Lords of the White Castle (20 page)

Maude clung to the positive note in the older woman's voice. She had to believe that it was going to be all right, that her life within marriage was going to be better than the one she led beneath the strictures of her father's roof. It wasn't just the wedding night that filled her with apprehension. It was the anxiety of what might follow.

The gate latch clicked and the women turned. Standing in the entrance was Theobald Walter himself. His tawny, greying curls had been trimmed and combed back so that they resembled rippled water. The badger-striped beard hugged his jawline which was still strong and taut. In honour of his marriage, his lean frame was clad in a long court tunic of deep blue wool and his belt was tooled with gold leaf.

'The women said that you had gone outside for a moment,' he said with a husky catch in his voice. 'I thought I would find you here. It is the most peaceful part of the keep.'

Maude gazed at him and the initial jolt of panic she had felt at his appearance subsided to a queasy flutter.

'Are you ready to come to chapel, my lady?' He held out his seamed, war-scarred hand. It was trembling slightly and Maude realised that he was probably as nervous as she was.

'Yes,' Maude whispered and, leaving Hawise's side, went forward to put her own hand, and her trust, in Theobald's.

The wedding ceremony itself was an affair not much longer than the betrothal. Theobald pledged his life to Maude as she pledged him hers in the keep's small but elegantly appointed chapel. He placed a gold ring set with a ruby for constancy on her heart finger and this time the fit was perfect. She gazed at the blood-red stone with a strange sense of detachment. It was as if she were watching herself from a distance. It was her voice making the vows, her hand extending to receive the ring, but there was no reality to the moment, no connection between action and mind.

The wedding mass followed the pledging and it was a long ritual with prayers chanted in sonorous Latin. Maude knelt and stood in the right places, murmured the responses, opened her mouth for the wafer, sipped the red wine of Christ's blood, all without feeling. Behind her, from the place where Prince John stood, she heard an exaggerated sigh and the impatient shuffle of feet. John had a reputation for giving religious observance short measure. She had heard it said that he chose his household chaplains by the speed with which they were able to say mass and no other criteria.

The priest, able to take a hint himself, bustled through the remainder of the ceremony and finished it with a blessing upon Maude and Theobald. The guests crowded around to offer their congratulations. Maude was embraced by people she scarcely knew, the soft cheeks of women pressing to hers, the harsher rasp of masculine moustaches and beards. And then hands at her waist in a more intimate grip and hot eyes that pierced the shell of her numbness.

'Theobald certainly knew what he was doing when he chose you for his bride,' said John. 'You were a pale little bud at your betrothal, but now you're like ripe blossom on the bough.' A grin exposed his fine, white teeth. 'And it's my privilege to sup the nectar.'

Other guests had kissed her cheek. One or two had claimed her lips, but only in a salutary peck. John pulled her against him as no man had ever done and brought his mouth down on hers. The pressure of his lips made hers part and, swift as a darting fish, his tongue slipped inside.

Maude's eyes widened in shock and she bucked within John's embrace like a wild colt. Her teeth snapped together and if he had not removed his tongue smartly, he would have been well bitten.

Panting with outrage and revulsion, she glared at him, but John merely smiled and dabbed his wet lips with the back of his hand.

'Given time, you'll learn what pleases,' he murmured. 'It's rather a pity I cannot teach you, though. I fear your innocence will be wasted on Theobald.'

Maude's instinct was to kick him in the groin and run, but she was constrained by circumstance to hold her ground. She thought that she was going to be sick, and it would serve John right if she vomited all over his fine gilded shoes.

'Your Highness, give me leave to congratulate your bride.' Hawise FitzWarin swept a deep curtsey to John and gave him an alluring look through her lashes, which said that younger women had their charms, but older ones had had much more time to practise them.

John's lips curved with amusement. 'Of a certainty, Lady… ?'

'FitzWarin,' said Hawise sweetly. 'My eldest son was trained in Lord Walter's household—and for a time in yours.'

John's smile withered at the corners but Hawise had already turned to Maude and, with a protective arm around her shoulders, was leading her towards Theobald.

'Bitch,' John muttered softly.

Maude was grateful to lean on the strength of Hawise's arm. 'Thank you, my lady'

'It was a pleasure,' Hawise said with more than a hint of relish.

'He put his tongue in my mouth.' Maude shuddered.

Hawise made a low sound, conveying sympathy and outrage. 'I would have bitten him,' she said vehemently.

'I tried, but he was too swift.' Maude looked nervously at Theobald whom they were fast approaching. 'Do… do all men do that?'

'Not like John, no,' Hawise said diplomatically. 'And your husband is neither a lecher, nor a boor.'

Maude swallowed. She still felt queasy but she managed a wan smile for Theobald. When he smiled in response and stooped to kiss her lips, she kept them closed and only flinched a little.

The messenger arrived late into the evening just as the newlyweds were about to be conducted from the hall to their bedchamber. The women had gathered around Maude to escort her, and the men had surrounded Theobald. Bawdy suggestions and advice flew from wine-loosened tongues, most of them masculine.

'Pay no heed,' Hawise murmured in Maude's ear. 'It's just drunken foolery and they'll be gone soon.'

'But not before I have to stand naked before them,' Maude whispered. As part of the ceremony, she and Theobald would be stripped so that all could witness that there was no physical reason for one to repudiate the other. The thought of standing unclothed and vulnerable beneath Prince John's predatory stare made her shudder.

'Your grandmother and I will make sure that part is over as quickly as possible.' Hawise patted Maude's shoulder. 'And so, I think, will Theobald. He is no lover of exhibition.'

But Prince John was. With dragging feet, Maude went unwillingly to the turret stair. As she set her foot on the first step, the messenger entered the hall, accompanied by one of John's squires. The man's boots and the hem of his cloak were powdered with dust and his eyes were dark-shadowed for want of sleep.

The masculine group ceased its progress. Theobald pushed his way out of the centre and beckoned to the messenger. The news he bore was clearly important to be delivered at this time of night and the man had obviously ridden hard to reach Lancaster.

'I bear letters for His Highness, Prince John.' The messenger knelt at Theobald's feet—more out of exhaustion than reverence.

Frowning, John left the guests, his hand held out for the sealed packet that the man had withdrawn from his leather satchel. 'No, stay,' he commanded as Theobald made to leave. 'I may need you.'

'Sire.' Theobald inclined his head and signalled the women to continue to the bridal chamber.

Hair combed until it shone like a silver mirror, her otherwise naked body wrapped in a warm, fur-lined cloak, Maude waited for her husband and watched the night candle burn down on its iron pricket. She was no longer afraid. That mood had passed into a numb daze, enhanced by the spiced wine with which Lady FitzWarin had been liberally plying her. Her eyelids had begun to feel heavy and sore with the effort of staying awake. Clenching a yawn between her teeth, Maude glanced over her shoulder at the bed, its coverlet thrown back to show an inviting expanse of crisp linen sheet. If only she could lie down and go to sleep. But no one was going to allow her to do that.

The sound of male voices echoing in the stairwell pierced her numbness with a small, sharp arrow of unease. The women guests who had been desultorily chatting and eating small fig pastries from a large salver, dusted crumbs from their gowns, finished their wine, and stood ready.

Still fully clothed, the groom was ushered into the room. With a flood of relief that almost buckled her knees, Maude saw that Prince John and the knights of his entourage were not present. Theobald's visage was drawn with tiredness, the creases fanning from his eye corners no longer lifted by a smile. His companions too were more subdued than earlier, although it did not stop William Reinfred from nudging the groom and offering five hundred marks of silver to take his place.

'Not for all the wealth in England,' Theobald said, and sent Maude a reassuring look as the men began disrobing him.

'A pity you did not come to me with that offer when you had the chance, Reinfred!' jested Maude's father. 'I'd have let you have her for that sum!'

He probably would at that, Maude thought. She felt the eyes of the men upon her like horse-traders assessing the points of a young brood mare at market. Their salacious curiosity as the women unfastened the heavy cloak and lifted it from her shoulders, filled her with unease and revulsion. She could not even hide beneath the cloak of her hair because her grandmother gathered it in her hands and lifted it up to show that there was no flaw concealed under its silken heaviness.

'See,' said her father proudly, 'not a blemish on her.'

'I am satisfied,' Theobald said in a somewhat congested voice and gestured at Mathilda de Chauz. 'Let her put the cloak back on.'

Maude threw him a grateful look and was not slow to answer his bidding.

'And you, my lady?' asked the priest who was present to bless the couple and the bed. 'Are you satisfied?'

Given his age, it could not be said that Theobald was without flaw, but such as existed were minor and not a barrier to the marriage contract. His body, although not lean and narrow through the hips like a younger man's, was still firm and the muscles of his upper arms were powerful and glossy. His teeth were sound and his hair, although well mingled with grey, was thick and strong.

'Yes, she is,' said le Vavasour with an impatient wave.

Maude lifted her chin, determined to answer for herself, her courage enhanced by the protective presence of the cloak around her shoulders. After a swift glance at Theobald's nakedness, she confined her eyes to his face. 'I am.'

The priest made them stand side by side and sprinkled them with holy water from a vial in his hand. He intoned words of blessing in Latin, asking God that the marriage be long, prosperous and fruitful. Then he instructed Theobald and Maude to get into bed. Again they were sprinkled, and the bed itself was blessed.

'Remember your duty, Daughter,' le Vavasour said as he leaned over and kissed Maude's cheek in parting.

'Yes, Papa.' The words emerged cold and stilted. Her father had always been a stranger, but never more than now.

'God bless you, child.' Her grandmother embraced her tightly, a hint of moisture glinting in her eyes, as if she were making a final farewell.

Perhaps she was, Maude thought. Between tonight and the morrow, there surged a vast sea of experience, and once it was crossed, there was no returning. Either she would know what her grandmother and her unfortunate mother had known, or she would gain the knowledge that made Hawise FitzWarin smile and squeeze her hand.

'I wish you joy,' said Hawise, and was one of the few female guests to speak to Theobald too and kiss his cheek.

There were a few parting jests consisting of weak innuendo about ploughing furrows, sowing seed and sheathing swords, but finally the door closed behind the last guest and Maude and Theobald were alone.

'I swear never to tease a bride and groom again in my life,' Theobald declared. 'Wine?' Donning his cloak, he left the bed and poured spiced morap from the flagon that had been left conveniently on the coffer.

Maude nodded. She had already drunk beyond her limit. One more measure was not going to make a great difference and it would stave off the moment of dread for a while longer.

Returning to the bed, Theobald handed her a brimming cup of the mulberry wine. He climbed in beside her but did not attempt to touch her or press close. 'I don't know what you have been told, either in jest or a genuine attempt to help you tonight,' he said, 'but I have no intention of leaping on you like a wild beast.' His lip curled with distaste. 'Rape appeals to some men, especially when sanctioned by marriage, but it has never appealed to me.'

'No, my lord.' Maude looked down at her cup.

'Call me Theo. Formal address is for formal places.' He touched her then, but only to tilt her chin on his forefinger and make her look at him. 'You need not fear me. I don't want a wife who cowers from my voice and is afraid to speak out lest she is chastised.'

Maude met his grey eyes doubtfully. Such fair words sounded too good to be true. No one, man or woman had ever dared contradict her father's wishes. 'I do not fear you my… Theo.'

'I am glad that you do not.' He removed his finger and drank his wine. Then he cursed softly. 'Jesu,' he said and she saw that his hands were trembling. 'If I were still unwed, I would not dream of seeking out a girl so young for my pleasure.'

Maude did not know how to respond to that; probably he did not expect her to do so. To fill the unbearable tension in the air, she asked with nervous abruptness, 'Was Prince John's news bad?'

He gave her a distracted look. 'What?'

'The messenger. He looked as if he had ridden far and hard. And the Prince was not among the guests at the bedding ceremony.'

He shook his head and at first said nothing. Maude wondered if she had overstepped her bounds. Her father said that affairs of state should not concern women, whose occupation was the keeping of the hearth and the bedchamber. He conveniently ignored such contradictions as the fact that King Richard's mother had been appointed Regent of England in her son's absence. Unfamiliar as she was with Theobald, she had small inkling of his opinions.