Rose of Hope

by Mairi Norris

  “Aye, I do. But what of you, Ysane? My lord D’Auvrecher is a mighty warrior and a wise leader, but he is a man less open with his affections than Trifine. Yet, that means not he is incapable of both powerful and gentle feeling. Are you able, my dear, to let go of the evil of Renouf and grasp hold of the tenderness Fallard offers? Will you ever trust him as he deserves?”

  “I know not. Oh, everything is happening so quickly—too quickly. ’Tis so short a time, really, since he came to my sitting room, and we first conversed. The man has turned all my thoughts on their head!

  “He is Norman, Roana. He has taken for himself all my father meant should be mine. I should hate and fear him for those things. Yet, I hate him not, and am astounded to discover at no time have I truly feared him. I seem to…to know he would never hurt me, at least not with purpose, as Renouf loved to do. I have seen how my people respond to him. ’Tis as if a brisk, clean wind has swept through the hall, blowing away the bitter evil and leaving behind a fresh, new day.”

  She blew a sharp exhalation, and shook her head. “I admit at first I felt no small measure of betrayal at how easily he swayed the loyalty of those I thought should be true to me, even you and Domnall. I was hurt at how easily he gathered the affection of the whole burh in his hands.” Her eyebrows puckered in chagrin. “Quite put out, I fear.”

  Roana’s laughter rang through the garden. “And I fear that confession is no surprise to anyone, my dear. When you came to sup that eve, you were so filled with indignation and fury ’tis a wonder the tapestries took not fire as you walked past. Yet, as you say, Fallard did little more than remind you of your role as the lady of the hall. Renouf would have…well, we both know what Renouf would have done.”

  “But I would never have behaved so with Renouf, and that is my whole point. I understood from the beginning, without knowing how, that Fallard would hurt me not.” She lifted her head and looked toward the wall, where the sentries strolled and called to each other. Her eyes followed a kestrel as it hovered, almost motionless, upon the airs, seeking movement far below that might reveal its next meal. For a moment, her thoughts were very far away.

  “There is one other thing I would ask,” Roana said, “and if you choose, you may remind me ’tis no concern of mine, and I will ask no more.”

  Her voice trailed away and a curious blush colored her fair skin.

  “Well?”

  “Ysane, has he kissed you, yet? Oh, I mean, not little pecks on the cheek or a simple meeting of the lips, but really kissed you, with passion as a man who hungers for a woman and desires to make love with her?”

  Memories of the passionate embraces she had shared with Fallard rose to send the same color rioting over her own face that had but moments before suffused Roana’s countenance.

  Her cousin saw the telltale confirmation, and she laughed again in sheer delight. “Forgive me, kinswoman, if I have been indelicate, but ’tis obvious he has. Did you enjoy it?”

  “Roana!”

  “Oh, go not all prim and prudish now. You must tell me. Did you kiss him back? Did his embrace make you want to melt right into his skin? Did you thrill at his slightest touch? Did his kiss fill your soul with joy and pleasure, and leave you yearning for more? I freely admit Trifine’s kisses are like fire, setting me aflame, yet they bear such sweetness I sometimes fear I will swoon. I wait with anticipation to discover where further they might lead. Did you experience no such wonderful feelings when Fallard kissed you?”

  “I, well, I….”

  “You did! I knew it.

  “Oh, very well, aye. I felt much the same as you describe. ’Twas most astonishing. I never thought such a feeling would be mine. A simple glance from his eyes, so fierce, so proud, and I can deny him naught. Had you asked me that question but a seven-day ago, would I ever associate pleasure with a man’s touch, I believe I might have laughed in bitterness, or else been so humiliated I would have run away. Forgive me, dear friend, but even you know not the depths of my husband’s corruption, or his debasements. Had I ever dared to think beyond his cruelty, even then I would have guessed not what goodness might be found in the caress of a man’s hand. I verily believed I would want naught but to live free of any man, but of that, I am no longer certain.”

  Her shoulders lifted in a little shrug. “How that may be, I know not. The shame of my life with Renouf can be not wiped out so easily or so quickly…or can it? How is it possible I thrill to the touch of Fallard’s lips upon mine, his arms holding me so tightly, when but days past the very thought of such an intimacy caused a sickness of horror in my belly, and shuddering fear to weaken my soul? What powerful magic has my lord used against me? What enchantment has he wrapped round my heart? Roana, how can this be?”

  “What power of magic, you ask? What spell has he woven? Oh, Ysane, my kinswoman and dearest friend, ’tis no strange enchantment. Yet, all at the same, ’tis the greatest wonder of all. ’Tis the magic of love, and the power of hope.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  From her chair at table that eve, Ysane studied her guests and her people as they sat at sup. The hall fairly gleamed from the day’s endeavors, and seemed much brighter with even’s last light shining through pristine window glazing and reflecting off newly whitewashed walls. The pleasing glow would not last long. Already the smoke from the torches, candles and the fire pits roiled toward the ceiling and into the shadows created by the flickering flames. High-spirited conversation, and spirits of a different sort flowed freely, needing from her but a word for the first, or a glance to a servant for the second to keep both circulating.

  Four more parties of stewards from fiefs to the south and west, and Verdonport Hall from the coast, were escorted in after the nooning, though none by Fallard. They relaxed at their meal, relieved to have arrived safely after hearing of the earlier attack. Like the others, these were a mix of Saxon thegns and Norman barons, though now the Norman stewards sadly outnumbered her people. King William was steadily replacing the Saxon leadership throughout the land. Few were left in any position of power and of those, all were sworn to him from before Santlache. Still, she feared, soon none would be left at all.

  Ysane held herself aloof as she reflected on the morn’s encounter with her kinswoman, whose words gave her much upon which to think. Awakening ere dawn, restless and unsettled as sheep catching the howl of wolves drifting down the wind, she had felt as if the very ground itself shifted beneath her feet, ready to open and swallow her. But the bout of weeping in the garden had plumbed inner depths, providing a catharsis. After, she felt a sense of renewal, of restoration, as if she had been given back not only her life, but even her very soul. Grief was not allayed, for her daughter’s brutal death was too nigh to set aside. But for the first time in too long, she had hope for the future, and a life to anticipate that might, if carefully nurtured, be very good. If only she could talk to Cynric again, her heart might yet survive.

  Had her brother returned to his home in the forest? Mayhap, on the morrow, she could slip away and visit his cottage. ’Twas unlikely any rebels were near the burh and the short journey into the forest should be safe. If he remained absent, mayhap, she would find something he left behind to explain why he had abandoned her in the time of her greatest need. She refused to consider he might be dead.

  For now, the simple gladness at the ease and lack of fear with which her people openly enjoyed the meal was as a further balm for healing. How different this meal was from what it had been such a short time before. With the men Fallard left behind there was no riotous, drunken revelry, and no lecherous hands to pinch and squeeze where they belonged not. The serving children, their features relaxed and smiling, did their work without strain of wondering when the slightest mistake might result in a massive hand cruelly smashing them to the floor, mayhap, breaking a bone. Oh, there was laughter aplenty, and much conversation, but ’twas good-natured, lacking the raucous, brutish quality from before.

  Aye, the new lord of the burh was Norman, but if Wu
lfsinraed must have a new lord, then better it be Fallard D’Auvrecher. In so short a time, he had proven himself a better man and a more capable leader, and certainly more honorable than Renouf, true Saxon though her husband had been. There was no doubt which her people preferred.

  Her brows tugged together. All, mayhap, except one. Since Ruald was escorted away in bonds, the slave Leda smiled only to gain favor. Ethelmar informed her the girl was surly, vicious to a fault, and must be constantly prodded to do her work. The others disliked her. Mayhap she truly grieved, and missed Ruald. Certainly, she missed the prestige she had enjoyed as the woman who held the favor of the lord’s brother.

  As if aware of Ysane’s thoughts, Leda turned to stare straight at her. Ysane’s breath caught at the contempt and hatred that blazed from the girl’s amber eyes. Startled, she stared back. The other woman sneered, but then her eyes fell and she flounced off to the kitchen.

  If she is miserable and makes others unhappy as well, mayhap, she should be sold. I will speak to her in the morn.

  “Are you not well, my lady?” Jehan bent to her from his place on the bench beside her chair. “You eat not, I notice.”

  “Nay, Jehan,” she said, letting her delight in the eve show in her smile. “In truth, I have been so preoccupied with the differences in my hall I fear I have quite forgotten to eat.”

  To prove her words, she speared a piece of smoked, honeyed ham and ate it with relish.

  But Jehan’s thoughtful gaze left her not. He spoke again, so low only she would hear. “That woman, the slave, I saw how she looked at you. She was disrespectful. I would chastise her, if you like.”

  Ysane shook her head. The intensity of the encounter with Leda had shaken her, but the problem was a simple one, and as mistress of the hall, entirely hers. “My thanks, Jehan, but I will deal with it.”

  “Well and good. But I am available, Lady Ysane, should you have need of my services. I will suffer you not to come to harm, nor am I pleased to stand aside and allow you to be so disparaged by a slave.”

  Served by Jehan’s squire, Ysane took a bite of carrot flavored with mint and ginger, and cocked her head at the Second. “Sir Jehan, did my lord D’Auvrecher set you to watch over me in his absence?”

  The faintest hint of color drifted over Jehan’s sculpted cheekbones. He offered her a sheepish grin. “Was I so transparent, then, my lady? Forgive me, I meant no offense.”

  Ysane managed to refrain from laughing. The Second appeared quite comically disgruntled with himself, and concerned she might have been insulted by his words. “Oh, nay, Jehan. In truth, I am flattered, and not surprised my lord would leave you so onerous a duty. Fear not, sir knight. You have been most gallant.”

  Jehan’s brows puckered, as if wondering if she jested. But he must have decided to take her words as they seemed, for he smiled at her instead.

  Across from them, Lady Matty, wife to Thegn Noll, finished a honeyed almond. “Lady Ysane, I noticed the unfinished tapestry on your loom, this morn. The colors are quite striking, but the piece is not yet far enough along to discern the design. What is the scene?”

  Ysane smiled. “’Tis an after sup scene of a country hall, much as you find anywhere. I thought the children might be gathered around the scop as he entertained. The ladies will be at their embroidery and the men talking around the fire, or playing at dice. The dogs will gnaw on supper bones. ’Twill be an uncomplicated scene, but one I hope to instill with all the peace and beauty of a simple life.”

  Matty nodded. “’Tis my understanding you wove many of the tapestries in the hall. They are exquisite, my child. The weaving of the threads is not so difficult to learn, but the talent of bringing a scene to life, as if at any moment the figures might step out of the frame and speak, that is a gift, and one you seem to have in abundance. Noll and I must come around to visit again in a few months. I find myself desirous of viewing the new tapestry in its entirety.”

  “I would be most pleased for you and your lord to visit, and I hope you will do so oft, and stay long enough we might come to know each other better.”

  “Then ’tis a certainty we will come.”

  The hall doors opened, catching Ysane’s eye. A guard stepped inside. His searching eyes found Jehan. Coming to the Second’s side, he whispered a quick word. Jehan stood and turned to Ysane. “My lady, a messenger has arrived. Since the captain is not here, mayhap, you should hear his words.”

  A tremor of unease jolted Ysane, but she stood and gestured to all at the table. “If you will excuse us? Please continue to enjoy your meal. I am certain we will return shortly.”

  Jehan also beckoned to Thegn Noll, who arose and followed them outside. The guard led them to the gatehouse.

  Slumped before the fire pit, his hands wrapped round a tankard of warm ale, sat a man in the garb of King William’s foot soldiers. He glanced up when they entered, and with obvious effort, came to his feet, but so quickly, he stumbled, knocking over his stool. “Sir Jehan! My lord, my lady. I bear an urgent message from Sir Gyffard.”

  “Sit down, man,” Jehan ordered. “You are nigh to falling over. What you have to say may be said while seated, and it can wait another moment or two. Catch your breath.”

  “My thanks, sir.” He retrieved his seat, and pulled it closer to the hearth.

  Jehan was right, Ysane observed. The poor man reeled with exhaustion. Bloodshot eyes blinked blearily from a gaunt face. Now and anon, shivers shook his ragged frame, and the hands holding the tankard trembled. His head hung low, bearded chin as slumped as his shoulders. Bloody scratches on face and hands, and mail smeared with blood, dirt, and moss stains offered mute testimony of battle hard fought, and a need to hide close to the ground and in thorny thickets. He had been hunted.

  While the soldier recovered, the guard brought stools for Ysane and Noll. Jehan seated himself on the flat hearth.

  The guard who summoned them spoke. “Would you have a spot of ale, my lords, my lady?”

  Jehan and Noll nodded but Ysane declined. Her suspicion the messenger had been forced to hide from pursuers during his race to the hall was proven correct when the man finally lifted his head and began to relate his message.

  His tired eyes focused on Jehan. “I am Ligart, sir. I bear a message from Sir Gyffard for Captain D’Auvrecher. I would have arrived yester eve, but I was followed, and ’twas necessary to hide for a time to give the searchers opportunity to move on. I have been told why Captain D’Auvrecher is away, and I fear my message has a direct bearing on that cause.” He gulped another swallow of ale and continued. “Three days ago, our force was waylaid by a great host of Saxons. Though we remained alert for trouble, as Sir Gyffard ordered, they took us by surprise. They outnumbered us two to one. In the chaos, Sir Ruald and most of his men were freed, and escaped with the rebel host. Sir Gyffard believes that force is headed for Wulfsinraed.”

  Ysane’s indrawn breath hissed loudly in the pause, as the bumps of a chill passed over her arms. She caught her elbows with her hands, hugging herself. She had thought Ruald safely on his way to London, but now! She feared not only for Fallard. If Arnulf, her brother-by-law, had obeyed Fallard’s summons, then he, her sister Gemma and their son, Sigan, would be out there somewhere, unaware of their danger. Ruald was free. His rage would be terrible, all his thoughts bent on revenge. He would kill her family if he could.

  “My lady!” The messenger spoke again, misunderstanding her fear. “I left on my mission very soon after the battle, and traveled as fast as I was able. ’Twould have taken some time for the Saxon force to reassemble and prepare to march. They are a large force, on foot, and unable to move quickly through the forest. Though I spent a goodly length of time in hiding, ’tis my belief they remain a night and full day behind, mayhap many hours more.”

  Jehan also spoke to reassure her. “We are safe here, my lady, fear not. Captain D’Auvrecher was well aware when he left that a large force of rebels might be on its way. I assure you, he will take care, and there will
be protection for the traveling parties.”

  “He knew Sir Gyffard’s men were attacked and Sir Ruald was freed?”

  “Nay, he suspected only, my lady,” Noll corrected, “and there is yet another consideration. The attack on our party could have had—should have had—more disastrous results. ’Twas as if those who assaulted us were less intent on killing, than simple harassment. If, as is believed, they were rebels, ’tis unlikely they would risk having the countryside rise against them by indiscriminately killing Saxon noblemen and their families. My lord D’Auvrecher’s force would be more than capable of dealing with them, should they happen upon them.

  “But methinks the group that attacked us had but one goal, and that to cause us to suspect betrayal from Lord D’Auvrecher and King William. Believing that goal achieved, then surely by now they would be in hiding, awaiting the larger force.”

  Jehan nodded in agreement with Noll’s assessment, and Ysane felt some of her first fear subside.

  “Continue your message, Ligart,” Jehan said. “I would know all you may tell.”

  “Aye, sir. We were set upon nigh the end of the day, at a place in the road so narrow our numbers were forced to string out. We had already passed a number of such places and were prepared, thinking them likely spots for ambush. Though we passed each of those unscathed, we yet remained alert, and that, Sir Gyffard believes, was one reason we were not more badly taken. But he also believes the rebels were more interested in setting free the prisoners than in killing the king’s men.”

  “Why would Sir Gyffard come to that conclusion?”

  “Well, sir, the Saxons dropped on us like flies from the trees above the road, and attacked from the sides and both ends of the line. But the largest number assaulted the middle of the line where the prisoners were secured. There were bowmen among them, but those shot only at guards nigh to the prisoners. They succeeded in splitting our party in half. They separated and overwhelmed the soldiers close to the prisoners so those men had no choice but to defend their own lives, leaving them unable to prevent the prisoners from being released.