Read Nothing Else Matters Online
Authors: Susan Sizemore
least and look to see what the rest of the people in the hal were about. He didn’t move. He didn’t care if the whole world were watching. For the moment, the whole world consisted of his dead brother’s wife, himself and the shadows of Harelby keep.
He put his hands against the wal , on either side of her shoulders. He felt the texture of the embroidered tapestry, rough against his palms. “Beatrice,” he said again.
For some reason, even knowing who she was, he found himself stil wanting her. He supposed even the thought of wanting her was a sin. She was his
brother’s wife!
“He’s been dead a long time,” she said, as though she knew his thoughts. Or she was having the same thoughts herself.
Roger lifted her chin with his fingers. They were looking each other in the eye when he said, “When did you become such a beauty?”
“I’m no beauty. It’s just dark over here, you randy old fool.”
Randy? Yes. Old? Yes. Fool? Oh most certainly. A fool for years and years. Why had he never seen before what was so clear here in this nearly night dark corner? Because it was convenient to accept her fealty, to let her raise his son and care for his home without questioning what price she paid with her service. Because if he had turned his thoughts toward her as a woman, he would have betrayed God, his brother and the wife he had loved. But the
brother and the wife were long dead. There was only God to worry about now. And Edythe, who he loved not at al .
“Oh my dearest Beatrice,” he whispered. “Whatever is to be done?”
She pushed against his chest, shoving with al her might until he took a step back. “What’s to be done?” she asked, her voice as harshly irritated as it had been since he’d brought his young wife home “What do you think’s to be done?” She moved past him, took a few steps toward the light and noise in the
center of the hal . He watched her with a growing ache in his heart.
He wasn’t surprised when she stopped long enough to look back at him and say, “It’s time you found a new chatelaine, my lord.”
“I could stay here forever,” Eleanor said as she hugged her drawn up knees. She glanced back into the cave. “Though two days seems like forever when
I’m sleeping on the ground.”
Stian looked up from tending the rabbit roasting over the fire. “You don’t mind lying on the ground most of the time.”
Eleanor reached around to rub the smal of her back while he gave her a wicked grin. “Aye, but that has nothing to do with sleeping.” She sighed. “I
suppose we should return to Harelby.”
“We should,” he agreed. “As soon as al the guests are gone.”
She was slowly discovering how shy the man was. How private. It was a wonder to her, for she had never had any fear of crowds or conversations with a
dozen people at once. Perhaps it was because she’d been raised in a court—and he in a pigpen if her memory of their first meeting was correct.
She giggled and he looked up with a mock frown. “You plan to tease me again, I can feel it.” He pointed at the pool where cold vapor rose in the morning air. “Recal what happened the last time you teased me, wife.”
“I needed the bath anyway,” she said, and giggled again. Then she asked, “And when wil al the guests be gone?”
“By midday. Malcolm left yesterday,” he added. “Took Ayrfel with him.”
“How is his wound?”
“I didn’t ask.”
Stian’s squire had brought bread, ale and news for two mornings running now. She’d only been vaguely aware of his arrival on either day since he came
before dawn and Stian always rose to meet him. She’d been more aware of the absence of warmth beside her than the murmur of voices. She wasn’t
real y interested in the news from Harelby for she was content living the way they were. Soon they must return, of course, Stian had responsibilities and Edythe would want her company.
She glanced at the garnet brooch she’d pinned securely to her dress. She was glad she’d remembered where it must be for it had led Stian and her to
this time together. Life would have to go on but this idyl was most refreshing to her soul. She laughed again.
“What now?” Stian asked.
She rose and came to join him by the fire, slipping easily into his embrace. A week ago she never would have believed she’d not only welcome but crave this man’s touch. She hugged him tight around his narrow waist. She was no more than chin high on him, but of late his size seemed more protective than threatening to her.
“I was laughing at myself,” she told him. “Remembering my days at court and missing them not at al . Except my mother,” she added. “Her heart was ever with the queen but she spared as much love for us as she could.”
“It’s hard to miss a mother,” he said, and ran his hands through her unbound hair.
She thanked the saints the squire had brought a comb the day before. Probably at Edythe’s suggestion. Eleanor was certain her elder sister would never go without the comforts of life, no matter what wild adventure befel her.
“Do you miss your mother very much?”
She asked the question gently and wasn’t surprised when he stiffened in her embrace. For a moment she expected him to push her away, but sighed with
relief when he drew her closer instead.
“I miss her,” he said.
She knew from his tone that it would not be good to ask any more questions on that matter. She suspected his father’s relationship with her sister had something to do with it.
“I’l miss my aunt as wel .”
“Miss Dame Beatrice?” she asked. She looked at him questioningly.
“She’s leaving Harelby.”
Eleanor wasn’t surprised but she didn’t say so to Stian. “Where does she go? With David of Ayrfel .”
He shook his head. “No. He tried to get her to leave with him, I’m told. She’s chosen to enter Honcourt Abbey instead. That’s five miles or so from
Harelby,” he added before she could ask. “Five miles closer to the border though.”
Eleanor would not be sorry to have Beatrice go, but she hated the thought that it was Edythe and her who had driven the woman from her home. “When
does she leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
So, the idyl was to be over even sooner than she’d hoped. Eleanor stepped away from Stian to look around, at the cave mouth, the pool, the trees with their fresh, spring-green leaves, the fire where the smoke was heavy with the scent of cooking meat. She thought she could make out the dark fur of
Stian’s wolf cautiously watching them from back in the trees.
“This is a pleasant place to be,” she told her husband. “But we best go back in time to say goodbye to Dame Beatrice.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “We’l come back soon,” he told her. “This is my place. Our place now.”
She smiled up at him. “Soon,” she agreed. “And next time we’l bring a mattress.”
He laughed. “Weakling.” He drew her toward the fire. “Come, let’s have breakfast.”
* * * * *
“How can I think of something when I don’t know what it is?” Beatrice snapped back.
Roger refused to be rankled by her tone but smiled benignly over her head. The hal was empty but for the pair of them, standing near the foot of the tower stair. It was time for morning Mass but he’d wanted to have a few minutes alone with his sister-in-law before she left.
He heard footsteps and turned as his daughter-in-law came down the last turning of the staircase. “You’re rising late, my dear,” he told her.
“Aye,” she agreed, ducking her head as her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “And Stian woke just as I was leaving,” she added. “I should hurry. It’s been days since I heard Mass.”
He put out a hand to stop her when she would have slipped away. “Stay a moment and answer a question for Dame Beatrice.”
She looked inquiringly at the other woman. “Yes?”
It was Roger who said, “Explain to her about garderobes. Edythe proposed building one to me,” he added, and got a mighty scowl from Beatrice for his
words.
Eleanor continued to look embarrassed as she tucked her hands in her sleeves. “’Tis like a slops pail, only more so,” she explained. “A smal chamber
with a seat, with a hole in it, where one sits and—relieves oneself. You see.”
Beatrice shook her head. “I don’t want to see. It sounds disgusting.”
“Not if it’s built properly,” Roger said. “I’ve used them in French castles. If the hole’s deep enough to reach a moat, everything gets washed away.”
“And where would you dig such a hole at Harelby? In the hal , perhaps?”
Roger refused to lose his enthusiasm in the face of Beatrice’s harsh questioning. “No, no. It wil be simple enough to construct this garderobe in the spot where the tower joins the curtain wal . It’l take a bit of work and rebuilding, but by fal we’l have the thing done.” He glanced toward the hearth, letting his gaze travel up to where the smoke failed to exit through the roof louvers. “Then perhaps we’l consider this new thing cal ed a chimney.”
Eleanor smiled at his comment but Beatrice only frowned al the more, and said, “Thankful y I’l not be here to see such changes. I like Harelby just the way it is.”
“Al things change, my dear,” Roger reminded her softly.
Eleanor was surprised at the depth of meaning in Lord Roger’s words but she tried not to show her feelings. What was between these two people was no
business of hers, especial y since Beatrice would be leaving to take the veil within the hour. She did think she should leave them to their private farewel .
When she began to move away, it was Beatrice who said, “Stay. I’ve something to give you.”
This time Eleanor did not conceal her surprise. “Yes?”
Beatrice handed her a heavy pouch. When Eleanor looked inside she discovered the ring that held al the keys to Harelby’s storerooms. She stared
blankly at first Lord Roger then Dame Beatrice.
“Wel ?” the older woman demanded.
“Shal I give these to Edythe?” Eleanor asked. “She is the lady of—”
“I said they were for you, did I not?”
Eleanor looked imploringly at Lord Roger. “My lord, I—”
“Wil make a fine chatelaine.” He patted her on the head. “Edythe certainly thinks so.” He grinned. “She says she’d rather concentrate on caring for me instead of every soul at Harelby.”
“Hmmph,” was Beatrice’s comment to this. “It matters not which court girl takes the post,” she went on. “Neither knows anything of responsibility.”
Eleanor’s hand knotted around the keys as she fought the temptation to throw them in the woman’s face. She’d heard such words from Beatrice before
and not chal enged them. Now, she wanted to strike her.
Instead, she said, “I think I can find my way around the undercroft wel enough.
Queen Eleanor
makes certain the damsels under her tutelage are trained to manage their own households.
My mother
was in charge of such training in Poitiers.”
Beatrice was unmoved by her words. “This is not Poitiers, girl,” she answered coldly.
“So I have noticed,” Eleanor replied through clenched teeth.
Stian had told her that the woman was normal y cheerful and kind. Eleanor hoped life at the abbey would help restore Dame Beatrice’s good nature, for
the sake of peace among the nuns, if nothing else. She weighed the keys in her palm and found she was glad that she’d been given this responsibility.
She was glad Dame Beatrice was leaving and Edythe wanted none of the duties that went with her rank. Eleanor relished the chance to be useful, to be
out of the shadows. With Beatrice’s departure, she felt as if her own life was just beginning.
“I’l do my best,” she promised Lord Roger.
He patted her on the head again. “I trust you wil .” Dame Beatrice gave a sour frown and strode away toward the hearth. Lord Roger looked after her but he lingered by Eleanor to ask, “So, how wil you start as chatelaine?”
Half of her attention was on Stian, who she heard humming as he came down the stairs. She answered Lord Roger’s question as he came into view.
“First, I think I shal write my mother to tel her al that has passed since we left our father’s care.”
Lord Roger looked at her in grave silence while Stian came up and slipped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against her husband, easy in his
company. They exchanged a smile then she looked back at the lord of Harelby. His brows were drawn down in a frown.
“Yes, my lord?” she asked. “Is something amiss?”
He was silent a while longer, before he said, “I think it would be unwise for you to write your mother, child.”
It was Stian who asked incredulously, “But why?”
Eleanor understood, though the knowledge pained her. “My mother is with the queen and you are a king’s man,” she said to Roger. He nodded, and she
sighed. “Aye, my lord. As you wish.”
“But—” Stian began.
“Eleanor can contact her mother when times are less chancy,” Roger cut his son off. “We’l not discuss it.”
Eleanor showed Stian the chatelaine’s keys as Roger went off to join Dame Beatrice. “This wil keep me occupied enough,” she told him. “In truth, it
doesn’t matter,” she added as he continued to glare his displeasure at his father’s back.
“It matters,” he said.
She thought for a moment that he was going to fol ow his father to start a confrontation on her behalf. She shook her head, grateful but not wanting to be the source of tension between father and son. He gave her a long look then nodded.
“Lars is seeing Aunt Beatrice to the abbey,” he said. “I think I’d better inspect his men and horses before they go. The Dane’s so addled by your sister it’s likely he’s had the men saddled and the horses issued new armor.”
She nodded her amused agreement as she ran her fingers through the assortment of keys. “And I must introduce myself to the steward,” she told him. She craned up to kiss him on the chin. “I’l see you at dinner—my sweet.” And hurried away, both embarrassed and elated to have spoken an endearment to
him for the first time.
* * * * *