Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (english love story books .TXT) 📗

duty not to let me travel on my own. We owe him much thanks, my lord. "

Her husband snorted. He turned back up the steps, walking into the great hall of the keep and throwing his cloak down on the rushes where a page ran to pick it up.

"His duty, was it?" He stared at Richard as he followed him in, his eyes stony with suspicion. "Then you will perform the double duty of escorting her back to Gloucester at first light. "

Matilda gasped. "You're not going to let me stay?"

"Indeed I am not, madam. "

"But... why? May we not at least stay for the feast tomorrow?" She had followed him toward the central hearth in the crowded hall. "Why shouldn't we attend? It is not my right as your wife to be there?"

"No, it is not your right, " he roared. "And how in the name of Christ's bones did you learn of it anyway?" He turned on her and, catching her arms, gripped her with a sudden ferocity. "Who told you about it?"

"Walter Bloet at Raglan. Stop it, my lord, you're hurting me!" She struggled to free herself from his hold. "We stopped there to rest the horses and they told us all about it. He was very angry that you had not invited him. "

She glanced around, suddenly conscious of the busy figures all around them. Only those closest to their lord and his lady seemed to realize that there was something amiss between them and had paused to eavesdrop with unashamed curiosity. The rest were too absorbed in their tasks. Smoke from the fire filtered upward to the blackened shadows of the high vaulted ceiling.

"Damn him for an interfering fool! If you had waited only another two days, all might have been well. " He stood for a moment gazing at her. Then he smacked his fist into the palm of his hand. "Go on up. " He turned away. "Go to my bedchamber and rest. You are leaving tomorrow at dawn. That is my last word on the subject. "

Matilda looked around desperately. The evening meal was obviously not long over and the servants had only just started clearing away the trestles to make room for the sleepers around the fire. Two clerks had come forward, hovering with a roll of parchment, trying to catch William's eye, and the shoemaker, a pair of soft leather boots in his hand, was trying to attract his lord's attention behind them. Her husband's knights, men-at-arms, guests, servants, crowded around them. On the dais at the end of the hall a boy sprawled, his back against a pillar, softly playing on a viol.

Richard touched her softly on the arm. "Go up, my lady. You need to rest. "

She nodded sadly. "What about you? Your welcome is as cold as mine. "

"No matter. " He smiled at her. "I'll take you back to Gloucester as he commands, first thing tomorrow. It is for the best. "

He escorted her toward the flight of steps at the end of the hall that William had indicated, cut into the angle of the new stone wall, and at the bottom of the stair he kissed her hand.

A single rush taper burned weakly in the vaulted chamber above. A tapestry hung on one side of the shadowy room, and a fireplace was opposite. Matilda was trying to hold back her tears. "Go and find the women's quarters, Nell, " she said sharply as the girl dragged in after her, still sniffing. "I suppose I'll"—she hesitated for only a second— "I'll be sleeping with Sir William in here tonight. I won't need you. " She shivered suddenly and bit her lip. "I misjudged our welcome, it seems. I'm sorry. "

She watched as Nell disappeared up the stairs that led to the upper stories of the tower, then with a sigh she turned to the fire. She stood for a long time before the glowing embers, warming her hands. All around her her husband's clothes spilled from the coffers against the walls, and on a perch set in the stonework a sleepy falcon, hooded against the dim light, shifted its weight from one foot to the other and cocked its head inquiringly in her direction as it heard the sound of her step. Wearily she began to unfasten her mantle.

In the hall below a Welsh boy slipped unnoticed to the kitchens and collected a cup of red Bordeaux wine from one of the casks that were mounted there. Onto a pewter platter he piled some of the pasties and cakes that were being prepared for the next day's feasting and, dark as a shadow, he slipped up the stairs to his lord's chamber. He was sorry for the beautiful girl in the blue dress. He too had been sworn at by de Braose and he too did not like it.

She was standing by the fire, the glowing embers reflecting the red glint in her massed dark hair. Her veil lay discarded on the bed with her wet mantle, and she was fingering an ivory comb.

The boy watched breathlessly from the shadows for a moment, but he must have moved, for she turned and saw him. He was surprised to see that there were no tears in her eyes. He had thought to find her crying.

"What is it, boy?" Her voice was very tired.

He stood still, abashed suddenly at what he had dared to do, forgetting the cup and plate in his hands.

"Have you brought me some food?" She smiled at him kindly.

Still he did not move, and, seeing his ragged clothes and dark face, she wondered suddenly if he had yet learned the tongue of his Norman masters.

"Beth yw eich enw?" she asked carefully, groping for the words Meredith, the steward at Raglan, had taught her, laughing at her quick interest. It meant, What is your name?

The boy came forward and shyly went down on one knee, set the wine and cakes on one of the