Page 16 of The Conqueror’s Lady (The Knights of Brittany #2)
G iles carried a cup with him when he entered and handed it to Fayth as her maid had directed him to do. When the old woman got that look in her eyes, he thought it best to do as she ordered. He smiled as he remembered that it had ever been so between them since his very first day here in Taerford.
‘A posset to help you rest. Emma said to drink it as you ready yourself for sleep and not before,’ he repeated the instructions to her. Sniffing, he grimaced from the odour of it. ‘It smells…’ He could not find the words to lie about it. ‘It smells like pitch and mint.’
Handing it to her, he walked away, shaking his head over how anything smelling like that could be worth the taste endured in swallowing it.
Fayth put down her mending and took the cup, smelling it and nodding in agreement. ‘Would you rather I slept in the other chamber this night, my—’ she paused as his gaze narrowed in warning ‘—Giles?’
‘Why would you do that?’ he asked, completely confused by her question.
‘I have heard that men do not wish to share a bed with a woman who…’ She could not say whatever words she meant to say.
‘Who drinks a putrid brew that makes her breath stink?’ he finished. It brought a smile to her face and that pleased him somehow.
‘Women who suffer their monthly courses, Giles,’ she finally admitted.
‘Ah, just so. Are they contagious in some way, then?’
‘Nay,’ she said, her smile turning into a laugh. ‘You cannot catch them.’
‘Then I see no reason to sleep elsewhere this night.’
He watched her as she pushed the needle through the material she sewed. The pile next to her held five or six garments, all of which looked very familiar to him. She was mending his clothes.
‘Are you going to sleep in your clothing, Fayth?’
His question clearly startled her at first, then she shook her head. ‘Nay. I was but waiting to learn where I would sleep before removing any of it.’
Giles took the chance and walked over to her. ‘May I?’ he asked as he touched her veil, a nuisance he wished removed as soon as possible.
At her nod, he lifted the circlet holding the veil in place and then unwound the length of it from around her neck and let her braided hair tumble free. He took the end of the braid, untied the leather strip and loosened the tightly woven braid until it curled around her shoulders and face.
‘Does that not become uncomfortable? I would think it would retain heat and bring on a sweating.’
‘Fashion has little to do with making sense, Giles.’
Thinking on some of the clothing and accoutrements he’d seen at William’s court and other noble houses in Normandy and Brittany, he did not doubt it. Before he thought on it, he reached over and took the comb from the table and began running it through her hair. His hands itched to touch it so, and he finally had the opportunity. She sat beneath his hands, eyes closed, her breathing low and even, and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
‘You are better than Emma at this,’ she said. ‘She pulls too much when there are knots or snags.’
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes and he decided to broach another subject with her. He’d brought his sharpening stone and sword with him and so he placed the comb down and took the sword and the stone and sat in the corner, leaning against the wall.
‘I had thought to knock this wall down and open up both chambers to our use. What think you?’ he asked while sliding the stone along one edge of the blade.
‘To what use would you put it?’ she asked, standing then and gazing around the chamber as though judging it.
‘Nothing more than to give us more room in our chambers. It becomes crowded with only two of us in it and I would like my armour here as well. I thought a dressing area in one corner, with our trunks. A small sitting area here and the bed just there.’ He pointed to the places he considered best and she turned to them as though imagining how it would look.
Her hair floated around her as she did, the length of it nearly reaching the floor as she moved to and fro. Giles put the sword on his lap and the stone next to him and watched her. His hands itched to wrap themselves in it, and he would once he claimed her as wife. For now, he took a deep breath and released it and focused back on his true task.
‘I think it is a waste to do more than that here, lady. But I have plans to build a new keep on a hill near the fork in the river.’
‘I confess that I’ve been hearing bits of this from your men. Why did you choose there?’ she asked. He stood before answering her.
‘That hill is suitable for the Norman style of motte-and-bailey tower keep. Using the hill, I avoid the work of building the motte first. Have you climbed the hill of which I speak?’ She nodded. ‘The view of the surrounding lands is clear and you can see for miles. A much better defensive position than this one.’
‘And to what use will this keep be put?’
‘Does it upset you to know you will move from the place where you were born?’
‘’Tis a woman’s lot in life to leave her parents and cleave to her husband, so it comes as no surprise to me. But do you plan to level this one?’
‘There is much I have not decided yet. Much depends on how quickly the trouble subsides and how we come through this winter. And,’ he said, reaching over and handing her the cup, ‘how many coins I have left after we buy what we must for the winter.’ He urged her, ‘Drink this. Seek your rest.’
When his wife did not take it, he placed it in her hands and backed away. ‘I do not want to face Emma’s wrath for not having followed her instructions. If you have any pity on me, you will do as she said.’
The smell of the brew was so strong he could almost taste it as she drank it down. He shuddered as he watched and waited until she’d finished to take the cup. Without asking her permission, he lifted the tunic over her head and then turned her to untie the laces at her back.
Somehow this comfortable banter and time of ease between them felt right. He’d never spent much time in a lady’s bedchambers. Those ladies who would allow him entrance wanted him done and gone quickly. And the women who were like him, of the lower ranks or amongst the servants of the households he’d served, usually did not have a bedchamber to use.
Against a wall, under a wagon, in the stables or barn, even in the kitchen and laundry room of one lord’s house, wherever there was a moment of privacy and a willing woman, he’d used it to seek pleasure. Never had he allowed himself to dream of a time when he would share a chamber with a lady as his wife.
She slipped the dress off her shoulders and stepped from it, leaving only her shift on. Before she could climb into bed, he took her in his arms and kissed her as he’d wanted to do since he arrived home last night.
Home?
The thought made him smile, but when his lips touched hers all thoughts of laughter fled his mind, replaced with the desire for her that always simmered within him, just below the surface of his control.
Giles ran his fingers up into her hair, holding her close that way and kissed her mouth over and over. Then he eased back and released her. ‘I would hold you,’ he whispered.
When she nodded, he stripped off his clothing and placed his weapons down in seconds, following her into the bed. He lay on his side and opened his arms to her and she moved into them. In but a few minutes, the posset did its work and she slept.
Home.
The word echoed in his thoughts until he, too, fell into sleep’s grasp.
Fayth woke to an empty bed and an empty chamber. From the light that managed to force its way through or around the wooden shutters, she could tell the day was a pleasant one. Made even more pleasant by the absence of her courses.
With Emma’s help, she dressed and sought her husband in the hall. She hoped he would allow her to visit the village. Listening to his plans, she’d begun to doubt Edmund’s claims about him. She’d seen his outrage at Lord Huard’s men and their demands. She would get word to Edmund and tell him that she could not help him.
She arrived in the hall in time to witness a loud argument between her husband and his friend. How they remained friends she knew not, for this was not the first nor the worst she’d seen between them.
‘None of us have the least amount of knowledge or skill to handle this, Giles. It must be her,’ Brice argued.
‘And you have heard my word on the matter. The lady does not leave the keep this day.’ At Brice’s loud curse, he continued, ‘You saw them and you heard them. The boundaries of my lands are but an imaginary line to them, there for them to adhere to or ignore at their pleasure. Huard will not honour it if he believes I have something of his and he believes it now.’
‘Giles, be not an ass,’ Brice yelled. Fayth waited for the blows to rain down but they did not. ‘This woman is in a bad way. ’Tis said your lady has some skill in these matters. I am not saying to let her traipse madly along the village paths, just let her see to this.’
‘One of the women in the village can see to this, not the lady,’ her husband declared, crossing his arms over his chest to signify the end of the discussion.
‘May I have some say in this matter, my lord?’ she asked as they all turned to face her. Apparently they were so wrapped up in their argument that no one had noticed her arrival.
‘One of the villagers has been injured.’ Giles looked at Hallam.
‘Nissa, my lady. Wife of Siward the farmer,’ Hallam announced to her. Hallam had come from the village, one of the overseers of it for her father, and had been helping with her work there. But the names he now gave her were none known to her amongst her people. ‘They live with her sister, Edith, one of the weavers,’ he prompted.
Something was afoot, for these people named were not tenants or serfs here. In remembering her husband’s concerns about staying out of Lord Huard’s matters, she realised the truth of it—they were runaway serfs from his lands seeking refuge.
‘I know the woman you mean, Hallam. How is she injured?’
‘Her sister would only say that she is in grievous pain, my lady.’
She looked at her husband and waited on his judgement. If she pushed for permission, she was certain he would refuse, so she crossed her own arms and tapped one foot and stared at him. It was a gesture her own mother had used frequently in dealing with her father, so she thought to try it now. Apparently, it worked, for he let out a curse that made her cringe and then shouted orders that made it happen. He left the rest in Brice’s hands and did not accompany them.
After gathering what Emma thought best to take, they made their way under guard to the village and to Edith’s cottage. When Brice would have entered first, she stopped him.
‘If this is a womanly injury, surely you do not wish to help, Sir Brice?’ she asked, gifting him with the most innocent expression she could force. Men rarely wanted to involve themselves in ‘womanly matters’. When he withdrew, she followed Emma into the hut and found the woman in question on a pallet by the fire.
Fayth could see no place on the woman that was not burned or bruised. Her hair had been roughly chopped nearly to her scalp in spots and her lips were torn and bloodied. Fortunately, she was unconscious and did not feel the ministrations of those called to see to her.
‘My lady, can you help her?’ Edith begged.
‘Emma is the skilled one, Edith. Let us assist her and see to your sister’s needs.’
Emma listed the items she needed and Fayth watched as Edith moved quickly to get them. Fayth opened the chest of herbs and medicaments and mixed unguents and possets as she directed…and she tried not to let the horror of this woman’s abuse show on her face.
The woman’s husband could not hide his. She glanced up to see him standing in the corner, not in much better condition than his wife. She went to him to see to his needs. Siward brushed her off and begged her to help his wife.
‘What happened to her?’ Emma asked softly.
‘The Norman lord did not believe that we were free tenants and he had us beaten when we dared to argue.’ Siward let out a rasping breath, one that spoke of broken ribs and other damage. ‘He took all the women and marked them as his slaves and then turned them over to his men. Nissa fought back and tried to escape and they…and they…’
‘Hush now,’ Emma said, passing a cup to him. ‘Drink this and it will ease your pain.’
With efficient and careful movements, the three women washed Nissa and removed the burned and torn garments from her. Turning her on her side, Fayth nearly cried out as they witnessed the horror of her back and legs. She forced it back within and continued to work with Emma and Edith to finish cleaning the woman’s wounds and dressing them.
It took some time, but finally they finished and were able to make Nissa swallow some of Emma’s pain concoction before letting her rest. Siward didn’t move from his place until they drew a blanket up around her.
‘Refuge, my lady. We beg refuge,’ he whispered.
‘I cannot grant that, Siward. My lord husband is a vassal of the Norman duke and I do not think he will go against Lord Huard in this.’
Her heart broke at the thought that Giles would allow such injustice to happen and not intercede, but after Lord Huard’s men had made Giles’s place very clear, she simply could not answer for him. She was about to find out if Emma could stay with the woman, when Brice interrupted from outside.
‘Lady? I need you to come outside,’ he said, with enough firmness in his tone that she knew it for the order it was.
She placed her fingers to her mouth in a sign of warning to the others and then opened the door a bit and crept out, not allowing enough room for anyone to look in past her.
‘Yes, Sir Brice?’ she said, stepping a few paces off towards the path, thus making him turn away from the doorway to speak to her.
‘Did I hear a man’s voice in there?’
‘Yes, of course you did. Nissa’s husband—’ she lost the man’s name in her thoughts for a moment and then remembered it ‘—Siward watches over his wife.’
‘How did the woman become injured? Are her injuries so serious that you were needed?’ His eyes narrowed and she knew he doubted the story given.
The sight of Nissa’s body upset her so that she could not piece together a credible lie to give him. Yet, she did not think she could trust him with the truth of it.
‘Two days, Sir Brice. Give me, give them two days and they will be gone,’ she pleaded. Grabbing his arm so he could not move away, she leaned over close and whispered so only he could hear her words. ‘Those damn Norman pigs,’ she sputtered. ‘Those pigs…’ The words would simply not come.
‘Lady, do not get in the middle of something like this. And do not ask me to keep something from your husband,’ he said, pulling free of her. ‘You would do best to tell him the truth and let him decide his own part.’
‘Sir Brice, my father rented out some of his lands just before he went north and without looking at the rolls, I could not say for certain if these people are on it or not.’
She decided not to let this happen. Given two days to rest and heal, Siward had a chance of escaping Lord Huard’s men. If Edmund came back to the village, she could leave word for him to take them north with him.
‘Lady,’ he growled in warning, knowing the path she would take in this.
‘It will take me time to search for the correct scroll and decipher the names and farms assigned by my father before he left. Just give me two days to read the rolls.’
She began to go back into the cottage to make arrangements with Emma when he took her by the arm and drew her close.
‘Fayth,’ he warned through clenched jaws, ‘do not do this.’
Startled by the use of her name and the fierce expression in his eyes, she looked at his grasp and then at him with narrowed eyes until he released her. Fayth didn’t think that he would harm her; he was just trying to make his point on the inadvisability of her actions.
‘Of course, Sir Brice, you should feel free to search the rolls yourself or ask my lord husband to do so if you want your answer sooner.’
The insult stung, she saw it in his gaze before he stalked off a dozen or so paces away and continued to call down curses on her head. Never once, though, did he force his way into the cottage and expose the runaway serfs himself. Fayth ducked back inside and spoke with Emma. In a short time, she was ready to return to the keep.
The knight sat on his horse, waiting for her when she left the cottage. Since it was only her, he leaned down and helped her climb up behind him. She could feel his anger, so she did not provoke him with words or questions while they rode back to the keep. Only when they passed through the gates did she dare to ask.
‘What will you do, Brice?’ she whispered from behind him.
‘Since I was the one who convinced Giles to allow you to see to this, I have decided to honour your place as lady here and will allow you to handle this as you see fit,’ he said.
She let out the breath she was holding, expecting him to expose her actions to her husband.
‘My thanks to you…’ she began, but he shifted in the saddle to look at her as he spoke.
‘You will not thank me, nor will your lord husband, when this matter comes to light. And doubt not that a day of reckoning will come over it.’
‘If he knows not—’ she began and he interrupted yet again.
‘You restrict his options and choices in the matter and give him no opportunity to act on his own to right things.’
Fear pulsed through her at his words. It was true, she was taking the decision out of his hands, but she did not believe that he would help this Saxon couple against their Norman lords. Still, she thought it was the right thing to do in these circumstances.
At least until Giles came out to the gates to greet her. As he walked forward Brice wrapped his hand around her arm to help her from the horse. His last words worried her the most.
‘I pray God that my lady wife meddles not in my affairs the way you have chosen to do in your husband’s. I fear I could not forgive a woman who did so.’
His anger frightened her and she stumbled as her feet touched the ground. In but a moment Giles steadied her with his arm at her waist.
‘My thanks for seeing to the lady,’ her husband said to his friend. Fayth could not meet the knight’s eyes.
‘I shall return, Giles. I need to ride.’
He pulled on his courser, causing the horse to rear up on its hind legs before landing forward with a great thud. Fayth moved with Giles to give the knight room and within a few seconds the knight urged his horse to a gallop and they were gone through the gates.
‘Lucien, watch his direction and send two riders after him,’ Giles called up to the guard tower.
Taking her hand, he led her along towards the keep. ‘Worry not, lady. He suffers these dark moods and nothing can soothe them.’
‘Nay, my lord. I suspect it has been my behaviour that has so angered him. I do not jump at his command or take his counsel when offered.’ It was close to the truth.
‘Lucien, where did he head?’ he called out just before entering the building.
‘To the east, my lord. I am sending Stephen and Fouque after him.’
‘They are the best trackers amongst my men. They will make certain he returns in one piece.’
As she followed him inside Fayth realized that Brice was headed towards Lord Huard’s lands.
Brice strapped his helm and sword to his saddle and gave his horse its head to gallop. He headed east towards Huard’s lands to seek answers to questions he’d not shared with Giles. Suspicion was all he had right now and without proof he would not draw Giles into the middle of it. But after listening to the lady’s conversations in the cottage, he knew there was more going on here and he would be damned if he did not cover his friend’s back.
He slowed his horse down and rode for several miles until he nearly reached the end of Giles’s lands and then turned northward along a stream and a small rise of hills. He found a small lake and stopped to let his horse rest and water. It was there that Stephen and Fouque caught up with him. Giles had sent no orders along, so he led the men up through the hills to the borders with Huard’s lands.
It took some hours to explore but Brice discovered the sickening proof of Huard’s despicable acts against his people. Three bodies lay close enough to a road to be seen if someone rode by, in a heap, so he suspected that they’d been dumped there after death. Examining them, he imagined that the two in the weaver’s croft must have the same types of injuries.
As they searched the area near the bodies they found the hoof prints of large, heavy warhorses in the rain-soaked ground. Giles and he and their men were not wealthy enough to afford the prized destriers that noblemen could, destriers that left prints like these in the mud.
But, Lord Huard’s men were.
Brice swore the other two to secrecy until he could inform Giles of his findings, then they buried the bodies beneath stone cairns and rode back to Taerford Manor. It was after nightfall by the time they arrived and he found that the lord and his lady had retired to their chambers for the night.
Deciding to allow his friend his night of pleasure in his wife’s bed before revealing the information he’d gathered, Brice only hoped it was not the last one they shared.