By Right of Arms (35 page)

“I would not have them denied,” she said.

“Father Algernon shares your concern. He wishes to ensure that our gates be opened to the clerics. Perhaps you should draw out your hidden silver, my lady, for I will not have this estate thrown into ruin because of the begging Church. A man cannot praise God if he dies of starvation.” He looked at her scarlet cheeks. “Yea, my lady, I know you have hidden away some pittance, but I allow you that. If you think you save against my indiscretion, do so. I’m sure it was necessary with Giles.”

“How long have you suspected that?”

“Since I arrived,” he said with a shrug. “It is unimportant, since you do not steal from me until you attempt to take it out of De la Noye. Now that I will punish.”

She frowned slightly, curious at the ease with which he accepted this. “You are no longer afraid that I shall flee?”

He smiled roguishly. “You are a stubborn woman, but not stupid. And, we have common purpose.” He let his eyes drift over her reclining form, burning a lusty path from the top of her head to her bare feet. “And many common desires.”

She reached obliquely and threw a small stuffed pillow at him. “I am unwell and you bother me with your rutting ways.”

He fended off the pillow easily and laughed in good humor. He tucked his gauntlets into his belt and went to the door. “Go lightly today, Aurélie. ’Tis my pleasure you are meant to serve. Let the hearth go unscoured and floors unswept. I shall tell Perrine you have need of another woman.”

“Hyatt, what will you tell the priest?”

“I think I shall let him make his request again and again before I answer. Perhaps I shall find out why this journey is so important to him.”

She smiled brightly. “That would have been my suggestion.”

“Do you see?” he asked, opening the door. “We are very much alike, except that I am not as stubborn as you.”

He left then and Aurélie lounged for a moment, hugging a pillow closely. She mused on how he spoiled her, then pretended that he was only being wise, not indulging. There was no mistaking the warm glow of passion in his eyes when he studied her. And whether he took her advice or not, he sought even her wisdom in combination with his own to manage this castle.

She jumped in surprise as a stray castle cat jumped up on her bed, and once recognizing the golden-furred creature as the same one who had chased a mouse through their chamber earlier, she gave the feline friend a gentle petting.

“Do you see how he tends to me?” she asked the cat. “Is it true, Puss, that his horse can attest to the same comforts, or do you think I lie gently on the harsh knight’s mind? He claims that he looks forward to another son, but when first we met he told me it was fortunate that I was barren, for he desired no more children.” She laughed happily. “Oh, the fierce warrior wishes to keep secret his true passions, and so we shall allow. He does not speak the words, but I begin to hear them just the same.”

As if a cloud passed over, Aurélie’s face darkened with grimness. Her hand trembled slightly as she touched her abdomen, for she was overcome with nausea. Her brow began to perspire and she swallowed convulsively. When she lay very still and breathed deeply, the ill feeling began to subside slowly. It was not constant, but for nearly a week she had been plagued by spells of nausea and weakness.

She was afraid to move from the bed, although she felt better almost as quickly as she had become ill. She knew women frequently suffered with this illness early in their pregnancies, and other problems like puffiness and backaches and headaches assailed some women as their time drew near. But it was commonly believed that the time after the child had begun to stir and before the day of confinement was near was the most comfortable. She was frightened by these spells, afraid that something was wrong, that she might not bring the child to life.

The cat stirred beside her and stretched. Aurélie rubbed the cat’s stomach abstractly. “Pray God I do not fail in this, since I have longed for a child. It would make my husband proud. I do not admit this to anyone but you, but I wish to make him proud. I wish to have him love me.”

* * *

Aisla dallied in the garden, sniffing a flower, humming, and generally trying to keep herself far from the work. She was Thea’s opposite; short, plump, dark-haired, and giggly. They looked a bit odd together, since Thea was slim and had such sharp features and reddish-gold hair and was commonly known to have a sour expression on her face.

Aisla longed for Thea’s company. Faon cared nothing about tidy rooms, cleanliness, or the keeping of her clothes. The only thing that Faon was fussy about was being seductively dressed to draw Hyatt’s eye, and it took no time at all to help her dress. Then Thea and Aisla were free to roam about, flirt with Hyatt’s men, gambol across the fields and gardens, and play tricks on the other servants.

Aisla, at four and ten, was two years junior to Thea, but they had been like sisters since Faon collected them into her service nearly three years ago. For the first time Thea was occupied with real work, for Aurélie would not let her have an idle moment. It was much easier to escape work with someone than alone. Aisla was lonely and bored.

“Aisla!”

She jumped at the sharp sound of her name. She turned to see Faon striding toward her, an irritated grimace on her face.

“There you are, you lazy whore. Here,” she said, thrusting a tray of food toward Aisla. “Her royal ladyship, Aurélie, is sick abed today and I was told to have this tray of midday food delivered to her. You were nowhere to be found and I’ll not wait on her myself. Take it to the lady’s rooms, and mind you, do not be tempted by it yourself or you’ll be beaten.”

“Lady Aurélie is sick?”

“Aye, so it goes. There’s a deal of fluttering and complaining and worrying about the witch when she’s down. Perrine can’t keep her mind on Derek and I don’t have anyone else. Now you take this tray and don’t you
dare
touch it. Leave it with the lady to eat at her leisure. Then you go back to my rooms and you stay there until I tell you otherwise. Now I mean to look for you; you had better mind for once or I’ll slap you obedient.”

Aisla curtsied nervously. “Is Sir Hyatt with her?”

“Nay, Hyatt does not care for women’s troubles. He’s ridden off with his men.” Faon grunted derisively. “He does not even bid his own brother faretheewell. Now get on with you; I’ve had enough of your flighty ways.”

“Aye, madame.”

Aisla took the tray quickly through the hall and up the stairs. She knocked hopefully on the chamber door and grinned when Thea answered it.

“What have you got?” Thea asked.

Aisla peered past Thea into the room, seeing no one within. “I was told the lady was sick abed.”

“Humph,” Thea smirked. “She was for a time, and a fitful morning it was. She was in a high-flown temper about the way I’d put away her clothes and threatened me with every curse in the land. ‘I don’t have much, but what I have will be taken care of proper or I’ll give the job to someone who can do it,’ she says to me. Then she puts the little girl to teach me the task. Then she says that she’ll show me how to scrub pots, since I can’t take care of a lady’s dresses. And then …”

“She does not sound sick,” Aisla said.

“She does not seem sick. Not too sick to growl and curse. Then she says that if I scrub pots as bad as I clean her bedchamber I can shovel horse dung, since the good fellow who did that ran off.” Thea grimaced. “I would ferry off, if this heathen place weren’t so bad with soldiers.”

Aisla shrugged. “What do I do with this?”

Thea thought for a moment. “She’s gone up to the looms with her little brat, Baptiste. It might serve to ease up her bad temper if I take it to her. Let me.” Thea took the tray from Aisla and flashed a rare smile. “When I come back, help me straighten her gowns, Aisla.”

“I can’t. Mistress Faon yelled at me, too. She told me to get back to her rooms and wait for her and said if I didn’t, I’d get a beating.” Aisla shuddered suddenly. “The whole castle’s gone mad.”

“At least the women,” Thea agreed, closing the chamber door and walking past Aisla with the tray.

Thea walked slowly up to the next level of the castle to the room where six looms stood and several women gathered daily for weaving. She thought about what she would say and how she would win Aurélie’s favor. Thea had begun to hate the lady. She was not only difficult to please, but almost daily Faon pulled Thea aside to question her about the events that took place behind Aurélie’s bedchamber door, and there was nothing to tell.

There was Thea’s greatest burden; she could not please either mistress. Her work was not good enough for Aurélie, and Faon was becoming more angry each day, for Thea had no conspiracies to report. She had never felt more alone.

She kicked a stray cat that had followed the smell of food out of the way and went into the weaving room. Aurélie sat on a stool beside an active loom and pulled a piece of yarn between her finger and thumb. The cast of the lady’s skin had a grayish pallor and Thea almost felt pity, for she did not look well. But then jealousy sprang up anew, for Perrine stood close by with Derek hanging onto her skirts, guarding her old mistress. Faon had fallen far from her post of importance, which put Thea farther still.

Thea checked her snappish mood and approached Aurélie. “My lady, I have brought you food. If you will not stay abed, you must at least eat.”

Aurélie looked up in surprise. “How very thoughtful of you, Thea. That is a high virtue: to anticipate the needs of others.”

Thea tried to smile and, holding the tray with one hand, drew back the cloth that covered the food. A cup of spiced wine and a bowl of caudled brewis emitted a luscious aroma of herbs and meat, but the lady blanched white at the sight and smell and clutched her stomach.

“Take it away, Thea. I am sorry, but I can’t even abide the …” Her hand rose quickly to her mouth and she blinked her eyes tightly closed, fighting for control.

Perrine dashed forward, her face wrought with worry and impatience. “You heard the lady, miss. Get the stuff out of here. At once!” Perrine roughly pushed her out of the way and at once all those nearby bent over Aurélie, fussing and petting her.

Thea backed out of the room, near tears. She hated this heathen place. She had been separated from her only friend and there was no possible way to win favor. She had expected her show of concern to at least get thanks, and if not that, some demonstration of acceptance. Instead, she was treated as if she’d done something wrong. Such injustice hurt her pride and brought a new swell of anger.

She went back to Aurélie’s bedchamber and plopped down on the bed in a huff. She still held the tray on her lap and the same pesty cat jumped brazenly onto the bed. “She gives me more work than I can do and doesn’t care if I get a meal. No concern for the lowly servants, no thanks for what is done well, but great scorn for any minor mistake.” She picked up a crust of bread from the tray and nibbled on it and the cat meowed, begging. “What’s the difference; she won’t touch it. I may as well have it.”

Thea dipped the bread in the bowl of brewis and lifted the mug of spiced wine. She chewed ravenously, gulped the liquid to wash down her mouthful and dipped the bread again. Her spine stiffened suddenly and her features hardened in pained wonder. A searing fire spread from her throat to her stomach and her whole body was gripped in a spasm of horror. The tray fell from her lap and crashed onto the floor while Thea’s hands gripped her belly and she rolled back onto the bed, groaning in a vicious and sudden agony. But the pain was short-lived and her limbs relaxed as she lay still.

* * *

Aurélie swayed slightly on the stool and Perrine caught her shoulders.

“This is such foolery, madame. There is little sense in pretending you are not ill. You must heed Hyatt and go back to bed.”

Aurélie recovered herself and tried to sit upright. “This is so difficult for me to understand, Perrine. What is this strange illness that comes and goes? Will I lose this child that I carry?”

“Thus far you have had no trouble carrying the babe and ’tis my thinking that you’ve had a piece of bad food and it will pass. How can you hope to recover from this spell if you do not rest? Come back to your bed and let me fix you a balm.”

“Perhaps you are right. But you will have to find something for Thea to do outside of my chamber, for the girl tests my wrath. I went in search of a wrapper this morn and found my clothes stuffed into the coffer, nothing laundered, folded, mended, or even put in its proper place.” She sighed. “I thought to give her my clothing to keep would be the simplest chore.” Baptiste touched Aurélie’s shoulder and the latter looked up at her with grateful eyes. “And this little one works so hard to cover Thea’s laziness.”

“Come along, my lady,” Perrine urged. “To bed.”

Aurélie nodded in assent, a look of defeat on her drawn features. She stood and took a step and the room immediately began to sail around her in a wild spinning motion. Her sense of balance was gone and her stomach lurched in wretched nausea. She stumbled and swooned, and Perrine caught her.

“Lay her down here and get a blanket and pillow.” With the help of the other women they rested Aurélie on the floor. There were several women present and much fluttering about made for a chaotic scene while they fashioned a pallet for their mistress. Aurélie closed her eyes until the room stilled somewhat and she felt safe in opening them. Perrine knelt on the floor beside her. “We shall not attempt the stairs, lass. You lie here until a strong man able enough to carry you can be found.”

“Perrine … I am afraid. What if I should lose the child?”

“None of that, sweetheart. You lie still and let me take care of you. All will be well.”

“Perrine,” she whimpered. “Don’t … forget Derek. He could fall down the stairs or hurt himself on a loom.”

No sooner did Aurélie mention the lad than she noticed him crouched on the floor right beside her. He looked at her most curiously, as if he could not understand the reason for a woman to lie supine on the floor. He reached out a chubby little hand to touch her wimple.