped the robe off
her daughter, and Arianna brought the thin linen shift and helped
Selene to put it on.

“You have insulted the waiting women by
refusing to have anyone but Arianna and myself dress you,” Aloise
told her. “They all expected to be here. It is the custom.”

Selene did not respond. She heard her
mother’s words only as an irritating accompaniment to her own
unhappy thoughts.

“You are cold, child,” Aloise said, one hand
resting on her daughter’s shoulder.

“Then dress me and I shall be warm.” Selene’s
voice was so flat and lifeless it startled the two women with her,
and her mother looked at her with annoyance.

“This is a woman’s lot,” Aloise told her.
“Your duty is to marry and bear children to your husband. Your
father and I expect you to carry out that obligation humbly and
with an agreeable spirit. There will be no sulking, Selene, no cold
withdrawal of your heart from your husband. You owe him total
obedience. Curb any thought of defiance.” Aloise snatched the fine
cream wool underdress from Arianna’s hands and pulled it over
Selene’s head, settling it on her rigid shoulders with a sharp tug.
“I had hoped the nuns would teach you humility,” Aloise grumbled.
“But you remain a proud, stubborn, and ungrateful girl.”

“I am like my mother in that,” Selene said,
staring into Aloise’s shocked face. “But you may be certain I will
never take as many lovers as my mother had. My sin may indeed be
pride. At least I am not guilty of lust.”

Aloise’s hand slapped across Selene’s cheek
so hard the girl nearly fell. Selene regained her balance and stood
straight and stiff, waiting for the next blow. It cracked upon her
other cheek and Selene hardly moved. She fixed her eyes on the
opposite wall, her chin high. Out of the corner of her eye she saw
Aloise raise her hand again. Selene braced herself.

“My lady, please!” Arianna caught at Aloise’s
arm, stopping the forward motion that had already begun. “Don’t
beat Selene on her wedding day.”

Aloise slowly lowered her arm. It was obvious
she was fighting hard for self-control.

“You are right, Arianna. She deserves a good
beating by her father, but we should not send her to her husband
with bruises on her body. And I do hope,” Aloise breathed, her rage
not really cooled at all by Arianna’s intervention, “I hope Sir
Thomas has a strong arm and a large stick to keep you under
control. You finish dressing her, Arianna. I cannot bear the sight
of her another moment. Sir Valaire and I will return later to
escort her to the church. And, praise to heaven, after today I need
not see you again for a long, long time, Selene.”

“Thus you need not watch a young woman grow
up while you grow too old for lovers,” Selene hissed at her
mother’s departing back. Apparently Aloise had not heard her, for
the bedchamber door closed with a smart click, and Selene’s tense
stance relaxed a little.

“Must you always antagonize her?” Arianna
asked. “You need not quarrel so much, if only your tongue were a
little less sharp.”

“It doesn’t matter any more. After today,
I’ll only see her to say a formal good-bye. That is the only happy
thing about this marriage. I will no longer be under my mother’s
rule.”

“She is not so wicked as you would like to
pretend, Selene.” Arianna was struggling to separate the thick
folds of the gown so she could lift it over Selene’s head. Selene
made no move to help her. “Your mother has always been kind to
me.”

“That is because you are not her daughter.”
Selene raised her arms and waited for Arianna to put the dress on
her. It took a while. The gown was made of heavy silk brocade that
had been brought from Byzantium at great cost and then worked into
the latest style by Lady Aloise and her serving women. It was pale
green, with a blue and yellow flower pattern woven into it,
shimmering here and there with gold threads. The bodice was loosely
fitted, with a wide, round neck. It had wide elbow-length sleeves,
bordered in gold, which allowed the longer, tighter cream sleeves
of the underdress to show. There was a belt of gold and green
threads embroidered with jewels to wrap twice about Selene’s slim
hips. Below the belt a hugely full circular skirt fell in stiff
ripples to the floor, hanging long enough in back to trail after
her when Selene walked. Arianna knelt to arrange the skirt.

“You look beautiful,” she said, looking up at
Selene. She rose, and taking up a wooden comb she used it to smooth
and arrange Selene’s hair until it fell straight down her back in
gleaming, midnight-black splendor. A short veil of sheer white silk
went on top of her hair, then a narrow gold circlet, symbol of
Selene’s rank.

“Will you wear the necklace?” Arianna
asked.

“I suppose I must,” Selene sighed, watching
while Arianna lifted Thomas’s wedding gift out of its silk pouch
and held it up. It was of intricately worked swirls of gold – Welsh
gold, Thomas had said – and it was set with emeralds. To match her
eyes, he had told her when he gave it to her the day before. But
jewels meant nothing to Selene, nor did all the festive
preparations for the wedding. Because they would take place in an
abbey, the celebrations would not be as boisterous as usual, and
for that was Selene glad. She pulled her mind away from her own
gloomy thoughts long enough to notice Arianna’s subdued manner as
she held the gold and emerald necklace, straightening it before
placing it around Selene’s neck.

“Are you jealous?” Selene asked, and watched
Arianna’s fingers grow perfectly still, holding the heavy gold. “Do
you wish it were you, marrying some fine nobleman? I can tell you I
am envious of you.”

Arianna stepped behind Selene to fasten the
necklace, and Selene could no longer see her face.

“Why should you envy me?” Arianna asked.

“Because you have no dowry and therefore you
will never be forced to marry. You will never have to bed with a
man.” Selene felt Arianna’s hands on her shoulders, the fingers
digging into her, and Arianna’s voice sounded strangled.

“Thomas will be good to you, Selene, if only
you will let him. He will love and honor you.” Arianna’s forehead
rested on the back of Selene’s shoulder for just an instant.
“Please try to be happy in your marriage. Please, please, try to
love him.”

Selene moved away from her friend, caught up
again in her own terror, not looking back at Arianna.

“Happiness and love,” Selene said softly,
“are not earthly things. You are speaking of lust. I hold myself
above that.”

“Don’t hurt Thomas.”

Selene turned around and looked at her.
Arianna’s eyes were bright with tears.

“He’s a man. I cannot hurt him,” Selene said.
She put out a hand and touched Arianna’s cheek. “Don’t worry about
me, my dear friend. I know what I have to do, and I will do it.
Oaths sworn must be fulfilled.”

The wedding ceremony took place in the church
porch, and then the wedding party went inside for a solemn Mass to
bless the vows just taken. Thomas walked first, with Selene’s hand
on his wrist, proudly showing off his new wife to the assembled
guests. They were followed by Arianna and Sir Kenelm, who was Baron
Guy’s liege man and Thomas’s close friend, and then by Guy and
Meredith, and Selene’s parents.

As she paced slowly down the aisle, Selene
stared straight ahead, her eyes on the high altar. She felt her
cheeks burning and knew they must be red. She could still feel the
stinging blows of her mother’s hand.
She will never strike me
again,
Selene reminded herself.
Never.
She bowed her
head as, in honor of the nuptial pair, the abbot himself began to
conduct the Mass.

Once the religious service was completed, the
guests retired to the large reception room for a daylong feast.
King Henry and Queen Matilda and their eldest son, William, called
the Atheling in honor of his Saxon mother, sat at the table on the
dais at one end of the long room, with the bride and groom beside
them, along with Arianna and Kenelm, Guy and Meredith, Valaire and
Aloise, and several other important guests.

The abbey cook had outdone himself, serving
up fresh fish, roasted pigs, sides of beef, haunches of venison,
all accompanied by complicated sauces, along with meat pies and
vegetable stews, fine white bread, custards and sweetmeats, figs,
raisins, and dates. The cellarer had ordered extra casks of wine
for the occasion, the abbey’s stores being nearly depleted after a
month-long royal visit, and there was plenty of beer and ale, cider
and perry. There were frequent toasts to the newly wedded
couple.

Throughout it all, Selene sat quietly, eating
little, willing herself to feel nothing, speaking only when someone
spoke to her. She roused herself to make only the briefest
responses to Thomas’s attempts at conversation, knowing full well
her withdrawn behavior would be taken as evidence of maidenly
modesty.

The day passed rapidly with feasting and the
entertainment of singers and jugglers and acrobats. Too soon for
Selene, the time came for the bride to leave the table and be
prepared for the wedding night. King Henry stood, slightly drunk,
and toasted her on her way with words that brought a stinging blush
to Selene’s sore cheeks.

“Come,” Meredith said, putting an arm around
Selene’s shoulders. “I have arranged that there will not be a crowd
in your bedchamber. Aside from Lady Aloise and Arianna and me, we
need only one or two more women.”

Queen Matilda rose from her place beside the
king. She had been a half-Saxon princess, daughter of the King of
Scotland, and famous for her beauty and goodness. She was still
lovely in middle age, with long gold braids, a sweet face, and the
warmth of manner that derives from a kind and loving heart.

“I will go with you, Meredith,” Queen Matilda
said. She beckoned to an elderly woman at a nearby table. “I will
bring with me Lady Constance, who would not frighten even the most
timid bride. That will make five of us, and that’s enough to bear
witness to the bride’s fitness, I think.”