"Oh, Giles. Ye know 'tis not my fault."
"Aye, I know. God damn Lionel! I could kill him! If only Warrick would listen to reason."
"Ye and Caerllywel both attempted to persuade him of my innocence in the matter and failed. 'Tis hopeless, Giles. Warrick will never believe I didst not betray him. Oh, Giles. What am I to do? I tried so hard to win his favor, and he had begun to care for me a little; he said so. Now everything is ruined. He will never trust me again; and where there is no trust, there can bo no love."
"I know, 'Sabelle. I'm sorry. Do ye wish me to take ye away from here? Ye have your manor house, Grasmere, and ye know ye will always be welcome at Rushden."
"Nay, dear brother, though I thank ye for your offer. My place is with my husband, no matter what. I have made my bed; now I must lie in it. Only ... do not leave me so very soon. Stay with me... for just a little while."
"I shall, dear sister. Do not thmk otherwise; and remember, when I go, that Caerllywel is also your friend."
"Aye, but I must not impose on him, Giles. He wouldst be so torn between Warrick and me. I could not bring such pain upon him."
"Ye are so kind and good, 'Sabelle. I do not understand how Warrick can believe ill of ye."
"He was hurt, Giles, and the wound went deep. I can understand that. 1 am only sorry I couldst not heal him."
That night, Isabella lay alone in her chamber, waiting. But Warrick did not come to her. She heard him pacing restlessly in the room next to hers, but though he paused several times before the door that lay between them, he chd not open it. Finally, toward dawn, he sought his bed. Still, he did not sleep and, at last, at sunrise, rose and ordered his horse to be saddled.
Isabella's heart sank as she heard him give the command to
his squire Rhys. Then she realized, from his conversation with his other squires, that he was but going hunting; and her spirits lifted a little. At least he was not returning to Court—not yet.
Hurriedly, after she was certain he had gone, she summoned her maids and bathed and dressed, for there was much to be done at Hawkhurst. As she ate her breakfast, the girl pondered the matter thoughtftilly, writing down a list of those things she had already observed were needed. Then she went downstairs and called all the servants into the great hall.
"I am your new mistress. Lady Hawkhurst," she informed them for the benefit of those who had not met her yesterday and who were eying her curiously. "And this is now my home." She paused to let this sink in, then continued. "I know that, for many years, ye have been without a chatelaine, so I will make no comment on the condition in which I discovered Hawkhurst Castle yesterday upon my arrival. But I will say that I do not ever expect to fmd it in such a state again. So if ye wish to remain here—and I hope ye do—ye must accustom yourselves to several changes. I plan to start immediately to set this keep in order. It has been sorely neglected, so there is a great deal of hard work to be done. I shall expect ye all to do your fair share of chores. If ye perform your tasks well, ye will be rewarded. If ye do not, ye will be dismissed. Now—I want ye each to step forward, one at a time, and tell me your name and position. After that, I will give ye your instructions."
But though she waited expectantly, no one moved forth. Instead, they stood silently, staring at her.
"Come. Why do ye delay?" the girl asked impatiently. "Ye will not fmd me a cruel mistress, I promise ye."
"Begging your pardon, my lady." Farrell cleared his throat hesitantly. "But—but the servants—they—they are afraid "
"Afraid of what. Master Farrell?"
"The—the hawk, my lady."
"Why, that's ridiculous! Surely, they have seen hawks before. Why, I know for a fact that my lord owns several."
"Hunting hawks, my lady, to be sure," the steward agreed somewhat nervously. "However, that bird doesn't appear to be— to be tame, my lady," Farrell observed, then took a hasty step backward as Ragnor suddenly flapped his wings and let out a shrill cry, his round yellow eyes gazing fiercely at the steward.
Isabella suppressed her desire to laugh and stroked the hawk's head gently to soothe it. Then she coaxed the bird upon her wrist and held him up high for all to see.
"This is Ragnor," she said. "He was given to me as a wedding
present by His Grace Edward, the King." Noting that this announcement was received with appropriate awe and respect, Isabella went on. "Ragnor's wing was broken, and though I set it, and it has now mended, for some reason unknown to me, he is still unable to fly. I assure ye he will not hurt ye. Now—let us get on with our work."
It was not to be expected, of course, that the keep could be set to rights in a single day, for cenmries of neglect had taken their toll. But Master Farrell, a good man who had long despaired of his master's inattention to Hawkhurst, saw Isabella as a godsend; and the girl was able to make a tolerable start. In addition. Sir Bevan, the master-at-arms, was only too eager to describe the "shocking" state of the armory and the "well nigh indefensible" condition of the castle walls and to take Giles, when he rose, on a guided tour of the fortress to point out these "unpardonable" deficiencies. No sooner had they departed than the chief bailiff. Master Isham, appeared with a long list of grievances about the keep's farmlands, herds, and tenants.
"I do not scruple to tell ye, my lady, that if there is a single, bushel of grain to be discovered in the storehouses, 'twill be a miracle," he sniffed. "And if there is a cow or sheep to be found, God will indeed have smiled on us. Most of the villeins have run off, and indeed, one can hardly blame them, for I would not house so much as a goat or a pig in one of their cottages!"
Though she sympathized with him, Isabella, with a stem eye, silenced the bailiff: for despite Warrick's appalling mismanagement of his inheritance, it was not Master Isham's place to criticize the Earl.
"Bring me the account books and a list of the keep's inventory this afternoon. Master Isham," the girl directed. "If the ledgers have been maintained as badly as the rest of the fortress, I have no doubt 'twill take ye and your clerk that long to put them into some semblance of order."
The bailiff drew himself up stiffly at this, but as he flushed a dull red, Isabella knew her accusation had hit home and was able to dismiss him without further qualm for her rudeness.
There then came, somewhat shyly, the castle priest. Father Francis. Wisely, he spoke no word against his master but instead quietly lamented the fact that Mass had been reduced to a Sunday morning service (when it ought to have been said daily), because the stained glass windows of the chapel were broken, permitting the most fearsome draughts to enter, and the pews were so badly splintered, it was actually dangerous to sit on them.
"And ye know, my lady, that one does not kneel through the entire Mass," the priest sighed, "else we would not need the benches at all."
Isabella promised him the matter would be taken care of, then, having disposed of the four chief personages with regard to the keep's affairs, rolled up the sleeves of her gown and set to work.
Already, in the great hall, stout men armed with rush-rakes had succeeded in removing much of the filthy straw that had covered the floor, and maids with buckets of water and bars of strong lye soap were scrubbing that portion of stone now laid bare. Hastily, Isabella instructed the women to begin with the walls instead, pointing out that the grimy residue from the torches would otherwise run down onto the clean floor, which would then have to be washed all over again. She also directed them to lace their pails of water with turpentine in order to kill the crawling creatures that had infested the reeds, then sent two pages to the stables to fetch a basket of cats she intended to loose upon the rats.
Then, seeing everything in the great hall was progressing smoothly and adjuring her maids Mathilde and Edith to ensure it continued to do so, the girl set about to inspect the rest of the fortress. Seldom in use, the upstairs chambers of the castle were not nearly as dirty as the rooms below and needed primarily to be swept, dusted, and aired. Nevertheless, Isabella decided to scrub the
m down thoroughly as well, a few chambers at a time. All the tapestries and rugs, she determined, would have to be replaced; and all the mattresses would have to be thrown out and new ones sewn and stuffed with fresh ticking. She told the women who had accompanied her upstairs to begin in Warrick's room— that it alone, complete with new mattress, must be finished before nightfall. Only the tapestries and rugs could wait, the former taking many weeks to embroider, and the latter having to be purchased from the weavers. The maids eyed her askance, as though they thought her crazed, and began to wail about the impossibility of the task, but Isabella remained adamant, leaving Alice in charge of them to be certain there was none who shirked her duties.
After that, Isabella sought out the larder, wine cellar, storeroom, and storehouses. Only the second of these was sufficiently well stocked, Warrick, it seemed, having a care for his liquor— if nothing else. Much to the women's amazement, the girl wrote an extensive list of produce that would have to be planted in the vegetable gardens, come spring, and remarked somewhat wryly
that with Cheddar Gorge, in Somerset, being relatively near, 'twas unbelievable the larder contained no cheese. They would cure some of their own cheeses later, of course, from cow, goat, and sheep milk, and there would be headcheese, a cooked and jellied meat loaf made from boars' or hogs' heads; but the delicious Cheddar they would obtain from Somerset. This copiously noted, Isabella sent pages for the head huntsman and head fisherman and instructed them to hunt fresh game and to catch fresh fish to fill the larder.
In the storeroom, she was irritated but not surprised to discover the keep was low on tallows and torches. She put several maids to work making new ones at once.
But there was nothing she could do to fill the nearly empty storehouses, which ought to have been fairly overflowing with grain, the harvest being just past. What little of wheat, oats, and barley there was, she allotted carefully for the baking of bread and cakes and the cooking of soups and porridge; and she entered, on her list, the urgent need for seed for the spring planting. Her pen scratched away so furiously, due to her anger, that it sputtered and left a large blot upon the page.
In the kitchen, the chief cook was strictly informed that from now on, she was to consult Isabella, the first thing every morning, about the day's meals; and she was to start preparing immediately a thick stew to be fed to the toiling servants. And lest she had any intention of dishing up less than the poor best that was available (in order to peddle the castle's staples on the side, as Isabella was certain the cook had been doing for some time), Jocelyn would remain to supervise the kitchen and to whip it into satisfactory shape.
The girl then visited both the inner and outer wards of the fortress and, with the grim assistance of her trusted knights. Sirs Eadric, Thegn, and Beowulf, hounded Warrick's own men-at-arms into hard and unaccustomed labor.
Her tour complete, she then returned to the keep to go over the account books with Master Isham and to consult with Giles and Sir Bevan about what was necessary to shore up the castle's defenses.
Needless to say, when Warrick arrived home that evening, he was utterly stupefied by the changes that had been wrought. The fortress, normally eerily quiet, was now a buzzing hive of activity; and for one astounding moment, he could almost believe he had somehow entered the wrong keep by mistake. Had he not been so amazed, he would have laughed at the sight of his proud knights
mucking out the stables and hauling cartloads of manure outside for dumping beyond the fortress walls. Caerllywel, who strode up to meet his brother, did laugh, but his mirth rose primarily from the stunned look on the Earl's face.
"You'd best hide yourself—and quickly—Waerwic," Caerllywel urged as he caught the bridle of the Earl's steed, "for if I'm not mistaken, your men-at-arms plan to murder ye this eve."
"Christ's son, Caerllywel!" Warrick swore as he dismounted. "What in the hell is going on here? Nay, do not bother to reply, for I ah-cady know the answer. 'Tis that witch I wed. She has overturned the place in my absence."
"Well, I do not know about that, Waerwic," Caerllywel rejoined coolly, "but she has certainly made an effort to start setting it to rights; and I, for one, am most grateful to her. I confess that, until now, I had grown so accustomed to the disorder here that I scarcely realized we lived like pigs."
"I don't recall that I forced ye at sword point to stay, brother," the Earl pointed out dryly. "I am sure that Madog would welcome ye at Gwendraeth, or, failing that, ye might seek employment with some other lord who has need of that battle-ax ye wield so well."
Caerllywel raised one eyebrow frostily.
"Do not take that tone with me, Waerwic," he warned. "On more than one occasion, ye have been glad I fought at your side."
The Earl had the grace to flush guiltily.
"I'm sorry, brother," he apologized. "'Tis 'Sabelle with whom I am wroth, not ye. I should not have spoken so to ye."
"Waerwic," Caerllywel uttered slowly, "methinks ye are a very great fool indeed. I say again: Ye have no cause to despise your bride. She was but a victim of Lord Lionel's deceit. Had ye not been so wounded by Brangwen, ye would have realized as much. 'Sabelle has been and always will be the most honorable and faithful of wives."
"Oh?" Warrick drawled sarcastically. "And what makes ye say that?"
"She loves ye—although why, I'm sure I don't know."
With that parting shot, Caerllywel turned on his heel and walked away.
She loves ye. She loves ye.
Over and over, the words rang in Warrick's mind as he stared silently at the door that stood between him and Isabella. Caerllywel had said he was a very great fool. Was he? Was he so blinded
by bitterness that he had judged his wife wrongfully? Had she,
in truth, been tricked into entering Lionel's tent that day of the
tourney?
For the hundredth time, Warrick tried to think back, to remember how she had looked when she had come out of the heir of St. Saviour's pavilion. She had been panting hard, he recalled, as though she had been making love; and the bodice of her gown had been torn open, as though by hands too impatient to wait to undress her properly. But.. .would not a struggle have caused her to be gasping for breath? Would not Lionel, attempting to take her by force, have ripped open her garments?
The Earl inhaled sharply.
Aye, it could have happened like that, he concluded, as usual. Why, then, did he continue to doubt his wife? Oh, if only he could be certain of what had really occurred!
She loves ye — although why, I'm sure I don't know.
Warrick gazed thoughtfully about his chamber, noting how clean and fresh it now was. Even a soft new mattress lay upon his bed. Would Isabella have worked so hard to please him if she did not care for him? Another woman would have seen to her own comfort first, but Isabella had thought only of him. Even Giles's room, the Earl knew, she had left undone so his own chamber might be finished by nightfall. Would she have placed him above her brother if she did not love him? He did not know.
Again, Warrick glanced at the door that barred him from Isabella. It had been many nights since he had held her in his arms; and though he might have slaked his lust on another woman, he had not. The Earl did not ask of others what he could not give in return. When he had wed her, he had demanded his wife's loyalty and pledged her his own. He was not a man to break his vows.
They had been lonely, those evenings he had spent in the King's stables at the Tower, pouring out his heart and soul to Gwalchmi. Now that he recalled them, Warrick decided even his cherished destrier had looked at him as though he'd been a fool.
Was I? he wondered. Am I? Aye, for I have let the witch enchant me, and now I cannot break free of her spell. How many nights did I waste drinking and dreaming of her, wanting her? Had she been a man, I would have challenged her, dueled with her, triumphed over her. But because she's a woman, I let her go without a battle. Fool? Aye. I should have fought to win her, conquered her heart and soul, driven Lionel Valeureux from her
mind. More fool L I thought 'twould be enough to gain her
loyalty. How could I have guessed 1 would want her love? Aye, love. I love her. I have loved her all along and would not face it. Damn my pride. Curse my arrogance. 'Twas not until that day at Lionel's tent that I knew, and then.. . then.. .Jesii! To find she had betrayed me was too much to bear. I wanted to kill her, to hurt her, as she had me. And yet... and yet... Did I not also long to take her into my arms and make love to her until she cried out her surrender, vowed that Lionel was nothing to her? Nothing! Hear her swear 'twas me she loved? Me—and me alone. She tried so hard to explain what had happened. Was I wrong not to listen, to believe she had played me false? If I had it all to do over again, would I still walk away? I don't know, i don't know. Oh, God. Oh, God. What a mess I have made of things! Caerllywel told me she loved me, but I know he is mistaken. How could she, now, after I have been so cold and cruel to her? Still, she's my wife! 'Tis my right to have her, no matter what is wrong in our marriage, no matter if she no longer wants me. I will take her and make her want me. Even if she scorns me, laughs at me, I shall win her love if 'tis the last thing I ever do! She is mine. Mine! I'll not walk away again.
His mind made up, Warrick strode to the door—and opened it.
"Come," he said to his much-startled wife. "I have need of ye."
Slowly, not knowing what to think, Isabella rose and followed him to his room. Was he angry? She did not know. Earlier that evening, he had not said one word to her about the changes she had wrought in Hawkhurst. Perhaps he had only waited until now to vent his wrath upon her for her upheaval of his home. The girl shivered. Warrick could be so cruel at times.
"What is amiss, my lord?" she asked quietly. "Is there aught here that has not been done to your liking?"
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