Slowly and carefully he turned so that he was looking into her face. She thought he seemed a little flushed and was breathing slightly faster than usual. He must be more affected by his exhaustion than either of them had realised. “Please do not worry about the burial. I am sure I will have something suitable for your mother at the manor. As for your own clothes...” He paused, looking down at her. “Yes, I think you and Isabella are of a like size. You may have something of hers.”
“Thank you.” Isabella must be his wife. Suddenly the pleasure she had felt at being in his care disappeared. Alais wondered briefly where Isabella was, then realised that she must be at Liss joining in the preparations for her own arrival.
Alais was taken by a sudden desire to leave the town as soon as possible. It was a place that she had been used to associate with plenty and with her mother and now it had become a place of disaster for so many, including herself.
“Is there anything else you need here?” Hugh’s voice was gentle as he finally untangled their hands.
“No, thank you. There is nothing here for me any more.”
“Let us get back to Hill, then, there will be much to do before your mother’s burial.”
He helped Alais up on to her horse and they left the devastation of the town behind as quickly as possible.
Hill seemed quiet to Alais now that all the townspeople had left and the servants were all that remained. Edmund came out of the house to greet them. Since Matthew was still looking after his daughter, he had taken it upon himself to carry out some of the steward’s duties. He seemed so cheerful about it that Alais wondered, briefly, whether he might not be happier as a steward, rather than following his master into battle. It seemed strange to her that a soldier would be so keen to play the part of steward. Edmund led them both into the hall, where they had a light meal. Alais was not able to eat much; she knew what must follow that afternoon.
When they had eaten, Hugh gave Alais parchment and pen and ink and she wrote to Martin, her own steward at Leigh, explaining what had happened and asking him to send some provisions that she listed to Cuckoo Lane. She also wrote a brief letter to her uncle, which contained more details about her mother’s death and her own intention to carry on to Liss. Once she had written the letters, Hugh gave them to one of the servants, giving him directions to Leigh.
By the time the carter had arrived a trestle table had been set up in the screened off room and Lady Eleanor’s body was laid to rest there. Hugh brought out a plain linen shift and a richly embroidered dress. “These were my mother’s,” he explained, “I hope they will do.”
Alais was astounded at his generosity. “You are too good, my lord. I have no right to expect this.”
“Your mother died in my protection,” he raised his hand to stop her protest. “This is the least I can do.”
He had also brought coins to be put in Lady Eleanor’s mouth as well as a shroud.
“How many servants will you need?”
“Just one.” At his enquiring glance she added, “I have done this many times before. All of my brothers and sisters are dead. I helped prepare many of them for burial.” Hugh looked relieved. “If it is possible, I should like Sarah to help me.” Alais was sure that Sarah would have done this before and would assist quietly and respectfully. She wondered if Hugh guessed that she wanted to steal Sarah away from him and his wife and have her come to Liss. It was obvious to her that Hugh’s wife did not make any use of Sarah’s skills as a lady’s maid. It was possible that she had brought her own maid with her on her marriage. She turned her attention back to Hugh; this was not the time to be thinking about domestic arrangements at Liss.
Hugh nodded, “Yes, I intended that she should aid you. She has some experience and will not chatter or be disrespectful.”
Alais went behind the screen and began to undress her mother’s body. She wept freely as she saw the many wounds and understood a part of what her mother must have suffered. She was joined shortly by Sarah, who carried water and herbs and cloths for washing the body. Alais noted that Sarah took almost as much care as she herself did and soon she admitted that her mother was well-prepared for her final journey.
They placed the coins in Lady Eleanor’s mouth and sweet smelling herbs on her body, then dressed her in the clothes Hugh had provided. Then they wrapped her in the shroud. Alais thanked Sarah and stepped around the screen. Hugh was sitting in his chair and stood as soon as he saw her. She wondered briefly how long he had been there. He had changed into clean clothes and, although he had not had time to bathe, his face and hands were clean.
“All is done,” she said.
“Not quite.” He held out a small object. It was a small, gold bracelet with tiny pieces of amber dotted on it. “Unless you bury her with your book, she will have nothing of her own to go with her.”
“I had thought to bury the book with her, although it is precious to me because of my father.”
“Then take this and bury it with her. It will serve to show her station in the resurrection.”
Alais recognised the power of the amber bracelet, but its value troubled her.
“My lord, you know that I cannot repay you for this.”
“My lady, I do not expect payment. It is no more than my duty to care for two women under my protection, although I was no protection for Lady Eleanor.”
“My lord!” she exclaimed, “There can be no blame for you in this. You were not then our protector. We were to meet you at midday. The raid started some hours before that.”
“My lady, I know the measure of my responsibility and guilt in this and you do not. There is nothing that you can do or say to make it any less.”
He could not look at her. Even in the short time of their acquaintance, Alais had learned that that meant he was profoundly troubled. She stepped forward and took his hand and waited for him to look at her. When he did she pronounced, “Know, Sir Hugh de Liss, that I, Lady Alais de Montjoye, absolve you from any blame in the death of Lady Eleanor de Montjoye.”
Hugh fell on one knee before her and kissed her hand. He raised his eyes to her face. “My lady, you may absolve me, but my heart condemns me. Nonetheless I thank you for your generosity.”
She shook her head, feeling her eyes blur with tears. “My lord, you can have no blame in my mother’s death. My mother was not yet under your protection. She did not blame you and I do not blame you. You could not have known that the French would invade.”
“I should have taken more care for your journey and been there when your servants left.”
“My lord, it would have changed nothing, save that you would have been in church with us and might have died yourself.”
“Then it would have been an honourable death.” He looked away from her again.
Alais had no response. There could be no response. Hugh had taken the blame for her mother’s death upon himself and nothing she could say would change his mind.
“Then allow me to thank you for my life.”
He lifted his face to hers again.
“Those two men would have killed me, or worse.”
“It was my duty to protect you, Lady Alais.”
“But you did not know who it was you saved.”
“A knight must always protect those weaker than himself.”
“I am grateful, nonetheless.”
Hugh seemed satisfied with this and stood.
“It is time for the burial.”
He called and some servants came to carry Lady Eleanor’s body to the church.
Hugh led Alais from the house and along the short path to the church. As they walked, Hugh pointed out the grave of his mother. Beside it was a newer grave.
“My sister, Isabella,” explained Hugh. “She died last year in childbirth. She was fourteen and I had not even noticed that she had become a woman.”
“Why does she lie here and not in her husband’s manor?” It was an impertinent question, but it was out of her mouth before she realised that she was
going to ask it. Isabella was not his wife, then, but his sister. This small fact made Alais even more curious. He had told her nothing about his wife, but only about his sister and his mother. Why did he not speak of her? Was he hiding something or was she such a part of his life that he felt no need to speak of her, especially to a stranger?
“Her husband was a friend of my father’s, much older than her. He died before anyone even knew she was with child and his son did not want to wait until Isabella died of old age to have his inheritance.” He stopped, as if aware of the similarities between his own situation and that of his sister’s stepson.
“She was very young,” encouraged Alais, “perhaps she did not know how to stand up for herself.”
“She never needed to before she was married. I looked after her. She was married when I was away with the king, otherwise I should have stopped it. Isabella was always laughing and happy, but she began to die the moment she married that man. The son sent her home, although he had no right. There was no one to gainsay him. It was winter and she suffered much from the journey. We looked after her at Liss, but the child came early and they both died.”
This was not an unusual tale to Alais. Men were eager for land, or money or advancement and there were sons who despaired of their inheritance when their widowed fathers married younger wives. She herself was younger than Hugh by some five or six years and it was unlikely that he would inherit his father’s property. His own son would have to wait for her death. Had he told her this tale as a warning, so that she would not go through with her vows? If so, he must know that it was too late. Or was he warning her that she would suffer the same fate as his sister and he would himself cast her out on her husband’s death. Sir William was only in his early forties and there was no reason why he should not live for another twenty years, baring accident or war. By then she would be a mature woman and able to handle herself in the event of opposition from her stepchildren. She might even have sons of her own to protect her. No, she did not think her stepson was warning her; he was simply sharing her grief.
On the other side of Lady Maud’s grave was a deep hole.
“I had intended to lie there myself,” Hugh sighed, “but now I expect to die in France.”
Alais thought it strange that he had not made provision to be buried with his wife, but it was equally strange that her husband had allowed his first wife to be buried so far from his own property. There was much she did not know about her husband’s family.
Once she had given her approval of the grave’s location, she entered into the small church. It bore signs of recent work and she realised that the tiny Lady Chapel was a new addition, presumably a project of Hugh’s wife.
“My mother was especially devoted to the Virgin,” explained Hugh, following her glance. “I had the chapel built for her use.” Once more he had confounded her expectations and she wondered again about his absent wife.
Edmund had followed them into the church and the three of them stood with the priest and prayed for Lady Eleanor’s soul.
Father Roland’s voice was soothing and Alais soon lost herself in the sonorous Latin phrases. Happier times with her mother were all she could remember now. As they walked out to the churchyard once more, the carter and some other servants entered to carry out the body. They followed swiftly to the open grave and gently lowered the body into its final resting place. Father Roland said a few more words and then it was over. Alais stepped forward to drop the bracelet Hugh had given her into the grave.
When Hugh moved to take her back to the house, she asked to be left alone and the three men walked away. Only the servants remained, waiting to fill the hole.
Alais did not understand her need to be alone. It made no sense that the mother she had loved was now lying in this hole and they had already exchanged their last words. Given the choice, Alais knew that this was what her mother would have preferred – she would have been content with her sacrifice knowing that Alais lived. She had watched her mother sacrifice herself for her children all her life and she intended to follow her example with her own children.
It was only now, eight years after her father’s execution, that she was beginning to be able to imagine what her mother must have done to allow them to continue living at Leigh. Guy and then Raymond had complained constantly about the loss of all their other estates, but Alais thought about the humiliation their mother must have suffered just to retain their smallest and meanest estate. She certainly knew what it had cost to run the estate and make it prosper. Even as a child Alais had shared her mother’s vision for the future of Leigh and now that future, too, was shattered, for Lady Eleanor would not be there to see it and the estate would soon belong to another. Lady Eleanor had expected to have a few more years to see her plans come to fruition and Alais hoped that her husband would permit her to follow the course that Lady Eleanor had set.
Alais kept in her mind the faces of the people she had left behind at Leigh. They were her people now, her responsibility. They had no one else to care for them. She had to make Sir William understand how important they were. But she knew she was powerless. Sir William could do what he wished with Leigh and its people and with her.
Since he had originally intended to set out for Liss that morning, Hugh found that he now had little time to finalise his preparations. The situation in the town meant that things would be difficult for the village this winter. His plans for the autumn and winter must change accordingly. He needed to spend time with his steward, but Matthew was still with Marion, so he had to content himself with writing his instructions down in the hope that Matthew would soon be able to give them his attention and that he would understand what Hugh intended. There was also scope for Matt to make his own decisions. Hugh could only hope that he would be able to do so and would not become so weighed down by his grief that he would be unable to perform his duties. He had no idea when he would be able to return to Hill and it was not a good time to appoint someone else as steward. He took comfort from knowing that Matt had organised things so that Hill ran itself smoothly and everyone knew what they needed to do. It was just the changing situation in the town and the threat of invasion that worried him.
He then moved on to his final preparations for leaving the next morning. He had brought little with him and Alais had nothing. That reminded him that he had promised her one of Isabella’s dresses. He called a servant and asked her to bring two complete sets of clothing for her. It was unlikely that his father would think to get new clothes made for her before he took her to court at Christmas. The clothes and her book would be all the baggage she would have. Hugh was pleased. They would travel light and quickly. All that remained was for him to choose the most suitable mount for her.
As he was going out to the stables, Alais entered the house from the graveyard. He pretended not to notice that she had been crying again. “I am going to choose a horse for you. Would you like to come?”
Alais nodded and followed him. He had a certain horse in mind for her – big, but calm. She had shown she could ride and he hoped she could manage the kind of riding he had in mind for the next few days, but he would not discuss that with her yet.
“This is Full Moon.”
The horse had long been a favourite of his. He was dark as night, with a tiny spot of white on his face. Hugh had named him himself. When she saw him, Alais expressed her doubts about the size of the horse, but allowed herself to be persuaded to get up on him and ride him around the courtyard. Hugh approved of the way she sat on the horse. She looked more comfortable than he had expected. As he had hoped, she also had the strength of will to control the horse, even though he was bigger than the mares she had ridden before. She had expressed surprise that he had no mare for her. She must have seen the number of horses in his stable, but Hugh had not expanded on his reasons for choosing this horse. That task would come later. Hugh was satisfied that the problem of the horse was solved. It was going to be an interesting journey, if he could convince Alais to go with
him.
“He is a good horse,” said Alais, as he helped her to dismount.
“Do you think you can handle him on a long journey?”
Alais considered, “Yes, but it is as well that the days are getting short.”
Hugh grinned. “I will make sure that we stop frequently.”
Alais blushed.
“Lady Alais, you are a woman and I would not expect or demand that you ride as far as a man in a day. I am sorry I cannot spare a cart from here and you know they need the carts they have left in town.”
She reached up to put a hand on his arm. “Please do not worry, my lord. I am used to riding. I did not come all the way here in the cart. I shall manage.”
Before he could stop himself, Hugh had caught up her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I am sorry I cannot provide for you as you deserve.” He was moved beyond his understanding by her situation.
Alais did not answer and he thought for a moment that he had offended her. He cursed himself for his lack of control. Then she lifted her face to him and he saw the faint smile on her lips.
“It is of no matter, my lord. I know that you have done all that you can.”
They stood for a moment more, with Hugh holding her hand. Then he released her, bowed and walked away quickly.
Chapter Five
The meal that night was subdued. Alais was still shaken by the death of her mother and no one cared to intrude upon her grief. She sat in near silence, occasionally thanking a servant quietly. Hugh’s exhaustion had finally caught up with him and he sat staring out across the hall beside her and Alais doubted he saw or heard anything around him. Sometimes he sat motionless with his knife on its way to his mouth, then he would come to himself and continue eating. Edmund glanced every now and again at Hugh. Once, she caught him watching Hugh as he held his knife motionless. Seeing that she had noticed, he looked away quickly. Alais was surprised that Edmund and the priest had not been invited to join them at the top table. Instead they sat where they had the night before, talking quietly together. She wondered if Hugh had learned that strict demarcation at Liss or whether it was their own practice at Leigh that had become lax. Her own preference was for the slightly more informal arrangement at Leigh. Did he find it lonely, as she had, to sit alone at the top table and watch others enjoying a quiet conversation? Then she remembered his wife. Naturally, she would sit beside him, as Alais did now. They would share the events of the day and their plans for tomorrow. Perhaps their children sat with them. Well, she would meet them soon enough. They would be waiting to greet her at Liss. She watched Hugh carefully throughout the meal, in case his exhaustion should overtake him, but it did not. It would not do for any of the servants to see his weakness.
The Traitor's Daughter Page 6