Fires of Winter (18 page)

Pleased with this notion, which could protect me for several days, I smiled when Edna asked in a timid, shaking voice, “What shall I do with this piece of cloth, madam?” Her fingers caressed the rough length of wool—the gown had been the most worn and stained of my gardening clothes, faded a dull brown from what had been, if I remembered, a rich maroon. The new color had the advantage that the earth stains hardly showed.

“Would you like to keep it?” I asked in return.

“If it is not asking too much,” she faltered. “I could use it as a shawl. The weather will turn cold soon.”

She was so thin I thought that she might feel cold when my body was glad of a breeze. “Take it then.”

“Must I go now?”

Because I did not know what to answer, I almost lost my temper with her—but it was Bruno at whom I was angry, not poor Edna. And the thought of Bruno reminded me that I could not undress without help. His help? The idea terrified me. I did not then know why, although I soon learned, but I said quickly, “No, stay here. I may need you at bed time. You may practice your sewing by hemming the length of cloth where it was cut. Sewing is a useful skill.”

She thanked me with pathetic gratitude so that I first wondered whether she had no place to go, but she was too clean for Bruno to have picked her off the street. Then I remembered a glimpse of dark bruises on her legs—I had turned away to give her privacy to change to my gown when I realized she wore nothing under her outer rags and had seen no more of her body. Now I thought she must be mistreated wherever she lived. I was tempted to ask whether she would like to remain with me and be my maid, but I held back the words. I would say nothing to her until I had discovered Bruno's reason for selecting such a servant.

Nothing happened during the rest of the afternoon to move that purpose from my mind, and I intended to get some satisfaction from making Bruno ashamed of himself, although I had to admit that Edna had some extra skills in service that made me think again of keeping her with me. She found some twine, for example, and strung it through my tunic and bliaut so she could hang them in front of the window to air. And she brushed my hair as no one had ever done, touching the scalp just enough to make it feel clean and fresh without scraping painfully and stroking so evenly that I almost fell asleep on the stool.

I suppose I was tired by the strains of the day. I remember only telling Edna to leave all the bed-curtains tied back. Then, I suppose I slept as soon as I was stretched out in the bed, but I was no longer so shocked and exhausted that I could not wake easily. A bump against the bed brought my eyes open.

“Edna, if you cannot be still—” I began to say irritably, and realized the bump was on the other side. Edna was gone, and I sat up and glared at Bruno, who had knocked against the bedpost.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just doused the candles and I'm still light blind.”

“Well, you can just light them again and find somewhere else to sleep,” I snapped. “How
dare
you send your whore to wait on me.”

He stopped where he was, naked, one hand still on the bedpost to guide himself around the corner of the bed. The previous night I had seen only the power of his body; tonight I was able to pick out details—the triangle of black hair on his chest, pale scars on shoulder, arm, and hip that contrasted with skin that was dark even in the dim light. I could see such details because the wick on the night candle was high, and wakened from sleep as I was, my eyes were already adjusted. Gazing at him, I felt again the strange terror that had gripped me earlier when I thought of him undressing me, but it was like no fear I had ever known before. I was not cold and clammy but too warm, and my insides shook in a strange way.

“So you did know what Edna was,” Bruno said, coming forward again. “I thought when I came in the morning and found her still here that you had not bothered to ask.”

He got into the bed as if I had not just bade him to find a place elsewhere, and I could not speak because I knew my voice would break.

“It is useless to pretend to be angry with me after being so kind to her,” he went on, turning toward me and grinning.

“Why should I be unkind to the girl?” I got out, although I could not keep my voice completely steady. “She cannot help what she is. She scarcely looks to be happy in her work or able to deny any order given her. It was you who insulted me by setting your leman to wait on me, not her.”

“No!” Bruno exclaimed, putting his hand out to take mine. I shuddered, and he withdrew it, his face creased with anxiety. “I swear I meant no insult to you, Melusine. I swear I did not. Good God, Edna is not my woman. I may have lain with her once, but I had forgotten all about it until you said it.”

I looked at the hand Bruno had been reaching for and saw that it was turned palm up to clasp his. “Then why did you send her?” I asked, staring down at my hand and wondering if it had been lying that way all the time. But that was impossible; it was too uncomfortable. I must have responded without knowing it when he reached toward me.

“If that is not the silliest question I have ever heard it comes near it,” Bruno said irritably. “You know I must be in attendance on the king at dawn. Where the devil did you think I was going to find a woman who knew something of maid's work, was reasonably clean, and spoke French an hour before dawn? Did you expect me to wake the queen or one of her ladies to ask to borrow a maid at that hour? And do not tell me that I should have thought of it before,” he snarled, his voice growing louder. “I had more to think of than who would help you dress yesterday.”

It was a logical answer and delivered with no attempt to charm me. I could not doubt that the reasons Bruno had given me for thinking of a whore were true, after all an unmarried man would not often have been attended by a woman in other circumstances. “But why Edna?” I asked. “Why your whore rather than another?” I could have bit my tongue as soon as the words were out of my mouth. He would think I was jealous.

“I have said already that she is not my woman.” Bruno merely sounded bored, perhaps slightly annoyed. “I assure you that however ill you think of me, I would never permit any woman in my keeping to be starved or to dress in rags. I went to that house because it is the best in this town and the women are all clean and know French. I took Edna because when she opened the door to me she begged me for something to eat. I was sorry for her, and I also thought she would not be likely to missay you or walk out on you.”

“Missay me?” I repeated. “Would such a woman dare?”

Bruno smiled. “From that house, it is possible. Some of those women have powerful protectors. They judge me a poor knight—which I am—and do not regard me with much awe. So my wife might be given scant courtesy.” Then he sighed. “I thought when Edna told me what had happened to her, that she might continue to serve as your maid. Of course, if you do not like her, I will have to find another woman, but—”

“I do not dislike Edna,” I interrupted, feeling quite exasperated, “but I cannot have a practicing whore as my maid—even you must see that.”

“But Edna cannot ply that trade any longer,” Bruno stated. “That is why she is starving and in rags. Did she not tell you that? The girl is a half-wit. No wonder you were so angry with me.”

My hand flew to hide my mouth, and then, realizing that the gesture had betrayed me I said the words it had instinctively held back. “She did tell me. I just did not think of it until now.”

“It was too much fun being furious, I suppose.” The mischievous grin that had made me smile back earlier did not have the same effect now, and Bruno shook his head as I opened my mouth to protest. “I will leave it to you to settle with Edna whether you wish to keep her or not, but I hope you will. You see, I do not want any royal servants waiting on you. A servant loyal to someone other than her own mistress can twist what is perfectly innocent into something else to win pay or praise. I want no twisted tales of you carried back to the queen. Perhaps your maid will be questioned, but if she answers with the truth we will have nothing to fear.”

“If Edna truly can be chaste—or at least as chaste as any other maid—I will keep her.”

“Settle it with her,” he repeated. “I bade her sleep in the hall outside and come to you again in the morning. Now I have something much more important to talk about than maids. The king has ordered me to carry certain messages north for him and has given me leave to take you with me.”

For a moment I looked at him, probably open-mouthed with surprise, then swallowed and croaked, “Go with you? But why?”

Bruno looked back at me, trying, I think, to make out my expression in the dim light of the night candle. “Do you not wish to go?” he asked, his voice carefully flat.

“Oh, yes,” I cried. “Indeed I do, and it cannot be soon enough for me, but I do not understand why—”

“I warn you,” he said, “that if you try to escape me and run home as you did before—”

“No, no,” I gasped. “I—” I was about to say that I was not such a fool, but what he said implied that I
had
tried to get away before, and I knew he would not believe my denials. “I have come to understand that that would be a very foolish thing to do, that it could only make trouble for my people.”

“I hope you are speaking the truth, but you seem so very eager—”

“Only because I wish to get away from the queen's ladies.” I explained how I was caught between increasing Maud's suspicion of me and making the other women look foolish and dislike me. “If I am gone from them for some time, it will be easier to change my ways. I—I am tired of being thought a half-wit.” That was true, even if I had only endured it for a few days rather than many months.

Bruno laughed, but I thought, though I could not truly see, that his eyes still watched me warily. All he said was, “I am not surprised.”

“But I still do not understand why the king should allow a messenger to take a woman with him,” I said hurriedly. I needed no more lectures on why it was unwise to play sly games.

“It is a special case,” Bruno told me, pulling up a pillow behind him and relaxing against it. “There is no need for special haste in delivering these messages, so the speed at which I travel is not important. Moreover the journey will take us close to Jernaeve, where I was born and bred. The king was kind enough to yield to my desire to introduce you to the people there who have been very kind to me and cared for me.”

“But I thought…” I hesitated, not knowing how to ask a question without hurting him.

“You thought a whore's bastard was born and raised in a ditch? How do you think I came by my skills and accoutrements?”

“I thought nothing of the sort,” I riposted sharply, angry that he thought the worst when I had been trying to spare him. “I thought you had quarreled with your family and were not welcome among them.”

“There has been no quarrel, and I am sure I will be welcome in Jernaeve now.” He paused as if to weed out of his future words certain matters, then said, “Sir Oliver—and I must tell you that I am
not
Sir Oliver's get, no matter that we resemble each other—who was warden of Jernaeve for many years, holding the right of his niece, Lady Audris…” He paused again, wondering I think whether to add something, but continued with what was clearly the main thread of his story. “Sir Oliver sent me away from Jernaeve because he was afraid the holders of smaller estates sworn to Jernaeve would prefer me to Lady Audris. I went willingly, for I love Audris above my life, above the salvation of my soul. But she is married now, to Sir Hugh Licorne—”

“Licorne—a unicorn?” I interrupted, not caring but driven to say anything to hear no more about his love for this Lady Audris. Despite the fact that our union had been forced upon him, how dared he lament to his wife another woman's marriage.

He chuckled and I realized at once what a fool I was. If Sir Oliver was Lady Audris's uncle and Bruno was not his son but yet resembled him, Audris must be at least Bruno's first cousin—if not his half sister. The easy chuckle told me there was no deep hurt connected with Lady Audris's marriage, and no anger at my interruption, but I suspected that Bruno was not given to telling this story and I wanted very much to hear it.

I touched his hand. “Forgive me, I did not mean to interrupt you. You must believe that I am deeply interested in this matter.”

Still smiling, he patted with his other hand, mine, which had remained resting on his. That senseless fear started up in me again, but this time I fought it, ignoring the crazy trembling inside me and fighting to keep my breathing from going short. I would not withdraw my hand and anger him for a senseless fear. In God's name, what had I to fear from Bruno?

“Everyone is startled by Hugh's surname,” he said, “but Archbishop Thurstan is the one who named him and he must have had a reason. I do not think the archbishop is a fanciful man. Nor can I remember that Hugh told me the reason. Perhaps he did not know. I cannot imagine myself questioning Archbishop Thurstan about why he did anything. But the point is that Hugh is perfectly fitted in every way to hold Jernaeve and has the full right of husband of the holder, so I cannot be a threat to Lady Audris's right and I am sure I will be a welcome guest.”

“Naturally, I will be very happy to meet your f-friends, but—”

I faltered a bit over the word, unsure of whether to say family but very aware that Bruno had been specially careful to make no such claim. And I was angered for him, believing that he was despised among the people in Jernaeve and that he was taking me to them to show that he now had importance in the world and had been given a noblewoman to wife. That made me ashamed of him for the first time, and I was about to urge him to have more pride when he interrupted me.

“I can see that you are wondering at my desire to drag you hundreds of miles into the wilderness of Northumbria over lands devastated by war,” he said, smiling again. “I am not mad. I have a good reason, and one that will please you, I think, for taking you north. The king has given me two months leave, which I have permission to stretch to three at need. There will be time enough for us to visit Ulle.”