Shadows and Strongholds (43 page)

De Lacy made a sound in his throat. 'The lass strikes me as being as steady in her wits as a two-legged milking stool.' He came to help tear up the linen. 'If she doesn't bring us more, this rope will be too short. In fact,' he added grimly, 'just about enough to hang the pair of us.'

'Marion will bring it,' Ernalt said confidently. 'She was frightened, but she was eating out of my hand—which is just what we want.' He grinned at his lord. 'What's more, we'll have a good distraction. Hawise de Dinan is to wed the FitzWarin heir within the month. They'll be too occupied with the nuptials to pay attention to us.' Ernalt smiled. 'You see, Marion tells me things.'

De Lacy grunted. 'Let us hope that she doesn't balk when it comes to the moment.'

that.'

'Do you not think Marion seems strange of late?' Sibbi asked. She had arrived two days ago in anticipation of Hawise's wedding and the young women were talking together in the bridal chamber.

Hawise looked surprised at first, and then thoughtful. 'Perhaps it is because you have been away from Ludlow and dwelling with your husband's kin,' she said. 'I suppose she does not chatter like she used to, but then we are no longer close like we were as children.' She grimaced. 'I don't think she's ever forgiven me or our parents for my betrothal to Brunin.'

'It must be hard for her to watch you marry him then,' Sibbi remarked with her usual sympathy for those in difficult circumstances.

'She hasn't said anything.' Hawise's tone was defensive for Sibbi's gentle concern had filled her with guilt. Perhaps she should try to be kinder and take more notice of Marion, but then Marion herself had made no effort to bridge the troubled waters between them. Indeed, now Hawise thought about it, Marion spent very little time in the bower these days. She wasn't just quiet, she wasn't there. 'I'll speak to her,' she said reluctantly.

Their mother entered the chamber, a frown set between her eyes and her lips drawn in a tight purse. 'Ridiculous,' she snapped, hands on hips. 'Sheets and tablecloths do not walk out of the coffers of their own accord.'

The maid at her side was wringing her hands and declaring with loud distress that she could not explain their absence from the locked linen chests. 'They were there yester eve when I looked, my lady, I swear on my life they were!'

'Then either someone is a thief, or they have been mislaid by one who has no more wit than a headless chicken!' Sybilla snapped, and lifted and let fall her hands in an exasperated gesture. 'Jesu, I do not have the time for this now; our guests are almost here. Take a couple of the Serjeants and go into the town. Ask the mercers for a dozen yards of bleached linen. I'll sort this out later.'

'Yes, my lady' Relieved to have escaped so lightly, the maid ran.

Sybilla breathed out hard, looking decidedly harassed. 'The FitzWarins are almost here,' she told her daughters. 'Their outriders have just arrived.' Summoning another maid to attend her, she hastily stripped her gown and donned a fresh one of rose-coloured linen.

Hawise swallowed and involuntarily set her hand to her throat and then her veil. Her hair was confined in a net beneath so that it couldn't straggle anywhere and rend propriety, and she was wearing a sober charcoal-grey wool enriched with silver embroidery.

'You look fit to greet a queen,' Sibbi said soothingly, and hugged Hawise.

'A queen perhaps, but not the lady Mellette,' Hawise said in a shaky voice.

'It's not the lady Mellette whom you should be bothering about,' Sibbi said, gentle mischief sparkling in her eyes. 'I can remember the days when you didn't care what anyone thought of you. You would greet visitors from the top of a store-shed roof with a rip in your gown and a smudge on your nose.'

That had the desired effect. Hawise thrust out her chin and drew herself erect. 'I do not care now,' she said loftily, 'but I am old enough to know that some folk judge not only yourself by appearances, but all your kin too. I won't give the lady Mellette cause to open her mouth.'

'She docs nut need cause, that one,' Sybilla said as she twitched the folds of her gown into place, then raised her arms while the maid wrapped a braid belt around her waist. 'But it is only for a few days. If we look beyond those to the light, I suppose we can manage. It's annoying about the linen though.' She clucked her tongue. 'I should have kept a closer eye on the women. They all swear they are innocent, but someone must know what has happened to the things.'

'What's missing, Mama?' Sibbi asked.

'The napery for some of the lower tables. Sheets that would have covered at least two guest beds. Towels that should accompany the fingerbowls.'

Sibbi and Hawise shook their heads, as baffled as their mother. Marion, who would have been consulted too, was nowhere to be seen, but since the castle was like a beehive at the height of summer, her absence wasn't sufficiently out of place to remark upon.

The women went down to the bailey to await their guests. Hawise felt queasy and took herself to task for being foolish. She knew Brunin; she had met his family before. The standard courtesies ought to come as naturally as breathing, but just now breathing was difficult. It was as if a tight band were constricting her from throat to midriff. She was wishing that the wedding had been postponed to Michaelmas as her parents had originally suggested.

'Courage, daughter,' her father said, arriving by her side and squeezing her shoulder beneath his broad, warm hand. Joscelin was clad in his court robe of purple wool and wearing his sword. He had dampened his hair and the comb marks lay through it like a layer of feathers, complementing the hard jut of his features. He looked every inch the stern warlord and Hawise was moved to feel pride and awe.

As the guards shouted from the walls and horns blared to greet the entry of the FitzWarin party through Ludlow's gates, Marion joined the welcoming group. Her checks were flushed and her breathing was, if anything, swifter than Hawise's.

'Where have you been?' Sybilla demanded with a frown.

'One of the pantry men asked me about bread for the chamber cupboard, and then someone else wanted to know about candles,' she panted, smoothing her hands down her blue gown. 'I'm not late.'

'No one said that you were, child,' Sybilla said, returning her attention to the fore and thus missing the narrowing of Marion's eyes.

'I'm not a child,' she muttered under her breath, pressing her right hand to her breast where a close observer could have discerned a small lump beneath the blue woollen fabric.

As the riders approached Hawise noticed a horse-drawn litter in their midst. At first she thought that it must be for Mellette, but then she saw the old woman riding with her menfolk, her spine as straight as an ash lance, the angles of her face made harsh by the bleached linen wimple supporting and framing her jawline. Brunin rode at his father's side. Jester's comical face was adorned with new harness, enamelled red and gold discs decorating the buckles and jingling at the browband. He had a fine saddle cloth of red and gold too, and these were the colours that Brunin wore, his tunic the deep hue of vein-blood and hemmed with dark yellow embroidery. His complexion was already summer-brown and with his raven hair and dark eyes he had an exotic look like one of the Syrian silk traders she had seen at Shrewsbury Fair. His gaze engaged with hers and for a moment the surroundings blurred and she was lucked into the hot, brown stare. And then her father was stepping forward to greet FitzWarin and his sons, and her mother to welcome Mellette, and Hawise was able to disengage and look elsewhere.

The curtains to the litter parted and Brunin's mother was helped out by two attendants. Hawise went forward to greet her, and was shaken out of her own anxieties by the sight of Eve FitzWarin's pallid, almost grey complexion. 'Welcome to Ludlow, my lady.' Hawise curtseyed to her future mother-in-law, managing to hide her shock at Eve's appearance.

'Thank you, daughter. It will be easy to call you that.' A tired smile curved Eve's lips, but didn't light her eyes, which remained quenched and dull. She extended her hand and Hawise noticed how swollen her fingers were and how cruelly her gold rings bit into the flesh.