by Sarah Hegger
“Have you and Martha been speaking?”
William chuckled. “Nay, but I have been here long enough to see how things lie.”
They reached their bedchamber and William guided her inside. “Now, I believe Ivy said you needed rest. I came up here determined to give my lady company during her tedious confinement.”
“Confinement?” Alice’s heart skipped a beat. What had Ivy told him?
“After the hall.” William pressed her to lie on the bed. “I will not be gainsaid in this, and I have had Cook prepare all your favorites.”
Alice removed her shoes and lay against the pillows he propped for her.
“I have noticed you have a taste for sweet things, my lady.”
He went to the table, his back to her.
How strange life could be. It took and it gave, and left a woman reeling to catch up. “William?”
“Aye?”
“I can think of something I like better than sweet things.”
William spun, an answering gleam in his eyes. “My lady, you are ill.”
“Not that ill.”
Chapter 21
William refilled Sister Margaret’s goblet. For a woman of the cloth, the Prioress could tuck away the wine. Short, stout, and with pleasingly round features, Sister Margaret the Prioress of St. Stephen’s Abbey had arrived amid a flurry of nuns.
He would send a couple of Aonghas’s boys with them on their way home. He could not like the idea of women traveling on their own. It couldn’t hurt to bolster the Lord’s protection with a bit of steel.
“The Abbess sends her apologies. She means no insult, but she is not in the best of health.” With a wrist toss, Sister Margaret drained her goblet. Perhaps he should see if any of those Scots had their infernal brew with them.
“She is ill?” He gave her more wine and topped his half-full goblet.
Sister Margaret snorted a laugh. “Nay, Sir William, merely older than dust. She can barely make it to her bench in the sun, never mind two days’ travel from Old Stoney to here.”
“Old Stoney?”
Sister Margaret guffawed and slapped her thigh. Her cheeks jiggled around her wimple. “It is my name for St. Stephen’s. Abbeys are built of stone. Stephen was stoned to death. Old Stoney.”
“Indeed.” Not quite what he had expected of a nun. What with Sister Sunshine’s amiable disposition, his enlightenment regarding Holy Sisters continued.
“Any more wine in that flagon you are clutching, Sir William?”
“Plenty.” It was as if he entertained a tavern wench in a nun’s habit. William motioned Cedric for more wine.
Cedric put one careful foot in front of the other, eyes locked on the flagon as he poured. The lad had returned with the nuns, whole and hale. Lad had grown another inch in his absence. Task completed, Cedric straightened, his cheeks flushed.
“Now then.” Sister Margaret rested her elbows on her knees and gave William a penetrating stare with keen brown eyes. “Let us hear what has been going on with Sister Julianna.”
He would wager not much got past this woman. “She has a rather vehement attachment to my wife. Understandable, given that she raised Lady Alice. The problem is her reaction to the rest of my family.”
“Oh, aye.”
Cedric obeyed the silent command of the outstretched goblet.
“She has taken to calling a certain member of my household a who…a woman of low morals. Just yesterday, she attacked my brother, Mathew, calling him an abomination,” William said.
Sister Margaret shook her head. She leant back in her seat, and her expression grew contemplative as she swished wine from one cheek to the other. “When your lad arrived, I took it upon myself to do a bit of digging.”
“Did you?”
“Indeed.” Sister Margaret’s gaze sharpened. “Your Sister Julianna came from our Abbey. Seems she was related to your wife’s family in some way, a bit distant but enough for the Abbess to send her to oversee the birth of Lady Alice.”
William already knew all this, but he had been raised not to interrupt a lady, especially not a Bride of the Church.
“But that is not the interesting part.” Sister Margaret tapped the side of her head. “I kept wondering why the Abbess had not called for her to return to the Abbey.”
“Aye.” William had thought that enough times himself. “Could you discover why?”
“There is some…murkiness in the records.” Sister Margaret took a long draught from her goblet. “The Abbey then was a different place, and they were not inclined to record their…indiscretions. The Prioress then, now no longer with us, did not like to have the Abbey’s troubles available for scrutiny.”
How much trouble could an Abbey full of nuns get into? William kept his polite listening face in place.
“I am not such a woman.” William would wager his horse she was not. “I like to see trouble out in the open, where one can deal with it.” She stared at him for a long moment, and then grinned. “You are wondering what sort of trouble nuns get into.”
William’s face heated.
“The Abbey shelters all types of women, my lord. I would never dismiss another woman’s calling to serve the Lord, but let me say that there are times when the calling is rather convenient. Nobody looks for a woman who has taken up the veil. Her actions are no longer subject to such keen scrutiny.”
It made sense and William nodded. “And Sister Julianna?”
“Hard to say.” Sister Margaret held out her goblet. “By the by, this is an excellent grape you serve, Sir William.”
“Thank you, Sister.” William chuckled. The woman had her own brand of charm. “I will see a few barrels find their way onto the cart and return with you.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” Sister Margaret winked. “Your Sister Julianna joined the Abbey a little later in her life. The records show she had already been married, but they do not say to whom.”
“Do they usually?”
“Oh, aye.” Sister Margaret waved a hand. “The Abbey likes to know whose daughters and sisters we have beneath our roofs. It can be very useful during leaner months to have some outside support.”
Everybody needed a crust of bread. William motioned for her to continue.
“If the husband is not listed in the records, my predecessor sometimes had a good reason for the omission. It took me forever to divine her system of recording, but I know my way around it now. To hide where a woman came from often meant the woman wanted to stay hidden.”
“But why?”
“Sir William.” Sister Margaret pursed her lips and stroked the armrest with her free hand. “This world we live in is not kind to women. There are as many reasons as hairs on your head for a woman to want to disappear. Bad fathers, worse husbands, cruel brothers, the list goes on and on.”
Sir Arthur had raised his sons to mind their strength, but all men bore the shame of those who would not control their baser natures. “And Sister Julianna was one of these women? A woman escaping her lot in life?”
“Perhaps.” Sister Margaret waggled her head. “Or perhaps it was just a day on which the late Prioress did not make a proper entry. There are enough of those in the records, too.”
“Ah.” No closer to learning the truth. Not that it mattered at this stage. He aimed to do all he could to ensure Alice did not miss her nasty mentor.
“I took my questions to the Abbess.” Sister Margaret snorted into her goblet. “Mind emptier than King John’s coffers. She barely remembers her name on most days, but she did show some recollection of Sister Julianna.” She leant forward and pierced him with a stare. “Seems Sister Julianna has a secret she wants kept that way. She was definitely married when she came to the Abbey, and her husband was not propping up a headstone.”
William found it fascinating that any man would have chosen to marry the old hag. Of course, even Sister Julianna must have been young at some point.
“A
nd, I cannot be sure, but the Abbess did talk about a child.”
That shook him. “Sister Julianna had a child?”
“I cannot be sure. Like I said, the Abbess is not all there, but I suspect that to be the truth.”
“What happened to the child?”
Sister Margaret tossed up a hand and sat back in her chair. “Most likely the same thing that happens to any child born at the Abbey. They join the band of mouths we feed and are cared for by the good Sisters.”
“Are you saying that not all the children in Abbeys are orphans?”
“Nay. A hundred times nay.” Sister Margaret winked at him. “A Prioress would never hint that the good sisters are anything less than pure as a fresh snowfall. Brides of Christ are above worldly temptation, Sir William. Everybody knows this.”
William had to laugh. Gregory had dispelled his innocent belief in monasteries being filled with pious men. Why then would nunneries and convents be any different? He had a strong sense that Sister Margaret had a long and interesting story of her own.
“So.” Sister Margaret slapped her knee. “We will bundle up our sister and take her with us in the morning. She will have less mischief available to her at Old Stoney.”
“I will send some men with you.”
“I appreciate that.” Sister Margaret stood and adjusted her skirts. “Although I heard a rumor that Aonghas’s rabble are less often seen this side of the border. Imagine my surprise when I saw his sons here at Tarnwych.”
“I believe Aonghas and I have reached a sort of truce.”
“Aye.” Sister Margaret pinched his cheek. “For all your pretty face, Sir William, you are a clever man. I am glad you are here.”
She left him gaping like an idiot and strode out of the hall.
* * * *
Alice had to keep reminding herself not to stare at the party from St. Stephen’s.
They laughed, as loud as any of the men, drank wine, and enjoyed Cook’s largesse. One of them had taken Martha’s place beside Sister Julianna in her chamber.
It helped alleviate the gnawing guilt about sending Sister away. These women looked happy and content with their place. Alice prayed Sister would find a good home amongst them and learn to enjoy their companionship.
“Are you well?” William whispered.
Alice nodded. He had asked her several times, aware that Sister’s leaving weighed on her. Her relief she could barely admit to herself, saying it aloud would constitute the worst kind of betrayal of a woman who had raised her. “It is for the best.”
William nuzzled her neck. “We will make a fine winter here, my Alice. You shall see.”
“Aye.” What would winter at Tarnwych be like this year? Cold outside, for certain, but perhaps warmer within the walls. Filled with people and life and laughter pressing back the worst of the lingering icy misery. In a fortnight they would celebrate Martinmas, and the advent following promised sweeter than ever before. Cook already had the geese picked out and fattened up.
William would not allow any stringy beast for Martinmas beef she would guess.
“I have a surprise for you,” William said.
“What is it?” Last time he had surprised her with a trunk full of jewels and glorious fabrics. Fabrics she still lacked the courage to have made into a dress. Still, with Sister leaving, perhaps she would get Martha to help her fashion a gown. Perhaps in that golden-yellow, or the green that matched her eyes.
William winked at her. “You shall have to wait until morning to find out.”
“Will I now.” Alice so enjoyed bantering with him. “Or perhaps I shall use my wiles to get the secret out of you.”
William’s voice lowered to a thrilling, husky bass. “If anybody could, my lady, it would be you.”
* * * *
Alice reached out her hand to touch and snatched it back. “She is not mine.”
“She most certainly is.” William took her hand and placed it on the mare’s silky neck. “When I asked Gregory to send me destriers, I asked him for his sweetest palfrey as well.”
“For me?” Alice’s voice wobbled, as she tried not to cry. Such a creature could not belong to her, a beautiful mare with her glossy coat nearly matching Alice’s hair. Huge, patient brown eyes blinked at Alice. “What is she called?”
“Whatever you name her.” William covered her hand with his and stroked the taut muscle on the horse’s neck. “Young Will has kept her exercised while I waited to give her to you. Now that Sister Julianna is gone, I could not wait any longer.”
“Mine.” Alice stepped closer. Rich, horsey aroma filled her nostrils, and she drew in a deep breath. The mare stood shorter than William’s destrier. Long-legged and delicate, she was the perfect ride for a lady. “But I cannot ride.”
“That is my next surprise.” William grinned at her. “I am going to teach you to ride.”
Ride? Who would ever have thought such a thing? For certain not her. “Nay.”
“Aye.” William copied her breathy whisper. “Although I shall miss your ass pressed against me while we ride together.”
Alice shivered in delight. William’s wickedness did the most delicious things to her innards. “What if I fall?”
“All riders fall at some point,” William said. “But I aim to teach you not to.”
Ivy had advised caution, but also to live her life. Then again, Beatrice rode every day, and Ivy suspected she was pregnant as well. If she rode very, very carefully…
Her conscience hissed at her to tell him. First she must make certain she carried a child.
“Are you ready?” William cupped his hands for her foot.
“Aye.” Alice stepped into his hands, and he hoisted her onto the mare’s back. The mare shifted beneath her weight and settled.
William strode to Cedric holding Paladin. “She is bred for a lady. You will find her mouth soft and responsive and her nature biddable.”
Biddable, maybe, but the mare’s back rose a long, long way from the ground.
Paladin tossed his head. One big eye rolled around and glared at her from beneath his forelock.
Her palfrey shifted her weight and paid no mind to the great, pawing lout beside her.
“Your reins, Alice.” William battled the great beast to stillness. “Pick up your reins and let us begin. The reins are one of the ways you talk to your mount.” He cast a sharp eye over her. “And sit up straight. The way you sit on your horse will also send messages to her.”
Alice jerked up straight.
William chuckled and edged his big-toothed beast closer. “Be calm, my Alice. She can sense your agitation and it will agitate her.”
“I am afraid.” Riding alone differed from sharing the saddle with William.
“Of course you are.” He smiled at her, warm and reassuring. “But once you learn who is master and who is beast, you will see there is nothing to fear.”
Alice spent the morning watching and listening to William. As a teacher he remained patient, chiding at times, but for the most filling her lesson with fun. By the time he assisted her from the mare, her fear had subsided to a low belly niggle.
“Have you thought of a name for her yet?” William handed the mare’s reins to Cedric.
Alice squirmed on the inside. She had never named a horse before. It seemed a serious undertaking. “I shall call her Rhiannon.”
William nodded. “A great mythical queen to be sure. Make sure you cool Rhiannon down, Cedric, and give our new queen a proper rub down.”
“Do you think we might ride out of the bailey next time?” William had her riding circles around the practice yards again and again. Repeatedly, he had gone through her halting and then getting Rhiannon moving again. As her lesson progressed, the idea of taking to the moors with her Rhiannon had taken root in Alice.
William raised his brow at her. “First, I need to know you have control of her. Then we can see about leaving the bailey.”
“You did well,” Beatrice called from where she perched on a stool beside the barracks. Her blue gown made a splash of color against the stone.
Ivy stood by her side.
“Thank you.” Alice still wanted to fidget when she encountered Beatrice. Perhaps in time they could grow comfortable with each other, like sisters. “William is a patient teacher.”
Beatrice snorted. “Not when he taught me, he was not. Tossed me up on a destrier he did.”
“Bea.” William shook his head at his sister. “Remind me who refused to ride the pony father bought to teach her.”
“That is neither here nor there.” Beatrice gave a nonchalant shrug.
They argued happily, moving on from horse riding to other childhood slights.
“Have you told William?” Ivy sidled up beside her.
“Nay. Not yet.” William and Beatrice progressed to some argument about a Midsummer’s bonfire and Beatrice’s poppet. “I want to be sure.”
“You need to be wary of riding,” Ivy said. “If you fall off, you could lose the babe.”
“I will tell him,” Alice said. She had no clear idea when or how, but she would. It stood to reason William needed telling before she grew a great belly.
“Tell him soon, Alice.” Ivy sighed. Grief carved into the depths of her eyes. “It is a terrible thing not to tell somebody what they need to know when you have the chance. Fate steps in and takes that chance from you.”
Before Alice could question her further, Ivy made her way back to the keep.
Beatrice shook her head as she watched her friend go. “I hate seeing her this sad.”
“Why is she sad?”
Beatrice’s expression grew closed. “That is not my story to tell. You will have to ask her that. I heard you had a spell in the hall the other day. Are you well now?”
“I am.”
“And that Mathew was there when it happened.” Beatrice’s eyes narrowed on her suspiciously.
“There was a bit more to it than that, Bea.” William slung his arm about Alice’s shoulder.