She walked with him through the hall still wearing her red squirrel furred slippers. Two maids followed her carrying the swiftly purveyed washing bowls with a servant boy, who was carefully holding two cups of wine, trailing behind. Gunnhild was exhausted, her happy mood soured. As Alan led her through the hall she whispered a prayer, ‘St Brigit please may we not dine past the midnight hour.’
The hall’s great carved door was flung opened and the dark-headed man was standing before her in dusk-light, staring down at her feet. When he smiled up, his eyes crinkled at the sides and his wide smile was mischievous. ‘My lady, I am Alan called Niall. I thank you for welcoming us to your castle. Since we have descended on you without warning, it is generous of you to greet us.’
Awkwardly clutching the washing bowl, she started at Niall’s greeting. She had a strange sense of recognition, an absurd, almost incomprehensible feeling that this brother was going to become a friend. He had spoken to her first before even acknowledging her husband. Count Eudo grunted something incomprehensible in her direction but immediately turned to speak to Alan. When the older brother, Brian, limped forward she felt nothing but antipathy for his rudeness since he nodded briefly, glared at her and looked away. He was fish-cold. She called the maids forward and instead of offering the washing water herself to Count Eudo she told the maid to offer him the second basin. She held out her basin and cloth to Niall.
She wore her green silk gown, the Godwin fillet and an embroidered veil. After Compline the hall was ready to receive its visitors to board. Gunnhild sat demurely at Alan’s side and Count Eudo now politely thanked her for thinking of his bath and for giving him and his company hall space. Alan Niall sat on Alan’s other side, studying her, smiling through dark eyes that danced with fun. They had brought a marzipan bear with them and after they had dined on beef, pasties and broiled hens, Niall had passed the great bear to her on a platter covered with strawberries so that she could break off the first piece. He said solemnly, as if this was a feat of great courage, ‘We rescued the beast from the kitchens before we left Dinan and now we can use it to celebrate your marriage to my brother.’ He laughed and she warmed immediately to his bantering manner. ‘What a lovely lady my brother has chosen to wife,’ he added. ‘That gown is very fetching, my lady. Green suits you.’ He looked down at the hem. ‘Those pearls must be worth a fortune. My brother is generous.’
‘It belonged to my Aunt Edith, who, as you must know, was once queen of England.’
Count Eudo turned to Alan and said in a cutting tone, ‘Do you have King William’s blessing on your marriage? I pray you have not brought down a coffer of trouble on our house.’
‘I hope for the King’s approval,’ Alan said.
‘What are you thinking of, Alan? Is a Breton wife too low for you?’
Gunnhild felt diminished. How dare he?
Alan Niall interrupted, ‘No, Father, leave off. Can’t you see how fortunate he is, married to a princess of the English?’
Count Eudo’s shoulders relaxed. ‘You are right, Niall. No merchant’s daughter for our Alan.’ He lifted his cup and called for a toast. ‘To Lady Gunnhild of the Saxons. May she bear many sons, fine boys with Godwin’s warrior blood coursing through them.’
Gunnhild winced at the reference to the merchant’s daughter. They knew. She bowed her head, sipped the bitter wine in her cup and recovered her wits sufficiently to look up and give Count Eudo a measured look. ‘Thank you, Count Eudo. I shall do my best by my duty.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ said Count Eudo. ‘My wife, Agatha, bless her sainted soul, bore me three boys before she died birthing young Stephen.’
I hope I have daughters just to spite them all. Gunnhild was even angrier at this oaf of a father-in-law.
Her husband laid a hand on her arm and, turning the subject of conversation, said, ‘So, Father, and my brothers, what occasions your visit? Was it only to meet my wife?’
Brian, the taciturn eldest son, spoke for the first time. She remembered now that she had heard that he had done battle with her elder brothers in Cornwall. He had sustained an injury to his sword arm. Maybe it also explained his limp.
He turned to Alan, ‘Earl Ralph is harassing King William’s borders between Normandy and Maine. He sees us as William’s main support south of Dol. If we don’t support him against the King our lands here in Brittany will be in danger from his attacks.’
Alan drew a breath and put his cup on the table.
Brian went on, ‘They used English law on Waltheof because he is English. Last month they executed him at Winchester. And he was the least guilty. When I saw the way it was, I sailed away from Cornwall. I have had enough of England. I shall never return.’
Alan exhaled a breath in a low whistling of air, lengthy and measured. ‘I never knew they had executed Waltheof.’ He turned to his father. ‘So, Father, you are here because of Earl Ralph?’
‘If Earl Ralph attacks us we have not enough men to repel him without help. I have brought my treasury to Fréhel for safe keeping, and a part of my household. I want you to send what troops you can spare to Dinan. We can break a siege from their rear.’
‘Is he about to attack Dinan?’
‘He has been harassing the borders of my lands for weeks.’ Count Eudo looked at Alan with a decided glint in his grey eyes. ‘Can you help?’
Alan did not hesitate. ‘I shall lead my men out against Ralph. If Earl Ralph harasses Normandy, the King will be here on the quickest tide down the channel. And King William needs our help.’ He turned to Brian. ‘Will you ride against Earl Ralph, brother?’
‘No, I must ride east to guard my estates. ’
‘And you, Alan Niall?’
‘I am with you, brother.’
‘Father, where is young Stephen?’
‘Learning Latin and Greek and how to be a knight at Conron’s court in the south. He is safe there,’ Count Eudo said. He scratched his bearded chin pensively. ‘When will you ride out, Alan?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Alan replied and turned to his older brother. ‘And you, Brian, we understand that you will protect Penthiévre to the south and east?’
‘With my life,’ Brian grunted. ‘If Earl Ralph gets help from France our estates on the borders with French vassal territories could be endangered. I have salt pans to see to and the vineyards near the Loire. And I shall send for our little brother, Stephen, just in case Conron sides with the Earl. It is as well one of us stays here in Amorica and watches our back.’ He pointed accusingly at Gunnhild. ‘And as for the Danes and your brothers, Madam, they are no match for us. They may have caused my injuries but they are useless rebels. We drove those brothers of yours out of the west.’ He growled and turned away from her. ‘As for that Norman toad, Bishop Odo, he is a wolf. He plans to place mercenaries in every castle and estate in England – bleed us all dry. I want none of what he gave me in Cornwall. Too expensive for too little return. I am done with William of Normandy and his English subjects.’
Alan said. ‘Make sure your mercenary fighters are kept on the alert in case of attack from Picardy.’ He turned to his father. ‘Gunnhild will see to your every comfort, Father. You only have to ask. My wife is my representative on my estate here. If I die, she is to be in complete control of Fréhel. It is her dower.’ Brian muttered something under his breath that sounded like ‘English bitch’. He pushed away his plate and without excusing himself shoved his bench back, rose and limped out of the hall.
Gunnhild sighed. Brian was insufferable and, clearly, she was to be left alone with Alan’s father at the castle until it was safe for him to return to Dinan. She glanced at the glistening white subtlety that they had hardly nibbled. At least the servants can eat the precious sugar when we send the remains of this feast back to the kitchens.
The news flew swiftly to Fréhel. Earl Ralph’s army was already moving south into Brittany. Two days followed with Gunnhild experiencing the same sinking feeling and panic she had felt when she first saw Count Eudo an
d his train approaching her castle. Alan and his brother Niall made frantic yet thorough preparations. Assembling troops into a cohesive mobile fighting force was a task that both amazed and baffled her because of the speed with which Alan executed it. He amassed weapons, equipped horses, loaded wagons with tents, sent out to his outlying estates for food, armourers, fletchers, bakers, a bevy of washerwomen and a blacksmith. Finally he ordered carpenters to prepare siege weapons and to follow with them in his army’s wake. Alan and Niall had in the space of two busy days gathered together enough troops from Alan’s own garrison and from neighbouring estates to incite terror in their enemy.
On the third morning Gunnhild felt helpless and not a little frightened when she watched Alan and Niall pull on their hauberks and armour. Father Gregory was called up to the Hall to bless their swords and lances. Arriving in his flowing dark robes and holding forth a wooden cross that he usually kept dangling from his belt, he alternately prayed and placed it to his lips. Gunnhild could not repress a shiver. She feared that within a summer she was to be made both bride and widow.
They assembled in the upper bailey with all the castle servants gathered to wish them Godspeed. With a cursory goodbye to Gunnhild, his brother Brian and his father, Alan turned in his saddle and, followed by Niall, he twisted Thunder’s head round towards the lower bailey where his army and wagons had gathered. With his pennant, chequered gold and azure fluttering before them, Alan led them north.
To Gunnhild’s relief the visitors had arrived with provisions as well as the bed for Count Eudo. Since Alan had taken both cook and baker with him on campaign, she sent Ann and Hubert to find her replacements and extra help from nearby villages. There would be more laundry, more to cook for. Count Eudo remarked grumpily that the floor rushes needed replacing and complained that her servants were lax. Brian, as was his form, scowled. Her relationship with this older brother had not improved and she was relieved to see the back of him when he departed for his own properties, and, hopefully, to set guards on their ports and salt pans.
Thankfully, the new servants arrived shortly after Brian left with a number of Count Eudo’s own servants and guards. Gunnhild desperately needed this assistance since those remaining with the Count ate much and contributed nothing to the running of her castle. Within a few days the floor grasses were changed again, the cooking in the keep hall improved and the copper cooking pots were scrubbed with sand until they were spotless. Great candles scented with spice were placed on iron spikes in Count Eudo’s chamber and the wall-fire burned with well-seasoned logs. At last he seemed comfortable and his mood improved.
Even so, Gunnhild was overjoyed when he said that he preferred to take his meals with his steward in the antechamber. This was his territory and she kept her distance. Her territory was her solar and bedchamber, the small cove below the castle where she walked in the hot afternoons and the garden which she was planning below her solar window.
Gunnhild entered the keep one dinner time soon after Alan’s departure and sent her servants to lay the table in her solar so that she and her maids could take the midday meal above where the breeze cooled the higher chamber. Since meals had improved on those that the departed cook had provided it occurred to her that she must acknowledge his replacement.
This cook had made new arrangements for cooking and was busy supervising their dinner over a fire in an alcove curtained off from the hall. When Ann had asked her to sanction this, Gunnhild had agreed but never thought to inspect the make-shift kitchen, thinking that Ann would supervise and instruct the cook. Now, five days after the cook had arrived, Gunnhild slipped through the leather curtain to see what these new arrangements were.
Smoke coiled up to escape through an opened window aperture. The cook was a woman who appeared to be neat, with a clean linen apron wrapped about her small frame and her hair concealed under a tidy white wimple like those worn by nuns. When Gunnhild entered she was bending over a bench chopping vegetables but, sensing Gunnhild’s presence, she spun round on her heel. Seeing her rival, the faery-woman, again and in her own hall, Gunnhild gasped. Agenhart lowered her eyes and gave Gunnhild a shallow curtsey. ‘My lady, I hope you will be pleased with today’s dinner. I am roasting the fowl you caught a week ago during the hunt.’
Gunnhild cast a glance over at the row of pigeons and sundry catch that two boys were methodically basting over a spit. She lifted a spoon from a copper cauldron that was balanced on a chain on a trivet and attempted to control her anger by giving it a stir. A pleasant smell of herbs drifted from it. ‘The stew is seasoned with herbs from my own garden, my lady,’ Agenhart remarked gently, as she watched Gunnhild.
Gunnhild gave her a curt nod, pulled back the heavy curtain and moved away from the makeshift cooking area, letting the curtain drop again behind her. She found Ann sweeping the stairs that descended from the solar. ‘Ann, can we have a word, now.’
‘My lady,’ she said and followed Gunnhild up the staircase.
‘Ann,’ Gunnhild began, ‘how are the new servants, do you think?’
‘My lady, they are obedient and efficient.’
Gunnhild paused before speaking again. This would be difficult. She had determined never to confide to anyone her knowledge of Agenhart but now the story came pouring out.
‘My lady, it is only while Count Eudo is here. She is from Dinan and he speaks well of her.’
‘So he asked for her?’ Gunnhild felt her face redden in fury. She could not speak further for anger at the conniving spider, Eudo. No doubt his eldest son had conspired with him to install Agenhart in the kitchen to spite her.
Ann confirmed it. ‘Lord Brian told me to find the woman from Dinan called Agenhart because she can cook, and she has organised a kitchen efficiently since I fetched her here yesterday. Had I known … if you want me to send her home …’
‘Count Eudo should have spoken to me first,’ Gunnhild interjected.
‘Perhaps he does not have the knowledge you have of her.’
‘Maybe not, but I wonder if his son had.’ Gunnhild pondered her dilemma. She did not want to offend Count Eudo, who seemed content to wander about the bailey and play chess in the evenings with his scrap of a steward, Torkill. She must rise above his mischief-making. She paced up and down the chamber. It would only be for a week or two. The woman clearly could cook and sensibly she had organised this new separate preparation kitchen in one of the hall’s alcoves, carefully curtained off from the hall. Finally, Gunnhild said with firmness. ‘Ann, she may remain temporarily but her children are not to enter my castle, nor is she to be here when my lord returns. Then, no matter the need of a good cook, I want that woman gone.’
Ann nodded her head in agreement. ‘There is no one can hold a candle to you, my lady, and I doubt he would look her way in your presence.’
‘We shall see if you speak true on my lord’s return,’ Gunnhild said, with bitterness creeping into her voice.
Time passed quickly. Agenhart returned to the hunting lodge at night protected by the falconer’s boy who had become her shadow. She returned early each morning with fresh herbs and new spices. Life continued evenly in the castle keep without further disturbance. It was nearly a month since Alan had left. One beautiful July morning when Gunnhild entered the temporary kitchen, she found Agenhart busy pounding a nutmeg with pestle and mortar. No one had yet begun to prepare the game she had ordered for dinner that day.
‘My lord Eudo has requested a posset,’ Agenhart said.
‘I see,’ Gunnhild said. ‘I hope this posset will not delay our dinner. The Count is clearly as fit as I am. He has no need of cosseting. See to our dinner now, Agenhart. Brother Gregory will dine with us today.’
Agenhart said in a low tone. ‘I think, my lady, it is in your interests that we keep the Count happy whilst he is here. I knew him in Dinan.’
‘This may be so, Agenhart.’ Gunnhild clicked her tongue with impatience. ‘But, let us be clear on who decides on meal times here. I want dinner on the table whe
n we return from noon prayers. I see nothing ready but vegetables.’
She swept through the curtain and climbed the stairway. When she reached the solar she opened the coffer that contained her inks, a wax tablet and a stylus. There was an hour left until Sext. She needed something to occupy her mind apart from Count Eudo’s visit, the maids and Agenhart. When she entered the chamber she found her servants had been busy in the solar. The seamstresses had finished making gowns and were stitching a new altar cloth for the chapel. The air was close, the day stifling and she had no inclination to embroider nor was she ready to write anything, though she felt she must. Since Alan had given her inks and parchment she had only looked at them, occasionally caressing the parchment, not knowing what to compose or draw. Alan disapproved of the new verse spoken by the poets of Brittany which called out to her heart – stories of King Arthur, Tristan and Iseult. She slammed the coffer shut, making the seamstresses jump and drop their needles.
‘My lady,’ the pair chorused in unison. ‘Do you wish us to leave?’
‘No, carry on. Do not mind me,’ she said and went to the window and threw open the shutters. Sunshine streamed in. For a few moments she stared out over the bailey towards the sea. The morning was filled with sunshine, the sea was beckoning her and there was just enough time before mass to climb down to the little cove. ‘Let the air in. Keep the shutters open and douse those sconces,’ she threw back at the women as she left the chamber.
She hurried down into the hall and outside, down through the gatehouse to the bailey. Everything was as it should be there. Maids were still busy milking cows as she passed the byre, stable boys were exercising Shadow, leading her around the yard. Father Gregory was entering the chapel, and further on, close to the barracks, a group of soldiers left to protect the castle were polishing their armour. Hubert’s long sword flashed in the sunlight as he practised slashing at a straw dummy. Quivers were neatly stacked by the barrack entrance. The hall door to the bailey hall was opened and Ann was in there today, sweeping out old rushes. Gunnhild paused to ask her to send small beer up to the keep later.
The Swan-Daughter (The Daughters of Hastings) Page 13