Castle of the Wolf

by Margaret Moore - Castle of the Wolf

  Tamsin eased herself upright and took a tentative step. Not too painful at all, she thought with relief, then glanced at the end of the bed to see Hildie standing with a broad smile. Three woolen gowns—one a very pretty shade of green, one of dark blue and one a light brown with darker bands of brown around the cuffs and bodice—two linen shifts, some stockings, a dark woolen cloak and an ivory comb were spread out on the bed before her. A pair of light leather slippers stood on the floor.

  Tamsin’s eyes widened as she sat back down. “Where did all this come from?”

  “They’re a gift from Sir Algar.”

  Tamsin reached out to touch the prettiest gown of soft green wool. “It’s too much. I will accept the shifts and stockings and slippers, but I have the gown I came in. Has it not been washed?”

  Hildie’s face fell. “Yes. I suppose it’s dry by now.”

  Tamsin thought a moment. She might be considered ungracious if she refused the gifts, and since they weren’t from Rheged... “I’ve never had such pretty dresses,” she admitted. Unlike Mavis, she was never on display, like an article in a stall at a market. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint Sir Algar after he’s been so kind.”

  “Or Sir Rheged. He’ll think you’re a vision in these gowns.”

  “What Sir Rheged thinks is no concern of mine,” she decisively replied. She was well aware that servants gossiped, and she must nip any sort of romantic notions in the bud. “However, I wouldn’t want Sir Algar to think me ungrateful.”

  “I think he’d be a tad miffed if you refused, my lady,” Hildie confirmed gravely.

  “I shall need some help to dress.”

  Hildie hurried to help her change into one of the clean, soft linen shifts and the lovely green gown.

  “This fabric is marvelous,” Tamsin said, smoothing down the skirt as Hildie tied the laces at the back of the fitted bodice.

  “That’s my sister Frida’s work,” Hildie replied proudly. “She’s a wonderful weaver, my lady. She’s married to the miller and expecting her first, so she hasn’t been weaving for a while. She’ll be happy to hear you like her work, though, I promise you.”

  “Has she thought of selling it in Salisbury? Or London? It would surely fetch a good price.”

  “Do you think so?” Hildie replied, her eyes wide as she came around Tamsin to face her.

  “Indeed, I do.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell her so. Now sit ye down on the stool, my lady, and let me run this comb through your hair.”

  Tamsin walked slowly to the stool, sitting carefully and easing her calf forward.

  “You’ve lovely hair, my lady. I bet the young noblemen have been pestering you for locks of it for years.”

  Tamsin had to smile at that. “Not once has anyone ever asked for a lock of my hair.”

  “No? God save me, are they all blind at Castle DeLac or what?”

  “Blinded by my cousin’s beauty, perhaps,” Tamsin answered without rancor. “Mavis is very beautiful, with hair like gold.”

  “The only woman Sir Algar and Sir Rheged’s been talking about since he got back from Castle DeLac is you.”

  Tamsin flushed, and yet there had to be only one explanation—she was the only woman from Castle DeLac Rheged had abducted.

  “Help me to the window, please,” she said after Hildie had tied her braid. “I’d like a breath of fresh air.”

  Hildie put her arm under Tamsin’s shoulder and helped her limp to the window. Thankfully her leg didn’t hurt too much. When she opened the shutters and took a deep breath, she felt almost normal as she surveyed the rest of the castle.

  It was small and old, with a single curtain wall and four towers, one at each corner. Parts of the west wall had crumbled away, and although there was some scaffolding erected, indicating repairs were under way, it was likely to be some time before such a job could be completed. The round keep she was in was at least as old as the wall, and she could see the wooden steps that led into the second level, below this one. The lowest level in a keep was usually the dungeon, or perhaps a storeroom. She could also see what had to be the kitchen, judging by the smoke coming out of the louvered opening in the roof, as well as the wooden walkway to the keep. The kitchen was wattle and daub, and so were a few of the other buildings, such as the stables. One other building was made of stone—a long, tall building close by the kitchen. Another storeroom, perhaps, although it seemed large for that. Otherwise, all the other buildings were made of wood, and all the roofs were thatched. The yard itself was fairly muddy, so likely missing a few cobblestones in places.

  It would be expensive to repair this fortress completely and make it siege-worthy. No wonder Rheged had been upset that the prize her uncle had offered wasn’t worth as much as it seemed.

  But it wasn’t the sympathy she felt for Rheged, or the state of his fortress, that kept her riveted to the window.

  Rheged stood in the middle of a line of soldiers at the far end of the inner ward, in a relatively large open area where livestock would be penned if the villagers had to seek safety. Dressed exactly like the others, he held a bow in his hand and had a quiver of arrows on his back. Also like the other men in the line, he faced butts of straw with targets of cloth, a bull’s-eye drawn on them with charcoal. More soldiers waited nearby, talking and laughing and calling out encouragement.

  This was clearly a practice, but it also seemed to be some kind of competition. It was also obvious that Rheged was far more comfortable among the common soldiers than he’d been in the great hall of Castle DeLac.

  “Maybe you ought to sit down, my lady,” Hildie said with a hint of anxiety.

  “In a moment,” Tamsin said as Rheged nocked his arrow.

  Apparently nobody else intended to shoot, for they all watched the lord of Cwm Bron who, with one fluid motion, drew back the arrow and bowstring and, seemingly without aiming, let fly. She held her breath as his arrow arched high in the sky before coming down and she gasped with delight when it struck a bull’s-eye.

  The men began cheering, although a few looked a little disgruntled as they reached into their belts, no doubt having lost a wager. She’d lived in a fortress long enough to know that soldiers bet all the time, on almost anything.

  Rheged smiled and accepted their praise with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

  He looked years younger and even more handsome when he smiled.

  “Please, won’t you sit down and rest a bit, my lady?” Hildie pleaded. “Sir Algar and Sir Rheged might be angry with me if you don’t.”

  “I shall take any blame,” Tamsin assured her just as Rheged looked up at the window, as if he somehow knew that she was there.

  Blushing, Tamsin turned away. “Yes, I believe I should sit down,” she said, trying to sound calm and composed as she limped back to the stool. “Hildie, I’m not used to being so idle. There must be something I can do.”

  * * *

  What was Tamsin doing out of bed? Rheged wondered, momentarily oblivious to the excited men around him. Surely she should still be resting, unless Gilbert had pronounced her fit enough to stand.

  “Look you, stunned by his own success, he is!” Gareth declared, forcefully reminding Rheged that he was not alone.

  “That’s enough archery for now, Gareth,” he said as a slight drizzle began to fall.

  “I’m pleased with your efforts,” he called out to the rest of the men, noting that a few of them were rubbing their shoulders. “But I’m not so pleased I don’t see plenty that needs to be better. Still, you’ve earned your meal tonight, so those not on watch, enjoy. Those on watch, I’ll see you’ve a hot meal waiting when your watch is done.”

  The men gave a cheer, although there was a somewhat subdued response from the more exhausted among them.

  “Give the youngest the task of dealing with the butts,” he said to Gareth. “They need to build up their strength.”

  “Aye, Rheged, aye,” Gareth said. “Anything else?”

  “Not now,” Rheged re
plied.

  “I’ll see you in the hall, then.”

  “Aye,” Rheged replied, turning to head back to the keep.

  As he walked toward it, he couldn’t help wondering what Tamsin thought when she saw him with a bow. No doubt even less than she did already, given that she was nobly born. Most Normans considered bows the weapons of peasants. He, however, had no prejudices against any weapon. If it was effective, he would wield it, and as best he could.

  Nor should he trouble himself with what Tamsin thought about him, or anything else. She would be gone soon, back to her greedy uncle and the marriage that she wanted.

  Chapter Nine

  When Rheged entered the hall, he found Sir Algar nodding in the chair by the hearth. He tried to pass him quietly, but the man awoke with a start. “How was the practice, then?”

  “The men are much improved,” Rheged said as Sir Algar gestured for him to sit and join him by the fire.

  “So is Lady Thomasina,” Sir Algar said. “Gilbert was very pleased with her progress.”

  “I saw her standing at the window.”

  A frown came to Sir Algar’s face. “He didn’t tell me she could get out of bed.”

  Rheged spotted Hildie coming down the stairs from the upper chamber and summoned her. “Did the physician give Lady Thomasina leave to get out of bed?”

  “Aye, my lord, he said she could walk about a bit, as long as her leg didn’t trouble her too much. She’s to rest if it does. She was that pleased, I must say. I think she was weary of being abed. She was only on her feet a little while, though, just long enough to get a breath of fresh air at the window. She’s sitting now and wants to do a bit of sewing and sent me to find needles and thread. I don’t think the lady’s used to being idle, my lord.”

  Given the way Tamsin had bustled about Castle DeLac, Rheged could well believe she would find enforced idleness as bad as imprisonment, just as he had the few times he’d been wounded. “Do as she asks,” he said, “so long as she’s careful not to overtax her strength. If you see her tiring or in pain and she refuses to return to bed, come to me at once. Now you may go and fetch what she requires.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Hildie said with a bob of a bow.

  As the maidservant hurried away, Sir Algar sighed and smiled wistfully. “Granted we wouldn’t want Tamsin to do more damage to her leg, but if she’s at all like her mother—and I do believe she is—I don’t think we’ll have much chance trying to force her to rest. Her mother was the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

  “You knew her mother well?”

  “I knew the whole family well,” Algar replied, “until old Edward DeLac tried to force his daughter to marry. Cordelia refused and ran off with another man. After that, I kept my distance.”

  “Until my hasty act put you in jeopardy. I am truly sorry for that, my lord.”

  “I’m not. I would never have met Cordelia’s daughter otherwise. Still, it’s an unfortunate situation. Her mother’s passions ran strong and deep, and I suspect her daughter’s similar in that, as well. Her love would be a great prize and her hate...well, it will last a lifetime.”

  “I don’t doubt that, my lord,” Rheged replied.

  * * *

  “You’re having us on,” Dan the groom declared from his place by the big hearth in the kitchen of Cwm Bron. “She ain’t.”

  “She is,” Hildie retorted. “Sitting there in his bedchamber mending that old tunic of his like she was already his wife.”

  Shy Elvina sighed as she chopped some turnips before putting them in a pot of boiling water hanging from the pothook over the fire.

  Foster, the lean and youthful cook, stopped kneading the dough for the crust of a beef pie. “I th-thought l-ladies only d-did em...em...fancy work,” he stuttered.

  “Well, not her,” Hildie replied. “She wanted to be doing something, and finally suggested mending. I could hardly say no to that, could I? So she had me fetch needles and thread, and then open Sir Rheged’s clothes chest.”

  Elvina gasped and Foster’s ladle hovered in midair. “What did you do?” Dan demanded, leaning forward.

  “He said she was to be treated with respect as an honored guest, didn’t he?” Hildie replied defensively, “and she was looking at me like...well, like he does when he wants something done, so I opened the chest and grabbed the first thing I could—that old tunic. I swear I was that relieved it had a torn seam, or she might have had me rooting through all his things. I hate to think what would happen if he found out I’d done that!”

  Dan shook his head as if the very thought was too terrible to contemplate.

  “And then he asks me what she’s doing!” Hildie continued. “I swear I nearly swooned!”

  “Wh-what did you s-say to h-him?” Foster asked breathlessly.

  “I said she wanted to do some sewing. Thank the good Lord he didn’t ask me what kind of sewing!”

  The others all nodded in sympathy.

  “I’ll say this for her, she’s not lazy, not like some of them ladies I’ve heard of,” Hildie went on. “Sir Rheged could do a sight worse.”

  “Then you...then you think he really wants to marry her?” Elvina asked, her voice as quiet as if they were in the chapel.

  “Why else would he bring her here?” Hildie replied. “Besides, he’s mad in love with her. And she with him.”

  Elvina’s eyes grew wide as a waterwheel. “How can you tell?”

  “I got eyes,” Hildie replied as if their lord’s feeling should be obvious to all save the sightless.

  “Aye, it must be true,” Dan said. “Gareth told the men it’s a Welsh custom to abduct the bride and that’s what Rheged’s done.”

  “But there’s been no talk of a wedding,” Elvina protested.

  “Yet. They have to decide about the dowry and the bride price, no doubt,” Dan explained. “That’s why Rheged’s been back and forth.”

  Hildie dropped her voice to a whisper and regarded them knowingly. “I’m sure they’re already lovers.”

  Elvina’s delicately featured face reddened. Dan looked like a man trying to appear so worldly that Hildie’s observation was no shock to him, while Foster regarded Hildie as if she’d just announced he’d been summoned to cook for the pope.

  “Aye, Foster, me lad,” Hildie declared with a brisk nod, “you’d best start planning a wedding feast, and I’d best get back to my lady.”

  * * *

  The rain fell steadily harder as the afternoon progressed. Tamsin thought the sound of it pounding on the slate roof would drive her mad, so when Hildie said it was time for her to go to the hall to help serve the evening meal, Tamsin also left the upper chamber to join the others below, even if that meant enduring Rheged’s stony silence and even grimmer visage.

  Making her way down the curved stairs, she noticed at once that, like the rest of Cwm Bron, the large, round chamber was in need of some work. The hearth apparently hadn’t been swept in weeks, cobwebs hung from the torch sconces and the rushes on the flagstone floor looked and smelled days old. The simple, bare furnishings were rough and unpolished, and it seemed there was but one chair, which Sir Algar was currently occupying. Rheged sat beside him on a bench. Other men were likewise seated on benches at the tables, while hounds and serving women moved among them.

  His expression impassive, Rheged rose when he saw her. Sir Algar beamed a smile as he, too, got to his feet. Although his tunic was dark and plain like Rheged’s, it was made of obviously finer fabric, and tonight he sported a wide gold chain around his neck.

  “This is an unexpected pleasure, my lady!” he cried as he pulled out the chair for her to sit.

  Rheged said nothing. However, he glanced at a man sitting at another table nearby. At that look, the equally long-haired, bearded fellow with a scar where an eyebrow should be jumped to his feet. All the other men rose, too, with expressions that varied from frankly curious to suspicious.

  While she, who had never before been the center of so much attention
, blushed to the soles of her feet.

  “Gilbert said you were doing well,” Sir Algar remarked as they all returned to their seats and Rheged made a place for his lord on the bench beside him. “But perhaps it’s a little early for much exertion.”

  “My leg is only a little sore, Sir Algar,” she assured him, “and I confess I’m desperate for company. I’m not used to spending so much time alone.”

  “No doubt, no doubt,” Sir Algar agreed. “We’re delighted to have you dine with us, aren’t we, Rheged?”

  “Delighted.”

  “I’m sure Foster’s outdone himself, as usual,” Sir Algar noted as Hildie brought another trencher and a goblet and spoon and set them in front of Tamsin. “I tell you, my lady, Rheged need never be ashamed of his cook. Foster was trained in the king’s own kitchen. Rheged did Foster a service once, so when the fellow heard Rheged had been given this estate, he appeared one day and asked to cook for him. Isn’t that right, Rheged?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “What did you do for him again?” Sir Algar prompted.

  “He was being set upon by some ruffians and I suggested they leave him alone.”

  “Suggested?” Sir Algar repeated with a laugh. “I can imagine—at the point of your sword!”

  “There was no need to offer violence. They were cowards and ran away when I challenged them.”

  Tamsin could well believe one look from Rheged of the sort he’d given her when he was angry would be enough to send all but the most hardened rogues and vagabonds fleeing.

  “So now he has one of the best cooks in England.”

  “Men fight well when they’re well fed,” Rheged coolly observed, “and servants serve better when they’re not starving.”

  “I quite agree,” Tamsin said, not at all surprised that a man born poor would want good meals and be willing to pay for them.

  “Why don’t you tell her about the tournament in Kent, the one where we met?” Sir Algar suggested.