“What are we to do, my lord? Make camp at the side of the road?” Mavis asked, trying not to sound dismayed. “We can’t go much farther before nightfall.”
“No wife of mine will sleep out like a gypsy,” he grimly replied. “There is a manor nearby. I passed it on my way to DeLac. We shall seek shelter there.”
Mavis was too tired and too worried to voice any doubts or protest, but what if the lord of the manor didn’t want them, either?
They rounded a corner of the road and there before them lay what had to be the manor of a well-to-do farmer or minor nobleman. The low walls surrounding the manor house were made of stone, as was the house, and it had a slate roof. Several chickens clucked in the cobbled yard, and there was a stable and a good-sized barn, as well. A sprawling kitchen garden was at one side, and on the other, a pen holding six cows. In another meadow farther away, a herd of sheep grazed and bleated.
A young woman carrying buckets on a yoke from what might be the dairy toward a back door of the house paused and stared when Roland rode into the yard and dismounted. “Whose holding is this?” he asked.
“S-sir Melvin de Courcellet,” the girl stammered, the buckets swinging beside her.
“Tell him he has guests.”
“Y-yes, my lord,” she replied, setting down the yoke and running into the house.
“We will spend the night here,” Roland announced just before a plump man dressed in a long robe, his round face slightly greasy and with a chicken leg in his hand, came barreling out of the main door. “Who is this who dares to—”
He skittered to a halt and fell silent as his gaze took in Roland, the soldiers and Mavis. He tossed the chicken leg away and wiped his hands on his tunic. “Greetings, my lord. Who might you be?”
“I am Sir Roland of Dunborough,” her husband replied, “and we seek shelter for the night.”
“Roland of...” Sir Melvin cleared his throat and looked a little sick. “Dunborough, you said?”
“Yes. And this is my wife, Lady Mavis, the daughter of Lord Simon DeLac.”
Roland had never mentioned her father anywhere else, so this had to be an attempt to make the man more amenable. He might have done better to speak with less force and authority. From his tone, it sounded as if he was ordering Sir Melvin to take them in.
“DeLac, eh? His daughter, is it?” Sir Melvin said, running a nervous hand around the neck of his tunic. “Of course you’re welcome to stay, my lord. And your lady, too, and your escort. Just, ahem, allow me a moment to tell my wife how fortunate we are. If you’ll excuse me...” He hurried back inside.
“Perhaps, my lord, you should have asked, not demanded,” Mavis said.
“My wife will not sleep rough on the road.”
Behind them, Arnhelm and Verdan gave each other a wary look.
Roland went to help her down, but Mavis shook her head. “I’ll wait until I’m sure we’re welcome.”
“As you wish,” he replied, turning to look at the manor.
She noticed that the back of his neck and tips of his ears were red. Was he ashamed of what he’d done? Or as anxious as she after all?
When Sir Melvin came out of his house, he was followed by a slender, rather homely woman. “This is my wife, Viola. Please, come in and be welcome.”
“Thank you. We are most grateful for your hospitality,” Mavis said, getting down from her horse without waiting for her husband’s aid.
“Come along with me, my dear, and rest awhile,” Lady Viola said to Mavis. “You look done in.”
Mavis smiled, grateful as much for the heartfelt kindness in the woman’s voice as for the offer itself. “I am tired,” she agreed.
“We’ll join you in the hall for the evening meal,” Lady Viola said to her husband as they passed. “I leave it to you, Melvin, to see that Sir Roland’s men are taken care of.”
“Right you are, my dear! Now come along with me, Sir Roland, and we’ll get your horses settled and then your men. There should be room enough in the stable for your horses, and we’ve a building behind it for the ox and your wagon. Your men can all sleep in the hall.
“That’s a fine beast you’re riding, I must say! Speaking of fine, your wife is quite a beauty. Mavis, you said her name was? Lovely name, lovely girl. We’ve heard nothing of Lord DeLac’s daughter getting married, though...”
* * *
Lady Viola led Mavis to a small, comfortable chamber on the second floor of the manor house. Tapestries covered the walls and a large bronze brazier of glowing coals provided warmth. There were cloth shutters as well as wooden ones to keep out the cold and drafts. The furniture was simple, but well made, consisting of a bed, two low chairs near the brazier, a chest for clothing, a washing stand and a stool, where a maidservant sat rocking a cradle.
The servant, a rosy-faced, neatly dressed lass, rose when they entered.
“How is my lambkin, Annisa? Still asleep?” Lady Viola asked.
“Aye, but making little noises like he’ll be waking soon.”
“You go and eat, and I’ll tend to Martin until you return.” As the maid nodded and left the chamber, Lady Viola said, “Then it should be time for the evening meal.”
“I must thank you for your generous hospitality, my lady,” Mavis said at once. “I’m sorry you were forced to take us in, but we could find no other accommodation. Unfortunately, it seems that the reputation of my husband’s relatives has preceded us, and innkeepers are reluctant to give us shelter.”
“It’s indeed unfortunate that you’ve had such a reception so near our home,” Lady Viola replied, “but we’re happy to be of service.”
She spoke with such sincerity, Mavis believed her, and was even more grateful.
“I’m surprised your husband didn’t realize that might be the case.”
Mavis remembered what the groom had told her the first night Roland had arrived at Castle DeLac. “He only stopped once on the journey to DeLac, so he might not have encountered anyone who had any dealings with his family, or knew their reputation.”
“And you did not suspect there might be any such trouble?”
Mavis shook her head. “No,” she replied, suddenly feeling foolish. Sir Blane and Broderick had journeyed to DeLac. She should have expected that they’d behaved just as loutishly along the way as they had when they reached DeLac.
The babe began to fuss. Lady Viola picked up the squirming, swaddled baby with a tuft of light brown hair and, holding him to her shoulder, sat in the chair near the brazier. “Please, lie down, my dear, and rest. You look worn out.”
Although Mavis was tired, she sat in the other chair. “I assure you, Lady Viola, that Roland is not like his father and older brother. I’ve met them, and I can vouch for the difference.”
That was certainly true, especially when it came to their treatment of women.
When the baby continued to fuss, Lady Viola opened her gown and put the wee lad to nurse. “And the other brother, Gerrard? Have you ever met him?”
“No. Have you, my lady?”
“Only by reputation,” she replied. She studied Mavis a moment. “I would rather not be the bearer of bad tidings, but ignorance is no protection for a woman, so I will tell you what I’ve heard about Gerrard of Dunborough—that he’s devilishly handsome and devilishly clever, too, and without an honest bone in his body. He cheats at games of chance and refuses to pay merchants, or the tavern keepers whose wine he drinks, or the women he...” She delicately cleared her throat. “To put it in the simplest way, I am afraid, my dear, that he is a thorough reprobate.”
Although Mavis was dismayed to hear her husband’s twin painted in such a terrible light, she tried not to betray it. “Then he, too, is nothing like Roland. But since Roland is the lord, and Gerrard the younger, I should have little enough to do with Gerrard in Dunboro
ugh.”
“I hope so, my lady, yet that might make him all the more dangerous.”
“Surely there is little he can do to hurt me, and even if he tries, my husband will protect me.”
“For your sake, I would that it were so, but Gerrard’s a sly fox, my lady. He could try to make your husband hate you.”
“Why? What could he possibly gain?”
“From what I know of the men of Dunborough, his brother’s unhappiness may be enough.”
Mavis had no answer to that, nor did she wish to hear any more. “You’ve been blessed with a fine, healthy child,” she observed.
Lady Viola kissed the top of her nursing baby’s head. “Children are indeed a blessing and a joy, my dear.”
Mavis instinctively rested her clasped hands on her belly. “I would do anything to have children. They are our comfort and support.”
“Beg pardon, my lady,” Annisa said as she reentered the chamber. “The evening meal is ready.”
Lady Viola handed her sleepy child to the maidservant, who laid the baby on her shoulder to burp him.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t get a chance to rest after all,” she said to Mavis as she closed her gown.
“It’s quite all right,” Mavis replied, even though she wished she’d taken a nap so she wouldn’t have heard so much about her husband’s brother before they rejoined the men in the hall below.
Chapter Four
“I suppose the women must have their time to gossip, eh, my lord, and we men must wait for them to finish, even if we’re starving,” Sir Melvin said to Roland as they sat together in the main room of his manor house.
Roland did not reply, in part because he didn’t know if Mavis indulged in gossip, but also because it didn’t matter if he answered. He had already learned that Sir Melvin would keep talking regardless. Since returning to the house he had talked about the state of the roads, last year’s harvest, the king and the latest news of the church in Rome.
Roland could believe the man would keep talking even if he were knocked unconscious.
“Mind you, it’s easy for a man to wait for a woman as beautiful as your wife,” Sir Melvin continued. “Such eyes! Such skin! Not that I envy you, my lord, for Viola won my heart when I was just a lad, and she says the same of me, hard as that may be to believe.”
Roland did find that rather difficult to comprehend. He supposed it was possible that Sir Melvin had been thinner, and quieter, in his youth.
Roland’s gaze wandered to the soldiers of his escort, who were likewise awaiting the evening meal. They were clustered around a trestle table at the far end of the room, chatting quietly among themselves and only occasionally glancing their way. No doubt they were discussing what had happened that day, and he was sure nothing good was being said of the men of Dunborough.
He noted the two brothers sitting close together, head to head, one speaking, the other listening, paying attention and nodding agreement as if they were friends, not mortal enemies locked in battle for a father’s notice.
“You’ve made a most promising alliance, too,” Sir Melvin went on, snaring his attention again. “Lord DeLac is a wealthy and powerful man.”
“Who will probably soon be dead of drink,” Roland replied, trying to silence the fellow, at least for a moment.
Unfortunately, his plan did not succeed.
“Yes, well, ahem, we have heard he imbibes overmuch at times. The better for you, though, perhaps, eh, my lord?” Sir Melvin said. “You and your charming wife will inherit since he has no son. You’ll have an estate in the north and one in the south.”
“Unlike my father or my elder brother, I take no pleasure in any man’s demise, and I doubt my wife will feel any delight in her father’s death, however the man’s behaved.”
“N-no, of course not. I didn’t mean to imply... Forgive me,” Sir Melvin stammered.
“I have taken no offense,” Roland answered as his wife and Lady Viola finally appeared.
He saw at once that Mavis didn’t appear any more rested. She was still too pale, with dark circles under her eyes.
Perhaps Lady Viola was as talkative as her husband and he would have done better to continue on until they found an inn or abbey willing to take them, no matter how desperate he’d been to find a night’s lodging.
Unfortunately, it was too late now.
The men rose as the ladies joined them on the dais at the high table, Mavis to Sir Melvin’s right, Lady Viola on his left. Lady Viola was plain, but far from ugly, and when she smiled indulgently at her husband, Roland could believe theirs was indeed a love match, as surprising as he would have found it when he first arrived.
“Your son is a lovely child,” Mavis said as the servants began to serve a thick ham pottage in trenchers, with fresh-made bread and unexpectedly good wine. “You are very blessed.”
“Yes, very blessed and fortunate,” Sir Melvin agreed with proud complacency. “I’m after a dozen children at least. The more, the better, I always say. I suppose you’ll be wanting sons soon, my lord. Nothing against daughters, for where would we be without them, but a son first, eh?”
Roland didn’t risk even a glance at Mavis before he replied. “I hope to have many children.”
“Then you’re in agreement with your wife,” Lady Viola noted, and he felt a surge of pleasure and relief. “As she says, children are our comfort and security.”
Comfort—as if he’d been harsh and cruel.
Security—as if he couldn’t keep her safe.
Did Mavis think him incapable of the most basic duties belonging to a husband and a father? Did she believe that he would be as negligent as his own, or hers?
To be sure, his father had been cruel, capricious, selfish and demanding, always pitting one son against the other in a never-ending competition, but that only made Roland more determined to be a better father, if God blessed him with children.
“I look forward to fatherhood,” he said firmly, and then he added, because he was certain it would be true, “I’m sure my lady will be an excellent mother.”
Sir Melvin smiled and began to talk about the weather.
* * *
Later that night, Mavis sighed and rotated her head as she ran her comb through her long, blond hair. Her back and shoulders ached from many hours in the saddle, and although the food had been good, it had been a most awkward and uncomfortable meal. Roland had said very little, especially after Sir Melvin mentioned children. She supposed she should take comfort in Roland’s faith in her ability as a mother, yet after that he had barely said another word and never smiled, no matter how entertaining Sir Melvin’s stories were, and the nobleman could be quite entertaining. She had tried to make up for her husband’s silence, but between the long day and the good food, and her lack of sleep from the night before, she had retired as soon as etiquette would permit. Now she could scarcely finish undressing and getting ready for bed because of the yawns that would not stop.
Until she heard the scrape of a heel on the stone floor and turned to see Roland standing on the threshold, silhouetted by the light of the torch in the corridor behind him, his angular face in shadow.
Her heartbeat quickened and her body warmed with a blush as she thought of how she must look, clad only in her shift. She went to cover herself, then stopped. He had every right to look at her, as well as share this chamber and the bed. She was, after all, his wife.
He came into the room, his tread as quiet and smooth as a cat’s.
“I thought perhaps you would stay longer in the hall,” she said, trying to speak calmly and not betray any sign of her tumultuous emotions.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall near the door, as if he didn’t want to get any closer. “Sir Melvin pleaded weariness and went to join his wife, who retired shortly after you did.
It was either drink with the men or come here, so I came here.”
It was hardly a flattering response, but she had already discovered that her husband would never be a diplomat. “Do you intend to sleep on the floor again, my lord?”
“Yes.”
A single word, with no explanation offered. Very well, she would ask for none.
She went back to combing her hair, although it was a struggle to keep her hand steady. “Lady Viola is a very kind, thoughtful woman.”
“And quieter than her husband, thank God.”
“I think he’s very kind, generous and amusing, too.”
“You didn’t spend the afternoon with the man.” He pushed off from the wall and came closer. “I don’t think you rested, either.”
She put down her comb and turned to face him. “I was being a good guest, as you should have been, considering you all but forced Sir Melvin to take us in.”
He regarded her steadily, his gaze inscrutable. “I am a plainspoken man, Mavis. It would be a mistake to expect flattery and flowery words from me. You were exhausted, and so were the men. I couldn’t take the chance we’d be benighted on the road.”
“I, too, care little for insincere flattery or empty praise, my lord,” she honestly replied. “I have heard enough of that in my lifetime and know how false it is. But not all praise is false, or spoken for a selfish purpose.” She rose and faced him squarely. “For instance, I would simply be stating a fact if I said you are a handsome man.”
His frown deepened.
“Surely you know that, my lord. Women must have told you that before.”
He slowly shook his head.
“What, no one has ever said you’re a fine-looking, well-made man?” she asked incredulously.
“Not in my hearing. I suppose you’re used to compliments.”
“That were often not sincere.” She approached him cautiously, both determined and yet afraid to say too much, lest he spurn her again. “It would also be true if I said I am happy to be married to the lord of Dunborough.”
His eyes narrowed as if he couldn’t believe that, either. “Are you?”
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