The Traitor's Daughter (6 page)

Alais’ mother lay on a truckle bed, in the merchant’s
business room, attended by a servant. Her face was lined with pain and she
shifted uneasily in the bed as she tried to find a more comfortable position.
Alais knelt beside her and took her hand as the priest began to intone the last
rites. It was impossible to see the nature or extent of her injuries and Alais
found herself agreeing with Hugh’s assessment of the care Lady Eleanor had
received. From their fragrances, she recognised the herbs that had been used to
treat her mother. Their harmony inclined her to believe that they were the
correct ones. The usual stench of sickness was absent and Alais was grateful
that Hugh had brought Lady Eleanor to people who were concerned to ease her
passage to heaven and had taken care to ensure that her last hours were as
comfortable and pleasant as possible.

Lady Eleanor’s eyes flickered open and she smiled at the
sound of the words she had heard said over so many of her children. She had few
sins to confess and eventually the priest left them alone, going, with Hugh’s
permission, to other similarly afflicted households. Lady Eleanor recognised
her daughter and had enough strength to squeeze her hand and Alais smiled down
at her. Having received the last rites, Lady Eleanor was serene. Alais knew
that her mother could have nothing to fear on judgement day and could only look
forward to a reunion with her husband. At least Alais had that reassurance. She
had no idea how much time passed while she sat there. They were both silent.
Alais could think of nothing to say to her mother;  there seemed to be both too
much and too little to say, but Lady Eleanor had one last piece of advice for
her daughter, “Be a good wife,” was all she said, before she died.

“I will, mother, I promise.” Alais leaned over to kiss
her mother’s brow.

There was a sound at the door and Alais looked up to see
Hugh standing just outside the room. She beckoned him in. “She is dead,” she
said quietly.

Hugh reached out and gently touched her hand with his
own. “May God rest her soul.”  He kept his hand there for a moment and they shared
the silence.

“I thought it best,” he said, softly, as if afraid to
waken Lady Eleanor, “that we bury her at Hill. I am sorry it is so far away
from your home, but she will be cared for there.”

Alais nodded, it mattered little to her where her
mother’s body lay. Her father’s body had not been returned to them, so Lady
Eleanor could not lie beside him. There was not time enough to arrange to have
her taken back to Leigh. Her own journey to Liss could not be altered. There
was no one at Leigh who would mourn her passing more than Alais herself. Now
she would no longer hear her mother’s voice telling the children stories in the
winter, or singing songs and leading dances in the summer. Lady Eleanor would
no longer stand beside her and tell her how to make cream, or cheese, or to sew
neatly. “Thank you,” she said, turning her attention back to the knight. “That
was a kind thought.”

It was unexpected that this stranger should take such
care of her. Hill had seemed to be such a well-run property, that she was sure
her mother would have liked it had she known it and would be content for her
body to rest there.

“My own mother is buried at Hill,” said Hugh hesitantly.

“Did she die here then?”

“No, she died at Liss. But she loved it here. I asked
them to dig a grave beside her for your mother.”

Alais smiled wearily. What did it matter where her
mother’s body was now that her soul was in heaven?

“The cart should be here soon,” he said, offering her
his hand and helping her to rise.

“I should like to thank the family for taking such good
care of her,” said Alais.

“Of course.”

Hugh had been watching Lady Alais while she had sat at
her mother’s bedside. He had approved her obvious devotion to her mother and
the calm way she had sat beside her whilst waiting for her to die. As he
watched he had reflected bitterly on his own sister’s lack of dignity at their
mother’s deathbed. Perhaps Marguerite would allow herself to be influenced for
the better by Alais. Although married, she still spent a lot of time at Liss
and Alais’ presence there must make a great difference in all their lives.

As he put out his hand to help her rise from the stool
where she had been sitting, he noticed a bag at the bottom of the bed. “Is that
your mother’s?”

Alais turned to see where he was pointing. Her eyes
filled with tears, but otherwise, she maintained her composure. She swallowed
before she was able to speak. “She brought one of my father’s books with her.
She always brought something of his when we travelled.”

Hugh picked up the bag and gave it to her, wondering
that something so precious had escaped yesterday’s destruction. Alais clutched
the bag to her chest as if she expected him to try and snatch it back. The
tears that she had struggled to hold back could be restrained no longer. Unthinkingly,
Hugh held her close as she began to sob and the depth of feeling that she had
controlled so well burst from her.

Her body seemed so small compared to his and he felt
sure the sobs that wracked her body must break her. Nobody could be strong
enough to bear this, certainly not this small young woman suddenly left alone
so far from home.

Hugh was aware of nothing but the sound of her sobs and
the shaking of her body against his. He stroked her back gently, waiting for
her to regain her calm.

Alais’ grief was more violent than he had expected, but
more dignified. He wished he could take some of her grief on himself, but it
was not possible. He could only support her and comfort her. Eventually, she
pulled away from him.

“Thank you.” Her voice shook, but she had regained her
composure. Hugh held out an arm in case she should need it to steady herself,
but she ignored it and stood calmly beside him. She pulled a hand across her
eyes to wipe away the tears and then looked him in the eye.

“I shall be pleased to tell your father of your
kindness.”

Her words went through him like a sword and he knew that
that had been her intention. For a moment he had forgotten who she was. He
would have to watch that over the next few days. Afraid that she could see into
his soul, he tore his eyes away.

“It is of no matter.” Even to his own ears his voice was
dead and flat. “Come, the family are upstairs.”

This time Hugh led her up some narrow stairs into the
bedroom at the front of the house. A middle-aged man stood and a woman,
doubtless Dame Margaret, sat on one side of a large bed, on which a young man
lay, looking lost in its huge expanse. He was very pale, but breathing
steadily. He seemed to be asleep rather than unconscious and Alais could tell
that he should make a good recovery. She smiled encouragingly at the parents.
The man crossed the room to her and gathered her hands up in his own. “I am
sorry about your mother.” He was sincere in his sympathy.

“Thank you,” she said, simply. “And I shall pray for your
son.” The man said nothing, then swallowed. “There is much grief in this town
today,” he said.

“Yes,” agreed Alais.

“But many of the Frenchies will not be going home again,
either,” said the woman angrily, although Alais could tell that she took no comfort
from that thought.

“You took good care of my mother and I shall not forget.
I shall send a message to my steward and he will send you some things that may
be difficult to obtain here for a while.” She looked at Hugh and he nodded his
agreement to send a messenger. She would have control of her estate for only a
short time, but she could at least try to repay this family for what they had
done for her.

“You do not need to pay us, my lady.”

 The man looked towards his wife, who shook her head.

“No, it is only given in thanks. Much was destroyed here
and I think you will find it hard this winter.”

“Then I thank you for your kindness, my lady.”

Hugh stepped forward and took her arm as she took her
leave. They walked out to the street and Hugh gave instructions to the carter
who had now returned from the hospital.

“My Lord,” began Alais, hesitantly, as he led her
towards her horse. “I should like to return to the house of Roger and
Margaret.” When she saw him about to refuse she added, “I should like to bury
my mother properly, with her own things and I will need another dress. This one
is not fit to wear.”

He considered for a moment, his expression sombre. “I
doubt there is much left, Lady Alais, but we will see what we can find.” She
was glad that he understood her need to do things properly for her mother.

He helped her mount again and then led her confidently
through the maze of streets. It was only when he indicated that they had
arrived that she recognised the street. Some of the houses had been razed to
the ground; those that remained were still smoking. They entered the remains of
Roger’s house. There was little there. The roof and the first floor had been
burned away. Alais had been afraid that they would see the bodies of her
friends, but there was no one there, living or dead.

They searched as far as they could, but whatever might
have survived the fire had not survived the looting. There was no sign of Lady
Eleanor’s two travelling chests and little else remained in the ruins.

Alais turned to Hugh, “Roger and Margaret?”

He looked away from her for a moment and she thought he
must already know their fate and was keeping it from her.

“I will find out what happened to them.”

“Thank you. Roger is our… my steward’s brother and they
have always looked after us when we have travelled here.”

She took a step towards him and missed her footing over
a fallen beam. Immediately she was in Hugh’s arms, clasped tightly to his
chest.

“Are you hurt?” She felt the words rather than heard
them, so closely did he hold her to his chest.

“No, merely startled.” She wondered why it had suddenly
become hard to breathe. Alais felt wonderfully secure. Never had she known
anything like this. Surely no danger in the world could touch her. She was
close enough to him to feel the beating of his heart, which seemed to be
getting faster even as she clung to him, as if the effort of supporting her was
too much for him, or as if he were afraid of something. Lost in the sudden
security, she had forgotten that she had no reason to hold on to him and.
remembering, let go.

“Not so fast, my lady. I was foolish not to realise
sooner, but the footing is not safe. Please stay close.” With that, he put an
arm round her waist and pulled her gently to his side. Automatically, she
placed her hand over his to ensure her balance. He opened his fingers slightly
and, hesitantly, she entwined her own through his. At that, he seemed satisfied
and he led her slowly and safely back into the street. Still he held on to her
and she was unwilling to leave his side. The sudden intimacy shocked her, but
she enjoyed his touch. Her small hand could not begin to cover his, but their
closeness seemed to please him, too.

Slowly and carefully he turned so that he was looking
into her face. She thought he seemed a little flushed and was breathing
slightly faster than usual. He must be more affected by his exhaustion than
either of them had realised. “Please do not worry about the burial. I am sure I
will have something suitable for your mother at the manor. As for your own
clothes...” He paused, looking down at her. “Yes, I think you and Isabella are
of a like size. You may have something of hers.”

“Thank you.” Isabella must be his wife. Suddenly the
pleasure she had felt at being in his care disappeared. Alais wondered briefly
where Isabella was, then realised that she must be at Liss joining in the
preparations for her own arrival.

Alais was taken by a sudden desire to leave the town as
soon as possible. It was a place that she had been used to associate with
plenty and with her mother and now it had become a place of disaster for so
many, including herself.

“Is there anything else you need here?” Hugh’s voice was
gentle as he finally untangled their hands.

“No, thank you. There is nothing here for me any more.”

“Let us get back to Hill, then, there will be much to do
before your mother’s burial.”

He helped Alais up on to her horse and they left the
devastation of the town behind as quickly as possible.

Hill seemed quiet to Alais now that all the townspeople
had left and the servants were all that remained. Edmund came out of the house
to greet them. Since Matthew was still looking after his daughter, he had taken
it upon himself to carry out some of the steward’s duties. He seemed so
cheerful about it that Alais wondered, briefly, whether he might not be happier
as a steward, rather than following his master into battle. It seemed strange
to her that a soldier would be so keen to play the part of steward. Edmund led
them both into the hall, where they had a light meal. Alais was not able to eat
much; she knew what must follow that afternoon.

When they had eaten, Hugh gave Alais parchment and pen
and ink and she wrote to Martin, her own steward at Leigh, explaining what had
happened and asking him to send some provisions that she listed to Cuckoo Lane.
She also wrote a brief letter to her uncle, which contained more details about
her mother’s death and her own intention to carry on to Liss. Once she had
written the letters, Hugh gave them to one of the servants, giving him directions
to Leigh.

By the time the carter had arrived a trestle table had
been set up in the screened off room and Lady Eleanor’s body was laid to rest
there. Hugh brought out a plain linen shift and a richly embroidered dress.
“These were my mother’s,” he explained, “I hope they will do.”

Alais was astounded at his generosity. “You are too
good, my lord. I have no right to expect this.”

“Your mother died in my protection,” he raised his hand
to stop her protest. “This is the least I can do.”

He had also brought coins to be put in Lady Eleanor’s
mouth as well as a shroud.

“How many servants will you need?”

“Just one.” At his enquiring glance she added, “I have
done this many times before. All of my brothers and sisters are dead. I helped
prepare many of them for burial.” Hugh looked relieved. “If it is possible, I
should like Sarah to help me.” Alais was sure that Sarah would have done this
before and would assist quietly and respectfully. She wondered if Hugh guessed
that she wanted to steal Sarah away from him and his wife and have her come to
Liss. It was obvious to her that Hugh’s wife did not make any use of Sarah’s
skills as a lady’s maid. It was possible that she had brought her own maid with
her on her marriage. She turned her attention back to Hugh; this was not the
time to be thinking about domestic arrangements at Liss.

Hugh nodded, “Yes, I intended that she should aid you.
She has some experience and will not chatter or be disrespectful.”

Alais went behind the screen and began to undress her
mother’s body. She wept freely as she saw the many wounds and understood a part
of what her mother must have suffered. She was joined shortly by Sarah, who
carried water and herbs and cloths for washing the body. Alais noted that Sarah
took almost as much care as she herself did and soon she admitted that her
mother was well-prepared for her final journey.

They placed the coins in Lady Eleanor’s mouth and sweet
smelling herbs on her body, then dressed her in the clothes Hugh had provided.
Then they wrapped her in the shroud. Alais thanked Sarah and stepped around the
screen. Hugh was sitting in his chair and stood as soon as he saw her. She
wondered briefly how long he had been there. He had changed into clean clothes
and, although he had not had time to bathe, his face and hands were clean.

“All is done,” she said.

“Not quite.” He held out a small object. It was a small,
gold bracelet with tiny pieces of amber dotted on it. “Unless you bury her with
your book, she will have nothing of her own to go with her.”

“I had thought to bury the book with her, although it is
precious to me because of my father.”

“Then take this and bury it with her. It will serve to
show her station in the resurrection.”

Alais recognised the power of the amber bracelet, but
its value troubled her.

“My lord, you know that I cannot repay you for this.”

“My lady, I do not expect payment. It is no more than my
duty to care for two women under my protection, although I was no protection
for Lady Eleanor.”

“My lord!” she exclaimed, “There can be no blame for you
in this. You were not then our protector. We were to meet you at midday. The
raid started some hours before that.”

“My lady, I know the measure of my responsibility and
guilt in this and you do not. There is nothing that you can do or say to make
it any less.”

He could not look at her. Even in the short time of
their acquaintance, Alais had learned that that meant he was profoundly
troubled. She stepped forward and took his hand and waited for him to look at
her. When he did she pronounced, “Know, Sir Hugh de Liss, that I, Lady Alais de
Montjoye, absolve you from any blame in the death of Lady Eleanor de Montjoye.”

Hugh fell on one knee before her and kissed her hand. He
raised his eyes to her face. “My lady, you may absolve me, but my heart condemns
me. Nonetheless I thank you for your generosity.”

She shook her head, feeling her eyes blur with tears.
“My lord, you can have no blame in my mother’s death. My mother was not yet
under your protection. She did not blame you and I do not blame you. You could
not have known that the French would invade.”

“I should have taken more care for your journey and been
there when your servants left.”

“My lord, it would have changed nothing, save that you
would have been in church with us and might have died yourself.”

“Then it would have been an honourable death.” He looked
away from her again.

Alais had no response. There could be no response. Hugh
had taken the blame for her mother’s death upon himself and nothing she could
say would change his mind.

“Then allow me to thank you for my life.”

He lifted his face to hers again.

“Those two men would have killed me, or worse.”

“It was my duty to protect you, Lady Alais.”

“But you did not know who it was you saved.”

“A knight must always protect those weaker than himself.”

“I am grateful, nonetheless.”

Hugh seemed satisfied with this and stood.

“It is time for the burial.”

He called and some servants came to carry Lady Eleanor’s
body to the church.

Hugh led Alais from the house and along the short path
to the church. As they walked, Hugh pointed out the grave of his mother. Beside
it was a newer grave.

“My sister, Isabella,” explained Hugh. “She died last
year in childbirth. She was fourteen and I had not even noticed that she had
become a woman.”

“Why does she lie here and not in her husband’s manor?”
It was an impertinent question, but it was out of her mouth before she realised
that she was going to ask it. Isabella was not his wife, then, but his sister.
This small fact made Alais even more curious. He had told her nothing about his
wife, but only about his sister and his mother. Why did he not speak of her?
Was he hiding something or was she such a part of his life that he felt no need
to speak of her, especially to a stranger?

“Her husband was a friend of my father’s, much older
than her. He died before anyone even knew she was with child and his son did
not want to wait until Isabella died of old age to have his inheritance.” He
stopped, as if aware of the similarities between his own situation and that of
his sister’s stepson.

“She was very young,” encouraged Alais, “perhaps she did
not know how to stand up for herself.”

“She never needed to before she was married. I looked
after her. She was married when I was away with the king, otherwise I should
have stopped it. Isabella was always laughing and happy, but she began to die
the moment she married that man. The son sent her home, although he had no
right. There was no one to gainsay him. It was winter and she suffered much
from the journey. We looked after her at Liss, but the child came early and
they both died.”