“What did I tell you?”
“Yes,” she said, then a little defensively, “I did not eat very much at the feast. I was—”
“More than a trifle apprehensive,” he finished.
He leaned back and surveyed her, his smile broadening. “You have nothing to fear from me ever, unless—”
“I disobey you?” Her blue eyes opened wide as she looked back at him directly.
He shook his head. “Oh, knowing your mettle I am sure there will be times when you disobey me. No, that was not what I meant.”
“You think I might—betray you?” Her eyes were sparking indignant blue fire at him now.
“I know, Gisela, that you do not love me.”
“I shall make every effort to make you a good wife.”
He inclined his head. “I know, but that is not the same thing. However…” He paused, then rose and walked to a wall niche where wine cups and jugs were often set so that guests might help themselves when pages were not present. He withdrew a canvas-wrapped parcel from the stone shelf and returned to her.
“To show my appreciation—for last night.”
She coloured hotly. He was offering her the traditional morning gift, given by a husband whose wife had pleasured him well on their marriage night. With unsteady fingers she undid the ribbon that tied the parcel.
Upon a folded length of fine tawny velvet lay a gleaming torque, such as those ornaments formerly worn by Saxon men and ladies, thick and shining and inscribed with an antique linear curving design that she had heard described by her mother, but had never seen before. She touched the circlet wonderingly. “It is beautiful and so very old.”
“I set the goldsmith in Oakham to find me one. I remembered your pride in your Saxon blood and hoped it would please you.”
She glanced up at him quickly. Had he been so sure of his own sexual prowess, believing that he would arouse her to such transports of delight that she would be ready to please him in all things? Possibly not. He might well have kept this gift for another important occasion, such as the birth of their first child. No, his whole manner suggested that he was indeed pleased with her.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said with quiet dignity. “I shall treasure it for ever.”
He stood for a moment longer, looking keenly down at her, then he stood upright and gave her his familiar little half-bow.
“And now, Gisela, you must excuse me. There is much about the castle still to be done and I am sure your father will be anxious to receive a visit from you.”
At the screen door he paused and turned back to her. “Can you find it in your heart to call me by my given name, at least when we are alone together?”
She lifted her chin slightly and looked steadily across to him. “Yes, Alain,” she said softly and he bowed again, his long lips parting in a smile of real pleasure, then he was gone from her.
During the days that followed Gisela was hectically engaged in overseeing final preparations for the Christmas feasting itself. She found herself bustling about from kitchens to buttery and cellar throughout the hours of daylight, a panting Aldith in attendance, and spent her nights cradled within her husband’s arms. He was considerate and gentle with her and she was grateful for the comfort of his warm muscular body pressed so tightly and protectively to her own. Yes, she told herself, before she slipped off into slumber, she was truly fortunate in her husband. She saw evidence that he could be a stern master with his own men and hard, though just, with all wrongdoers, but, it seemed, he had pledged himself to be patient with her.
He had expressed his regard for her expert handling of the Christmas arrangements. She had made a dignified hostess at the high table and she knew her father was as proud of her as her husband was.
Now she knelt in the gloomy, silent little church trying to come to terms with her own mixed feelings. There would be a great deal to do at Allestone over the coming winter months, plenty to occupy her mind. Surprisingly, she no longer found the castle so gloomy or oppressive as she had feared.
She worked with Aldith whenever she had a free moment on a large arras for the hall to cut out the worst of the draught from the screen opening. The bright wools were a delight to her eye as they spilled out across the sober hue of her gown. She could find contentment at Allestone if only she could come to terms with her own confused feelings for her husband.
She was about to rise from her place near Kenrick’s tomb when she was startled by the sound of mail-shod feet approaching her down the nave and turned to find her husband coming determinedly towards the altar. He halted suddenly at the sight of her and she scrambled a little uncertainly to her feet to face him. His eyes went deliberately to the tomb of his erstwhile rival.
“I am sorry to disturb you.” His voice was cold. “I had not known you were here. I came in search of Father John.”
Gisela wished he had not found her engaged in praying so intimately near Kenrick’s tomb. For the moment she could find no words to explain herself.
“I see you need to be private with your dead. I shall see Father John gets my message some other time.” He turned from her and was about to retrace his steps up the nave when she pattered hastily after him.
“I—I had finished my prayers,” she said a little hoarsely. “I came because—at this joyful time of Christmas it seemed so dreadful that—that he could not be with us and…”
“Christmas is so much a family occasion that the loss of those we held dear is always more poignant,” he said mechanically. “You must come here whenever you feel the need, only…” he hesitated for a fraction of a second “…you must inform me or Sir Clement, my seneschal, and he or I will arrange an escort for you. You must realise by now that it is simply not safe for you to go any distance from the castle unprotected.
“You must not fear the men will intrude upon your need for privacy. I will see to it that they are given strict instructions to remain well back from you while keeping you in safe sight.”
His tone was more than a trifle bitter and she recognised that he believed her need to weep for her dead lover was her paramount reason for coming alone to the church. Aldith had actually accompanied her but had remained outside in the churchyard.
As if to press home his point, he added, “Your father will back me up in this, I am sure.”
“Of course,” she said. “I do understand your care for my well-being, my lord—Alain,” she added a trifle belatedly. “Aldith is nearby looking for winter herbs, I believe.”
“Good,” he said curtly, “but Aldith is no adequate protectress in these uncertain days.”
“I will do as you ask,” Gisela responded tonelessly. She gave a sigh. It was pointless now to wish he had not found her here.
She was to discover over the next two days that her surmise was correct. Though he did not reproach her either in words or by indirect action, she realised that her visit to Kenrick’s tomb had cast a real shadow over their relationship for, though she still mourned for the old days with Kenrick, she was beginning to accept a deeper understanding both of her husband’s character and her own growing fondness for him.
She had believed him to be an austere man, yet found he could be both witty on occasions and could appreciate the humour of a situation even when he was mildly annoyed by it. She recalled his amusement when Hereward had dropped heavily upon her legs as she climbed into bed on the second night of their marriage.
The puppy had been merely asserting his right to his proper place with his mistress but Alain, with a grin, had simply seized him by the scruff of the neck and had dumped him unceremoniously on to the floor. “Oh, no, my lad,” he had said firmly. “I have no intention of sharing my marital bed with you. Go and find comfortable quarters for yourself elsewhere.”
Hereward had scrambled up against the bed, his forepaws pressed against Gisela’s side, his liquid eyes appealing, but, laughing, she had been forced to harden her heart to him. After jumping up for the third time, Alain de Treville had shouted for Huon to come and ta
ke possession of the dog.
“See him tethered somewhere in the hall, Huon,” he had ordered. “Really, he should be housed in the kennels, but since he has already made himself into a lapdog we must not cruelly part him from his mistress. However, he’s not to come into our bedchamber even if he has been used to sleeping here in the past. He has a master now who will see to it that he obeys.”
Huon had gone off smiling. Gisela knew she could rely on the young man to guard her pet well.
She had found herself laughing with her husband on several occasions over the Christmas feasting when they had entertained many of the knights of the shire with their ladies, and had also been gratified to note that he was in no way cruel by word or deed to the entertainers, amongst whom was a young hunchbacked dwarf.
On her return to the castle after their meeting in the church she sensed at once the barrier between them. He greeted her courteously and, at supper, plied her as usual with the delicacies set for them upon the table, but that night he did not join her in the marriage bed.
The following morning, he excused himself, saying he had been kept up late with Sir Clement, discussing some important matter concerning the castle defences, and had not wished to disturb her since the hour was so late. Gisela was by no means convinced by such a tale. The period of the Christmas feasting was no time to consider such matters and she doubted that Sir Clement would leave the side of his buxom wife at bedtime unless the situation facing Allestone was very grave indeed.
Some of their guests had already left Allestone though the feast of Twelfth Night had not yet come, but the atmosphere within the castle was not nearly so welcoming and the household seemed aware of it, though no one dared to gossip about what might be the cause of friction between the bridal pair.
On the third day following the incident, Gisela came unexpectedly into the hall to find Sigurd standing defensively before his lord, who was seated at the high table in the attitude of judge.
The Baron’s voice came to her clear and curt, though not raised. He was not in the habit of shouting. He did not have to—his hold over his men was decisive. “I have told you, boy, I will not tolerate any breaking of forest law upon my land. It has come to my notice that you were, in the past, guilty of doing so on more than one occasion. If I allow you occasionally to leave the castle, that will cease immediately.
“I hold your mother in high esteem, as does my lady, but that will not exonerate you if caught in a misdemeanour. Since I do not wish your mother to suffer, and she will, if I am forced to punish you severely, you will heed my words and obey them.”
Though Sigurd’s back was to her, Gisela could tell by his dejected attitude that he was shamefaced. She could hardly catch his whisper of, “Yes, my lord.”
“Then take yourself off and find yourself something useful to do.”
The boy bowed low and turned to face Gisela. He made a second hasty obeisance but, as he passed her on his way to the screen doors, she saw there was a sullen cast to his mouth and a determined gleam in his eyes.
Gisela bit her lip and hoped there would not be further trouble with this lad whose life had always been a free one, risking detection from foresters and warreners in his poaching activities while he and his mother had lived happily and without restraints in their assart cottage.
That same afternoon Aldith sought her mistress out in the small tower chamber near the cellar that Gisela had commandeered as a still room. Gisela saw at once that her attendant was very worried.
“It’s Sigurd,” she blurted out. “I can’t find him anywhere. He’s wanted in the stables but no one seems to know where he is.”
Gisela had been pounding powdered tansy into lard to make a healing ointment. She rubbed her hands on a towel and sank down on a stool.
“Has he been ordered to work in the stables?”
“Not permanently, but Huon says Baron Alain sent for him this morning and told him to make himself useful. Apparently the head groom was told to find Sigurd work to do.”
“Yes,” Gisela said thoughtfully, “I happened to hear some of what the Baron said to Sigurd. Has he been managing to get out and do some poaching, Aldith?”
Aldith shook her head. “He tells me very little but he resents—” She broke off, her eyes clouding. “He misses his freedom and lately…”
“Lately?”
“There is a girl—in the village—the daughter of one of Sir Alain’s villeins. I haven’t seen her but one of the serving wenches told me of her. She is very pretty and the young lads in the village have all been vying for her attention. I suspect Sigurd has been taking her tokens of his prowess…”
“He is a skilled archer, I know.”
“Aye, his father taught him well.” Aldith sighed, remembering. “My Rolf was a champion at the butts.”
“So you think he has gone after small game to give to this girl?”
“Aye, the young fool. And if he has—” Aldith’s anger showed in her fierceness of tone “—and if he’s caught, it’ll be serious punishment for him.” Her face went white. “My lady, he could lose his right hand.”
Gisela made no attempt to console Aldith with the notion that that would be most unlikely. Only this very morning she had heard her husband warn Sigurd and she had also seen with her own eyes the smouldering resentment in the boy’s expression as he had left the hall.
“Have you any idea which part of Allestone wood he frequents?”
“Aye, I think so.”
“Is there any one of Sir Alain’s men who could be trusted to keep close-mouthed about Sigurd’s activities?”
“He has made two young friends who allow him to practise with them at the butts in the bailey, Edwin and Algar. They are about his age.” Aldith thought again. “If he isn’t to be found where I said, he might be at the rabbit warren. He knows that Winfrith likes tender meat.”
Gisela rose. “I will go to Sir Clement and ask if Edwin and Algar can accompany me for a ride outside the castle. You can ride pillion with one of them. I happen to know Sir Alain is in Oakham at the castle this afternoon and unlikely to be back here before dusk. We must try to find Sigurd before men are sent out to search for him, for I’m pretty convinced that suspicions are already roused and that is why the head groom has sent for him.”
She shook her head, frowning. “How could Sigurd be so foolish as to deliberately flout Sir Alain’s orders on the very day he has been specifically warned?”
“The boy is mad for the girl,” Aldith declared bitterly, “and he fears his rivals will score over him, being freer to see her more often, living as they do outside the castle.”
“Aldith, go and see if you can find those two archers and ask one to bring out my palfrey while I inform Sir Clement of my intentions, so the Baron will not be concerned when he returns and finds me gone from Allestone. We should manage all before dark if we move quickly.”
Gisela found Sir Clement in the tower basement, checking over spear heads and arrows in the room designated as the armoury. He looked up a little shortsightedly as she approached.
“My lady, you did not need to come here and soil your gown with dust. I would have come to your chamber or to the hall had you sent for me. What can I do for you?”
Gisela gave the man her brightest smile. Sir Clement de Burgh was approaching forty, a thin stick of a man with a slight permanent stoop. His thin face constantly bore a vaguely harassed look and Gisela thought that might well be due to his increasing shortness of sight, for Sir Clement was an efficient seneschal of whose work Baron Alain de Treville rarely had cause to complain.
“I would not put you to so much trouble, Sir Clement,” she said. “I was told you were here. I have a fancy to visit the church. Edwin and Algar have agreed to escort me so I should be safe enough.”
“Well, well—” Sir Clement was genially agreeable and anxious not to interrupt his work in the armoury to come up to the hall and find other men to escort his lord’s lady “—that should do very well. Edwin, i
n particular, is a sensible young fellow, but you will not ride too far from the castle, my lady, will you? Darkness comes very quickly at this time of the year, and it has been a particularly cloudy and dismal day today.”
Gisela beamed at him. “I promise.”
She hastened to her chamber to find a warm lined hooded cloak and hurried to the bailey to find the two young men-at-arms waiting with Aldith just outside the stable. Already her palfrey had been saddled and Edwin held the bridle and drew the horse close to the mounting block, then assisted Gisela into the saddle. She padded the voluminous skirt of her gown comfortably beneath her and took the reins from him.
“Good, then we should go,” she said crisply. The young Algar had mounted and pulled Aldith up behind him and, once Edwin had mounted likewise, the little group rode out of the bailey through the gatehouse and clattered over the drawbridge, then turned in the direction of the church and Allestone wood.
They rode through the village and Aldith pointed out one small cottage as the place where Winfrith lived, then they were bypassing the three big fields, still brown and barren. The winter ploughing would soon be done and afterwards the green shoots of wheat and barley would show themselves while the fallow field—the north field this year—could be used later for grazing.
Soon they had reached the outskirts of the wood and since Gisela was uncertain of her way, approaching the clearing Aldith had mentioned from the Allestone side of the greensward, not from Brinkhurst, she allowed Algar to lead the party with Aldith to point the way. Soon they had left the main ride and were picking their way with some difficulty on a lesser track.
Aldith gave a little click of her tongue in annoyance as there was no sign of Sigurd. “There’s a charcoal burner’s hut over there.” She pointed to where a tall oak guarded the northern end of the clearing. “When it is wet or very cold I’ve known him to shelter there. We are about half a mile from the Baron’s main rabbit warren so it’s very likely he would head in that direction. He mustn’t be caught with the carcases.”
Algar grunted agreement and turned in the saddle to seek his lady’s approval to ride in the direction Aldith was indicating.
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