Candle in the Window (29 page)

“I hid behind th’ tapestry when
th’ ladies brought ye in.”

“What were you doing in our solar?”
Saura insisted.

“
Our
solar,” the girl mocked. “
Our
solar. Aren’t we important? Aren’t
we sure of ourselves? Married this very morn an’ already ye
own th’ castle.”

“What were you doing?”

“Puttin’ poison in your wine!”
Hawisa exploded. “Ye got rid of me, didn’t ye? Like
offal ye toss in th’ dung heap. Lord William’s
talkin’ about givin’ me away t’ anyone
who’ll take me, but I grew up here, me roots are here.
I’ll be leavin’ everythin’ I know. I’ll be
at th’ bottom of th’ group wherever he stashes me, an
outsider.”

Alarmed by the half-hysterical note of violence in
her voice, Saura soothed, “I’m sure Lord William will
do his best for you.”

“He don’t care about me. He only cares
for ye. If ye’d never come, I’d not be leavin’.
I’d still be top of th’ pile, wi’ them little
flunkies t’ wait on me an’ first tastin’s from
th’ kitchen an’ me own tap for th’ ale.
’Tis all your fault.”

As Hawisa’s voice rose, Saura’s cooled
and quieted. “Those things are not your right.”

“I earned ’em,” the woman
shouted. “Til ye came an’ changed th’ lock I had
th’ key for th’ wine cellar because I earned it. The
cook offered me food because I earned it.”

“Earned it?” Saura asked with
scorn.

“On me back, just like one important lady who
earned her husband on her back. Don’t ye know that’s
what everyone’s sayin’? Talkin’ about how William
follows ye like he’s caught th’ scent of a bitch in
heat. Talkin’ about how good ye must be between th’
covers t’ have him marry such a useless,
blind—”

The heavy pewter pitcher smacked the wall behind
Hawisa and water splattered across the room. The woman jumped
aside, her shout dying of shock. Trembling, suddenly aware of her
great transgression, she whispered, “How’d ye do that?
How’d ye see where t’ throw it?”

Saura crawled out of the blankets and balanced on
all fours on the bed. Her hair curled wildly about her head, her
lips drew back in a snarl, her body was magnificently,
unconsciously, nude. “I’m not blind, I’ve
forsworn myself. I know every nasty move you’ve made. I know
every time you dragged one of your paramours to this bed. I know
every sneer you’ve directed at me and at William. I’ll
keep you here and you’ll never get away and you’ll
wish—”

The door slammed open and Maud burst in.
“M’lady, what—” She gasped at the scene
before her eyes.

Lady Jane followed, saying, “We heard the
shouting,” but her comments faded, too.

Hawisa backed toward them, chanting,
“She’s witch, she can see, she’s crazy, I’m
afraid of her.” Saura raised her hands, formed into claws,
and growled, and Hawisa turned and bolted, screaming,
“She’s a witch, she can see, she’s a
witch.”

“What did she do with your silk?” Jane
asked, and Saura flew off the bed.

“Where is it?” she said fiercely, and
the sound of her anger carried clear into the great hall.
“What did she do to it? I’ll kill her, that
shrew.”

“’Tis out of the trunk, M’lady,
and the knife….”

“I’ll kill her.”

Lady Jane slammed the door. “You’ve
displayed yourself for everyone, and that should wait for the
bedding.” Saura stalked across the room, and Jane caught her
arm. “Let your maid look first.” Saura tugged, but Lady
Jane gripped her elbow and shook it. “Calm down. Your maid
can see what’s been done, and then you can check.”

The silk rustled and the bolt thumped, and then
Maud reassured them. “She cut a chunk of one end off and she
snipped a few threads in a fringe, but the largest portion is
intact. ’Tis nothing a little creative sewing won’t
fix, m’lady.”

“Let me see.” Saura jerked away, and
this time Jane let her go. Maud guided her hands to the destruction
and Saura felt the swell of heat beneath her skin. “That
she-wolf,” she hissed. “Thank the Virgin you brought me
in to rest when you did, or who knows what she would have done.
That half-wit.”

Curious and amazed, Jane queried, “What did
she say to you?”

In her fury, Saura could only remember one thing.
“She said the only reason William married me was because
I’m good in bed.”

“Well!” Humor lit Jane’s voice.
“Someone should so insult me.”

Saura’s mouth worked until she burst into
laughter. “I’m losing my sense of proportion,”
she mourned, and then she laughed again. “I’m
screeching like a fishwife over her comments when I should be
ordering her whipped for destroying property.” She rubbed her
forehead with her palm. “I’ll never sleep now. Dress
me, Maud, and I’ll prepare for the swearing.”

One by one William’s men knelt before him and
put their hands between his and gave their oath of loyalty. They
had done it before, and it was a reiteration of those oaths, a
repetition made poignant by their concern for William. Sir Merwyn
had tears running down his wrinkled cheeks as he swore, Sir Raoul
grinned the whole time, Sir Egide and Sir Dillan shook with
eagerness; but they all spoke their allegiance proudly, so their
words were heard in every corner of the giant room.

Next, Saura’s men knelt before her. One by
one they placed their palms together in her hands and swore before
God they would hold her lands for her. Their words, too, were clear
and loud, but they didn’t rise when they finished.

As the eldest knight, Sir Francis of Wace spoke for
them. Seriously, for the matter required much thought and concern,
he said, “We give our allegiance to Lady Saura of Roget
with pleasure. Still, we have a query we must
know the answer to, for our protection and the protection of Lady
Saura’s lands. Lord William was blind for an extended time.
Will this blindness return?”

Saura’s chest filled with a kind of hurt
rancor. “Is blindness so important?”

William’s hand touched hers. “In a
warrior, it is. They must know whether or not I can rescue them in
case of siege.”

“Aye, my lady, we mean no disrespect, but if
Lord William is having lapses in sight or mind we must know,”
Sir Denton explained.

“I understand,” William reassured them.
“I’d think less of you if you feared to ask. But I
assure you, my noble knights, I’ve had no problems since Lady
Saura rescued me with her healing touch. I’ll prove it to you
when we go to subdue Sir Frazer in rebellion.”

Sir Francis rose and the others followed, murmuring
their approval. “Then we’ll be proud to follow you, my
lord. Do we go soon?”

Saura ground her teeth at the pleasure in their
voices, and even more as William readily agreed. “Very soon.
We’d be fools to let him settle in for siege.”

The men stepped back and William nudged Saura.
“Isn’t it time for supper?”

“Oh,” She jumped, her thoughts far
away. “Of course, my lord.” A coolness frosted her
features as she turned away and ordered the tables put up. William
let her go, and had she but known it, he understood her concern.
Hadn’t his Anne been the same way about fighting? For some
inexplicable reason, women worried about a little bit of weapon
wielding stealing their husbands. You’d think they’d
worry about all
the whores of the world
instead. He didn’t understand it, but he no longer tried to
explain their foolishness.

Instead he braced himself for another assault on
his ears. Nicholas, he could see, was consulting a parchment
scribbled with notes. ’Twas his wedding day, and he deserved
a respite from this unrelenting rhyming. He tried to be fair to
Nicholas. The man had undoubtedly fallen in love for the first time
in his life. He understood, for how could any man not love Saura?
But when he heard Nicholas declaring his devotion to Saura, to his
wife, to his
woman
, he wanted to beat
him to a bloody pulp. He had trouble remembering friendship and
generosity when faced with a poacher on his grounds. In fact,
Nicholas’s worship created enough gossip that he considered
speaking to the man. He knew Saura wasn’t impressed; indeed,
everyone with half an eye could see Saura wasn’t impressed.
Still, there were always folk eager to spread rumors and malign
their betters, and Saura’s marriage had put her in the
precarious position of eminence. So he was faced with the choice;
should he forbid Nicholas to dedicate
vers
to Saura and have folks gossiping about his
lack of faith in his lady? Or should he assure himself Nicholas
would leave soon and take with him his distressing affections?
Either way could accelerate the rumors of a rift between William
and his friend, between William and his wife. As a fighter, his
first instinct was to action; as a thinker, he suspected a bland
show of boredom served the purpose better.

Seating himself beside Saura at the head table, he
listened to the ribbing of his friends about the wedding night and
grinned in the appropriate spots. The suggestive humor of the
ladies brought a blush to Saura’s cheek and made her forget
her pique with William, and for that William was grateful. But all
the while he kept checking Nicholas. Nicholas ate heartily.
Nicholas always ate heartily, not even unre
quited love could change that, but as soon as he
finished, William knew the time had come to decide. Should he stand
and make a declaration, or should he suffer through one more
night?

The decision was temporarily taken from him. On the
other side of Lord Peter, Raymond stood up. He had the presence few
men possessed; William had it, and Lord Peter, and those men could
bring a silence to a noisy room. Now as the great hall quieted,
Raymond bowed to the married couple and then again to Saura.
Hoisting himself up on his bench, he placed one foot on the table
and leaned against his knee. His squire brought forth a lute, and
as Raymond accepted it, he said, “The bride is the queen of
the day, the wife is the queen of the night, and I have a song that
declares how I feel about the loveliest queen of all. Saura, our
Saura, queen of sunrise and dusk.”

So saying he launched into a song of breathtaking
sweetness. A real musician, he produced a ballad about Saura that
brought tears to the eye. Even Saura listened, ignoring the demands
of hostess for a few moments as she drifted with the melody.

Alarmed at first, William slowly relaxed. This
wasn’t the betrayal by yet another comrade; this was a lyric
that placed Nicholas’s pathetic
vers
under harsh scrutiny. William couldn’t
understand his own exaltation at this turn of events; why should
Raymond’s declaration of devotion ease his fears? Yet it did,
and looking out over the lords and ladies, over the servants and
churls, he knew why. They were confused. How could they say Saura
encouraged Nicholas
and
Raymond? They
could, of course, but as the accusations widened their reliability
vanished. Nicholas had arrived before any of them, and they could
speculate about what had happened before they came. But what of
Raymond? He’d
come long after the last
guest, and no one had caught him skulking in a corner with
Saura.

The song ended as William smiled, lost in his own
satisfaction, and on the heels of the applause another knight rose.
“I, too, have
vers
for Lady
Saura, the loveliest woman to be snatched from under my
nose.” He waited for nothing, launching into a poem about the
unfair pathways of fate that led him to Saura too late. Her beauty
alone put her above his reach; that, and the fact she was married
to the biggest, toughest warrior in England.

After the laughter died down, another knight rose,
inspired to spontaneous song. Another rose, and another, all
singing the praises of Saura with varying talents and messages.
Soon it became more than a chance to show off, it became a way of
keeping William and Saura at the table as host and hostess. William
put up with their foolishness until he decided the most harm had
been done to the rumors about Nicholas and his love. Then he rose
and swept Saura up in his arms. “Bedtime,” he said
definitely.

That brought the loudest laugh of the evening, and
Lady Jane stood up and the other women followed her.
“We’ll prepare her, my lord.”

William weighed her firmness against his own desire
and let Saura slide to her feet. “As you wish. But
don’t be long.”

This recommendation generated such gales of humor
Saura suspected everyone had overindulged in ale and wine. She
hastened into the solar with the ladies, stood obediently still
while they stripped her and placed her hair in strategic locations;
not for modesty, for they would display her as a guarantee of
physical perfection, but as a tease. The men crowded in, carrying
William as if he were unwilling, rather than fighting to proceed.
They stood him on his feet and
dragged his
clothes from him with no craft, and stood him before Saura.

The women, with enticing slowness, lifted
Saura’s hair away from her shoulders. The men whistled and
shuffled, cackling at William’s look of painful anticipation,
and Lord Peter called, “If you wield that lance as well as
you wielded your lance at the mêlée, Saura will be dead
by morning.”

“Nay,” Jane assured him.
“She’ll vanquish his lance. Women always win that
battle.”

“Until the lance is resurrected,” Lord
Peter said agreeably.

“We do so pray,” Bertha shouted.

Performing his duty, Brother Cedric said,
“Lady Saura is physically perfect, except for her eyes. Will
Lord William disavow her for her disability?”

“Never,” William testified.
“She’s the savior of my sight, the wife of my
heart.”

“But how can she view William’s
body?” Jane puzzled. “She has the right to see him and
verify her willingness to remain in wedlock with him.”

Saura stepped forward and placed her hands on
William’s arms. “I can solve that. All I have to do
is….” She trailed her fingertips across his chest in a
way that brought forth sighs of pleasure from the men. Her actions
carried an immediate reward as William swept her up and carried her
toward the bed.