A True and Perfect Knight (25 page)

“We are in the gatehouse. It was the only shelter left standing.”

“How do we know it was Daffydd who did this?”

“I am not certain. I suppose Owain might know, or Soames.”

“Soames? Soames has arrived?”

“
Oui
, and the castle-builder with him.”

“Good. I must speak with them and Owain immediately.”

“Nay, husband. First you will eat. Then you will rest. And after that, if you are strong enough, you may have a short visit with your men.”

“But…”

“
Non.
You are in no condition to gainsay me. Food first.”

He glared at her.

Gennie smiled,

A moment later, a crone entered the chamber carrying a tray.

“Good, our meal is here.” Gennie took the tray and set it on the floor near Haven’s bed. The beldam honored Haven with a nod and a long look, then jabbered at Gennie in a mixture of Welsh and English.

Gennie shook her head. “
Non.
I can manage alone.” She turned to Haven. “Husband, this is Gwyneth. You owe her your life, for when you lay sick and I could do nothing to help you, she offered her herbs and her skill, and asked only a place by your fire in return. I promised it to her, of course. ’Twas a small price for my husband’s life.”

Edward’s order to keep the Welsh from Two Hills Keep sprang to Haven’s mind. Gennie’s statement bothered him so much that he didn’t even protest over the sops that she fed him. When he was done, he lay back and closed his eyes. He was tired. Soames and Owain would have to wait. He blinked against pain and frustration. How could he tell Gennie she must put Gwyneth out in the cold?

Chapter Twenty

Gennie lowered the tapestry and left her husband asleep.

Gwyneth would return in a moment and watch over him. With swift strides she descended the gatehouse stair and crossed to where Thomas watched Owain and Arthur supervise work on the last of the holes in the curtain wall. Her son circled a wide stick around the inner edge of a large vat.

“Look, Mama, I am helping to build the wall.”

“You look very busy, Thom. What is it you do?”

“I am stirring the mortar. It makes the stones stick together.”

“That sounds like a very important job.”

“It is.” He nodded seriously. “Arthur says if the mortar isn’t stirred well, it won’t work right, and the stones will all fall down.”

“Then I am very proud that he chose you to do the job.”

“Aye, milady. The lad has been a great help.” Owain spoke, approaching with Arthur on his heels.

“I thank you for your care of him, Owain. I’ve been so busy…”

“There is no need, Lady Genvieve. We all know where your attention has been and would not have it otherwise. Would we, Thomas?” The sergeant-at-arms bent, bringing Thomas into the conversation.

“I had rather Sir Haven weren’t sick at all.”

Gennie knelt beside her son. “Well, I’ve good news, then. He is much better. Today he sat up and ate all his food.”

“I eat all my food.”

“Yes, you do, sweetling. And you are a good boy.”

“Arthur, my arms are tired. May I stop stirring now? I want to play with Caesar.”

Arthur looked to Owain, who answered. “Aye, young Thomas, but leave the stick in the vat and ask Bergen to take your place before you go.”

“Thank you.” He let go of the stick and flew across the bailey to where Bergen sat outside the wrecked stables.

Gennie surveyed the yard. Much had been accomplished, but much more remained to be done. The curtain wall neared completion, but they still had no real shelter other than the gatehouse.

Arthur reached for her elbow. “Excuse us please, Owain. I would consult with Lady Genvieve on the repairs to the keep itself.”

Owain nodded and returned to his work. Gennie and Arthur moved toward the keep’s tower. Wooden structures had been added to prevent the broken walls from toppling further, but the huge space still gaped.

“You have done so much in such a short time, Pwyll.”

“Aye, but I cannot proceed until I know what Sir Haven wants. I also seek your opinions on some matters of comfort.”

“I will be most happy to assist in any way that I can.”

“The basic plan here is good. The kitchens and stables are far enough from the tower for safety, but close enough for convenience and easy defense. With your permission, I will rebuild the out buildings on their original foundations.”

“With the exception of the stables and the kitchens, I approve.”

“What changes do you suggest?”

“I wish the main kitchen where it is, but I would like you to add a small keeping room on the lowest level of the tower. I would have a place to warm foods before they are brought to table.”

The castle builder’s eyes lit. “That sounds ideal, milady.

“’Twill give me a chance to try building a chimney instead of a central fire pit.”

“Is that not dangerous?”

“Nay, milady. The fire pit is actually more dangerous.”

“Then why have them?”

“Until recently we did not know how to build the chimneys needed to vent a fire placed against a wall.”

“It sounds cold and drafty to me. The fire will heat one side of the hall and the other will lack heat.”

Arthur rubbed his chin. “We could put in a second chimney on the opposite side.”

“That, Pwyll, is a perfect idea. How long will it take to construct the chimneys and make the other repairs?”

“With the current number of laborers, I doubt we’ll finish before this time next year.”

“That long?”

“It could be longer, if the winter is early and harsh.”

“Is there any way to close off enough of the keep that the men and workers could have a dry place to sleep?”

“That could be done in a matter of weeks. It is the chimneys and the new walls that will take time.”

“And if you had more workers, you could do it faster?”

“With two hundred workers and ten skilled artisans, I could finish before winter this year.”

“Then I will find you more workers. Can you write me a list of the skilled men you will need?”

“Certainly. But where will you find enough men?”

“I do not know yet. But find them I will. Is there aught else you wish of me or need?”

“I want to know if you would like a solar or other private chambers.”

“A real solar?”

“Aye I know of no other type.” Arthur chuckled.

“Silly; I haven’t seen a solar since I left France. My…my first husband’s family was very old-fashioned, believing that privacy was vanity.”

“Do you agree?”

“
Non
, in France we had three private chambers. One for my parents, one for me and one for guests.”

“I could rebuild this keep with three private rooms, but four would be best and easier to do.”

Gennie smiled and hugged him. “Pwyll, you are a treasure.”

The young man’s face colored. “Yo-you mentioned the stables.”

“I must insist you consult with my husband before beginning work on the stables. He should be able to speak with you in a few days. And it might be best if you came prepared with some drawings. He has not seen the castle, nor the extent of the damages.”

“I understand completely, Lady Genvieve. Thank you for giving your advice on these matters.” The Welshman kissed her hand.

“You are most welcome, Pwyll. Now I have a few errands to run before I return to my husband’s bedside.”

He watched her go and shook his head. He had been unable to resist placing that small formal kiss upon her hand. You are a fool, Arthur Pwyll, he told himself.
The woman is not only married but clearly in love with her husband. Respect her, but do not touch her
, he reminded himself.

She was determined to torture him. Haven watched Gennie snuggle into the furs that made her bed on the opposite side of his sickroom. While Gennie touched him constantly, it was only to help him move or arrange his blankets. Neither her gestures nor her expressions hinted at passion. And Gwyneth still occupied the corner by the braiser. He wanted Gennie in his bed and the old woman gone.

The distance he felt growing between himself and his wife surprised him. He had not recognized what they shared as closeness. How had he come to admire her determination and the strength with which she faced the worst that life could hand her? When had he come to rely on her, to expect her sunny smiles and gentle touch? What had happened to the laughing temptress Gennie had revealed herself to be during their stay at Twynn? Had she recalled the barrier Roger’s death raised between them?

He had told no one of that terrifying voice from his delirium. The remembered whisper still haunted him. “Yes you do…you do love Gennie.” That thought frightened him more than the idea of lying sick in a keep still vulnerable to attack. Even worse, he could not say why. The nightmares had left with his fever, but the memory of Roger’s face on the scaffold had not. His words, “I cannot trust my wife,” as he begged Haven’s vow, those remained painfully fresh. Haven needed to talk with Gennie. But how could he, when she came near only to tend his wounds?

He sighed and shifted. The headaches had faded, and his pain had become a dull but constant twinge. Now his greatest hurt was one of the heart. He doubted whether he could heal it.

“Husband, are you well?” Gennie’s disembodied voice floated out of the dark.

“No,” he grumbled and shifted again. “I am not well at all.”

His wife emerged from the gloom and laid a hand on his brow. “You are not fevered. What troubles you?”

“My bed is empty. That troubles me mightily.”

Gennie looked at him and the bed. Confusion wrinkled her brow. “But you are in the bed, sir.”

His patience at an end, Haven grasped her wrist and tested his strength with a short tug on her arm.

She fell into his lap with a satisfactory gasp of surprise.

“Now, wife, my bed is no longer empty.”

“Oh.” She hesitated.

He could imagine her blushing.

“But what of Gwyneth?”

“Gwyneth is asleep. And since we shall sleep too, I do not see that Gwyneth is a problem.”

“But…”

“But what, wife?” His eyes searched her face in the dim light cast from the brazier.

“Nothing.” She shifted, placing herself under the covers and stretching along his side. “Nothing at all. Good night, husband.”

It was progress, he told himself. Content, but far from satisfied, Haven folded his arms under his head and closed his eyes. “Good night, wife.”

Gennie slapped a sodden shirt against a rock and pretended it was her husband’s head. The man was torturing her. During the day he was cranky and cross. Gwyneth decreed that Haven should not rise until all trace of pain disappeared. Haven argued with her, each then enlisting Gennie’s support. Gennie fled, taking refuge in chores that, as lady of the keep, she didn’t have to do. Today it was the wash.

But the nights were worse. At night Haven would shift and sigh, utter an occasional moan and shift again, until Gennie was forced from her bed to discover what ailed him. He would insist that he could not sleep without her near. She would lie down beside him, and they would both fall sleep. If that had been all, she might have tolerated it.

Two days ago, she had woken to the stroke of his fingers across her breast. She had elbowed him. He had grunted and turned over. The next night it had been her fingers that had wandered. Haven’s groans had awakened her, and she had snatched her hand away from their intimate clasp. This morning the heat from his hips pressing against her bottom had burned sleep away. He had been snoring. How her gown had twisted above her waist, she didn’t know. But she remained awake until he shifted in his sleep.

Thank heaven for Gwyneth’s presence, or Gennie might have given in to temptation and had her way with her husband. What kind of woman was she? The man had not yet left his sickbed. If she succumbed to her baser urges, he might not leave it for another se’enight.

Was this what Father Jonas meant when he said that one purpose of lust was to strengthen the bond of marriage begun with the vows into a love that would last a lifetime? How could that be, if Haven did not love her? Even if she did love him, he had denied any love for her. Shouted it in his delirium. Yet he still wanted her in his bed.

And what of her own unspoken fear that Haven would one day betray her as he had Roger? Were her husband forced to choose between wife and knightly duty, which would he pick?

Mayhap she should sleep in the other gate tower chamber with her sister-in-law and son. Doing so would certainly protect her heart, even while her body might ache for Haven’s touch. Although not fully recovered, Haven was much better now. He hardly needed both herself and Gwyneth keeping watch over him at night. Yes, that would be best.

She rose, leaving the remainder of the laundry to the Welsh women. They had come with their husbands, fathers and brothers when, at Gennie’s request, Gwyneth had spread the word that work could be found at Two Hills Keep. She nodded and called a farewell to the women, who nodded and smiled back.