by Anne Herries
‘My lord and the men have returned from the forest. One of the men has been badly gored by a wild boar and two others are slightly hurt. My lord asks if you will attend them, my lady.’
‘Yes, of course I shall,’ Rosamunde said immediately. ‘Run up to my chamber, Lilia, and bring rolls of linen. We shall need it to bind the injured man’s wounds—also balms and moss for healing.’
‘I know where the moss grows,’ Elspeth said. ‘I shall go to fetch what we need, my lady. It is best applied to a wound fresh, especially if the wound has been cauterised.’
‘I shall go to my lord and see what has been done,’ Rosamunde agreed. ‘Bring the moss to me as soon as you have it.’
The three women dispersed, each to their appointed task. Rosamunde discovered the men in the hall. Raphael was bending over one of the men, who lay writhing on the floor. Someone had placed a mattress and linen on the floor and a hot iron had been brought. She heard the patient’s scream of agony as Raphael applied it to the wound, burning out the poison from the beast’s fangs and sealing the wound. The sound of the poor wretch’s screams was pitiful but it was the way such wounds had to be treated and was in the patient’s best interest. After a moment or two he fell silent and she knew that he had fainted from the pain.
Approaching, she saw that the man was stripped to the waist; there was a deep gash in his side where he had been gored, also gashes to his arm and hands.
‘Elspeth has gone to fetch moss that will help heal his deep wound,’ Rosamunde said. ‘If you will allow me, I shall bind the other wounds and apply a healing balm.’
‘Yes, that may ease him a little,’ Raphael said and made way for her.
Rosamunde knelt by the man’s side, applying soothing creams to his arms and hands and binding them with the strips of linen Lilia had brought. As she was finishing, Elspeth came hurrying in with the soft, wet moss she had gathered which Rosamunde then packed around the deep wound. Together, they bound him around his body, their work finishing just as his eyelids fluttered and he moaned in pain.
‘Could you lift him for me?’ Rosamunde asked and Raphael lifted the patient gently in his arms while she held a small flask to the man’s lips. ‘Drink a little of this, sir. It will ease you.’
The man’s lips parted and he swallowed obediently. He was then allowed to lie back against the straw pillow someone had provided, his eyes closing.
‘He will be easier now. Who else needs attention?’ she asked.
Two more men came forward. Both had slight gashes, one to his hands, the other to his leg. None were deep, and after balm and linen had been applied they took themselves off to join their comrades.
‘What happened?’ Rosamunde asked.
It was not often that this kind of accident happened during a hunt. The huntsman was experienced and usually applied a swift blow to kill a wounded beast quickly.
‘The dogs cornered the boar,’ Raphael said. ‘It had been shot by an arrow but was not dead. We thought the arrow had delivered the deathblow but, when the huntsman approached to slit its throat, it got up and attacked him. The other men went to his help but it was too late to save him from being badly injured.’
‘Hunting is dangerous,’ Rosamunde said. ‘I know that a wounded boar can kill. It happened to one of my father’s men some years ago, but he was too badly gored to save. I have hope that your man will live.’
‘His wound has been dealt with but he may develop a fever.’ Raphael frowned. ‘The man that shot the boar was certain he had killed it, but he did not hit the right spot. He should have fired again. His carelessness could have led to this huntsman’s death.’
‘Will he be punished?’ she asked.
‘I shall have to discipline him,’ Raphael said. ‘In a hunt we all rely on one another. No man should allow pride to cloud his judgment.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Rosamunde said and turned away. She felt that it must have been an accident but would not voice her opinion. It was not for her to interfere with Raphael’s decisions.
‘If there is nothing more, my lord, I shall return to my chamber. We have been working most of the day and I wish to change my gown.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Raphael said. ‘We both have work to do, my lady.’
‘Lilia will watch over our patient. If she needs me she can fetch me, but he will sleep for some hours before he needs to be tended again.’
Leaving the hall, Rosamunde walked upstairs to her chamber. She wondered what punishment the negligent man would receive and hoped it would not cast a shadow over the castle this time.
* * *
‘You admit that your careless aim caused Boris to approach the boar too soon?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ Eric answered, his head downcast. ‘I thought it was shot through the eye but I missed and the boar was not fatally injured; my arrow merely went through its ear and pierced its skin at the side of the head.’
‘What should you have done?’ Raphael asked calmly.
‘I should have warned Boris and shot again, or let others shoot it instead of claiming the kill.’
‘It is fortunate that Boris was not fatally wounded or your punishment might have been even more severe.’ Raphael looked at him gravely. ‘What do you think should be your punishment?’
‘I should be whipped and dismissed from your service, my lord.’
‘How would that benefit Boris?’
‘I do not know, sir. It is the punishment men are usually given for making such a mistake.’
‘I do not think it would serve anyone in this case. My judgment is that you shall undertake to feed Boris’s wife and family until he is able to work again. You will chop wood for their fire and make sure the family has bread, meat and fish. You will apologise to Boris and pay him one shilling from your wages. Do you accept your punishment as fair?’ Raphael asked.
Eric dropped to his knees. He was shaking and it was clear that he had expected an even worse punishment than the one Raphael had indicated.
‘I beg your pardon and Boris’s pardon, my lord. I will do all that you have ordered—and I will not make such a mistake again,’ Eric said hoarsely.
‘No, I am sure you will not,’ Raphael said dryly. ‘Get up and go back to your family until we need you again, but do not fail in your promises or I might change my mind and find a different punishment for you. I will not tolerate any flouting of your duty, Eric.’
‘It shall not happen, my lord. I know that my foolish pride almost caused a good man’s death and I shall be more careful in future. I am grateful for your mercy.’
‘I believe you have learned your lesson. Do not give me cause to doubt you again.’
Once the man had left, Raphael turned to his watching friend with a grim smile. ‘How do you manage to keep order amongst your outlaws, Loxley? It cannot be easy, for some of them have no respect of the law.’
‘That is true enough. Fortunately, they respect me and the King, and thus far I have not had to hang anyone—but if necessary I would do it, and they know it,’ the earl said grimly.
‘Yes, one has to make an example sometimes, but I prefer to give a more measured judgment,’ Raphael said.
‘As you have today,’ Loxley agreed. ‘I might not have thought of it, but you have both given the man a task he can do and protected the family of the wounded man. I think everyone should applaud your judgment.’
‘Not everyone thinks as highly of me as you,’ Raphael said and smiled wryly. ‘I think supper should soon be ready. I do not know about you, but I am hungry.’
* * *
‘Forced to pay one shilling, apologise and keep Boris’s family in food and firewood until he is able to work again.’ Rosamunde looked at Mellors in surprise. ‘It is a wise decision. I must admit, I expected the judgment to be harsher.’
‘Had Boris been killed it might have been,’ the steward admitted. ‘I think it both clever and fair. Eric is shamed enough and will not boast of a kill too soon in future.’
‘Lilia has been tending Boris since he came to his senses. It may be some months before he is fit to work again, but his family will not starve. I am sure my lord would have taken care of them in any case, but this way it teaches Eric to be more careful in future,’ she remarked.
‘Yes, indeed it does, my lady,’ Mellors said and smiled at her. ‘I am glad you approve of Lord Mornay’s judgment.’
Rosamunde nodded. Mellors left her to go about his duty and she went downstairs to a small room at the rear of the hall to where Boris had been moved to give him some peace. His wife had been sent for and she and Lilia had rebound his wound and made him comfortable.
Boris’s wife curtsied to her, smiling shyly as Rosamunde told her to be at ease.
‘Who is looking after your children, mistress?’
‘My sister has them for the moment. She told me to stay with Boris while he needs me, and with your permission I shall sleep here by his side, my lady.’
‘Yes, of course. Tell me, how old are your children?’
‘Erin is twelve and Harold is ten.’
‘Are they in employment?’ she asked the older woman.
‘There is no work for them other than helping me tend the pig and our vegetable patch.’
‘Perhaps we could find work for you all within the castle,’ Rosamunde said. ‘If you would like to help my women once your husband has recovered but is still unable to resume his position? And your children can be found light work in the kitchens or serving at table. When your husband is well you may return to your home or remain here at the castle, as you choose.’
‘My sister would tend the pig,’ the woman said. ‘It has been in my mind to offer service since Elspeth and her daughters came here. I am well known for my brewing,
my lady. Folk say my ale is the best hereabouts and I would be willing to help with cooking or making wine and ale.’
‘Then we shall be glad of your services,’ Rosamunde told her and smiled. ‘For the moment you must help to tend your husband. Lilia need not spend all her time with him now that you are here, and therefore you are already playing your part. You will be paid the same as Elspeth and Lilia.’
‘You are gracious, my lady. We are all pleased that our lord is to marry an Englishwoman of beauty and generosity.’
Rosamunde nodded and smiled. It seemed that she was playing her part in bringing the castle back to its proper state.
‘Excuse me, I am expected in the hall.’
* * *
Christmas Eve was a cold, bright morning, the ground hard with frost. Rosamunde, her ladies, Raphael and some of the men made up the party to gather in the greenery. They picked holly, ivy and mistletoe from the woods, loading the branches onto a cart, which was then driven back to the castle.
‘Everyone is looking forward to the feast this evening,’ Rosamunde said to Raphael as they walked back to the castle together. ‘We have venison, roasting pig and mutton—also pies, preserved fruits and sweetmeats my ladies and I have prepared. It will be a merry occasion, my lord.’
‘Yes, indeed, it will,’ he said. ‘I believe we may have minstrels to entertain us this night for they came seeking shelter for the period of Christ’s Mass and would pay for their supper with song and music.’
‘Sir Jonathan sings sweetly, but it would be nice to have a merry jig so that the men could dance.’
‘Dance?’ Raphael arched his brows. ‘Yes, perhaps. I remember the custom. We used to dance a carol when I was a boy but I had forgotten.’
‘That is what I meant. Everyone joins hands in a circle and someone must go to the centre and perform a poem or a trick, then we all dance together, until another takes his or her place,’ she explained.
‘I remember how much everyone enjoyed such things,’ Raphael said and his gaze was warm as it rested on her. ‘You will bring the joy back to this house, Rosamunde. It hath too long been absent.’
‘It will give me pleasure to make your house a home, my lord,’ she said demurely.
‘You do that just by being here,’ he said tenderly and reached for her hand. ‘It may be that I have a little surprise for you.’
Her heart fluttered. What could he mean?
* * *
The hall had been decorated with greenery and there were kissing boughs of mistletoe hanging here and there. Now that there were more women servants in the castle, the sound of laughter as they dodged eager suitors lent an air of excitement and mischief to the night. Raphael had decreed that there were to be games, as well as the dancing and the feasting that night, and during the afternoon they watched an archery contest. The servants played bob-apple and blind man’s buff and everyone was given a small gift of money from the lord.
Rosamunde wore her best gown of emerald velvet. She was cheered as she took her place at table and sat beside Raphael. The entertainment began almost at once. The travelling players put on a display of tumbling and a dwarf rushed around the hall hitting people with a pig’s bladder filled with air. Then the minstrels began to play.
Food was served to all the tables, course after course of rich meats, worts and sweetmeats, with fresh bread, sweet and savoury pies, nuts, dates and sticky marchpane. Then the musicians struck up and Raphael stood, offering Rosamunde his hand.
She blushed with pleasure for she had not expected that he would dance with her. They took their places to the sound of clapping from the men. Rosamunde was surprised at her betrothed’s elegant dancing as they performed a slow, graceful dance. More cheering greeted them as they retook their seats and Raphael invited everyone else to begin dancing.
It was then that the merriment began in earnest. Men who were used to working and training hard relaxed and joined in the dancing, drinking freely of the ale provided. Rosamunde watched and clapped, joining in some of the jigs and carols. Not until the torches began to flicker did she wish everyone good night and leave the table.
She was surprised when Raphael joined her, escorting her to her chamber at the top of the tower. He took her hand and kissed it.
‘I wish you pleasant dreams, my lady,’ he said. ‘Please accept this token as my gift to you this festive season.’
‘Oh…’ She looked with surprise and pleasure at the small packet he handed her. Inside the square of silk was something hard. When she opened it, she discovered a pendant of silver enamelled with bright colours and set with a garnet and large baroque pearl. ‘I have never seen anything this exquisite.’
‘It came from the craftsmen of the east,’ he said and smiled at her pleasure. ‘You can clip it to your tunic at the shoulder or here…’ He took it from her and clipped it at the place where her gown crossed over between her beasts.
Rosamunde trembled as his hands just brushed against her cleavage, her stomach fluttering with something she recognised as desire.
‘Thank you for my wonderful gift,’ she said and looked at him shyly. ‘I fear I have nothing to give you.’
‘You have already given me more than you know,’ he said and bent his head to kiss her on the lips.
Rosamunde felt that she was swooning, her body melting into his, her lips soft and welcoming as she surrendered her being to his. She wanted the kiss to go on and on. She wanted more, far more, from him but he smiled and let her go.
‘We shall be married soon,’ he whispered, recognising and understanding her frustration. ‘I can wait a little longer. Besides, it is nearly Christ’s day and we must keep it holy. Sleep well, my lady.’
Rosamunde sighed in acquiescence, then went into her chamber, closing the door behind her. She stood for a moment with her back against it, feeling the glow of happiness surround her. She was so fortunate to have found a man she could love. Her selfish cousin had sent her here as a sacrifice and now she was truly the luckiest of women.
* * *
She had all that she could want of life.
The day of Christ’s birth was spent quietly. In the morning everyone visited the chapel and a mass was said. Afterwards, the ladies sat at the
ir sewing while the men trained or played games in the courtyard. In the evening they gathered for supper as always, but it was a much quieter celebration without the singing and dancing.
Rosamunde said good night early and left Raphael with his guests and his men, going up the twisting stair to her room. Maire and Elspeth were waiting for her, but Lilia had stayed in the hall.
‘I believe she has found a young man she likes,’ Elspeth said. ‘She will be happier now, my lady. She was a little jealous of Beth, but Eric gave her a gift of cloth and she says they are pledged to one another. She asks that you will speak to Lord Mornay on her behalf.’
‘Yes, of course I shall, but she must wait for three months to be certain of her feelings, and then they can be wed,’ Rosamunde said.
‘She will be happy when I tell her,’ Elspeth said. ‘Shall you undress now, my lady?’
‘If you could help me out of my gown and then leave me—you too, Maire. I shall just sit here and think for a while.’
When her ladies had gone, she sat gazing out at the moon. She had never expected to be so happy, and she couldn’t help but be aware of a tiny doubt at the back of her mind. She was almost Raphael’s wife but not quite yet. Pray God nothing happened to spoil her happiness.
* * *
‘It is many years since we celebrated Christ’s Mass in the old way,’ Mellors remarked when Rosamunde spoke to him about checking their stores the next afternoon. ‘I believe we have enough meat and flour to last the winter, my lady, but perhaps we need more spices and sugar. If you wish to give gifts of cloth to the villagers we shall need to purchase more for our own use.’
‘I think we must resume all the old customs. The poor of the village must be given cloth and flour or meat as a gift. You will send for what we need from London? The roads are still hard with frost. When the thaw comes, it may be impossible to pass this way,’ she said.
‘It shall be done now, my lady.’
Rosamunde nodded and walked away to attend to other duties.
Some hours later, as she entered the hall, she saw Raphael and the Earl of Loxley speaking together. She went up to them, for the servants had not quite finished setting out the places at the high board.