“That, I think, was wise,” Alys said soothingly.
“At the time it seemed so to me, also, which was why I made no argument over it. Then, soon after, as you know, I came to England and had no thought of Gascony. Now, I hear, the king shifted his favor during the war. The enemies of my kinsmen hold the reins in Bordeaux and control the council that governs the city. Henry desires me to look whether the money he sent to Bordeaux for strengthening the walls has been rightly used, but that, I am sure, is only a ruse to be sure that I will approach Peter Calhau, the new mayor. In fact, Henry said he will give me a letter to Calhau, recommending me.”
“But what is the sense in approaching this Calhau, or in the king’s letter, if Calhau knows you to be kinsmen to his enemies? Surely you could have no influence on him.”
“I do not believe it is influence the king desires. I have a feeling that violence is brewing in Bordeaux between the Coloms—that is the party to which Calhau belongs and which the king now seems to favor—and the de Solers. Perhaps Henry believes the Coloms are actually inciting the violence, thinking while they have the power they can utterly destroy the de Solers, and the king wishes that I play the spy. He would assume I would be glad to bear tales of my kinsmen’s enemies. Perhaps he only wishes the Coloms to fear his favor is shifting again so that they will be the more eager to please him.”
Alys wrinkled her nose with distaste.
Raymond nodded, agreeing with her unspoken opinion, and continued. “Also joined to the latter is that my kinsman Rustengo may be given hope by having me thrust into the council. If he hopes the king’s favor is swinging back toward him through dissatisfaction with the Coloms, Rustengo may be less inclined to make trouble. And this would be the time to make that trouble, with the seneschal’s attention fixed on Navarre’s threat in the south.”
“But how long could such a delusion control Rustengo?” Alys asked.
Raymond shrugged. “Who knows what is in Henry’s mind—”
“If anything is,” Alys remarked caustically.
“And that may also be true—I mean that the king has no particular purpose. After all, it was I who asked for Blancheforte. Perhaps he did not think about my de Soler connections.”
“Do not believe that for a minute,” Alys snapped. “Whatever else he is, Henry is no fool in that way.”
“You do him an injustice, Alys,” Raymond protested. “Often Henry means no harm. It may indeed be that he only hopes my presence will keep the peace. He must know Rustengo will talk to me, and I will urge him toward restraint. Really, it can profit no one to have a war in the town. I will see what I can do, but whatever the king’s desire, I cannot stay long in Bordeaux. The other estates are of greater importance.”
“That is true,” Alys agreed. “There is nothing at Blancheforte but the demesne farm. It will not take long to put that in order.”
“Put that in order?” Raymond repeated blankly.
“You said there had been no master at Blancheforte for many years. Surely someone has been cheating. But that is nothing to trouble you, my lord. You will have more important matters in hand than farm accounts and the stocking of a keep and the output of women servants. I only mention it at all because I will need a week or two to learn what I need to know and set all straight.”
“A week or two to reorganize an estate!” Raymond burst out laughing.
“No.” Alys laughed also. “You are making jest of me. The demesne lands must be much smaller than those even of Bix.”
“They must be, indeed, for I cannot remember anything about them,” Raymond admitted. “All I know is that there is, and has been, no profit from them.”
“Well, I am not expecting to find any profit, only to see that the keep is stocked for our residence so that we do not need to buy.”
“But the town is so near. Is it worth the trouble?”
Alys was silent. Then she said slowly, “I do not know, my lord. Here we come again to the difference between you and me. I tried to warn you. To me, every tenth pence is worth trouble. It is bred in my bone to buy nothing I can harvest, breed, or make. If this will shame you among your great friends…” Her voice shook.
“No!” Raymond cried softly. “Love, they will envy me. It is no shame. It is only strange to me that you wish to be troubled with such things. We are rich—”
“I cannot help it,” Alys sobbed. “I am not fit to be a great lady. I cannot take joy in play. I must be doing.”
“Then you shall do, love. Alys, do not weep. You shall do whatever gives you joy.”
Chapter Seven
Nothing occurred during the week spent celebrating Raymond’s and Alys’s wedding to damp the pleasure everyone felt in the marriage. If William was distressed by the sight of his daughter’s blood on the sheets, which were removed to be stored as evidence of Alys’s virginity, the feeling was dispelled by the happiness that made her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow. There was comfort too in the absorbed, devoted attention Raymond paid to her at all times.
And Elizabeth felt she was paid in full for every effort she had made for her stepdaughter by the rare embrace Alys bestowed on her, and the grateful thanks that made clear that Alys had taken her advice and it had been fruitful.
In the great tourney that fully occupied the next two days, no one was seriously hurt, and Alys enjoyed it as much as anyone because her husband, the groom, was not permitted to fight in it. The hunts were an unqualified success, also. Raymond fortunately killed the largest boar and the widest-antlered stag. Alys, quite properly, killed nothing, but she rode with the hunt and witnessed her husband taking his prizes.
The dinners continued excellent, although not nearly so long and elaborate as the wedding feast, and the entertainment always gave pleasure. Nor did political problems obtrude to spoil Raymond’s enjoyment or worry Alys. If the king had had more to say about Gascony, he seemed to have forgotten, or someone had convinced him that a wedding celebration was not the time to speak of it.
Even the final parting between Alys and her father was eased. Elizabeth’s sons, Aubery and John, had come with their masters to the wedding and were given leave to accompany their mother and stepfather home for a few weeks. Since William had long been more of a father to them than Mauger, who had sired them, it was as if his own children would be with him.
The voyage, too, was prosperous, unusually quick and easy for a winter crossing. Alys, accustomed to boats on the river, was neither afraid nor seriously seasick, except for a few hours of queasiness the first day. Nonetheless, she was very glad when the ship docked just past dawn. They came to Blancheforte before the prime, and even in the gentle, rosy light of a new day, the outer portions of the keep were far from inviting. It was clear at a glance that this stronghold had been long neglected. The outer walls were completely unguarded, the drawbridge down, the portcullis up. The sullen and indifferent attitude of the few men-at-arms that held the place made Raymond snarl, and when they passed through into the inner bailey, Alys’s eyes opened wide with surprise at the filth and the decayed condition and utter emptiness of the outbuildings. Alys saw Raymond’s head snap toward Arnald, whose eyes were also bulging at the filth and disorder. She reached out and grasped her husband’s arm. “Do not bid Arnald to cast out the old guard, my lord.”
“Alys, this is no time for a woman’s softness. The gates were open! They did not even challenge us! Anyone could have come in—”
“I do not plead for them, my lord. I only wish to use them. They created this filth, no doubt, so they can clean it up.”
“My dear wife, I do not expect you to remain in this sty,” Raymond exclaimed. “My cousin Rustengo will house us with the greatest goodwill.”
“I am sure he would, Raymond, but not at all sure he should. What can Calhau think if you come to him from Rustengo’s house demanding a place on the council as the holder of Blancheforte.”
Raymond mouthed an obscenity. Alys was quite right. It was one thing for him to move into Blan
cheforte and demand his right as holder, it would be quite another for him to live with Rustengo and still make that claim. “But to live here! Alys, it is not fit for you, my love.”
“If the roof of the keep has not fallen in, it will soon be fit,” Alys replied, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm and determination. “Do you go into the town and do your business there. Leave me most of the troop, and do not bring guests to the keep tonight, although I think we will be ready for company tomorrow, if it is necessary.” Raymond gaped at her, but she had turned her head toward the master-at-arms and bidden him to send men to make the keep secure and to gather together and disarm the resident men-at-arms. Before Raymond could catch his breath, two more men were sent to the stables with orders to collect what grooms and servants they could find and arrange for the comfort of the horses, reporting at once if there was not sufficient feed for that day and the next.
“Alys!” Raymond protested, after she had given the abrupt orders to secure the keep.
He did not know whether he was more shocked by the way she had assumed command or the way Arnald had snapped to attention at her word and obeyed her orders. In the next moment he called to mind that the men were accustomed to obeying her. The troop of twenty, headed by Arnald, had all come from Marlowe, hand-picked by William for skill and for willingness to live out the remainder of their lives in a foreign land—and, Raymond now suspected, for their devotion to Alys herself. All were relatively young and unmarried, except two whose wives had come along also to serve as Alys’s personal maids.
Irritation flicked Raymond as he wondered whether William had arranged this to be sure Alys would have protection, even from him. Then he dismissed that unworthy thought. Naturally Alys would need men who would obey her if she were to enforce her authority on strange servants and serfs. Still, for her to order the men to secure the keep was going a little far beyond wifely duty.
Her head had turned to him when he said her name. “Yes, my lord?”
“Surely the defense of the keep is my business,” he snapped.
“Defense?” Her eyes widened. “Are we in some danger here, Raymond? But we are all unprepared—”
“No, of course there is no danger, at least not of an attack on Blancheforte. But to order the men to secure the place without even a question to me is not something I like.”
Astonishment showed on Alys’s face. “But why? I only wanted the gates closed, lest this lazy rabble run off before I could use them. My lord, why should you be troubled with such things as sweeping the floors and carting out garbage?” She smiled tentatively. “Indeed, what do you know of such work?”
Raymond could not help laughing, although a spot of dissatisfaction remained in him. “Nothing,” he agreed, “but I feel like a fifth wheel on a cart. Perhaps you will sweep me out with the rest of the useless stuff.”
Alys glanced at him under her long lashes and blushed. Her look made color rise under Raymond’s dark skin also, and his eyes glittered. There had been no possibility of lovemaking on the ship, unless they chose to lie together in the open on the wet and icy deck. Raymond had become accustomed, however, to relatively long periods of celibacy. In fact, since the time he had gone to Marlowe, he had hardly touched a woman except Alys. Once he considered himself in love, he would not take a mistress, and he had little taste for casual whores. Thus, previous to their marriage, Raymond had gone longer between couplings than the days they had spent on the ship without feeling pressed for relief. Now, however, he could barely restrain himself from seizing his wife and carrying her off.
Alys was even more surprised by the urgency of her desire, because she had never felt such a thing before. Even in the period just before her marriage when she had been so uneasy the sensation was undefined. Now she knew what she wanted and she had to avert her eyes lest they devour her husband with the avidity she also felt.
“Let us go in and see how bad it is,” Raymond said, his voice harsh. Inside there would be private chambers and straw pallets. If there was nothing better, that must serve. Alys would not mind. He had seen her look.
He did not wait for Alys’s wordless consent, but rode forward through the bailey toward the forebuilding. Here he dismounted and helped Alys down, removing his hands hastily when she was on her feet. It was a gesture dictated by the images in his mind rather than any physical thing. He could not feel her body, nor could she feel anything beyond the pressure of his touch. Both wore several layers of heavy garments covered by fur-lined cloaks. Nonetheless, Alys drew her breath in sharply.
“The stairs are sound, at least,” Raymond said, striving for a natural tone of voice.
“Good,” Alys replied, “but be careful you do not trip on some offal. It seems to me that anyone here just dropped anything unwanted whenever it was decided the thing was of no use.”
Although he did not answer, Raymond took Alys’s advice, feeling his way carefully in the dim light that entered through the lower door. It was as well he took care. He had to kick several unidentified masses off the stair. The heavy door into the hall stood open also. As he entered, Raymond cursed. The smell was offensive even to his hardened nose and told him what he would find. Still, the sight that met his eyes and Alys’s when they had passed through the short passage that pierced the walls and the second heavy door effectively damped their sexual excitement.
There were some maids and men clustered around a choked, half-dead fire burning God-knew-what at one end of the hall, but between the entrance and the fireplace was a sea of slimy, decayed rushes from which rose an intolerable stench. Here and there was faint movement, as if some horrible vermin lived inside the putrid mass.
“There will be no place for us in this garderobe,” Alys said softly to Raymond. “Go you to town, my love. It seems to me that none knows of our coming. Mayhap the king’s letters were delayed. If you desire a quiet word with your kinsman Rustengo, this will be the time for it before the other party is aware you are here.”
“But how can I leave you with this burden?”
Alys smiled up at him. “It is a burden I know well how to carry and will be light for me. Will you need more than two men to assure your safety?”
“I need no men to assure my safety,” Raymond replied shortly. “Do you think I am a child, incapable of defending myself?”
Calling herself ten times a fool, Alys shook her head. “Forgive me. It is this place, so abandoned and uncared for. It has made me feel that the whole town and countryside are full of disorder.”
“Nonsense.” Now Raymond laughed at her. Although he had reacted sharply at first, he was not ill-pleased, on second thought, that his wife cared for his safety. “Unless my kinsmen have already made more mischief than I think even they desire, Bordeaux is a well-ordered town.”
“Take the men anyway,” Alys pleaded. “It would look ill if you came alone. It is more fitting and adds to your consequence that you be attended.”
Raymond opened his mouth to say that he need put on no airs before his mother’s cousin, but it occurred to him that Alys had a good point. He was no longer “young Raymond, Jeannette’s son”. Now he was a substantial landholder in his own right, about to take his seat on the council of Bordeaux. It would be wrong to ride through the town with twenty men-at-arms on his tail, drawing notice to himself and displaying arrogance. However, it would be equally wrong to arrive unattended and unannounced, as if he came for help and instruction.
“Very well,” he replied, “but are you sure that you do not wish me to stay?”
“You will be sorely in my way.” Alys touched his hand. “I will not be able to think of cleaning—or of anything but…” She sighed, then laughed. “Do go away, Raymond.”
He laughed also. “I will take John and Wulf with me. They speak so little French, and that so foully, that they would be of no use here, and they cannot say anything amiss in Rustengo’s kitchen quarters or guardroom. Shall I bring back some decent servants, my love?”
“No, not yet. There i
s only rough work to be done, but if your kinsman offers you dinner, stay with him.”
“And leave you to starve?”
“I will not starve,” Alys assured him, “but there will be nothing fit for you, my lord. I wish to serve you as you should be served. It would shame me if the first dinner I put before you as your wife were coarse and ill-cooked.”
Raymond looked around him. “If you could serve any cooked meal at all, I would think it a miracle, but I will stay with Rustengo, my heart, if it will make you easier.”
“But you will come home before dark?”
Again Raymond looked at the bleak hall, at the ragged, slovenly servants who had by now got to their feet and were staring toward the gentlefolk but not moving. The truth was that Raymond hated the place. It made his skin crawl. He was dying to get away, but his conscience smote him. Alys looked so small and frail.
“If you are afraid,” he said, “I will not go at all.”
Fear for herself had been the last thing in Alys’s mind, but this time she had sense enough not to say she wanted her husband safe behind strong walls after dark. “I am not afraid,” she replied, “but to be alone in so strange a place after dark…”
“I will not fail you,” Raymond assured her, still guilty but relieved. “Only you must promise to have one or two men-at-arms with you at all times. I do not think any of these poor creatures would offer you hurt, but still do not put temptation in their way.”
“No, my lord, I will not.”
Raymond turned toward her as if to kiss her, but thought better of it. Instead, he smiled and moved back into the passage, shouting down for some men to come up. It was soothing that they obeyed him as swiftly as they had obeyed Alys, although he was not specifically aware of what had pleased him. Actually, he associated the feeling with leaving Blancheforte. Even if it were cleaned, he wondered whether they could ever live in the place. When Hugo and Peter had come into the hall, Raymond went down.
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