Candle in the Window (22 page)

When William strode into the great hall, there sat
Saura at the table with the cook and the baker, discussing every
meal and subtlety to be served to their company. And there lay
Nicholas on a bench, propped on one elbow and watching her with
those intense eyes.

She turned at his step, calling, “William,
these clods say you don’t like cold lamprey pie!”

She looked so indignant he knew his love had
discovered a major stumbling block to their marriage. He put his
foot on the bench next to her and leaned against his upthrust knee.
“The way I like lamprey best is poached and drained, wrapped
in pastry, and given to the dogs.”

“William!”

“Lampreys are long, slimy things that live in
the mud. Hot
lamprey, prepared any way, is a
horrible prospect. Cold, it doesn’t bear
contemplating.”

“With extra lamprey syrup?”

“Please!” He put his hand on his
stomach. “Grievous illness comes upon me when I consider
it.”

“Oh, William!” She sounded disappointed
as he pulled her to her feet.

“Come for a walk,” he invited.

“I can’t.” She pointed back at
the table. “I’ve got too much to do.”

“I’ve got something to show
you.”

“But the cook—”

“Take care at the stair.” He slowed
down while she located the first step with her toe.

“If I don’t organize—”

“Here’s the bottom. Here’s the
doorway.”

“I can’t walk as quickly as you
do!”

Deliberately, he kept his steps long and hurried.
“Warm day.”

“William.” She planted herself in the
grass of the bailey. “I won’t walk another
step!”

He picked her up with a mighty swing and strode on.
“God’s teeth, woman! Come on. What a slow lass you
are!”

She didn’t say anything, thinking hard, and
then she touched his face. “William, are we going to be
alone?”

“Nay, love.” He dropped a quick kiss on
her upturned countenance and stopped. “Definitely not alone.
Do you know where we are?”

She sniffed. “The herb garden.” He
lowered her to the ground, and she sniffed again.

“Saura, Saura.” The wee boy raced over
to her and embraced her knees and she snatched him up.

“Blaise?” She touched his face and then
hugged him tight.
“Oh, Blaise,
you’ve grown so much! How did you get here?” The light
glimmered on her face and she flung out her hand. It was taken at
once, and she worked her way up the arm to John. He caught her in a
crushing hug, interrupted only by Blaise’s indignant
wail.

“You’ll have to share her, lad,”
John told him, and turned her.

“Dudley!” Their embrace was tender and
sweet, two people too long apart.

“Look here,” Dudley directed, and as
she found herself in Rollo’s arms her emotions gave way and
she burst into tears. The brothers grinned and gulped, pleased that
their calm, efficient sister should cry over them, and embarrassed
by her womanly weakness. They patted her shoulders and hugged any
part they could capture and helped her settle Blaise securely on
her hip.

William watched the scene through a rosy glow of
sentiment, and looked around to see if others were affected. Alice,
the child bride, was rubbing her nose with her palm as if she
didn’t want to admit to tears, and he walked over to stand
beside her. “Isn’t it sweet?” the girl asked.

“It makes me wish I’d had
siblings,” he agreed, glaring at his father who stood
shoulder to shoulder with Maud.

“Oh, I had them,” Alice said.
“Mostly they just pull your hair and spit at you during
dinner.”

True to her words, Dudley reached under
Saura’s veil and pulled her braid. “You can’t cry
all day. We brought someone to meet you.”

“Ouch!” She grabbed her hair.
“You mean, there’s a stranger here?”

“Aye, watching you blubber,” John said
with fraternal kindness.

“My wife,” Rollo smiled with tender
concern at the forgotten girl.

“Your wife! You brought your wife and you
forgot to tell me, you fool!” Saura caught Rollo’s
beard and tugged hard.

“Hey!” he yelped. “She
doesn’t mind.”

“That you’ve been married only a year
and forget her existence? You’re a bigger fool than I
thought.” She put Blaise down on the ground and reached
around her brothers.

Alice hesitated, but William pushed her gently into
Saura’s arms. Saura threw her arms around her with familial
enthusiasm. “Alice, how I’ve longed to meet my
sister-in-law!”

Alice mumbled, stuttered, stood stiff in
Saura’s arms and seemed to have reverted to uneasy childhood.
William stared, surprised by the girl’s inadequacy, and Saura
froze, pain etched in fleeting discomfort. She eased her embrace
and stepped back. “How tall you are. You’re so
lucky.” She smiled, projecting kindness and warmth.
“Welcome to Burke Castle. If you should want for anything,
please let me know.”

William stared at Saura, amazed at the brief
greeting. What was wrong with his dearling? Was she jealous of
Rollo’s wife? Surely not; Saura’s eternal compassion
for the less gifted attracted him as nothing else did. This was
something else, and for an uneasy moment, he knew he’d run
into Alice’s attitude before, in the dark time of his life.
Brow wrinkled, he couldn’t quite remember.

Then Rollo stepped forward and caught Alice’s
neck in the loose trap of his elbow. “She’s terribly
young, sister. She’s only thirteen.”

Switching his gaze to Alice, William understood.
The girl was afraid of Saura, of the difference between them.
Perhaps she was repulsed by Saura’s blindness, perhaps she
was simply frightened of making a blunder. But her rigid body and
her wary eyes that never wavered from Saura told their own
story. Saura, with her acute sensitivity to
atmosphere, could not fail to notice.

“’Tis goodish, brother,” she told
Rollo. “I understand.” She reached out to William,
close against them, and he reeled her in with firm hands.

Rollo tightened his arm around Alice’s neck
and then released her in censure. The girl stood bewildered, too
immature to realize she’d given herself away.

“Rollo, you be nice to her,” Saura
instructed, just as if she knew what he was doing.
“She’s in a strange place.”

“Saura.” Like a ragtag beggar, Clare
tugged at her skirt. “Saura, you never greeted me.”

Saura laughed with husky pleasure and swept her
little brother in her arms. “So I didn’t. Forgive
me?”

“I suppose so.” The boy sniffed with
mock sadness. “Kimball is feeling left out, too.”

Kimball released a heartrending wail in a blatant
bid for sympathy, and she flung an arm around him, too. To William,
she asked, “What shall we do to soothe two such obviously
agitated boys?”

“Oh, I can think of something.” The
note in William’s voice warned Kimball, and he tried to
wiggle away from Saura’s restraining arm, but she held him
securely until William grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. He
lifted them off their feet and carried them, tucked under his arms,
out the gate and into the bailey.

“Nay! Father, nay!”

“Please, Lord William, nay!”

Everyone in the herb garden strained to hear as the
boys’ yells increased in intensity. The splash sounded loud
and satisfying, and their screams shivered with chill.

“Where did he dump them, sister?”
Dudley asked with a grin.

“Horse trough.” Saura smirked with
renewed spirits and hooked her arm through Dudley’s.
“Come up to the keep, and I’ll get you some
refreshments.”

“You’re a uniquely efficient
woman.”

Nicholas had learned, Saura thought. He no longer
praised her beauty. He praised her for those things she considered
important. Efficiency, ability, coordination. The man’s voice
soothed her ear: bland, with the nasal reverberations of Norman
French plain in his aristocratic accent.

“Because I can throw together a quick meal
for my brothers while they wash?” she asked lightly.
“With the food we’re assembling for the wedding, this
little meal is certainly no problem.”

“You’re wonderful. Think of what you
could accomplish if you were sighted.”

Turning away, she said, “If I were sighted,
I’d have the liberty to be inefficient. I assure you, Lord
Nicholas, I am not wonderful.”

“Nay, my lord, she’s only
human.”

She smiled at the deep-toned baritone from her
closest brother, calling down from the gallery. “I thank
thee, Sir Rollo. With compliments like that, ’tis a miracle
I’ve kept my modesty.”

“You are welcome, sister.” With a
clatter, he flew down the spiral stairs and bounded into the room.
“My Lord Nicholas, you’re early for the wedding
celebration.”

Surprised, Saura wondered what prompted
Rollo’s abrupt, almost rude greeting. “Do you know Lord
Nicholas from another place?”

“Until William introduced us, we’d
never met, but he must
be a good friend of the
family to arrive so early.” Again he emphasized the
“early,” and Nicholas responded with an affable
politeness.

“So I am. I’m one of Lord Peter’s
fosterings.” He rose from the bench. “And I’ve
not had a chance to speak with Peter. Do you know where I would
find him?”

“He’s down in the bailey, inspecting
the stables with William. He’ll be glad to see you, I’m
sure.” Rollo’s relief was obvious, and Saura reached
around and pinched him on the arm. He flinched, but didn’t
move until Nicholas left the room. “What’s he doing
here all alone with you?” he asked in a hard voice.

“He’s strange, but Rollo, he’s a
guest.”

“Not my guest.”

“Nay, he’s William’s guest and
you have no right to offend him.”

He spoke not at all, and then he slowly agreed,
“You’re right. But I didn’t like the way he
looked at you.”

She winced, and he asked, “Has he bothered
you?”

“Nay, nay, he’s been useful. He
assisted when I counted the barrels of meat and wine in the
undercroft. He provided shrewd suggestions about brewing the vast
amounts of ale necessary for the wedding. He seemed surprisingly
knowledgeable about housekeeping chores.”

“But why? Why doesn’t he help
William?”

“William says he doesn’t like knightly
chores.”

“You’re right, he is strange.”
Her manly brother’s enthusiastic agreement made her laugh.
“Don’t worry that I offended him, though. When I was
rude, he got that very superior look of forbearance that mature
adults get when youths such as I are bombastic.”

Saura laughed at his emphasis. “He
would.”

Rollo threw his arm around her neck and gave her a
loud,
smacking kiss on the cheek.
“What’s to eat, you wonderful lass? I’m
starving.”

Embarrassed by his sarcasm, Saura pointed at the
loaded table. “If you’re going to catch me off guard,
you’ll have to do with a cold meal.” She slapped his
hand when he lunged. “Wait until the other boys come in, you
pig!”

“Aye, I will, but not for the sake of good
manners. I need to talk to you about something else.”

It sounded as if he squirmed, and Saura took his
hand and led him to the bench by the hearth. “Of course, tell
me about it.”

The hand in hers trembled, and she tightened her
grip in surprise.

“You were always there, weren’t you? My
older sister who could eternally be depended upon. Kind, generous,
free with her time and her understanding.” He paused, and
asked in the hopeful tones of someone postponing the inevitable,
“What did you do with Blaise?”

“Maud’s fed him and put him down for a
nap,” she answered patiently.

“Why should he need a nap? All he did was
waller us from the time we snatched him from Pertrade until we got
here.”

Saura chuckled, as she was supposed to, and then
insisted, “Rollo? What trouble are you in, now?”

“I’m not the one that’s in
trouble. ’Tis…my wife.”

Saura dropped his hand.

He sighed. “I was afraid you’d feel
that way. I’m sorry, dear, I should have realized, but I just
assumed she’d follow my lead. I just assumed she’d love
you as I do. She’s malleable, easily led, and I could have
talked to her.”

She said nothing, and he tried again. “God,
Saura, she’s so young. She’s afraid of the servants. If
I didn’t have old Lufu to help, I don’t know what would
happen in that household.
She’s afraid to
talk to the matrons, as a married woman should, for fear
they’ll laugh at her.” Saura sat stiff and still, her
face still turned away from him, and in desperation, he begged,
“Saura, listen to me. Alice still plays with her
dolls.”

She sighed, and dropped her head. “All right.
I’ll not hurt her.”

He hugged her, kissed the top of her head. “I
never thought you would. I just wanted to explain, perhaps ease
your offense. We’ll teach her, sister, to appreciate
you.”

“Teach her?” She laughed, a tiny touch
of bitterness in the sound. “Why should we have to teach her?
Why can’t she give me the same chance she’d give anyone
else? I have two hands that serve, a mind that reasons, a heart
that loves. Am I less than another woman? If I were old and blind
and sat in a chair, people would pat me on the head and croon.
Instead, they ignore me or talk over my head as if I’m not
there or treat me like an idiot.”

“They’re afraid. They’re afraid
you have magic powers, for you know them by their smell and the
sound of their walk. They’re afraid you can see into their
souls, because you can catch them in a lie.”

“’Tis so stupid! Don’t they
realize I must use ears and nose and touch to see the world around
me? Would they do any less?”

“They just don’t think. Alice,
especially. But she’s a nice girl, eager to please,
pathetically unsure. If you could only see her, you’d
understand. She’s like a puppy, all legs and arms and big
feet and big hands. My wife’s so immature, she’s not
even formed yet.”