Fires of Winter (34 page)

The next day dawned clear, with hardly a breath of breeze from either lake or mountain. It was almost warm, and when Bruno asked if I would change my mind and ride to Thirl with him, I nearly said yes. Then I thought of the unchanged state of Thirl—of Donald's chair by the hearth with the cushion Mildred had embroidered and the stool by it on which she sat. Perhaps Thirl had been stripped by some raiding party—but what if it had not? Would I see Donald lying back in the chair, laughing at me? Mildred with her hand outstretched to draw me to her? I swallowed hard and shook my head, my voice beyond control.

Bruno's face hardened, and I looked quickly away. Rage struggled with grief and fear in me until I remembered that for him nearly a year had passed while for me it was only a few months. I looked up, but he had already turned away, saying over his shoulder that he would see to Barbe's saddling as well as horses for his men and a guide and asked whom he should ask to lead him.

“Tom Bailiff would be best, if he has not left the manor,” I replied. “I will walk down and tell him.”

It took me a few minutes to find the man; he was outside the gates talking to the swineherd about bringing in an animal to slaughter to honor my arrival, and I told him sharply not to be a fool, since Sir Giles would want to know from where an extra plump, healthy pig had come if he had not ordered it to be slaughtered. We must eat from Sir Giles's table, not from my hidden stock, I reminded him. Then I told him I would like him to guide Bruno to Thirl. He looked startled, then said that Peter Huntsman would be a better guide for the party and shouted to a passing boy to fetch him to us.

I was not pleased by Tom's resistance to my order, but by the time the shepherd had been sent off, the huntsman was in sight and it was too late to insist on my own way. Besides, I was not sure how to make Tom obey if he would not. Everyone had always obeyed me because Papa and my brothers would have enforced my orders, right or wrong. I was not at all certain Bruno would do so—and in any case, he did not have the right; Sir Giles was legally master here. So I swallowed my pride, nodded a greeting to Peter, and explained that he was to guide my husband and his party to Thirl and home again.

“There can be no danger in riding in the hills on so still a day,” I said to Peter finally, “but remember the men are riding English horses, not mountain goats, so go through the pass of the Stick, not over White Side. I wish to ride White Side with Sir Bruno myself.”

“I will look forward to that,” Bruno said from behind me, but he did not look at me, gesturing Peter toward a horse one of his men was holding.

His face was blank and there had been a peculiar note in his voice, almost like longing, that made me wonder whether he had been disappointed rather than angry when I refused to go with him to Thirl. I had noticed that Bruno was much more desirous of my company since we lay together as man and wife. But we had not coupled last night because my flux had begun. Surely the man could not be so silly as to add my refusal last night to my refusal to go to Thirl and believe I was angry about something? I almost started after them, and just barely choked down a cry for Bruno to return when Tom said, “I will bring Sir Gerald to the hollow as soon as the party is out of sight.”

Well, if Bruno were silly, I was far worse. I had almost forgotten that his visit to Thirl was a perfect opportunity to meet with Sir Gerald. Still, I could not help glancing back over my shoulder at the riders. Again I called myself a fool, I could explain everything just as well after Bruno came home. Foolish once, foolish twice; without thinking I went back inside the gates intending to go to Winifred's house to change to stouter boots and get my cloak, and of course I fell into Sir Giles's clutches.

At first I could not understand his arch looks and self-satisfied smiles as he made unnecessary and foolish flattering remarks about how lovely I looked that morning. So indifferent was I to the cloddish creature that I did not even suspect his intention when he asked if I would play chess with him. I was surprised by the request—it was largely his impatience with the game and his remarks on it, which even such poor players as Bruno and myself recognized as totally inept, that had driven us to abandon it. I looked down at my toes, trying wildly to think of some excuse, and Sir Giles, totally misunderstanding, took me by the arm and murmured into my ear that there was no need to feel shy; he would be happy to serve so lovely a lady. While I gaped, wide-eyed with disbelief, that wet cow-flop dared stroke my arm and say he would accompany me to my bedchamber to get the chess set and then, no doubt, I could find an errand on which to send my maid.
Then
it burst on me like a thunderclap that the stupid clod thought I had sent my husband away so that I could be alone with him!

I should have boxed his ears, of course, or better yet, spit in his face, but the whole idea that
any
woman, including a feeble-minded crone of sixty, could desire him enough to cheat on a husband, no matter how bad, was too ludicrous to take seriously. Besides, I was not yet ready to leave Ulle, so I decided I had better decline civilly.

“I am afraid I do not feel like playing today,” I said. “I do not feel very well. And I cannot allow you to accompany me to Winifred's house because I must change my bleeding rags. It is kind of you to wish to amuse me, but I am better off alone on such days.”

The truth was that I was never much aware of bleeding and sometimes messed my garments from forgetting my condition. It was Mildred who had trouble, sometimes flying into rages or weeping for nothing just before her bleeding began and sometimes being so racked with cramping in her belly while she bled that she could do nothing except lie in her bed and grit her teeth against moans. Sir Giles stared at me open-mouthed, and then turned from me with a foul curse and a look of disgust. I had much ado not to laugh for a moment, but then tears rose to my eyes as I silently blessed my lost sister for spreading the mantle of her torment over me to protect me.

After that I got my boots and cloak, but I had to send Edna out to discover where Sir Giles was before I could sneak out of the manor to meet Sir Gerald. As I left, I also bade her sit outside the closed door and tell him I was abed if he should happen to ask for me and she nodded, grinning. I doubted he had the brains to suspect me of plans of my own, aside from being convinced that I would engage in the lecherous deceptions attributed to every woman, but I did not want him to learn that I had gone out. Edna's ready understanding pleased me; in fact, I was very well pleased in every way with Bruno's choice of a maid. Edna's ability to sew had progressed rapidly; she had made herself a new gown, refitted the old one to her figure, and begun a tunic for me in a fine, rose-colored wool that Audris had given me. So far I had had no complaints about her behavior with men, and she was certainly circumspect when I was present.

Thinking hard as I could about Edna could not mask completely the growing pain in my throat and chest. I had always been fond of Sir Gerald, but that he should live and Papa die was hard, very hard. Yet I was also glad he had survived; he was someone, one lone thread stretching back into the part of my life that was over. My steps slowed, then quickened, then slowed again. I swallowed and bit my lips and recalled the many, many times I had been in Sir Gerald's company, and yet, when I saw him waiting for me, his eyes alight with eagerness, I burst into tears. He rushed to me and took me in his arms and also wept as he patted me and tried to comfort me.

At last he put me away a little and said, “Come, Melly, they are dead almost a year. This is too much…or…” His arms tightened around me again. “Melly, is the man cruel to you? Tom said you spoke well of him, this Sir Bruno.”

“It is nothing to do with Bruno,” I sobbed. “To me it is as if they died less than two months ago. All the while the king held me, I was mad. Oh, Sir Gerald, I do not remember half the winter, the whole spring, and part of the autumn.”

“Too much grief,” Sir Gerald said softly. “Too much grief for any woman to bear. Hush, child, it is over now. They are at peace, and with God's help you will find some peace too. Now, what of this man? He must have been forced on you. What do you wish me to do?”

My tears did indeed dry up as I realized that Sir Gerald thought I had called him to free me of a hated husband. I had to bite my lips to keep from laughing, and then blink back more tears. Poor Sir Gerald; my Bruno would have killed him in…“my” Bruno?

“Forced on me, yes,” I said quickly, hiding from my own thoughts as well as seeking an answer that would satisfy Sir Gerald if it should ever become possible for him and Bruno to meet. “For I would not have willingly married a man who must have been Papa's enemy, but he is a good man and has been kind to me.” I hesitated, thinking that if Bruno did get back my lands, they would come from the king, and Sir Gerald had better know that Bruno was Stephen's man heart and soul. If Sir Gerald could learn to accept the king, perhaps Bruno could win him a pardon also, so I added, “I think also that the king and queen meant well when they chose Bruno for my husband. Although he—he is not so well born—”

“A bastard, eh?” Sir Gerald remarked.

I wondered how he guessed that, and then realized that Tom must have said Bruno was a lord, and the common folk are very quick to detect their fellows dressed up in rich clothes to deceive.

“Yes,” I admitted, quickly deciding that there was no need for Sir Gerald to know the whole truth, “but he is recognized and dearly loved by his half sister and her husband—the lord and lady of Jernaeve. Sir Hugh offered to take him as vassal for a good property.”

“A strong man, then, and a good leader?”

“Yes, and a great favorite with King Stephen, and—and he refused vassalage because he believes that in time he can convince the king to enfeoff him with Ulle.” I said that in a rush, fearful that Sir Gerald would be angry, but he only patted my shoulder.

“You want me to leave here then,” he said slowly.

“No!” I cried. “Oh, no! This is your home. Where would you go?”

“You must not think of that, child,” he replied. “I will find a place, never fear for me.”

But he was old. I had never noticed that before, but now I saw the lines on his face and the grey in his hair. He would not find a place, not really. Someone might take him in for charity, but that would destroy his pride.

“No!” I exclaimed. “I need you.”

I could see that he was about to go on arguing, so I shook my head vehemently and opened my mouth to explain my lack of confidence in Tom's continued honesty under the strain of lacking a master. Just in time I remembered to ask softly if Sir Gerald was sure the bailiff was gone, and he assured me he had sent Tom away with the excuse that his absence might be coupled with mine if he stayed. Then I explained how Tom Bailiff was hiding most of the produce of my estate but that someone must oversee Tom.

“Sir Gerald, if you will not stay and be my deputy,” I ended, “there may be little left to build on by the time Bruno gets the lands.”

To my surprise, he looked shocked. “Melly,” he protested, “that is not honest. Forgive me, my dear, but your father did an unwise thing. Little as I like it, Stephen had the
right
to do as he did. It is the law. And the yield of the land is his by right.”

“Perhaps,” I snapped, “but
I
did no wrong. I tried to stop Papa from going to King David. I am of Ulle, and England and Scotland both can be sunk in the sea for all I care. Why should
I
lose my lands?” I saw that he was about to tell me what others had in the past, that a woman had not sense enough to consider such matters, and that was why she must be bound to the will of her menfolk. But I was not in a temper to listen to pious mouthings—which were clearly false, since if Papa had listened to my “lack of sense” he would still be alive and the lands ours—and I hurried on to explain that Sir Giles would swallow all, and whatever was yielded, none would come to the king. “Moreover,” I ended, “I have shown all to Bruno, and he agrees with me.”

“So he does!”

I flung myself before Sir Gerald, trying to hide him or protect him, I do not know which, with my body. How Bruno had crept up on us, I have no idea, but there he was, smiling down at us from the little rise that sheltered the hollow.

Bruno

The discovery that the purpose of Melusine's secret meeting with Sir Gerald was a conspiracy about nothing worse than making sure her bailiff did not cheat her filled me with such joy that I would have committed a far greater crime to please her than concealing Sir Gerald's escape from the battle at Wark. I was very sorry to have caused her the terror I saw in her face when she cast herself between Sir Gerald and me, and I would have told her so directly—which would have been a grave mistake. Fortunately Sir Gerald put her gently aside, telling her not to be a fool.

“Am I your prisoner, Sir Bruno?” he asked steadily.

“I know of no ill you have done sir,” I replied. “Nor do I remember seeing or hearing your name on any list of proscribed men.” That was the truth; I had been searching my memory for Sir Gerald's name since I heard it when Melusine bade Tom Bailiff bring the man here, and he had not been proscribed with Sir Malcolm and Sir Donald. I nodded at him. “I have come to Ulle on a visit with my wife and have no official standing. Unless you have recently taken up a career of rape, murder, and arson, I have no reason to take you prisoner.”

“Then why have you been searching for me?” he asked.

“Do not flatter yourself, Sir Gerald,” I answered. “My purpose was of deeper and more abiding interest to me. I have been examining what I hope will be my property if I can earn it by service to the king. That cannot be very soon, unfortunately, and,” I could hear my voice grow harsh, “I want to know what to take out of Sir Giles's hide when I can rid the place of him. As to you, if I had found you, I would have told you what I have just said.”

Sir Gerald passed a hand over his face. “Have I been hiding for nothing then?”

“I do not know,” I told him honestly. “Certainly you are not being
sought
, yet if some enemy should bring you before the sheriff and swear that you had fought for King David, you might be imprisoned in hope of ransom.”

Sir Gerald laughed loud and heartily. “I would be in prison a long time in that expectation. I have nothing, not horse nor arms nor armor. I was left for dead before Wark and stripped like the other corpses. I have no idea how long I lay there, but it must have been two days at least from the growth of my beard. Why I did not freeze I do not know, nor do I know when I crawled away from the battlefield, only that I woke up the second time in a wood.” He turned away from me and drew Melusine to him. “I never saw your papa and Donald struck down, Melly. I went first, so I have nothing to tell you. I am sorry I was so careless. Mayhap…”

Melusine pulled away from him and ran wildly away toward the manor. I looked after her but did not follow. She was best alone in the first moments of her grief; God forbid that grief should suddenly wake her memory of me as the invader of her hall. Besides, I needed a few more words with Sir Gerald.

“Does she still hope?” he asked, also looking after Melusine.

“I do not think so, but she still hurts,” I said grimly. It seemed that the queen was wrong about Melusine. Poor girl, she had no reason to lie to her father's old friend, and she had told him that she had been mazed in her wits by grief. Then I saw how tensely he was watching me, and I shook my head. “They are dead beyond doubt. The king was not at Wark, nor I, but Sir Malcolm and Sir Donald must have been marked by one who knew them. I know they were listed as buried because I examined the scroll myself soon after Melusine and I were married.”

He nodded quietly, but I thought his shoulders slumped somewhat and his face became a little greyer. He had been hoping that Melusine's father or brother had survived I guessed, even though he knew it unlikely. I was sorry for the old man and I hesitated because I found it hard to ask the question I must ask. To hurt Melusine again, if the answer was wrong…but my life was sworn to Stephen.

“I said I knew of no ill you had done, and that is true, Sir Gerald, but as Melusine told you, I am a king's man. I
must
ask—if there is war again between my lord and King David or the party that supports Empress Matilda, what will you do?”

“Nothing,” he said, looking steadily into my face. “I am of no party, and I have no overlord to order my loyalty now. I am landless, masterless, penniless. What could I do? And if you are asking whether I am willing to sell my sword…” He laughed bitterly. “I do not have one, and who would buy the sword of an old man anyway?”

“That is not good enough. A man of your experience, who knows the ways of this dangerous land,
would
be of value and could be dangerous to my lord,” I pointed out—and I was glad to see his eyes brighten and his shoulders go back with renewed pride. “I cannot ask you to swear to me,” I went on, “because I am little richer than you, and can offer you nothing. A useless master is a bad master.”

I paused and was delighted that he did not rush to protest that he was eager to be my man without benefit. That would have marked a man who lied easily to save his skin. Then I went on, “But I must ask you to give your word not to aid the king's enemies. In turn, I will gladly give mine to return Irthing to you—or one of the other manors, depending on what the king will give me, if he gives me anything.”

He thought that over for another moment, then said slowly, “I will promise not to take service with any man who is bound to King David or Empress Matilda for the purpose of overthrowing King Stephen, but I cannot swear any general oath not to oppose you. I must reserve the right to protect Melly. She said you were kind to her, but I do not know you, Sir Bruno, and she must be my first concern.”

“Then we are easily agreed,” I said, smiling. “I will tell you truly that I was no more willing to marry than Melusine in the beginning, but she has become very dear to me. I will do my uttermost to protect her. But there is one thing I must tell you. When Ulle was taken, I was the first man in, the first man she saw. She—she does not seem to remember that, but if she should do so and take me in distaste for that reason—”

“I certainly will not encourage such silliness in her.” He answered my unspoken question immediately and without hostility, then frowned. “Unless…You did not harm her, did you?”

“I did not touch her, not even come close or speak to her. No one harmed her. King Stephen took her under his protection immediately,” I assured Sir Gerald, glad I could tell him something favorable of my lord that the servants of Ulle would confirm.

“Then Melly has no right to be angry with you, and remembering that you obeyed your master is no reason for her to turn on you. You obeyed your overlord as I obeyed mine, and she must learn to accept that. I know women do not understand such matters, but I will not break my promise to you for that reason. I will explain it to her and tell her that Sir Malcolm would honor you for doing your duty.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was sure that Melusine trusted this man, and I knew that she had been devoted to her father. If she should remember, perhaps Sir Gerald could convince her that I had not deprived her of Ulle of my own will. He nodded, acknowledging my relief, but said only that he would stay until first light tomorrow in case Melusine wished to speak to him again. He hesitated and I was sure he would ask me to arrange another meeting—she was his last link with his lost past—but he only grimaced, I thought in recognition of his own foolishness, and told me to assure Melusine that he would demand accounts from Tom Bailiff and the headmen of the other manors, to remind them that Ulle still had a master.

I thanked him and as he turned away, called him back and told him, if he should be betrayed by an enemy—more likely now that he intended to take an active role in the management of Ulle—to send a message to me at court and another to Jernaeve, one of which would surely reach me. I was not certain I could help him, I explained, but I did have the king's ear, and there was a chance Stephen would spare a friend of mine and of Melusine's.

We did not remain in Ulle much longer, only a few days, during which Melusine, as she had promised, took me up White Side and any number of other mountains. I admit I hope never to see the top of some of those again despite my wife's enthusiasm for perching on the edge of windy crags to admire a fine stretch of wilderness. However, at those few moments when my attention was not wholly fixed on not toppling off a trail a mouse would have found narrow, I noted that the area was thick with hawks.

I had thought then that Ulle could have a mews that would rival the one at Jernaeve, and I thought it again as we rode across the mouth of Grisdale and on south toward Brothers Water, where I saw the graceful birds circling. That was a resource Melusine's father had not used, it seemed. Perhaps he had had no taste for hawking and I knew he had no friends in high places, but I was different. I recalled how Sir Oliver had used the beautiful and well-trained birds with which Audris filled Jernaeve's mews. Often a fine hawk brought great benefit to Jernaeve or bought peace and well-being. I could do the same for Ulle, and service with the king had taught me just which people to gift.

Not that I was about to allow Melusine to climb cliffs and trees as Audris did, but I knew Audris would gladly teach her skills to our…My thoughts checked. I had been about to call the folk of Ulle “our people.” I must stop dreaming, at least stop fixing my hope on so real a thing as Ulle. Vague dreams may be renewed when disappointed; but dreams fixed in reality shatter, and shards pierce the heart. Anyway the hawks would be gone south soon, for the weather had changed and Ullswater lay grey and still under a cold steel sky.

Melusine had taken one look that morning and said we must go, that snow would come that night or on the morrow and we would be trapped with the passes closed if the snow was heavy. I did not argue, having learned that she was right too often about Cumbrian weather but went to tell Sir Giles and to apologize for our abrupt departure. He had shrugged and grunted that we were indeed fortunate to be able to flee the horror of a Cumbrian winter. I commiserated with him, but did not suggest that he could easily leave and no one know or care. If he left the place and was removed from his office as steward too soon, another more efficient man, or worse yet, someone who knew Cumbria and could manage the people, might be appointed. It would be much harder to obtain estates that were flourishing and paying taxes into the king's coffers.

Aside from that, I really had little sympathy with his distaste for the winter months; I was used to long, snow-heaped winters at Jernaeve, and sitting by the roaring fires of winter with Audris and Sir Oliver was among my sweetest memories. My heart stirred to think that I would spend such winters at Ulle with Melusine.

Again I told myself not to fix my hope on so uncertain an objective, but I could not resist trying to smooth my way to it, and Melusine and I often discussed how to convince the queen that Melusine in Ulle would be no more dangerous to King Stephen than Melusine at court. We never found an answer—how could we “prove” something that depended on what was inside Melusine's heart and head?—but even our fruitless talk gave me joy. Just to be with Melusine gave me joy.

We had more than enough time to discuss that and to sit by the fire or lie warm together because Melusine had been right about the snow. We were not actually trapped, but what should have been two days' ride took five days. Even after we came out of the mountains the roads were seas of freezing mud. Until then I had not minded the delay, but I had sent Cormi to Jernaeve for our chests, and after we met him in York, I often had cause to regret the need for court clothes. With the cart we dared not try to shorten the distance on side roads. Even on such great ways as Watling Street, which we took south of Leicester, we came close to being mired more than once. We did not reach London until the third day of January, and came into the city so late that we found lodging not far from Aldersgate rather than struggle through the dark to Westminster, where we would not be expected and likely find no place to sleep.

Not that I was aware of the date when we arrived, although I knew it was past Christmas—we had celebrated that in some small town. I lost count of the days again on the road, and did not bother to ask since we could move no faster than we were already going. My temper would only grow worse with each day I knew I was overstaying my leave, so it was useless to count them. I was relieved to find out the evening we arrived that the twelve days were not yet over, and that we were not as late as I feared. So instead of rushing off to the king, I rose early, left Melusine sleeping, and hurried to the West Cheap, where I purchased a pretty pair of long earrings, a necklet of gold wire so cleverly twisted that it looked like lace set with very small pearls, and a tiny bejeweled knife for paring nails—I could not resist that as a reminder of her reaction to our marriage.

I had not realized how long I had taken choosing and chaffering for the gifts. They cost more than I planned too, yet I could not buy false, bright dross for Melusine. However thin the gold wire, it was real gold; and each pearl and jewel, though minute, were true in color and form. I expected to find sharp words waiting for me, but Melusine hardly listened to my excuse, pointing to my court clothes laid out and bidding me change quickly while she packed away what I was wearing. She too was in court dress, all else packed and ready so we could go at once.

I was surprised and said so because Melusine had often told me she thought of her service to the queen as a kind of captivity, but she did not respond to my remarks and uttered vague assurances when I asked direct questions. I wondered whether she was angry about my unexplained absence—I had said only that I had business to do. If so, the cure was in my purse, and I would enjoy applying it.

Considering how and when to offer my gifts kept me pleasantly busy during the short ride. The king's palace at Westminster was only about half a league from our lodging, and even after battling the men, women, horses, dogs, mules, carts, wains, and all else that flowed through the streets, it did not take long to get there. Still, by the time I found a place to leave my men and my cart and shepherded Melusine and Edna through the crowded courtyard, we arrived barely in time to present ourselves before dinner, I to the king's chamberlain and Melusine to the queen's.