by Sarah Hegger
God grant him strength. His bones ached from the idea of bashing this lot into order, and from the fire in their eyes, it would take a fair amount of bashing.
“Now.” Aonghas spun about, rubbing his hands. “Let us break bread together, and seal our bargain. The rest of us leave at first light.” He winked at William. “With that list from Gord.”
William mentally added a bushel more items to Gord’s list.
Alice sent the order to the kitchens that there would be many more mouths to feed.
“You there. Dubhghall.” Aonghas snapped his fingers at a son with dark, tousled hair and light eyes.
“I am Donnchadh.”
“I care not. Go and fetch those fox pelts for my pretty wee bird.” He winked at William. “It pays to take a hard line and a harder hand with this lot. Happens I also thought Lady Alice would look right bonnie wrapped in fox.”
William’s laugh built in his belly. Aonghas had trussed him up like a Christmas goose.
Chapter 13
With great difficulty, Alice modulated her tone. “We can tear these linens into strips for bandages.”
Lord knew, not a day passed in the sennight Aonghas’s sons had joined them that did not require the wrapping of one Scot or another. Having the lot of them bathed had almost ended in a nasty brawl. William drove them hard, and they fought back as hard, but her William had the better of them.
Nice boys, whose ages ranged from fourteen to twenty. Old for training as squires but they threw themselves into the task. They slept in the barracks with the men, and worked as hard as any man-at-arms. Alice had a soft spot for Seamus. Turned fourteen summer past, at least as tall as his oldest brother, he brought her little tributes at the end of the day. A late sprig of heather he discovered while out riding, a pretty stone from the stream where he bathed. He missed his mother, he had whispered to her in confidence. He liked nothing more than sitting beside her and listening to the stories told in the hall after dinner. Dubhghall, the budding charmer, newly shaved and trimmed, already plowed a swathe through the keep hearts at only seventeen. What he lacked for in looks, he more than compensated for with his silver tongue, and roguish humor.
“These linens are still good.” Sister refolded the linens with sharp, jerky movements. “It is not our way to toss away good linens for naught.”
Alice tried for patience, God’s promise she did, but with more tasks mounting on her shoulders every day, Sister and her constant opposition wore thin. “We will replace the linens.”
“I see.” Sister sniffed. “I do not know why you seek my opinion if you dismiss it without a thought.”
Alice had not asked her opinion. Sister had followed her and taken it upon herself to interfere. As she did when Alice visited the buttery to request herbs in the butter. Or when Alice planned the meals with Cook for the week. Whatever she did, Sister came with her. “I must take up my role as chatelaine.”
“You are right.” Sister hugged the folded linens to her chest. “Perhaps it is time I return to the convent. As I am no longer needed here.”
William would curse her for saying this, but Sister had cared for Alice since childhood. She could not send her back like a horse that had outlived its usefulness. “Of course not, Sister. How would I manage without you?”
“You appear to manage quite well. Although these wasteful ways of yours will lead you astray, Alice.”
“You have always been part of Tarnwych. This is your home.” Alice touched her arm.
Sister shook her off. “My home is where the Lord needs me most.”
“I need you,” Alice said. Perhaps not as much as she used to, but Sister had been her rock for so many years, Alice could not think of a life without her.
The tower guard’s voice came through the open casement, muted by the thick stone. Another result of William’s training: mounted guards at all times. “Mounted party approaching!”
Visitors! Time past, Alice dreaded visitors, knowing it meant a visit from her father. But life seemed filled with endless discoveries since her marriage, and she strode toward the keep door.
William stood on the ramparts, his head facing Tarnwych’s approach road. He pumped his fist in the air and yelled, “Open the gates.”
Alice trotted into the bailey, keen to see who William welcomed so effusively. “Who is it?” she called as the gates creaked open.
“My family.” William grinned at her and ran toward the gate. “Dragon’s heard proper on argent. They fly my father’s banner.”
William’s family. Alice stopped in the middle of the bailey. His family had come to visit?
“Alice.” Sister pinched her arm. “You cannot allow this.”
“They are William’s family.”
“You know what they are like. He brings them into this castle, and they carry their sins with them. You must stop this.” Sister’s grip on her arm grew painful.
Through the open gates, the leading riders wove into view. It seemed a large party.
William waved to the lead knight.
The knight raised his fist and spurred his horse into a gallop. He reached William and flung himself from his horse. Throwing back his visor, he strode forward and clasped William’s arm.
Sister hissed in a sharp breath. She had grown parchment pale, her eyes burning. “It is him.”
“Who?”
The man removed his helm. He stood taller than William as they spoke. Built strong, with hair of deepest sable, Alice did not remember him from her wedding feast.
“The betrayer who denied our Blessed Son and entered into an unholy marriage.”
Sir Gregory? He had not accompanied Lady Faye to the wedding. Lady Mary had told her his business, unfortunately, took him elsewhere. Alice took a small step closer. Sir Gregory had married Lady Faye, turning his back on his promise to enter the church.
“His soul is blacker than the hair on his head.” Sister wrapped her rosary about her fist so tight it cut white flesh trails across her fingers. “If he enters this keep, God will rain down punishment on all who shelter him.”
Sir Gregory did not look like a hardened sinner. His features were carved and graven, a handsome man in a quiet, earnest manner.
Another rider breached the gates and drew rein before William in a flourish of mud and hooves.
Lady Beatrice, dressed as no modest woman should in chausses and a tunic. Alice would never dare such raiment, but it would make for comfortable riding. Beatrice slid to the ground and William enfolded her in a hug.
“The immodest one.” Sister sneered. “She married a common bastard, a blacksmith’s apprentice.”
Alice had heard it all before, in the weeks between her father informing her of her marriage and William’s arrival at Tarnwych. Sister’s ire had not lost one ounce of its venom. Indeed, Sister wound her rosary so tight her fingertips purpled. She would break the rosary if she persisted.
Following behind Beatrice came a woman on a quiet palfrey, riding amidst three children.
William hugged first one child and then the other.
Sister gave a strangled cry. She leapt back, hands clasped at her chest. “The abomination.”
William assisted the last child from his mount.
A boy, his features flat, sloe eyes tilted upward, shambled toward William.
A low buzzing filled Alice’s head. Her heart stuttered and then beat erratically. Fine sweat broke over her body. She stepped back and bumped into a frozen Sister.
“He cannot enter here.” Sister clutched Alice’s skirt and tugged. “Get it away from here. Alice, get it away.”
Her voice had risen and carried across the bailey. The party by the gate turned and looked at them.
On a strangled cry, Sister ran back inside the keep.
Alice could not move. Her feet were nailed to the floor. The child had his arms about William’s waist as he stared up at his older brother with obvious adoration. She wanted to yank William
away from him. Pull him to safety. Her vision wavered.
“Alice.” William strode toward her, his face creased in a frown. “What is it?”
“Nay.” The boy stayed back with the others, but she could not look away. “They cannot.”
“Alice?” William took her by the shoulders.
“You cannot let them in.” Alice’s fingers scrabbled for purchase on the hauberk William had donned this morning. “William, they cannot come in here.”
He stared at her as if she had lost her wits. “Alice, they are my family. Of course they will come in.”
Words deserted her, even thought would not conform to order. She only knew that if that boy entered Tarnwych it would be bad, very bad. “Make them go away.”
William’s face hardened as his grasp on her shoulders tightened. “Stop it, Alice. My family has travelled from Anglesea to seeks succor here, and they will find it.” He gave her a small shake. “Now, come and welcome my family, or go to your chamber, but they will enter Tarnwych.”
She could not. Alice shook her head.
With a grating sound of anger, William turned about and stalked back to the waiting party at the gate.
* * * *
William’s hands shook with anger. He took them away from Alice before he gave in to the urge to shake her harder, shake some sense into the woman. What in God’s name ailed her? Did she expect he would turn his family away?
She scurried back to the keep.
Good. Let her go. He could not stomach her at this time. The news from Anglesea filled him with the need to throw back his head and roar his denial to the heavens.
Illness had struck his family home, and rampaged through the occupants and the village beyond. Beatrice said many had succumbed to illness already, and more fell to the ailment hourly. Many familiar faces had left this world in the last fortnight. Lyman, the smith, was one of the first to die. And Lilly, sweet Lilly, who had initiated most of the lads at Anglesea into the ways of the flesh, was gone, along with her young son. So many it tore through him to listen further.
Beatrice and the children had travelled to Tarnwych for their own safety. As one of the few still able to defend the contagion-beset keep, Garrett could not accompany her.
And his mother, his beautiful, strong, gracious, adoring mother. William missed his step and stumbled. Lady Mary had fallen ill as the party for Tarnwych made ready to leave. She had exhausted herself nursing first their father, then Roger, and every other ailing soul at Anglesea. Father was on his feet once more, but Roger sickened still. He could not think of his large, powerful brother in anything but lusty good health.
Gregory had not given him the full extent. He did not need to. William read the grim truth carved into Gregory’s face and reflected in the haunted look in Bea’s eyes.
Hoping to contain the plague within, Sir Arthur had locked Anglesea. Faye remained at Calder with her sons, mere days away from delivering her first child by Gregory. With Gregory’s family safe at Calder, Father had called on him to escort Beatrice, her children, and Mathew to Tarnwych and safety. Ivy had come along with them, despite her desire to stay and help. If any of their party carried the contagion with them, Ivy would recognize it and act.
Damn Alice if she thought he would send them away at any time, doubly so now.
Tired lines and shadows marred Ivy’s beautiful face as she gathered Beatrice and the children together and shepherded them toward the keep. William would lay all his coin Ivy had worked as hard, nay harder, than anyone at Anglesea. Her tutelage under Nurse progressed well, and Ivy had an endless well of compassion for the sick and injured.
William pressed his eyes shut. Never more so than now did he curse the yawning distance betwixt himself and his family. Sir Arthur needed him, and here he sat in a remote northern keep, playing chatelaine and addressing whatever new basic lack Tarnwych tossed up. Father relied on him to succor this small family group, and so he would.
“Is Lady Alice well?” Ivy picked up Beatrice’s youngest and propped him on her hip. At just shy of his second birthday, Adam had ridden with Ivy for most of the journey. Three-year old Richard had shared a mount with Mathew.
Mathew had a way with animals. He earned their instant trust, and he rode even before he could walk. On horseback he had a grace and ease of movement that defied the little lad on the ground.
“She is well.” William burned to get to the bottom of her unconscionable behavior. For certain, the evil nun lay at the root of whatever beset Alice. Undoubtedly the old besom had some rotten maggot eating at her head about his family taking shelter within Tarnwych. He would love to see her face when she learned of Ivy’s past profession. Or perhaps she already knew and dripped her poison in Alice’s ear.
“Is she displeased we are here?” Beatrice never danced around the point.
William forced a smile and slung his arm about her shoulders. “I am glad you are here. Even if it is under these circumstances.”
Beatrice studied him though narrowed eyes. Garrett must have a calming influence on his sister, because she kept her tongue between her teeth and followed his motion for her to enter the keep.
“It is cold enough to freeze your ballocks off here,” Richard said and gave him a huge grin. “That is what Roger says.”
“Roger is not far wrong.” William buffeted his nephew gently atop the shoulder. “But if your mother hears you say that, you’ll be spitting soap for a week.”
“Nay.” Richard cocked his head. “She is not so bad, and she says worse. But Nurse…” Richard rolled his eyes.
Nurse had escaped the illness at Anglesea according to Ivy. Not even disease had the effrontery to challenge Nurse. As his mother’s most devoted supporter, Lady Mary had a stalwart warrior by her side in Nurse.
* * * *
Alice’s legs shook so hard she tripped up the stairs. As she drew closer to her chamber, her good sense reappeared. What had beset her in the bailey?
Sister had not spared her the grim details of William’s family before, and she had felt no terror at them entering Tarnwych for her wedding feast.
The boy, Mathew, had not come with the wedding party. And her terror centered about the child. How ridiculous for a grown woman to fear a child so much she nigh ran away from him. In fairness, she could not blame William for his fury. She had implored him to bar his family the keep. Only an awful wife would demand such a thing.
She reached the landing above and took a moment to order her thoughts.
“Lady Alice.” Gord marched down the corridor toward her. “We will need accommodations for his lordship’s family. Have you any notion of how long they will stay?”
“Nay.” She had run away like a scared rabbit before she could ask William anything. Why they were here, and only a few of them. How long they planned to stay. Why Lady Beatrice wore such a somber expression. “I would ask Sir William.”
Tonight they would expect her to present herself at dinner and put a pleasant face on for her family by marriage. She walked to her bedchamber, her sense of her own foolishness building. Along with it came the dread realization of William’s anger. She deserved his censure, and she did not think he would raise his hand to her, but had she destroyed the fragile, fledgling bond between them with her actions this morning?
Her chamber door stood open and she stepped inside.
“They are still here.” Sister paced before the casement, her gaze locked on the bailey below.
“They are my family now.” Alice kept her tone calm, but verily, Sister was not helping. “I will not turn them away.”
“They brought the whore with them.” Sister pressed her fingertips to her forehead, breathing deep. “I saw her with the children. A whore amongst the innocent. God weeps at such a travesty.
“The whore?” Alice recalled Sister mentioning a whore before, but she had seen only Lady Beatrice and the beautiful dark-haired woman in the bailey. Surely she wasn’t the whore?
“They spread their evil wherever they touch. Betrayers, whores, and immodest women. The abomination is God’s judgment against their sins. Yet see how they flaunt him for all the world. They are shameless in their wickedness.” Sister gripped the sides of the casement and leant forward.
Alice stared at Sister’s back. Even for Sister, that was a harsh mouthful.
Sister stepped back, clasping her hands at her chest. “I must pray.”
Behind her eyes, Alice’s head gave a dull throb. Any more of this and she might take to her bed with a tisane. “Judge not, Sister, lest you be judged.”
Sister uttered a harsh gasp and turned a wrathful face on Alice. “You would use the Lord’s words to justify evil?”
“I am not justifying evil.” Alice twitched with the need to shake some sense into Sister. “But they are my family now and it would behoove me to greet them with a polite smile and bid them welcome.”
“I shall do no such thing.” Sister folded her hands beneath her scapula.
“Then I suggest you take yourself somewhere where your rudeness will go unmarked.”
Chapter 14
Alice breathed deep, once, and then again, to still the nerves in her belly. After Sister left her, she had made an effort with her appearance. As much as she would like to deny she did it to appease William, the look on his face in the bailey prompted her inner peacemaker to, at least, leave her hair unbound and clasp the simplest of the girdles about her prettiest dress. When compared to William’s gift silks, the dark blue linen presented as a poor relation, but it was the best she had.
If her appearance failed to soothe his ire, she had run Gord and young Will ragged ensuring Tarnwych welcomed her visitors. Fresh linens, new pallets, refreshment—whatever William’s kin required, she had seen it provided. All from the sanctuary of her bedchamber.
Her first peep into the hall had her slinking back beneath the concealing shadows either side of the door. Beatrice sat beside William at table, the vibrant peacock tones of her bliaut providing a gleaming backdrop for her blond prettiness.