Love Letters

by Emily Murdoch

  Catheryn smiled, and put out her arms to her mother. “Good morrow, my lady mother.”

  She turned to continue speaking to Selwyn, but he had disappeared.

  In the corridor, Selwyn took a deep breath. Selwyn himself could not believe how much of his time was being taken up with Catheryn; talking to her, walking with her, thinking up excuses to go and talk to her. It was not until Catheryn said something seemingly trivial that he realised the main problem with his plan.

  “It’s strange, isn’t it,” said Catheryn as they rode through a small wooded copse near her home. “I received two notes relatively close together – and now a fortnight has gone past, and I have not received a third.”

  Selwyn bit his lip at his own mistake. He had become so engrossed with trying to lead Catheryn along a path, guessing as to who her admirer was, that he had forgotten to play the part of the admirer. It had not even entered his mind that he would need to send another love note to her in order to keep up the pretence.

  “Perhaps he is nervous,” Selwyn said, with the air of trying to guess another man’s secret. “Perhaps he expected some sign from you as to your own affections.”

  Catheryn snorted. “Then he is even more of a fool than we expected. How on earth am I meant to give my anonymous romancer a sign of my feelings? The entire problem is that we do not know who he is!”

  She collapsed into fits of giggles, and Selwyn could not help but laugh with her. Her voice lilted up when she laughed, and the sunlight that fell through the branches lit up the tendrils of her hair that escaped her veil. After they regained their calm, he spoke again.

  “And you really have no idea who it is? After all of this time?”

  “Really, Selwyn,” Catheryn rolled her eyes at him in a manner that was becoming quite endearing to him. “Do you think I would be going to all this trouble trying to work it out if I knew who it was? Once I know his identity…well. Then the decision can be made.”

  “Decision?”

  “You do not think that once I know who has romantic feelings for me, I should do something about it?”

  Selwyn almost fell off his horse with surprise, but his experience as a horseman allowed him to stay on. “Do something?” He repeated, trying to maintain his composure. “Do what?”

  Catheryn smiled. Her gaze flickered over to him, but then her head was turned as she caught a snatch of birdsong from their left. “For all your knowledge about people, Selwyn, you know very little about me. I’m not going to stay here waiting for someone to eventually write a poem that includes their name at the end. When I find out who is writing them – and I will find out – then I will be able to ask him exactly what his intentions are, and then make a decision. Either I shall marry him, or I shall not.”

  Selwyn laughed. “The decision is that simple?”

  “Why not?” replied Catheryn. “I only get to make so many decisions in my life, so why waste time on them? I do not know who is writing them – therefore it could be someone…” Her voice grew quiet at this point. “It could be someone who truly loves me.”

  “You believe that to be true?”

  “I believe it to be possible.” Catheryn smiled, and her voice returned to normality. “Why shouldn’t I? It is rather a nice idea to think that someone could be in love with me.”

  Selwyn did not reply, but instead looked more carefully at her. Catheryn noticed his gaze, and blushed slightly, but did not say anything.

  Selwyn couldn’t work her out. The more he looked, the more she changed, and it was not just the dappled light that the trees gave them that altered her. Every time he saw her, he spoke to her, she changed.

  “I just don’t want to end up like my parents,” Catheryn confessed awkwardly. The nervousness of her tone caught Selwyn’s attention, but by the sound of her voice, she didn’t know whether to continue or not.

  “Why not?” he ventured quietly.

  Catheryn took a deep breath. “I probably shouldn’t even talk about it,” she said sadly. “Not that it’s forbidden, just…it is probably not seemly for me to speak of my parents in that disrespectful way.”

  Selwyn waited for her to continue speaking.

  “Their marriage was all arranged for them,” Catheryn said in a rush. “I know that they are not…completely happy. I sometimes think that it would have been better for them if they had had their own choice in the matter.”

  Selwyn did not know what to say. Marriage was a complicated topic amongst equals, but between Catheryn and Selwyn… For his people, it was not a case of class or wealth, but who was available. They lived in small worlds, in small villages, and you were more likely to wed your sister’s friend than a person that you had never met before.

  “I must go back,” Catheryn said, looking upwards at the sun. “I promised my lady mother that I would return before midday, and it fast approaches.”

  Selwyn nodded his assent, rather than speaking and allowing his feelings to be cast bare. They turned their horses around, and began to meander back home.

  “Catheryn? Catheryn!”

  Their return was heralded by her father’s voice.

  “Catheryn come here quickly!”

  Both Catheryn and Selwyn encouraged their horses faster, but it was Selwyn who reached Ælfgard first.

  “What is it my lord?” Selwyn said curtly. “Is everyone well? Has my lady been taken ill?”

  By now Catheryn had also arrived, breath slightly lost but eyes bright.

  “Is my lady mother ill?” She repeated, falling rather than dismounting from her horse.

  Selwyn quickly dismounted to help her up, but before he could reach her, she had righted herself. A faint blush covered her cheeks, and Selwyn knew enough not to speak of her slight inelegance.

  Ælfgard tried to reassure them. “Fear not, none I know of have taken sick.”

  Catheryn breathed a sigh of relief. Their local healer had succumbed that winter, and there was a degree of nervousness in the area as no one had yet replaced her. One of their servants was expecting her first child, and Catheryn had personally been making enquiries to find a healer in time for the birth.

  “What then, father?”

  “I have had a letter,” Ælfgard said quickly and excitedly. “It bore the royal seal, and so of course I opened it immediately. It is a royal summons to the court… I think we have finally gathered enough favour!”

  Catheryn looked into her father’s eyes, and saw the excitement almost burst forth from him. His face was lit up with the joy that almost a lifetime’s worth of work – her lifetime – was about to pay off, finally. After almost two decades of Ælfgard ignoring his family to serve the king, it seemed the king was finally ready to offer a service to Ælfgard.

  Hilda came running towards them from the house, skirts flying in her haste.

  “Is Catheryn sick?” She cried. “I was told to come straight here and I don’t know if – Selwyn, is Catheryn hurt?”

  “No, my lady,” Selwyn said calmingly, “no one has taken to illness. My lord has received a letter from the king.”

  “The king?”

  She turned to her husband, and a smile slowly drew itself across her face.

  “The king!”

  Ælfgard embraced his wife, steward and daughter forgotten. Catheryn smiled at them, but Selwyn noticed it was a weary smile. It was the smile that was typically seen on a parent that allowed a favourite child to indulge in unbecoming behaviour.

  After a few minutes watching their excited conversation, Catheryn left her parents and walked back towards the house, unnoticed by the chatterers. Selwyn looked at his lord, saw that he would no longer be required, and went after her.

  “Are you not excited?” Selwyn said, rather nervously. “I had expected you to be just as triumphant as your parents. A royal summons…it is a great honour.”

  “The honour is not mine,” Catheryn said dully. “The honour is that of my parents. For me it is nothing but a long journey to meet people I do not know, and be
paraded as their heir.”

  Understanding dawned on Selwyn, and the hesitant smile on his face vanished. “You are to go with them?”

  “I can hardly remain here,” she said with a sigh. “I am their daughter; where they go, I go. Who they fawn over, I fawn over.”

  The bitterness in her voice could not be mistaken, even by someone as convinced as Selwyn that she enjoyed the attentions of others.

  “You speak of it like a prison sentence,” he joked, and by instinct rather than design, reached for her hand. Anything to be close to her.

  Catheryn stopped in her tracks and looked angrily at Selwyn, snatching her arm out of reach. “You may think you know me,” she said quietly. “But you don’t. Have you not noticed that I find no joy in auctioning myself out to whoever happens to be king at the moment? It is not my greatest desire to be part of the royal court and all of the intrigue and fear that dwells there.” Catheryn stopped, and tried to calm herself. “But I am my parent’s daughter, and so I go.”

  And go she did.

  Chapter Eight

  The day that Ælfgard, Hilda, Catheryn, and their retinue left for the royal court was one in which the first heavy rain that summer decided to fall. Selwyn had watched them leave, and although he had wanted to say a personal goodbye to Catheryn, he was aware that their growing intimacy had started to be noticed by the rest of the household. His workload was increasing every day that harvest came nearer, and yet he had put more and more aside in order to spend more time with her.

  The temptation to ask his lord Ælfgard if he could accompany him and his family to the royal court was very strong, but Selwyn knew that he would never be allowed. Only two of the thanes were going, and a mere steward would not have the required prestige to impress the king.

  That very evening, without the gaze of Ælfgard to keep them in order, the three thanes that Ælfgard had left behind grew progressively more and more in their cups, until Deorwine stumbled across the room and pushed Selwyn against a wall. Already upset that he had not been one of his lord’s chosen to accompany the family to the royal court, he finally had his chance to intimidate the steward.

  “What do you talk to my lady Catheryn about?” He slurred, his putrid breath almost asphyxiating Selwyn. “Why do you spend so much time with her of late?”

  “I cannot help it if my lady Catheryn enjoys my company,” Selwyn replied calmly. “Perhaps she prefers to spend her days with a man that can not only stand his ale, but knows when to stop drinking it!”

  He pushed back towards Deorwine, who stumbled in his drunken state and almost fell to the floor. Before he or any of the other thanes could do anything in response, Selwyn stormed out of the Great Hall and into the night air.

  Selwyn took a deep breath, and felt his heart beat heavily and painfully against his chest.

  It had been an evening like this when he had first approached Catheryn. It was only now she had gone that he realised just how much he had learned to value her company, even in the last few weeks. It felt ridiculous, but he felt it all the same. He looked for her opinion, and longed to hear her laugh, and wanted to see her roll her eyes when he mocked her.

  Yet that beautiful thing was gone to entertain others, and provide a light at another man’s table. Selwyn felt the lack of her keenly. She seemed to bring the only intelligent conversation to a house in which the principal inhabitants were obsessed with another family they had nothing in common with.

  And as much as Selwyn would have loved to deny it, he could not help but admit that Catheryn’s beauty was starting to play heavily on his mind. Her slender and delicate form, yet full of strength; the way she rolled her tongue when she mocked someone; the shine of the sun on her lips when she licked them, ready to speak. Somehow he had managed to memorise so much of her in such a short amount of time. Why?

  Catheryn was bored. The royal court was not created for the entertainment of the young, and even her parents were starting to see that their idea of a royal court was not exactly true to the mark. King Edward’s piety was certainly to be admired, but it did garner a particularly sombre mood. There was more attendance of chapel than Catheryn was used to, and all of her jewels that she had been instructed to bring with her had remained in her casket, untouched and unworn. None of the other ladies at the court wore such jewellery, to her and her mother’s astonishment, and they had not wanted to stand out for such a decadent and potentially censorious reason.

  Catheryn was irritated with the women of the court. Hoping to find friends there, she had discovered to her dismay that none were anywhere near her own age, and in fact many of them were much older than her mother. There was no gossip, or laughing, or riddles spoken over a fire. The solemnity of every situation was beginning to weigh heavily on her, and she missed talking to Selwyn.

  There, she had admitted it. She missed him. Not for himself, so much as the inexplicable happiness that she felt whenever she was with him. Selwyn knew exactly how to make her laugh, and he did not seem to mind when she was almost rude, when society demanded that she say one thing, and she couldn’t bid her tongue be silent. Although he frequently tried to bring up the topic of ‘her romancer’, his heart did not seem to be in it. It appeared that the discovery of who was writing her the letters was not something that he wanted as much as she did. But then, half of the fun is not knowing, Catheryn supposed.

  Getting to know Selwyn, on the other hand, was riveting. The more she learned about him, the more he left the caricature of him as a steward that she had created for him, and the more he become an actual person. A person that she, Catheryn, missed.

  Who would have thought it.

  But Catheryn was swiftly brought out of her reveries by a nudge that came from her left hand side.

  “Catheryn!” Her mother hissed, trying to maintain her smile. “The young man asked you a question.”

  Catheryn blinked, and remembered that she was still sitting at the king’s table after the feast that evening – if you could call two courses of dry food a feast. Before here stood a pale young man, probably not much older than she was herself, and he was shaking.

  “I am sorry, my lord,” she said, remembering her manners. “I did not quite catch what you said.”

  The young man blushed, and Catheryn could not help but colour as well. Not being able to hear him seemed a piteous excuse when the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, and a slow strain of music being forced out of a lute by a depressed looking musician in one corner.

  “I merely enquired,” said the youth, “whether you would care to dance.”

  Catheryn shut her eyes. Not long ago this would have been the epitome of any dream she could have imagined occurring at the royal court. Now, she had to push down images of Selwyn as she rose with a forced smile.

  “It would be my honour, my lord.”

  A few steps took her around the tables and to the waiting hands of the man whose name Catheryn had never quite remembered. A few other couples joined them, but none looked particularly happy. The king frowned slightly, and the queen whispered something in his ear. He nodded slowly, and then waved a hand carelessly, returning to his conversation with the bishop.

  Queen Emma caught Catheryn’s eye.

  It was Catheryn that looked away.

  Chapter Nine

  It seemed like the three days at the royal court would never end. Eorwine was the one that caught the brunt of Catheryn’s nerves, attending on her almost constantly, but no one could reason with Catheryn about why it was so important to be there.

  Catheryn lost count of how many times she asked her parents when they would be departing, and grew tired of their tutting and irritation that she was not enjoying herself.

  “This is a great honour!” Her mother would hiss, smiling around at the gaggle of ladies that passed them, “And you may never get another chance!”

  “Chance to what?” Catheryn muttered, returning the bow of the young man that she had danced with the night before, but not
rising from her seat to talk to him. “Parade up and down in the finery I haven’t yet worn for no one to see, or pray for another hour on my knees in the cold chapel? Or perhaps it is to wait for father to speak to the king, an event I might add that we’ve been waiting years for anyway – we may as well do it in the comfort of our own home!”

  Hilda looked scandalised, and Catheryn, without waiting for a reply, rolled her eyes and stomped away.

  There was little to occupy a young woman here – it was a place created around the whims of an old man, and contained little to entertain someone with an active and inquisitive mind.

  Eventually Ælfgard himself had to admit that it was fruitless waiting at the royal court for a summons that would probably never come.

  “Let us turn homewards,” he said softly, with sadness in his voice on the morning of the Sabbath. “We shall be receiving no special treatment here. Let us go home.”

  Catheryn was relieved. Within hours after the morning service during which Catheryn heard even more Latin, and was convinced that she had finally caught her first cold during the summer, they were ready, and she encouraged it to speed as quickly as it could towards her home. Inexplicably, she found herself growing nervous. The intimacy that had been growing between her and Selwyn had been…wonderful. Could three short days away from him destroy that friendship? Would he fall back into the role of servant? And would she let him?

  Catheryn realised that she was beginning to depend on Selwyn; for his clever mind, and his smile. But then, she reminded herself, he was only a steward. Her real romancer, if that’s what he wanted to call it, was the one leaving the notes. He was the one that she should be eager to return to.

  Catheryn was so preoccupied thinking on Selwyn, and trying to dwell more on the love notes, that she almost didn’t recognise the woodland that she found herself surrounded by.

  “Almost there!” cried Cuthbert, one of the thanes that had attended them at the royal court. He raced past her, beaming at her. The trip to the royal court had clearly not been as entertaining as the thanes had hoped for either. “Within moments you shall be home, my lady.”