Fires of Winter (22 page)

I could not refuse to go with Bruno without making myself ridiculous, but I entered the chamber prepared to defend myself, to resist as well as I could any attempt on Bruno's part to void his promise and force me to couple. Instead of seizing me, however, he began to talk about the journey north and his fear that if the king or queen were reminded too often of our going by courtiers' gossip, they might place restrictions on our route of travel. I understood that he was trying to warn me to say nothing of his plan to take me to Ulle without mentioning the place—and realized with surprise that I had thought of going there without horror, although there was still pain. So I said as shortly as I could that I was not a fool and changed the subject to the bruises he had received when he killed the boar.

The man is a devil! His face—if one is diverted from the hunger that lies under every other expression—is open and innocent; his dark eyes are sometimes wary but more often soft with kindness or bright with laughter. Bruno was not handsome to my eyes, not with the brilliant beauty of my red-haired, blue-eyed father and brothers. He was more like Magnus—that should have warned me; laughing or caressing, Magnus's clever mind always held firm to its own purposes. But I never thought of Magnus.

Despite the warning I had had in overhearing Maud's ladies speak of Bruno's knowledge of women and despite his open admission, in my presence, of his intention to the men he had dismissed from our company, I was beguiled completely. Only an accident saved me from falling headlong into the trap of lust that he set. He set? Or did I set that trap myself and Bruno only sprang it? It was I who bade him take off his clothes; he only used my own pride—but is that not the devil's favorite weapon?—to draw me to him, even after I saw his staff upright, its head bare in lust. I had never before seen a man so, but I knew what it was and what it meant from what rutting male beasts exposed.

Only Bruno is no beast; he is a clever devil. He would not let me put from my mind what I had seen, but fixed my attention on that standing rod, taking away any fearfulness I might have felt by making me want to laugh. Monsieur Jehan de la Tête Rouge, indeed! And talking of that part of him as if it were an independent personage with feelings and desires separate from his own. So instead of running to hide myself and being revolted by that swollen shaft, I actually came closer, finding Monsieur amusing. I felt again that warmth and trembling within me—perhaps I even knew then that it was desire, not fear—but I was too curious to be warned, so curious I had to press my hand on Bruno's ribs to keep myself from reaching down to touch Monsieur de la Tête Rouge.

Devil! Bruno knew what I felt, I am sure of it, and he bent and kissed my nose. It was a disarming caress, full of warmth and tenderness; it was also Papa's favorite affectionate gesture when I was close, brushing dirt from his clothes or looking at something he was holding. Had it not been for that, Bruno would have had me then and there. As it was, the web he had been weaving around me broke and I jumped away.

Devil! He knew enough not to pursue me and to call again on my pride to smother my fear—not of him but of my own rising passion. Like a fool, I stood up to him, answering roundly the excuses he made for tempting me. Thus I let him beguile me again, for he set aside the issue of our coupling, as if he had been defeated, and then, while my pride still blinded me, he challenged my usefulness as a woman, asking, as if with contempt, whether I could make ready for our journey in one day.

In pointing out those things he had overlooked, or seemed to have overlooked—and in my joy at his promise that I could ride a horse of my own rather than being jounced in a cart like a servant girl—I all but forgot how he had made me want him. Without thinking, I ran to him for comfort when fear of finding more pain than I could bear at Ulle struck me. I thought the unruly ideas he had planted in my head were gone—until he began to unlace my gown. There was no hint of Monsieur's desire in what he did, but that wicked warm trembling began in me again. This time I had strength enough to flee—and that devil turned his back on me and was fast asleep before I had lit the night candle and snuffed the others.

It took all my strength, after I had lain awake some while, still warm, still wanting, to refrain from putting my foot in the middle of his back and shoving him out of the bed. I thought about it with longing, imagining his rude awakening, his shout of surprise and perhaps pain if he landed on his bruised side. I even began to believe it would be worth the beating he would undoubtedly give me—but what if instead of beating me, that devil understood. If he kissed my mouth, which Papa never did, would I have sense and strength to flee him again or would I yield to the curiosity of my treacherous body?

Desperately, I tried to stop thinking about that infuriating man and fixed my mind on the problems of our journey. The diversion became preeminent when it suddenly occurred to me that more trouble would arise from keeping the trip north a secret than from telling Maud about it. It was possible that the queen would forbid my going altogether or forbid Bruno to take me to Ulle, but I did not think so. For the first, I doubted she would openly forbid anything for which the king's permission had been obtained. As to going to Ulle, I was quite certain it would not enter her mind that Bruno would consider taking me there, so it was unlikely she would forbid it. On the other side of the coin was the picture the queen would see if she heard of that journey by accident—a black picture of my deceitfulness.

I intended to speak to Bruno about this notion, to ask him what I was to do about Edna to whom I had promised service only this morning, whether he wanted me to arrange for carting or storage, how to do so, and a million other details, but of course he was gone by the time I woke. I do not know what annoyed me more—Bruno's ability to slip away without a sound or a quiver of the mattress or my own stupidity in forgetting to tell him to wake me when he woke. I suppose I looked like a thundercloud when I went to the queen's hall to break my fast, although I was not aware of it until Maud crooked a finger at me and gestured to the lady with her to leave us alone. “You are much more amusing now that you have—so to speak—come into our world,” the queen said, smiling at me as I made a small bow. “Certainly you do not trouble to wear a courtier's face. Tell me, Melusine, who or what has displeased you?”

“I am more worried than displeased, madam,” I replied, cursing myself for my carelessness and wishing I had the player's skill with which Maud credited me.

I dared not even lick my lips, although my mouth had dried with nervousness. I no longer had the choice of discussing with Bruno whether it would be better to tell the queen. I must speak now or not tell her at all.

“Bruno told me last night that he is to carry a message north for the king and that I am to go with him,” I went on, trying to keep the frown on my face unchanged so that Maud would not read my anxiety.

“And you do not wish to go?” Maud asked without inflection.

“Oh yes,” I cried, “I do wish to go, but I am sure I must beg leave of you, madam, and I can give you no further explanation. Bruno told me no more than I have already repeated.”

The queen looked at me with no more expression than there had been in her voice. There was no way to judge whether she believed what I had said, although in a way it was true since Bruno had not explained the king's purpose.

“I hope you will grant me leave,” I went on. “Since I have no duties, I am sure my absence would cause you no hardship—” I glanced quickly over my shoulder and lowered my voice to be sure I would not be overheard, “—and being away would solve my problem with your ladies. I suppose most of those attending you now will leave and others, who do not know me, will come before we return—Bruno said he had leave for two months. But even if I am wrong about that, surely the ladies will forget so small and unimportant a matter as my behavior or understand that the travel and excitement had changed me.”

“What a clever girl you are, Melusine,” Maud remarked so blandly that a chill ran up my spine. “I find you much more interesting than most other women.”

“Please let me go, madam,” I whispered. “I am sure you will find me more interesting still when I do not need to hide myself for most of the day.”

“Oh…” The queen drew out the sound until, though soft, it rang with irony. “So you intend to return?”

I stared at her, blank with fear and then asked, “Where else have I to go?” The question brought a brief look of surprise to Maud's face, and wildly seeking any topic that would keep her from asking me a direct question about Ulle, I blurted out, “And I do not know what is mine to take. I have several grand gowns in my chest that are new. Are those to be returned to you, madam? The bed, I am sure, was lent, but is it to stay in that chamber or should it be packed away? And do I need a tally to mark that I have returned what was lent?”

“The gowns are yours,” Maud snapped. “Two were given to you by Stephen to make you less sad, and your wedding gown was my gift. Why do you continue to pretend that you do not remember?”

“I do not pretend, madam,” I said seriously. “I do not know why I do not remember. Perhaps I did not listen properly because I was thinking about my sorrows, or perhaps I did not want court gowns because I did not want to be at court.”

“Whatever you are, you are certainly not a flatterer,” Maud remarked, her brief flash of temper replaced with wry amusement.

“Would you believe me if I said I was overjoyed to come into your service—or your care?” I asked quietly. “It would be foolish for me to pretend that. Yet, madam, now that my bitterness is a little eased, I can see that you and the king have tried to be kind.”

“I am glad your bitterness is eased,” Maud's smile, as so often was the case, did not reflect in her eyes. “I must suppose that is Bruno's doing.”

To my horror I felt myself blushing, but I would not look away and seem ashamed. “He is not a man I would have chosen for myself,” I said firmly, hoping she would recognize the truth when she heard it for once, “but he is not cruel or ungenerous. Since it is too late to hope for better I must be content with him and make as good a marriage as I can. So will you give me leave to travel with him?”

“I will tell you tomorrow or send a message if you need to know sooner.”

There was a slightly troubled look on the queen's face, but I did not think it had anything to do with me, and she continued to be withdrawn into her own thoughts as she told me that I did not need tallies for the bed or bedclothes and gave permission—unasked—for me to go and begin sorting and packing as soon as I had broken my fast.

I was sick with worry all the rest of the day, but I had no chance to confess what I had done and warn Bruno because he did not sit with me at dinner. And when I told him at the evening meal, explaining my reasons for telling the queen, he only nodded and said he was sure Maud would give me leave.

“I am so glad you are sure,” I said somewhat spitefully, remembering how unpleasant my interview with her had been. “Now will you please tell me what you want done with the chests—and with Edna. You told me to take her as a maid, so I did, but I am sure she cannot ride. Do you want me to store everything or to hire a cart—”

“Oh, bless you, Melusine,” he cried, “if you will see about the hiring of a cart and a couple of men to drive it and guard it, I will somehow find time to get a horse and saddle for you.” Then he looked at me hard and said in a somewhat lower voice, “I do not wish to ask the king for time to go into the town when my service will be withdrawn from him altogether so soon.”

“But—” I began, about to protest that Bruno had misunderstood me. Then I hesitated, knowing that if Magnus had given me such a look, it would have some important meaning and I suppose inside me something woke to alertness so that small incidents stuck firmly in my mind. There was no immediate threat, however, and my attention jumped back to the fact that I knew nothing of the town, that I was not sure the queen would give permission for me to run about in it, and that I had not the faintest idea how to go about hiring a cart and men anyway because at Ulle I had owned the carts and the men had been servants in the household.

“Oh, of course, you will need money,” Bruno said, seeming to associate my unfinished remark with the wrong uncertainty. His hand fumbled in his belt, but he was no longer looking at me and he did not look down for his purse either. He had glanced at the king's table when he spoke of not having time to go into the town, and his eyes stayed fixed there, following a gentleman, most gorgeously attired, who was crossing behind the queen.

Bruno pushed a purse into my hand, and rose to his feet. We had not finished eating, but I felt his movement had more to do with the gentleman he was watching, who now bent over the king's shoulder and said something that made Stephen laugh. The queen looked up at him too. It seemed to me that she had cast a quick glance at her other table companion, who I knew was the king's brother, before she smiled at the gorgeous gentleman. I thought Bruno, who was standing beside me, still closing my hand around his purse, had seen the glance Maud gave the bishop of Winchester and stiffened, and a faint curiosity about what it all meant stirred in me. In the next moment I dismissed the matter. I had my own troubles to occupy me. I had no idea of how I was to accomplish what Bruno thought I had suggested.

Absently, my eyes went back to the king's table and I wondered if I had imagined all those quick looks and tensions. The bishop had apparently been included in the jest that made Stephen laugh, for he was laughing too now, and Bruno, also smiling, was talking to Camville. As I watched, the royal party rose, having also finished eating. The king walked toward his private apartment with the gorgeous gentleman's hand on his arm, while the queen stood talking to the bishop a moment longer. When they parted, I saw the bishop look at the doorway through which the king had disappeared. For some reason, he looked lonely—a ridiculous idea when applied to a man of such wealth and power—but I had got to my feet and started toward him before I realized how silly such a notion was.