Malia Martin (32 page)

Clenching her fingers in her kirtle to stop them from shaking, Aleene looked about the room, her gaze lingering upon Nan, then Peter, and finally the old priest. She felt a warmth on her shoulder and reached up to cover Robert’s hand with her own. They sat then and ate in the silent hall.

Two days later Aleene awoke as her husband readied to go out hunting. The sun had not yet shown its face, and Aleene was not at all ready to quit her bed.

“I love you,” Robert murmured in the dark of the room and kissed her.

Aleene smiled and stretched as Robert opened the door to leave. “Take one of the falcons, Robert.”

Her husband hesitated. “Are you sure, Aleene?”

Aleene laughed. “Of course. The poor birds have probably forgotten how to hunt.”

“Well, there shall be no more lazy birds about this place. Except, perhaps, my wife.” He left as Aleene pulled the coverlet up over her head. She wished away the world and reveled in the smell of Robert that clung to everything around her. She must have fallen asleep then, for when she opened her eyes again, the dimness of dawn had become bright. Still, the sky showed gray and dismal through her small window. With a groan, Aleene left her bed and washed. The water had turned cold. She shivered and had to jump back beneath the covers for a moment before she could stand to brave the chill once again and dress.

Rubbing her hands together furiously, Aleene went to chapel and knelt to say her prayers. ‘Twas with relief she finished and moved again, trying to keep the blood flowing through her chilled body. She sniffed the air as she ran to the hall. It smelled of snow.

Aleene saw Berthilde as she entered the hall and summoned her maid. “Do you know where Robert is this morning?”

“Hunting with the men, milady.”

“His men?”

“No, milady, the lad Peter and a few others from Seabreeze.”

Aleene blinked, a small hope stirring within her. “Seabreeze men? They all went out together?”

“Aye.” Berthilde nodded, one side of her mouth lifting in a tiny smile. “I even heard one
of the men laugh as they went out.”

Aleene made herself breathe slowly. Turning she went to the door and looked out at the slate-gray sky. She rubbed her hands together to ward off the chill.

“Snow is coming,” Berthilde said.

Aleene nodded. She stared at where Robert must have walked, the men following him as they went out to hunt. Oh please, she thought, let them begin to believe in us.

“Do you remember, as a child, going sledding behind Old Man Rigdon’s hut?” Berthilde asked from behind her.

Aleene frowned as she faced her maid. “Sledding?”

With a smile and a sigh Berthilde shrugged. “’Tis been many a gray winter since children played in the snow behind Old Man Rigdon’s.”

Aleene furrowed her brow. “Why do you speak of this, Berthilde?”

“My old mind was just wandering.”

Aleene laughed lightly. “Your old mind never wanders.”

“You would come home and have hot mead, your eyes lit from inside like a Christmas candle.”

Aleene stared at Berthilde. “I do remember,” she said finally. “When father was still alive, it made winter much more bearable.”

Berthilde nodded. “That it did.”

Aleene returned her gaze to the bailey beyond the door. “If it does snow, I think I’ll take Robert . . .” she stopped, thinking of something else. She peeked at Berthilde. “Ah, I see what you are getting at. Do you think they will come?”

“You will not know unless you ask.”

“I shall take everyone, then. We will go sliding on the hill and have hot mead. We shall make a winter party of it!”

“A good party that will be, milady, a very good party indeed.” With a smile Berthilde nodded and brushed past Aleene.

Aleene watched the maid make her way across the room and out toward the kitchens. The day didn’t seem quite as dismal as it had only moments before. Taking a deep breath, Aleene went to the head table and sat. One of the women brought her a bowl of rosewater for her hands.

“Thank you,” Aleene said.

The woman blinked and smiled cautiously.

The doors heaved open at that moment, bringing in a rush of bitter cold air and the first swirl of snowflakes.

“Take him to his chamber,” Berthilde ordered as men stormed through the open door.

Aleene squinted in confusion at the chaotic mass of humanity that swarmed into the great hall. The men carried someone, another man, a large man. A breath hitched in her throat and she stood quickly. She moved forward, but her feet felt like lead as she tried to go toward the people.

“What has happened?” Her small question was not heard. The men moved quickly, others followed asking their own questions, and above it all Berthilde yelled orders.

She reached them finally and saw her husband, his face pale, his chest covered in blood. “Cyne!” she cried, running toward them. Pushing people aside, she shoved her way to Robert’s prone body.

“Milady!” someone took hold of her arm, but she shook free.

“Cyne, oh, no, Cyne.” She took his face between her hands, kissing his cold lips. “No!” She felt as if her own blood drained away with Robert’s.

“Milady.” Berthilde took her arm forcefully. “Let the men take him to your chamber. We must clean the wound and stop the bleeding.”

Aleene could not seem to translate Berthilde’s words for her own grasp. She stared at the woman, then looked back at the men taking her husband toward their chamber. She pulled away from Berthilde’s grip and hurried after them.

They laid him gently on the bed, then stepped back as one. Aleene pushed through the men and went down on her knees at the side of the bed, taking her husband’s limp hand in hers. “What happened?” She looked at the faces surrounding her. “What?”

“An arrow.” One of the men pointed to just below Robert’s heart. “It came out of the woods. Someone shot him with an arrow.”

Aleene felt as if a fist had hit her in the belly. She gulped in air. “Who?” she finally managed to ask.

The men shook their heads.

Peter stepped forward, his face nearly as pale as Robert’s. “I took the arrow from his body and he fainted.” The boy wrung his hands. “Will he die, milady?”

Aleene swallowed hard.

“Out with you now.” Berthilde bustled in carrying water, bandages, and a jug of wine. “We’ll need room to work.”

Peter looked from Berthilde to Aleene, then to his silent lord. “We shall find the one who did this!” he said with boyish fervor. The other men just backed out of the chamber never meeting her gaze.

Aleene watched them leave, gripping her husband’s hand.

“Strength, Aleene, have strength,” Berthilde said, handing her the jug of wine.

Aleene grabbed the neck of the bottle in one hand, not letting go of her husband.
Be steady, Aleene.
The words ran through her mind, and Aleene swallowed. Oh, God, she could not. Not now.

Be steady, Aleene.

With a deep breath, Aleene let go of her husband’s hand and placed the back of her palm against Robert’s forehead.

“We must remove this tunic,” Berthilde said.

Aleene put down the bottle of wine and helped the maid as they struggled with Robert’s clothes. He groaned once when they had to peel the cloth away from the open wound.

Berthilde leaned close to Robert’s chest, picking out pieces of cloth from where the arrow had entered. “I wish those numbskull men had brought the arrow. I would like to see it and know that none of it remains within Lord Robert. But we can only hope now.” She straightened. “Clean the wound with the wine, milady.”

Aleene took a deep breath to steady her hands, then grabbed the bottle at her side and uncorked it.

Berthilde held cloths, ready to wipe the wine that would run down Robert’s chest.

Swallowing against the panic that edged her mind, Aleene slowly poured a portion of the wine over the wound.

They worked for what seemed forever, packing the bloody hole in Robert’s chest and binding it with tight bandages. Then Aleene knelt back down at the side of the bed to pray as Berthilde left to inform the people of Robert’s condition.

Aleene wished with all of her heart she knew his condition. She could only watch his chest move up and down, and hope with everything she was that it would not stop.

Robert had still not stirred when darkness stole through the chamber. Berthilde brought a lighted candle and placed it beside the bed, resting her hand on Aleene’s head for a moment before she left again.

Shouts roused Aleene from her vigil a while later. She jerked her gaze toward the closed door, wanting to know what happened beyond, but not daring to leave Robert even for a moment.

The door heaved open. “Milady,” Berthilde said breathlessly, “there are people here from Pevensey.” She frowned. “They have brought Cuthebert.”

“Cuthebert? Why?”

“Come, milady, you must listen to them, yourself.”

Aleene bit at her bottom lip and looked down at her husband.

“I will sit with him.” Berthilde picked up her skirts and went to stand at the other side of the bed. “Go now.”

Aleene nodded then and forced herself to leave Robert’s side. She heard anger as she entered the hall. People shouted at each other. She even saw one push another. As she got closer, she realized that the person being pushed around was Cuthebert.

“What do you here?” she asked, staring at the steward.

The man jerked his head toward her. The words that he had been about to yell back at the people died on his lips.

One of the burgesses from the village stepped forward, his dark, bushy brows drawn angrily over his eyes. “This man here, your steward, has been in the village saying many bad things about you and the Lord Robert. When we heard of this terrible thing that happened, we decided to bring him here.”

The people around the burgess murmured their agreement.

“We think perhaps he would know something of the killing of Lord Robert.”

“He is not dead!” Aleene said quickly, her heart hammering against her breast.

The man blinked and nodded. “Of course, milady, my apologies. The reports have been confused.”

“Very.” Aleene forced herself to breathe. “I am sure you meant no harm.”

“No, in fact, we wish to help.” The burgess cleared his throat. “As the lord and lady of Seabreeze, you two have helped us greatly. We have heard of your courage, milady. And we know of Lord Robert’s kindness to those who have been left with nothing.” The man turned a darkened gaze on Cuthebert. “We fear this man means you harm.”

Under any other circumstances Aleene would have rejoiced at the burgess’s words. Now she could only bite her lip to keep back bitter tears.

“Harm?” Cuthebert interrupted. “She is the one who means harm.” He pointed an accusing finger at Aleene. “She killed Tosig. She ran off Aethregard.” He shook his finger in emphasis. “She brought in the enemy!”

Silence followed the tirade.

“Why do you fight her, sir?”

Aleene could not see who had asked the question. It was a small female voice emanating from the mass of people.

“Yes,” the burgess turned on Cuthebert. “How does defaming Lady Aleene profit you?”

“I
saw
her kill Tosig.” The steward whirled around, holding his hands out as if in supplication. “She pushed him from the cliff.”

“And you said nothing then?” asked a young man in the crowd.

Cuthebert huffed a frustrated sigh. “You will take her word over mine?”

Again silence hung over the assembly.

“Yes,” someone finally said.

“Lady Aleene,” the burgess caught her attention. “I ask you this for all of us. Did you know of the money we have been demanded to send to you these months since Tosig died?”

“Money?” Aleene shook her head, caught off guard from the question. “Of what do you speak?”

“We have been told by this man,” he pointed to Cuthebert, “that you demanded payments for your protection.”

“I told you before and it is true!” Cuthebert yelled angrily. “’Tis all her fault: the death of Tosig, the demands of payment.”

Aleene looked from the burgess to her frenzied steward. She wanted nothing more than to return to Robert’s side and the argument happening around her was only making her confused and frustrated. She settled her gaze on Cuthebert. “I know not what you speak of, man. I did not kill Tosig, and I have never asked for more than the rents due this estate.” Aleene’s hands began to shake as she asked, “Do you know something of the attempt on my husband’s life? For if you do, I would have that information from you.” She took a step toward the man. “Now!”

“
I
.” Cuthebert fidgeted and shook his head. “I know nothing of that.” He took a deep breath and whirled around. “But of what matter is that? He is a Norman, Lord Robert. He has no right to rule over this castle, or these people.”

Before anyone could answer the doors to the hall burst open.

“He has been found, milady.” Peter pushed his way through the mass of people. “The one who tried to kill our lord has been found!”

Aleene rushed forward as a whirl of frigid wind and snow heralded the entrance of the Seabreeze men. “Who?” she stopped Peter with a hand on his arm.

“’Tis Aethregard, milady, your stepbrother.” regard, his eyes closed and his lifeblood seeping into the rushes.