Candle in the Window: Castles #1
Page 26
“We come to help you prepare for your wedding,” Jane said. Mindful of her failings the day before, she introduced the women by name. “Lady Bertha’s here, Lady Edina and Lady Duana, Mary, Earlene, Isolde, Loretta, Valerie, Melbia, and Juletta. I’m Lady Jane.”
“I remember you,” Saura said. “Welcome, ladies.”
“Has your maid laid out your clothes?”
“On the bed, m’lady.” Maud curtseyed, her jaw clamped firmly over the words she wanted to say.
Jane turned at Maud’s tone and examined the serving woman. A faithful retainer, she decided, jealous of having her place usurped on this most important day. With a patience only few suspected, she explained, “’Tis a tradition for the ladies to dress the bride. It distracts her mind from the ordeal ahead. For some reason, the thought of a wedding and the night following causes a trembling in the limbs,” she lifted Saura’s shaking hand, “and a lack of appetite. Have you finished eating?”
“As much as I can choke down,” Saura admitted, biting her lip.
“Come then.” Lady Jane whisked away the tray. “Has the priest been in? Good. If you’ve confessed and eaten, we’ll proceed.” Saura’s color faded before her eyes, and Jane cast around for a distraction and found one in her blunt and honest friend. “Do you remember, Bertha, how frightened you were at your first wedding?”
“I was twelve and my husband was eleven. God knows why I was worried about that little thing.” Bertha laughed with boisterous amusement, and the other women relaxed. A few chuckled at the well-worn story, and Saura smiled slightly.
Jane lifted her to her feet. “’Tis nerve-racking to stand before hundreds of witnesses and swear to submit your properties and your self to a man, but at least William’s no stranger.”
“I met your stepfather last night,” Bertha said. “You must be dancing at the thought of leaving him.”
“Theobald?” Saura asked. “Theobald’s here?”
“He came in late, escorted by Lord Peter’s men. What a turd!” Bertha clicked her tongue. “He must be here to legalize your union, but how any woman could live with such cruelty.”
“You’ve seen him once and you know he’s cruel?” Lady Duana asked, a twist of incredulity distorting her face
“He reminds me of my second husband,” Bertha answered flatly. “You recognize them after a while. Bullies who drink too much wine and beat their women for sport. Did you see that bruise on his wife’s cheek?”
“Where’s my stepmother, Lady Blanche?” Saura asked. “Didn’t she want to come in?”
“I know not,” Jane replied. “Theobald wouldn’t let her out from beneath him. They lay in the great hall, wrapped in a blanket, and he puffs and groans like a bull to prove his manhood to any that listen.”
“Oo, I’m impressed,” Bertha said. “Aren’t you, ladies?”
“Oo,” the women hummed, and one voice spoke from the crowd. “I’m especially impressed by his speed. He’s so quick!”
“Oo,” they hummed again, and then they laughed.
Jane stripped the robe from Saura and she stood as bare as a babe. Gaping, the women crowded around her in a circle. “Well!” Jane pronounced briskly. “Now we see why William insists on marrying you.”
Bertha sighed. “Ah, well, we all looked like that once.”
“At nineteen?” Jane snapped.
“I had three children by nineteen,” Bertha returned, “by two husbands.”
“Please, ladies,” Saura begged. “I’m damp from my wedding bath and the chill of the morning air.”
“Dress the child before she freezes,” Bertha advised, and one of the others lifted the blue bliaut and slipped it over Saura’s head.
Jane reached out and touched the rose wool cotte, as fine a weave as she had ever seen, and sighed. “How lucky you are, Lady Saura, to be able to wear such jeweled colors.”
Saura smiled and let them tighten the front lace of the cotte. “Pull it tight,” Bertha ordered, “and I’ll make sure I keep my eye on my husband. He hasn’t seen a waist that size in years.”
“Old Frederick wouldn’t dare look at anyone else,” said Lady Duana. “He’s too afraid of your wicked tongue.”
This began a quarrel well honed by time, and Bertha swung on Duana with a vengeance. “Old Frederick—”
A pounding at the door interrupted them, and Jane nodded at Maud. She opened the door and accepted two bundles swaddled in canvas.
“Bride gift!” Jane said.
“Bride gift?” Saura asked, puzzled. Then she brightened. “A present?”
“From William. Would you like me to open it for you?” Jane asked.
“Oh, nay. Put it on the bed. I’ll open it.” With greedy hands, she stripped the rough cloth from the oblong package while she chatted, “I’ve not had a gift since my mother died.” A bolt of cloth appeared, and she found the end and unrolled it carefully. Under her fingers bloomed a royal cloth.
Purple rippled in the light, gleaming and glowing and drawing forth sighs and groans of delight.
Saura wasn’t looking toward it at all, which broke the illusion of sight she fostered with her competent ways and graceful movements. Her head was up, a frown of concentration knit her brow, and her fingertips stroked with the grain, against the grain, back and forth. “Silk.” She raised it to her cheek, stroked it across her skin with the sensuous enjoyment of a cat. “I’ve never felt it in my life, but I know it. Silk.”
“Your mother never had as fine,” Maud breathed.
“Not many women do,” Jane said ironically. “That color’s reserved for princes, and for the very few who have the wealth to buy. God knows how William found that. There can’t be another bolt of such material on this isle. It shows his worth, and how much he treasures you.”
“Look, it matches her eyes.” Bertha pointed where the shimmering purple met Saura’s face, and the cloth did deepen the violet to a purple, bringing its rich shimmer to her eyes.
“She’d be a fool to listen to poems when she can have that,” Duana said, her voice clear and sharp with envy.
“Poetry bores me. ’Tis too often the result of hard work, contrived efforts and no talent.” Saura raised her head from the shining stuff and those purple eyes seemed to gaze directly at Duana. “’Tis nothing but a song without music.”
Duana’s mouth dropped open, and Jane laughed with triumphant amusement. “Duana’s eaten with envy that no man addresses poetry to her, and you dismiss it as a bore. Now she has something else to envy.” Jane’s hand sneaked out and touched the silk as if she couldn’t resist. “But there’s another package.”
“More?” Saura’s hands fluttered over the blanket until she found the second bundle. Its surface sank as she pressed it, but it was stitched together with twine and didn’t yield its secrets easily. Jane drew her knife and cut the basting, and the canvas sprang loose, propelled by the release of the contents.
“Dear Holy Mother of Jesus,” Jane breathed.
Rich ebony furs caught the light and Saura’s hands. She plunged her fingers into the pelts, scattering them across the silk. “So soft,” she sighed. “Feel.” She swung on her heel and thrust one close to Jane’s face, and Jane, in her astonishment, laid her cheek against it.
“’Tis gorgeous,” she choked, overwhelmed by the fierce joy on Saura’s face, the pleasure of a child given an unexpected treat.
“Tell me about them,” Saura demanded, holding it out for the next lady.
Bertha came to exclaim and pet the fur, and the other women crowded around, waiting their turn as Jane said lamely, “They’re black.”
Bertha rolled her eyes at her friend, and Jane realized how little she saw with her blessed sight. Steadying herself, she considered what the blind girl would want to know and described, “The pelts are small, but the fur is luxurious. They’re sable, and they match your hair in sheen and color. With a gown of the purple silk trimmed with the ebony furs, you’ll be the most beautiful woman in the new court.”
From the great hall, the ladies could hear William roaring, “Does she like them?”
Bertha jerked her head toward the sound. “Apparently he does want to drape her in them. He could have sent her gold or jewels to display his regard to the folk, but he sent the presents she could enjoy. I’d never have suspected the thoughtfulness of that scarred warrior.”
Saura clasped the pelt to her chest and flushed with gratitude. “He’s the gentlest man I know.”
The women remembered the shambles on the field the day before and raised collective eyebrows.
She continued, “And he owes it to Lady Jane. She taught him deportment.”
Jane brayed with laughter. “He was always thoughtful, but a bit complacent with his position. You’ve been good for him, Lady Saura, you have shaken him from his composure.”
William’s voice blared from the great hall. “Is she ready?” And more quietly, but they could hear him, “Damn it, what are those women doing in there?”
The ladies exchanged grins and Bertha lifted the hose from the bed. Jane waved her away and asked, “Lady Saura, are you warm enough?”
“Aye,” Saura answered, startled and never suspecting the ploy.
“In that case, we’ll leave off the hose and put you in only your shoes. After the ceremony, let William know you’re naked beneath your gown, and your first mating tonight will not be your last.”
“Why, Jane,” Bertha cackled. “You’ve grown quite wicked.”
“Married women have to be inventive,” Jane retorted. “It piques the male interest. Besides, the ladies will have the pleasure of watching him squirm.”
“As you say,” Saura answered. “Still, I would not be happy if the other men should discover my state.”
“They won’t.” Bertha reached one arm over and pinched Duana’s ear between beefy fingers. “Will they, Duana?”
“Nay, nay.” Duana squirmed, trying to get away. “I’ll not tell a soul.”
The other women hastily agreed, and Saura stepped into her slippers.
“By God, where is the woman?” William’s bellow had a sharper tone to it, and the ladies laughed out loud.
“We’d better get out there before he starts pounding on the door,” Jane said.
“Aye, and you know what he’d be pounding with.” Bertha dropped a slow, wicked wink and sauntered toward the door. As Maud opened it the women spilled out into the great hall, blocking William’s view of his bride.
“Leave her hair down.” Giving one last order to Maud, Jane backed out. “William stopped me and insisted that Saura’s hair be left loose. He says he doesn’t care that she’s not a virgin on her wedding bed—’twas him that picked the flower, and she’ll not be denied her honor.”
“Aye, m’lady.” Maud curtseyed and shut the door behind them. Lifting a brush, she sat Saura on a stool in front of her and brushed the gleaming locks. “She’s not so bad, once ye know her. And your lord William is a bonny man. Beautiful to the eye and with a sweetness to his soul. Marriage to him will be your rescue. He’ll keep ye safe and give ye babes and ye’ll lead the life of a fine lady. Perhaps if this Prince Henry they’re talking about brings the peace, ye’ll go to court and make your curtsey before the king. God speed the day!” Arranging two tendrils artistically over Saura’s shoulders, Maud said, “There now, your hair’s almost dry, with a curl to it that can’t be tamed. Stand up and go out there and fulfill my fondest desire.”
Saura didn’t move, and Maud put an arm around her and hugged her. “Go on, now. No time for wedding nerves.”
“I can’t,” Saura said in a small voice.
Maud checked in her tracks. “Of course ye can!”
“I can’t.” Saura’s voice strengthened as the curl of panic ate at her courage. “How did I ever think I could?”
“’Tis not a question of can or can’t, m’lady. Ye have a bridegroom and a priest and your stepfather and a cartload of folk standing out there waitin’ for ye. Ye have to.”
“All those people sneering at me for dreaming I could marry and be happy,” Saura said wretchedly. She gripped the seat of the stool so tightly her knuckles stained white. “I’m sorry, but how can an ugly blind girl wed a wealthy lord like William? You said go to court? Where I could fall on my face and shame him? I’m not a fine lady. I can’t marry him.”
“Ye’ve proved ye can handle yourself with these titled folk. Why, ye have those ladies eating out of your hand. The meals have been planned to perfection, ye’ve handled all the attention with grace and dignity.”
“I’ll just have to explain to William,” Saura decided, not listening to Maud’s reassurances. “We can be like you and Lord Peter. Just share a bed and not be married.”
“Lord William must have a wife, m’lady. Where would ye go when she arrived?”
“I just have to go out there and tell him.” She gripped the stool harder, frozen in place.
Provoked by her lady’s stubborn fear, Maud snapped, “I’m a serving woman and Peter’s a lord. ’Tis happy I am to share his bed; he’s given me pleasure I thought I’d never see again. But ye’re a lady, the daughter of a baron, a pure-blooded Norman. There’s no comparison between ye and me. Ye can’t stay here in William’s bed like some lowborn tart.”
“I can’t marry him,” she repeated.
“There’s another difference between us, Saura. I’m old and past the time of my moon cycles. Ye’re young, regular, fecund. Ye could be carrying a babe right now.”
“I’m not.”
“Then ye’ll do so next month, or the next. Will ye condemn your child to a life as bastard because their mother is a coward?”
“Oh, Maud, I don’t know what’s right anymore.” Saura put her head in her palms and groaned.
Maud took Saura’s hands and held them in her own. “Well, I know what’s right. Keeping that wonderful man waiting while ye stew over nonsense, making him wonder if ye’ll shame him in front of half the country by refusing him—that’s wrong. ’Tis a poor way to repay his gifts of silk and fur and kindness.” Pinching Saura’s cheeks to bring up the color, Maud straightened the bridal clothes and drew her to her feet. She soothed, “Ye’re the most beautiful woman here. Go out and marry him.”
“Are you ready, Saura?” William stood in the doorway, his golden voice encouraging. “Our guests await. Will you come out and wed me now?”
sixteen
Without a word, Saura stepped forward and put out her hand, and William carried it to his lips. Tucking it into his arm, he led her out to the place on the dais where the priest stood. Their fathers flanked them, and Maud checked to confirm that her Saura retained a determined look on her face. Then she sank down on the abandoned stool and wiped the perspiration from her face.
Saura and William swore before all witnesses and in the presence of Brother Cedric to be man and wife. Theobald gave Saura away without a quiver. His good grace was fueled, perhaps, by the sight of Lord Peter’s steady hand on his sword. Maud crept out of the solar halfway through the ceremony and stood with her hand on her heart. No one produced any objections to the union when asked, and when the vows were finished the company cheered. They broke into little groups who took turns kissing the bride and slapping the bridegroom across the shoulder.
The feast that followed was the best yet, for the kitchen servants no longer wavered in their loyalties. With this marriage, William and Saura joined themselves into one.
William helped Saura to her feet and led her around to speak to the guests.
As the couple moved toward him, Theobald raised his goblet to his lips and drank, never taking his hungry eyes off his stepdaughter. “Saura is Eve,” he murmured. “A temptress who leads men to disaster.”
“Eve!” Saura stood behind them. Her keen hearing had picked up his words and she ignited at last at the slur she�
��d heard too many times. For herself and for her sex, she retorted, “Eve! By God, the world should be glad ’twas Eve who first took the apple. Had it been Adam, he would have clung to his sin with such dedication and stubbornness mankind would never be saved.”
She flounced away, leaving a stunned silence behind her that slowly filled with the crackle of women’s laughter.
Standing on the fringe of the group, William grinned to see the gaping amazement on his father-in-law’s face. “You’ve not improved that vixen you married,” Theobald complained. “In my house, she would have never said a word against a man. She respected her betters.”
“She does so in my house, also,” William said with amusement. “Dudley, the young men are congregating in the bailey for some sword practice. Won’t you join them?”
Eagerly, Dudley pushed away from the table. “Aye, sir, thank you.”
“You’re a monk,” his father shouted after him, and then muttered, “Fool boy.”
William bowed in his direction and walked away, hearing Duana complain, “I tell you, she’s enchanted him.”
With a light step, he caught Saura around the waist and swung her close to him. “And so you have.”
“Have what?” She tilted her head up and he could see tears no longer threatened. What his tenderness could not do, her anger accomplished. She no longer drooped with melancholy and uncertainty.
“You’ve enchanted me.” He swung her in a pirouette.
“Be careful!” She snatched at the hem of her skirt and tugged it down. “Do you want me to catch cold?”
“Catch cold?” He stopped his exuberant dance.
“Aye, that sends a breeze right up my legs.”
His eyes narrowed as he examined her too-innocent face. “What have you done?”
“Done?” Her voice squeaked with sincerity. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“Saura….”
“Where’s everyone going?”
“Outside for some games. Saura?”
“The sun’s shining, let’s go out, my lord.” She tucked her hand in his and smiled up at him, and he’d taken two steps toward their marriage bed before Rollo and Clare grabbed his elbows and cried, “William’s on our team!”