Knight and the Witch 02 - A Summer Bewitchment (22 page)

“Holy Mother, as if there is not already enough to deal with!”

Magnus came behind her and clasped her shoulder, glad to feel that this burn of anger was not directed at him. “We shall manage. Do not let her trouble you, my lovely. We shall do well.”
Better this, far better, than a troop of knights and men at arms.

It was the Lady Astrid.

Riding in on a pure white palfrey, Lady Astrid was clearly intent on making an impression. She wore a golden gown, with long sweeping sleeves that trailed on the ground. Her maids were garbed in scarlet and cream, and her herald the same.

“No guards with her,” remarked Magnus. “Has she come with kinsman’s Richard’s blessing or not, I wonder? Is there a troop hiding or waiting behind, on the road?”

“She knows she need not fear you,” Elfrida replied, wishing she had not heard him earlier, talking to Peter
. People who listen in never learn good of themselves.
And did it matter? Magnus loved her in his way and of course he required an heir, what man did not? “I wish she were not here.”

“True for me also, my heart, but we must be fine hosts.”

“For the girls, also?”

Magnus gave her a steady look. “For them, too,” he said drily. “Now, you go the bath-house and ensure the girls are content and I will speak to the Templars. Then I shall greet the lady. Splendor in Christendom! I cannot wait to watch her face curdle when Tancred tells her that Rowena is found.”

“Look at her gown!” Elfrida knew she was lamenting over trifles but could not stop herself. Even after travel and dusty roads, Lady Astrid glittered like a new coin.
She is in gold and I cannot even clothe six girls.

Magnus hooked her off her feet, gave her a hard kiss and set her down, facing the bath-house. “I am on that,” he said cryptically, and strode off.

Elfrida sped to the bath-house. Before she opened the door, she heard giggles issuing from inside. Dare she hope that the youngsters were starting to look forward to being reunited with their families, rather than looking backward to their time spent with Silvester?

On the slow journey to Norton Mayfield the girls had spoken over and over about Silvester. Elfrida feared they were trying to convince themselves that he was still alive, although no one could have survived that fall into the dark yard and Magnus himself had told them Silvester was dead. For the first day and night only Susannah and Rowena had eaten anything and none of the girls, apart from Rowena, would look directly at Magnus.

That is slowly changing. Susannah speaks to him now. If I could only speak as easily…
“I do not doubt his love so why do I fear his tiring of me later?” she said aloud, pushing open the door.
Why should I dread that Magnus may be like Silvester in this regard? Silvester is dead! The girls are safe. Stop this whimpering over your differences in rank! You were never troubled before. You are a witch! You have status. And if it does not matter to him it should not matter to you.

Pausing by the door, she waited until she could see through the steam. Rowena, settled naked on the warm bath-house stones, waved to her. Susannah, rarely abashed, called out, “Will you help me wash my hair?”

The other girls, Rosalind, Regina, Richenda and Richildis, whispered behind their hands. They had each taken a cup of ale and some berries, Elfrida noticed.
Their appetite and interest returns, which is good.
While they were
traveling in the wagon, she had sung over them each night, a tiny charm to settle them and ensure they slept without dreams.
We should be telling their families.

But not quite yet, she sensed. She wanted their homecomings to be smooth, without regret. She did not want them hankering after Silvester, or they would not settle.

And Magnus understood this. Without her explaining anything, he had already asked, while they and the wagon had plodded past the church at Norton Mayfield, “The girls are to sleep in our solar-bedroom tonight?”

Elfrida nodded, recalling the memory, and picked up a pail to help Susannah. She had wet Susannah’s dark hair thoroughly when a brisk knock on the door told her Magnus was outside.

“Towels and gowns!” he called out. “In a basket on the threshold. When you are ready, Peter, Tancred, Baldwin, and I will escort you.”

“Thank you!” answered Elfrida, happy to see excitement on the girls’ faces. From such things came small, everyday progress
. Gowns, too, and where has Magnus found those?
She heard him striding off, so could not ask.
When will Magnus and I be truly easy with each other again?

“We choose our escorts, do we not?” Susannah suddenly demanded through a wall of wet hair.

“We do,” Rowena replied, running a comb through Regina’s blond curls. “I am for Magnus, if you do not object, my lady.”

Still thinking of herself and Magnus and those mystery gowns, Elfrida started and shook her head. “He has two arms and will gladly squire us both.”
Unless he escorts Lady Astrid? No! Stop this folly! Magnus deserves your love and your pride! Be a witch, be a lady, be Elfrida!

“My thought exactly,” said Rowena.

“Not Tancred?” Elfrida asked, pouring rosemary-steeped warm water through Susannah’s hair. She caught the whispered, “Peter!” from the younger girls and smiled, a little sadly. Of course the young ones would be beguiled by the outward show of Peter’s fair good looks.
And Peter is no Silvester
. But Rowena was answering and she should pay attention.

“Tancred may wait to escort me.”

“You have not forgiven him yet?” asked Susannah, peering through her dripping fringe. “For not riding to your rescue?”

“I wish to honor Magnus, who did,” said Rowena blandly.

Elfrida bit her lip to stop the chuckle escaping. Rowena was right—she only hoped the lesson would do Tancred good. “Your kinswoman, the Lady Astrid, is also here,” she added, unsure if this news was a warning or a joy.

“I shall be pleased to make her reacquaintance,” Rowena replied, still very bland. “And that of her Father Jerome, of course.”

The way she spoke suggested to Elfrida that Rowena knew very well that Astrid and the priest were lovers.
Though how will the lady and the priest deal with each other now, I wonder?
“I will bring in the towels and gowns.”

Determined to be as calm and gracious as Rowena, and with all her guests in the great hall, Elfrida wove past the bath tubs to the doorway.

The Templars had done them proud, was Magnus’s first thought, when Elfrida and the rest of the womenfolk—he could not call these sweeping damsels girls—glided from the bath-house. He had asked, for the sake of old fellowship in Outremer, and the knights had responded for the same reason, piling him up with every scrap of silk in their luggage.

And Elfrida, his clever witch-wife, had known what to do with it.

“Magnus.” She smiled at him now and he basked in her approval.

“My lord?” Rowena, clad in a rustling sky-blue silk sheath, ignored the pop-eyed Tancred and approached. “Will you do me the honor of escorting me with your lady wife?” Rowena smiled very sweetly but raised her voice so the hovering Tancred heard every word. “I can never thank you enough for your rescue.”

Tancred looked ready to spit nails. Magnus bowed and offered his left arm to Rowena and his right to Elfrida. Farther off in the yard Susannah was already arm in arm with Baldwin, who looked as if a sling-shot stone had hit him. The lass was in silver and yellow and moved like an empress, so Magnus was not surprised by his squire’s dazed reaction. Piers, his other squire, looked equally dazzled in the company of Rosalind, who was now Mary again.

Arm in arm with Richildis and Richenda, both pretty and animated in their clouds of pink and white silks, Peter winked at him. He had taken the measure of Lady Astrid in the hall, describing her to Magnus as “haughtier than the devil.” Now he called out, “You are right,” and nodded to Rowena, adding in their private, crusader argot, “one Gifford I can admire.” Clearly Peter was enjoying himself and ready to enjoy more.

“Sir?” Regina, the smallest and youngest of those rescued from Silvester’s house, now held out a work-roughened hand to the glowering Tancred. “Will you guide me?”

The boy blushed, perhaps finally recognizing this tiny peasant maid in her pale green gown as a fellow Christian soul. Without further prompting, he took her slim little fingers, gently tucking them through his arm. As they all began to proceed across the yard, Magnus heard Regina say, very softly to Tancred, “My name is Regina, or Bertha. My family call me Bertha.”

“I like Bertha,” said Tancred quietly, rejecting the name Silvester had given her.

Magnus smiled as Rowena squeezed his fingers and Elfrida gripped his arm. “Little steps,” he heard his wife say, and then they were climbing the stairs to the hall.

“Sir Magnus!” cried Lady Astrid, the instant he crossed the threshold, bursting into a flurry of Norman French, “For shame, where is Rowena? And where is your wife? Why is she not here to welcome me?”

Magnus looked coolly at the golden figure seated at the high table, quite unmoved by her outburst. Father Jerome, poor fool, had actually changed seats with one of the Templars to sit beside her, but the lady took no heed of him. Now though the priest rose, the name “Rowena” forming on his lips. Lady Astrid, despite her complaint, seemed not to have noticed her ward.

Tancred, kicking aside a stool so his companion would not be impeded, stepped forward. “Good evening, aunt,” he said in English. “May I present—?”

“Be quiet, Tancred,” snapped the lady in the same tongue, not so gracious.

She really is insufferable, Magnus thought.

“I have found that the Lady Astrid rarely listens,” said Rowena, pitching her voice perfectly to fill the hall, “But she and the Lady Elfrida, my friends, and you worthy knights and companions, you shall hear me now.”

Two spots of red color appeared on the Lady Astrid’s cheeks, making her appear like an angry doll, Magnus decided. She swallowed whatever retort she was about to make and drummed her fingers on the table.
Very wise, my lady. Things are moving way beyond your control.

To his surprise and delight, Rowena turned and embraced him and then she hurried to embrace Elfrida. After hugging his wife tightly, she again faced the high table.

“We, these other maidens and myself, we were all stolen away by Silvester Percival. No one troubled to look for us.”

“Not so!” muttered Tancred, “And I brought you Apple!” but Rowena quelled him with a glance.

“Not for all of us,” she continued. “Only my lord Magnus and my lady Elfrida took the pains and care to discover our whereabouts, and to bring us all safely away. Now we are returned and things are no longer as they were.”

Rowena smiled, but her blue eyes narrowed. “I am not the little girl who embroidered daisy chains on my head-rail and who wished to please everyone. I was obedient to my family and they left me with Silvester. Since then I have grown up.”

“Rowena?” said Tancred, hesitation and fear showing nakedly in his square, fair face.
Finally the young thick-head realizes he could lose her.

She smiled at him, then with her lips and her eyes, where Magnus would have made the lad sweat a while longer. “For this reason,” she went on, “I wish to re-plight my troth to Tancred, before this noble company and household. I wish to do so particularly before Magnus and Elfrida, who have fast become my mentors and guides as to how a lord and lady should be.”

Father Jerome gave a half-cry, hastily stifled, and Magnus sensed his own priest looking at him. He nodded to Father Luke and then to Elfrida. Never a dull man, the priest raised a hand to Elfrida, who glanced at Magnus, grinned at Father Luke and mouthed, “Yes.”

Father Luke smiled and called for silence. “I am honored to witness this betrothal in the name of the church. Tonight or tomorrow, if you wish it.”

“I accept,” said Rowena, seizing her own destiny with a smoothness Magnus could only admire. “Tomorrow, with you and Father Jerome and my Lady Astrid in attendance.”

Very neat. She ensures they have to support her and has witnesses to prove it. Now, whatever Lady Astrid might have wanted or plotted, why ever she came here, she is committed to Rowena and Tancred. Lord Richard will not be pleased, but Lord Richard is doubtless still at Castle Rocher Noir, seeking a Percival who will never be found. And Richard and Astrid must have had a falling out. I cannot say I am surprised.

The thoughts ran like quicksilver through his mind, then people reacted. Peter cheered and danced with his two ladies, cutting a caper with them on the herb-strewn floor. Elfrida laughed, her color making her brighter than the fire. Tancred stared at his bride and only moved toward her when Bertha gave him a kiss. The rest of the hall erupted.

Through the giddy haze of stamping, yelling well-wishers, Magnus spotted the Lady Astrid and Father Jerome, both frozen in their seats. Despite her golden gown and her well-dressed hair, her maids in attendance, Lady Astrid looked defeated. She looked old.

Were I more a Christian, I would pity you, lady, but I am not and I do not
.