“Did no one think to put a brazier in here?”
she demanded. “This chapel is cold as the grave.” She shivered
repeatedly throughout the service and left the moment Father John
was finished. She did not attend Mass again and she stayed well
away from Father John until he departed Wroxley to return to
Cliffvale Castle.
There followed several weeks of busy and
harmonious activity. The weather grew warmer and there were even
occasional bright days when it appeared as if the ever-present
clouds might disappear. They never actually did. It was as though a
battle was going on between sunlight and clouds. On most days the
clouds won but, even so, any lightening of the perpetual gloom was
welcome
In the fields around the castle the plowing
was well under way and some fields had already been planted.
Warrick and Robin were settling into their duties as squires and
Emma was proving to be an eager helper to Mirielle. Alda retreated
more and more to her own room, appearing only at mealtimes, when
she sat, icy and unapproachable, beside Gavin at the high table.
She did not talk to her husband at all, and as far as Mirielle
could tell, Alda had no meetings with Brice.
In the evenings after the day’s labor was
done, a little group gathered in Mirielle’s workroom. There Hugh
told Warrick and Emma tales of his travels from his distant home to
England. The stories were entertaining, but the children were
learning, too, for Hugh took care to explain much of the knowledge
he had gained along his way.
“Mirielle,” Hugh said one night, “may I have
a bowl of water? Emma has just asked how I reached England from
Cathay without becoming lost during my long journey and I would
like to demonstrate the method I used.”
Mirielle filled a wide clay bowl with water
and set it on the table. From his robe Hugh drew a piece of wood as
long as his thumb and carved into the shape of a fish.
“Embedded in the fish’s belly is a piece of
lodestone,” Hugh explained, setting the wooden object atop the
water. He gave the fish a shove with one finger. It spun around
once or twice, then stopped.
“Emma, spin the fish again, just as I did,”
Hugh instructed.
When Emma obeyed, the fish stopped its motion
when it was pointing in the same direction as before.
“Now it’s your turn, Mirielle.” Hugh
indicated that she should spin the fish. Again it stopped in the
same position. Warrick’s attempt to alter the final position of the
fish was also unsuccessful.
“It always points the same way.” Emma clapped
her hands in delight.
“Were you to take this bowl outside on a
clear night,” Hugh told the children, “you would see that the fish
points toward the north star. Knowing the fish’s position is
unchanging, a traveler can always find the right direction.”
“Even when it’s cloudy, as it always is
around Wroxley?” Warrick asked.
“Even then,” Hugh assured him.
“This is very useful magic,” said Emma, who
was almost breathless with excitement.
“No magic is involved,” Hugh told her, “only
knowledge of the properties of a lodestone.”
Under Hugh’s supervision the children were
allowed to try a few experiments. More often, they watched while
Mirielle or Hugh worked and described what they were doing. Under
this regime Warrick lost most of his former sulkiness and his
resistance to his father’s requirement that he learn to use weapons
in preparation for eventual knighthood. Mirielle suspected that
Hugh was providing additional training of some kind in the matter
of weaponry, for Warrick began to display a quiet self-control
similar to Hugh’s own reliable calmness.
Emma, too, was blossoming under Mirielle’s
guidance. The girl was quick and intelligent and soon made herself
a useful assistant.
On rare evenings Gavin joined the little
group in Mirielle’s workroom and when he did, he would add his own
version of events in the Holy Land to Hugh’s tales. Less often,
Robin came to the workroom. Most evenings he spent with his mother,
for the only worry to disturb the steady round of springtime
activity was a growing concern over the state of Donada’s
health.
“My medicines do not help her at all,”
Mirielle said to Hugh. “Donada has grown weaker. She is so pale,
her skin is dry and flaky, and sometimes she is confused. Today,
she asked me why her husband, Paul, had not come to see her all
day.”
“Would she allow me to examine her?” Hugh
asked.
“I think so. I know I would be grateful for
any advice you can offer.”
“I will go to her later.”
The next day was Sunday. Since Father John
had returned to Cliffvale there could be no Mass said, but early
morning prayers were held in the chapel. As if in answer to those
prayers the sun broke through the clouds about noontime. thus,
after the midday meal the unusual pleasure of a long, sunny
afternoon stretched before the inhabitants of the castle, for on
the Sabbath, only the most necessary work was done.
Hugh had taken Warrick and Robin into
Mirielle’s workroom right after chapel, warning Mirielle and Emma
to stay out because a surprise was in the making.
“It’s to cheer Robin,” Hugh confided. “I see
how downcast he is of late and how often he stays by his mother’s
side. Mirielle, do you think you could convince Donada to venture
as far as the fallow field on the western side of the castle?”
“I will try,” Mirielle promised. “Perhaps it
will do her good to leave the castle for a while.”
“I am sure it will,” Hugh said. “It will also
give me a chance to look at her in bright light. I went to see her
last evening, but she had only a single oil lamp in her room. I
could not tell what is wrong with her.”
It took a bit of coaxing from both Mirielle
and Robin when the midday meal was over, but at last Donada agreed
to join the party in the field outside the castle.
“Go on, Robin. Warrick is waiting for you. I
will catch up later.” Donada rose, waving the boy away. After he
hurried from the great hall to meet his friends, Donada leaned
heavily on the table where she had been sitting during the meal.
“If I can walk that far,” she added to Mirielle.
“You will not have to walk.” Gavin joined
them. “Hugh has told me about his surprise and I am eager to see
it, too. I have ordered my most gentle horse brought to the keep
steps. Donada, you will ride pillion behind me. All you will have
to do is hold tight to my belt.”
He swept Donada into his arms and, with
Mirielle close behind them, carried the sick woman out of the hall
and down the steps to the inner bailey. Gavin had also ordered a
horse for Mirielle, and she took Emma up behind her. They rode
through the inner and outer baileys to the main gatehouse, where a
sour-faced Mauger was on duty.
“The others have gone through ahead of you,”
Mauger said to Gavin. He did not trouble himself to add the usual
my lord to his announcement. Gavin did not appear to notice. As
they clattered across the drawbridge, Mirielle looked back to see
Mauger frowning after them.
The field where Hugh, Warrick, and Robin
awaited them was covered with rough green growth. Mirielle and Emma
chose the driest spot they could find, Gavin spread out a quilt,
and they all helped Donada to sit on it.
“Mother, it’s a wonderful surprise,” Robin
said, bouncing from foot to foot in excitement. “I know you will
like it.”
“I’m sure I will, my dear.” Donada looked a
bit more healthy now that she was in the sunshine, with a soft
breeze ruffling the edges of her wimple. “What are those strange
things that Master Hugh and Warrick are holding? Is that what you
did with the scraps of thin fabric you asked of me yesterday?”
“Hugh says they are called kites,” Robin
responded. “He promises we can make them fly.”
“No, I do not think so,” Donada said. “That
would be magic.”
“In my homeland, kites are often flown in the
springtime,” Hugh told her. “It’s not magic that sends them into
the air, but only the same wind that catches a sheet when you
spread it out to dry and the breeze lifts it. The boys have twisted
threads they unraveled from the edges of the cloth into string, to
hold the kites so they won’t blow away as sheets sometimes do.”
Donada laughed at this explanation. She
laughed again when Hugh and the two boys began to run across the
field with kites in hand. Hugh’s caught the breeze first, then
Robin’s and, lastly, Warrick’s kite lifted into the air.
“I want a kite, too.” Emma clapped her hands.
“Master Hugh, will you show me how to make one?”
“Come here and hold mine for a while,” Hugh
invited.
Mirielle watched this scene with increasing
pleasure. She noticed Donada’s spirits lifting as if they were
borne by one of the kites. After a while Mirielle became aware of
Gavin standing close beside her.
“Thank you for the horses,” she said. “I fear
Donada could not have walked so far.”
“She is very ill,” he said in the same low
voice Mirielle had used. “What is wrong with her?”
“I do not know. None of my medicines help
her. I am hoping Hugh will give me good advice.”
“If Hugh cannot,” said Gavin, “then no one
can.”
His hand brushed along Mirielle’s arm and
downward to her wrist. One finger slid into her palm, to circle
there for a moment before his hand fell away to his side.
No one who was not standing directly behind
them could have seen it. The gesture sent a surge of warmth through
Mirielle. She looked up, into his eyes. He made no other motion
toward her and there was a foot of space between them, yet Mirielle
felt as if Gavin were embracing her. The warm melting that began
deep inside her each time he put his arms around her began now. His
eyes held hers. His lips quirked in a half smile. Mirielle caught
her breath.
“Father!” called Emma, who was flying Hugh’s
kite. “Come and try it. I have never had such fun!” Her happy
laughter rang out.
“Go,” Mirielle said when Gavin hesitated.
“Let her show you how it’s done.”
“Lady Mirielle,” Robin called to her. “My
lady—would you—I mean, if you would like to try—I would be pleased
to help you.”
“Thank you, Robin.” Mirielle did not care
that the field was growing a bit muddy with so many people running
about on it. Robin was smiling for the first time in days and this
excursion was intended partly to cheer him.
After a quick word to Donada, Mirielle
hurried to where Robin was standing and let him show her how to
keep the kite aloft for half an hour or so. During that time there
was much laughter among the kite flyers and their advisors, and
many suggestions on what to do when a kite dipped too near the
ground. Several villeins came along and stopped to watch, their
mouths dropping open in amazement, while upon the castle ramparts
the sentries called out jokes to Warrick and Robin.
A man on horseback rode out of the castle
gate and into the field to join them. Recognizing the man, Mirielle
sighed. Her relationship with Brice had become cooler and much more
distant since she had learned that he was Emma’s father. She was
sorely disappointed in her cousin. To lie with a woman whose
husband had been away from home for years was bad enough, though it
might be understandable. To carry on an affair with a young woman,
married only a year or two, who was, at least ostensibly, still
sharing a bed with her husband, was a deed for which there was no
excuse. What Brice and Alda had done was reprehensible. Mirielle
was not sure which of the two she blamed more.
“Sir Brice,” Emma greeted the seneschal,
“would you like to try your hand?”
“I think not,” Brice said. “I will keep
Mistress Donada company.” With a casual wave in Emma’s direction,
Brice dropped onto the quilt next to Donada.
Mirielle could see that he had no idea Emma
was his child. Brice had said often enough that, while other men
wanted sons, he wished to have a daughter one day. As kindly as
Brice had treated Mirielle, he would have cared still more for his
own child. Though Mirielle was deeply distressed by what her cousin
had done with Alda, in some small segment of her heart she pitied
Brice for what he had lost because of the affair. Unless Alda chose
to tell him, Brice would very likely never know the truth about
Emma.
But, for the moment, Brice was talking to
Donada, making her laugh and look healthier than she had for weeks.
For that, Mirielle was grateful to him.
Mirielle was to remember that happy afternoon
later and to recall the laughter of children and grownups, the rare
spring sunshine glinting on Robin’s red-brown, curly hair, the
sparkling, breeze-ruffled water in the castle moat, the scent of
fresh, growing plants and, above all, the sense of carefree fun, as
if those hours were a brief and lovely dream.
As the sun began to set behind a bank of
clouds, its fading rays turning the walls of Wroxley Castle to a
fiery shade of rose-gold, Gavin mounted Donada on his horse and
Mirielle took Emma up behind her again. Brice joined them, leaving
Hugh and the two boys to walk home with their somewhat bedraggled
kites. Mirielle sent a last look toward the castle, thinking how
beautiful it was in the late-day light.
There on the wall, standing in one of the
crenels, was a slim figure wrapped in a flame-red cloak. A strand
of golden hair blew out on a breath of air, to glitter briefly in a
slanting ray of sunlight. The figure remained motionless, staring
down at the little groups of riders and pedestrians now making
their way homeward.
Mirielle did not think anyone else had
noticed and she did not call attention to the watcher on the wall.
But she shuddered with an unnamable foreboding as she rode along
the edge of the moat behind Gavin, and she marveled at the waves of
malice that emanated from Alda’s still form.
Emma said something about the kites, and how
clever Hugh was to be able to make them from memory, and Mirielle
pulled her attention from the castle wall to answer the girl. When
she looked back, Alda was gone.