Fires of Winter

by Roberta Gellis

“I do not pretend, madam,” I said seriously. “I do not know why I do not remember. Perhaps I did not listen properly because I was thinking about my sorrows, or perhaps I did not want court gowns because I did not want to be at court.”

  “Whatever you are, you are certainly not a flatterer,” Maud remarked, her brief flash of temper replaced with wry amusement.

  “Would you believe me if I said I was overjoyed to come into your service—or your care?” I asked quietly. “It would be foolish for me to pretend that. Yet, madam, now that my bitterness is a little eased, I can see that you and the king have tried to be kind.”

  “I am glad your bitterness is eased,” Maud’s smile, as so often was the case, did not reflect in her eyes. “I must suppose that is Bruno’s doing.”

  To my horror I felt myself blushing, but I would not look away and seem ashamed. “He is not a man I would have chosen for myself,” I said firmly, hoping she would recognize the truth when she heard it for once, “but he is not cruel or ungenerous. Since it is too late to hope for better I must be content with him and make as good a marriage as I can. So will you give me leave to travel with him?”

  “I will tell you tomorrow or send a message if you need to know sooner.”

  There was a slightly troubled look on the queen’s face, but I did not think it had anything to do with me, and she continued to be withdrawn into her own thoughts as she told me that I did not need tallies for the bed or bedclothes and gave permission—unasked—for me to go and begin sorting and packing as soon as I had broken my fast.

  I was sick with worry all the rest of the day, but I had no chance to confess what I had done and warn Bruno because he did not sit with me at dinner. And when I told him at the evening meal, explaining my reasons for telling the queen, he only nodded and said he was sure Maud would give me leave.

  “I am so glad you are sure,” I said somewhat spitefully, remembering how unpleasant my interview with her had been. “Now will you please tell me what you want done with the chests—and with Edna. You told me to take her as a maid, so I did, but I am sure she cannot ride. Do you want me to store everything or to hire a cart—”

  “Oh, bless you, Melusine,” he cried, “if you will see about the hiring of a cart and a couple of men to drive it and guard it, I will somehow find time to get a horse and saddle for you.” Then he looked at me hard and said in a somewhat lower voice, “I do not wish to ask the king for time to go into the town when my service will be withdrawn from him altogether so soon.”

  “But—” I began, about to protest that Bruno had misunderstood me. Then I hesitated, knowing that if Magnus had given me such a look, it would have some important meaning and I suppose inside me something woke to alertness so that small incidents stuck firmly in my mind. There was no immediate threat, however, and my attention jumped back to the fact that I knew nothing of the town, that I was not sure the queen would give permission for me to run about in it, and that I had not the faintest idea how to go about hiring a cart and men anyway because at Ulle I had owned the carts and the men had been servants in the household.

  “Oh, of course, you will need money,” Bruno said, seeming to associate my unfinished remark with the wrong uncertainty. His hand fumbled in his belt, but he was no longer looking at me and he did not look down for his purse either. He had glanced at the king’s table when he spoke of not having time to go into the town, and his eyes stayed fixed there, following a gentleman, most gorgeously attired, who was crossing behind the queen.

  Bruno pushed a purse into my hand, and rose to his feet. We had not finished eating, but I felt his movement had more to do with the gentleman he was watching, who now bent over the king’s shoulder and said something that made Stephen laugh. The queen looked up at him too. It seemed to me that she had cast a quick glance at her other table companion, who I knew was the king’s brother, before she smiled at the gorgeous gentleman. I thought Bruno, who was standing beside me, still closing my hand around his purse, had seen the glance Maud gave the bishop of Winchester and stiffened, and a faint curiosity about what it all meant stirred in me. In the next moment I dismissed the matter. I had my own troubles to occupy me. I had no idea of how I was to accomplish what Bruno thought I had suggested.

  Absently, my eyes went back to the king’s table and I wondered if I had imagined all those quick looks and tensions. The bishop had apparently been included in the jest that made Stephen laugh, for he was laughing too now, and Bruno, also smiling, was talking to Camville. As I watched, the royal party rose, having also finished eating. The king walked toward his private apartment with the gorgeous gentleman’s hand on his arm, while the queen stood talking to the bishop a moment longer. When they parted, I saw the bishop look at the doorway through which the king had disappeared. For some reason, he looked lonely—a ridiculous idea when applied to a man of such wealth and power—but I had got to my feet and started toward him before I realized how silly such a notion was.

  My next notion was audacious rather than silly. The bishop of Winchester virtually owned the town. Who would be more able than he, or one of his servants, to help me? So instead of turning aside, I continued toward him as quickly as I could. Winchester almost walked past me, and if I had been able to absorb his expression before I spoke, I would have held my tongue. However, the words, “My lord bishop, a moment, please,” were out of my mouth before I realized that Winchester’s whole face looked frozen. I began to back away, but he had stopped and turned toward me, staring at me somewhat blindly. To continue to back away now that I had his attention would be stupid as well as rude, so I dropped a deep curtsey.

  Winchester’s expression softened into a smile. “You are the new married lady—Sir Bruno’s wife.”

  “I am Lady Melusine of Ulle,” I replied, somewhat tartly I fear, as I rose from my bow. I had little taste for becoming a mere appendage to any man, even my husband.

  Although the smile remained on Winchester’s lips, his eyes now looked wary. “Life is as God directs,” he warned.

  I realized immediately that my denial of Bruno’s name made the bishop believe I had accosted him to complain about my forced marriage and was at a loss for what to say. I would not say I was content, and I could not say outright that I knew complaining to him would be useless because he was only the king’s and queen’s tool. Then I was glad the thought had not leapt unbidden from my lips—as sometimes happened with me, spoiled as I was by my loving father and brothers, who would defend me even when I was wrong and not punish me themselves—because the bishop added, very kindly, “But if I can help you I will.”

  Dismissing my ugly thoughts, I admitted ruefully, “I do not think the favor I will ask is the kind one can request of God, and I am afraid it is a great presumption to ask it of you, my lord, but I hope you will at least direct me to whom I should speak.”

  “Any favor can be asked of God,” the bishop murmured in automatic response, but curiosity had almost replaced the wariness in his face.

  “My lord,” I said, laughing, “I will gladly pray for a horse and cart and some men to drive it and guard it and my maidservant if you think that is the best way to obtain them, but I do hope you can suggest some more direct and practical method because I need them very soon.”

  “A horse and cart,” Winchester repeated, blank with astonishment.

  “I hope I have not offended you, my lord,” I said quickly, fearing that he had the kind of pride that regarded as an insult being asked about any common matter.

  A burst of laughter followed. “No, no, my dear, you have not offended me,” he assured me, “but I feared you were about to…to pose some weighty problem to me and—” He uttered a small sigh, then smiled. “Well, let me say I am glad your trouble is so simple.”

  “Not to me, my lord,” I pointed out, smiling too. “My husband, who is bound to close attendance on the king, has bidden me find cart, horse, and men—no, he said nothing
about the horse, so possibly he means to obtain the horse himself, but—”

  “The horse and cart are for Sir Bruno?” Astonishment again raised Winchester’s voice.

  “I am so sorry,” I exclaimed, “I began in the middle of the tale and have confused everything. Please allow me to begin at the beginning—if you have time to listen, my lord?”

  “This tale I must hear whether I have time or not,” he replied, grinning.

  “It is not nearly so interesting as I have made it seem, I fear,” I said. “Simply, the king has ordered Sir Bruno to carry certain messages north and has given his permission for me to go also—”

  “North? Bruno is carrying—” His voice had been above normal with surprise, and he checked it abruptly and spoke lower. “Is Bruno carrying messages to Scotland?” He looked eager and excited.

  “He told me nothing of the messages, my lord,” I answered carefully, “but I do not think he expects to go into Scotland. He intended, I know, to bring me to the people who raised him in Jernaeve keep. That is in Northumbria.”

  I realized that I had been foolish beyond measure. In a court everything has ten meanings more than should be conveyed by simple words. God alone knew what Winchester had read into what I had said. My slow, careful words and direct gaze at least caused his expression of eager expectation to be replaced by puzzled thoughtfulness.

  “Ah, yes,” he murmured, “you said you were to go also and needed a horse and cart. The messages, then, cannot be very urgent if Bruno is to go no faster than you do in the cart.”

  “I ride, and I will cause no delay to Bruno’s business,” I told him, and then was furious with myself, pride having again driven me to speak before I thought. “But I think you judge correctly that no urgency attends the messages,” I added, hoping to retrieve my second mistake. “Bruno is given two months leave.”

  Winchester nodded understanding, smiling and seeming more at ease although still very thoughtful. “That is why the cart is needed.”

  “Yes, my lord,” I agreed. “Since the court will move on before we can return, we must take our possessions with us, and also my maidservant, who cannot ride.”

  “And when do you leave?” he asked.

  “On Monday, I believe, my lord,” I replied.

  “Very well, Lady Melusine,” Winchester said, “a cart will be ready early Monday. And you may tell Bruno that I am very happy to be able to be of help, and will be happy to serve him in any way I can in the future.”

  He smiled at me again and turned away. I was appalled, but I could not say a word for my throat had closed with fear. Apparently Winchester believed Bruno had sent me to him. I had no idea what I had done for good or ill, and I was left in that state until the morning we left because Bruno did not come to bed that night nor the next.

  Saturday night I was half mad, terrified one moment and raging the next. The terror came first when Bruno did not come at his usual time. I was seized by the idea that Bruno was being questioned about my unwise disclosure and perhaps would be punished for it. But as the hours passed, I knew he could not have been detained so long and rage overwhelmed fear and regret. I became certain Bruno had made some assignation with Edna because I had not yielded to him the night before.

  On Sunday morning I learned that Bruno had not slept with Edna, wherever else he had been. I spoke to the woman in charge myself and discovered that Edna could not have left the maids’ lodging in the bailey that night. One of the women had been taken ill and two nuns had sat up with her all night. Then of course my fear returned, to be supplanted by rage again when I saw Bruno at dinner in his proper place among the Knights of the Body. He smiled at me, and lifted his hands, palm up, in a gesture of helplessness. That did not amend my temper much since I felt he could have sent a message and saved me a great deal of grief and fear. My resentment was only increased when I glimpsed him later, after the evening meal, in the doorway of the king’s private apartment giving instructions to a page.

  Because I had not slept at all on Saturday night and had been too busy Sunday separating what Bruno and I could carry on our horses and what must go by cart, I slept so fast on Sunday night I would not have known that Bruno had not come to bed if he had not confessed indirectly by bursting into our chamber after Prime on Monday, crying in a breath, “I am sorry to be so late. Can you help me arm?”

  Haste combined with that question leaves no time for scolding, recrimination, or counter-questions. I sprang toward him, catching his belt as he opened it and flinging it on the bed, bringing his arming tunic as he lifted off the one he was wearing, holding his mail so that he could slide into it with ease, and bringing back belt and sword to be buckled on.

  Only then did I say, “I do not know where your shield and helmet are. Bruno, what danger threatens?”

  “My shield and helmet are in the stable with Barbe, and if we do not leave at once, we may never get away,” he said, and went out before I could speak again.

  Chapter 13

  Bruno

  I had no idea that I had frightened Melusine nearly out of her wits when I demanded my armor and rushed out, sending two servingmen in to carry out our belongings. Nor did I realize that she would misinterpret my saying that we had to leave at once to mean that the king was furious and about to arrest me or had exiled me with only hours to escape. How could I guess she would be so silly? Had I not told her more than once that I was one of Stephen’s favorites? Indeed, it was his fondness for me—or, at least, his conviction that I was more discreet than any of his other servants that nearly overset all my plans.

  After I had killed that damned boar on the hunt, the king had said, half-jestingly, that I was too good a companion in sport to use as a messenger. I reminded him that it was not only to be a messenger but to bring Melusine to Jernaeve that I was going, and he said no more about keeping me, but a more serious threat to my leaving arose on Saturday afternoon. At first the canon, who had come from Canterbury, seemed to have nothing to do with me. The archbishop of Canterbury, that William de Corbeil who had anointed Stephen as king, had died less than a year later, in November 1136, and the canon had come to petition that Canterbury should be permitted to elect an archbishop when the papal legate should arrive.

  I paid little attention, knowing that the king would put off any election as long as he could because the revenues of the see went to the Crown as long as there was no bishop. Stephen spouted all the usual soothing words, promising that he would obey the papal legate, who would undoubtedly have directions from the pope about many matters. It was only when the interview was over and I heard the king suggest that the canon go quietly to Netley Abbey rather than stay in Winchester’s great house by the cathedral so that “no undue pressure be placed on the free canons of Canterbury” that my ears sprang to attention. Next, while the canon was being served a farewell cup of wine before his short journey, Stephen drew me aside and bade me take him to the east gate, where he could board the boat that had brought him. It would be best, Stephen said softly, that he speak to no one on the way.

  When I returned and was able to report that no attention at all had been paid to the canon—and I had watched the boat out of sight on the river—Stephen took a ring from his hand, pressed it into mine, and said he could not spare me, that he would find someone else to carry his thanks and rewards north. I knew he meant only I could be trusted to be secret, and I dared not protest again that I would rather have leave than a ring, no matter how rich. Then I wondered whether my own selfish desires were making me blind to any real danger a loose mouth could do the king. I thought of that for the rest of the afternoon, but I could not see that anything the worst blabbermouth could have said could be dangerous, which brought me to the sad conclusion that Stephen had a guilty conscience and was seeing monsters that did not exist in dark corners.

  That was why I felt free to catch Waleran in the king’s chamber after the evening meal an
d tell him that my leave was cancelled. Possibly he was the cause of Stephen’s guilty conscience, but I knew it would take more power than I had to raise doubts of Waleran’s motives or good sense at this time, so my presence could do no good. Waleran wanted to be rid of me and I wanted to be gone; all I felt was relief when having asked Stephen jovially why I was not already gone north and hearing that I was not to go, he somehow managed to talk the king into changing his mind again.

  Perhaps I should have been glad that Stephen felt he needed me so much, but I was not. I had seen others, closer and dearer, fall from favor. Because they were rich and powerful already and the king was not a vicious man who would strip everything from those he no longer trusted, they had lost little more than the ability to grow still richer and more powerful. But if the king should dismiss me, there was only the gutter of the common mercenary below. More than ever I wanted Melusine to be known and loved in Jernaeve and I wanted to see her lands and learn whether I could cozen the king into giving them to me.

  I was like a man strung by the thumbs all Saturday night and Sunday. It made me a little easier in my mind that the king demanded that I sleep in the outer chamber both Saturday and Sunday night so that I could be summoned quickly if he needed me. Perhaps he thought I would feel deprived of the “service” of my wife as he felt deprived of my service, but I was doubly glad. For one thing, I hoped the king would work off his spite—sometimes he was spiteful, but the fit never lasted long. And anyway I got two good night’s sleep away from temptation.

  Still, I could not relax all day Sunday because Stephen grumbled all the time he was giving me my instructions and signing the writs that named the rewards for each of the principal men who had fought at Northallerton. And between attending to the king’s business, I had my own to finish. I had already obtained extra blankets that we could use for camping out if we could not find a hostel and had discovered that Melusine had a horse and saddle, but I had to arrange that our traveling gear be brought from storage to the stable to be loaded and arrange with the queen’s groom to bring Melusine’s mount to the king’s stable. I have forgotten all the small things, but Sunday was no day of rest for me.