Shadows and Strongholds (44 page)

'Will you come within and rest?' Hawise took the proffered hand which was clammy and hot and made her want to recoil.

Eve laid her other palm to her belly. 'Thank you,' she said. 'I have had better experiences of carrying my children and in truth I am weary.'

There was no opportunity for Hawise to see Brunin alone. The women retired to the domestic chambers to discuss the forthcoming marriage and indulge in gossip; the men formed a similar group in the hall. The maid returned from the town with new linen to replace the missing napery and Sybilla set her women to hemming with haste.

'When I was married, my father held a grand tournament,' Mellette boasted to the gathered women. 'Knights came from miles around to compete and there was feasting for a week. In those days we knew how to celebrate.'

'Indeed, my lady,' Sybilla said politely. 'Then I hope you will not be disappointed with lesser celebrations here. Our preparations by necessity are to join King Henry's muster, although perhaps we can entertain you with some feats of arms on the sward. Besides, you would not want to sit in a draught for too long and Lady Eve's condition is delicate. Another cup of wine?'

'I am no wilting flower,' Mellette retorted. 'I have the iron of the Conqueror in my blood.'

Hawise watched the battle of words and wits between her mother and Brunin's grandmother and felt a little sick when she thought that soon this fight would be hers. Her tongue was quick, but she was no good at subterfuge. Rather than responding with a soothing murmur as Sybilla had just done, Hawise would have replied that iron was wont to go rusty. The thought provoked a nervous giggle and she had to smother it against the back of her hand as Mellette's eyes narrowed.

'Yes, my girl,' she said, lips curling back from the stumps of her teeth. 'The iron of the Conqueror. Your sons will share the same ancestors as the King.'

Ancestors that included a common Falaise tanner, a madman and a washerwoman, but that wasn't safe or polite to say either. She swallowed hard, but the laughter continued to bubble inside her.

Mellette took a taste of the wine in her refilled cup and fastidiously dabbed her upper lip. 'I hope your daughter knows how to conduct herself on the morrow,' she said.

'She has been well instructed,' Sybilla answered frostily. 'I am sure that neither she nor your grandson will disgrace themselves.'

'And what of the night duty? Have you instructed her in that too? Does she know what to expect?'

'She knows,' Sybilla replied, tight lipped.

'You think me an interfering old woman.' Mellette gave a sour smile. 'But I was asking for the girl's sake. No one told me anything. They put me in bed with a stranger and instructed me to do my duty and obey his will.' She looked at Hawise. 'It was rape by any other name, like being stabbed with a blade, and there was enough blood to make me think that he had indeed mortally injured me. She should know what to expect.'

Eve made a small sound and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. With a gasp she excused herself to the garderobe in the corner and the sound of her retching echoed back into the room.

Sybilla looked furious. 'Your experience has no bearing on my daughter's. You are vindictive to frighten her.'

'Better to know than to harbour fond dreams,' Mellette said harshly.

'I am not frightened.' Unable to silence her voice any longer and emboldened by her mother's loss of patience, Hawise spoke out. 'Brunin will not hurt me.'

'There speaks the voice of experience.' Mellette's voice dripped with sarcasm. 'What do I know of men with all my years, eh?'

Hawise sprang to her feet. 'Naught but malice and envy and hatred!' 'You don't see the sunlight because you never look up!'

'Hah, and thus I don't tread in dung!' There was a glitter in Mellette's eyes that was almost relish. 'You have a lot to learn, my girl.'

'Then I will learn it with Brunin, and I will rejoice.' She turned to her mother who was watching her with a mixture of dismay and approval. 'May I have your leave to retire, Mama?'

'I think you had better,' Sybilla said in a neutral tone. 'Before manners deteriorate further.' She did not say whose manners.

Head high, Hawise turned from the venomous crone, deliberately omitting to curtsey, and swept into the small chamber that would be hers for the last time that night. 'Bitch,' she muttered and fought scalding tears of rage. She suspected that inducing such emotions in others was half Mellette's pleasure. She enjoyed watching her victims lose their tempers while retaining her own. Probably it gave her a sense of superiority and power and a purpose in the world.

When her breathing had calmed and she felt less like hurling a table at the old woman, she tiptoed softly from the room and on to the landing, intent on making her escape. Eve FitzWarin was sitting on the stone window-bench, looking out across the bailey, clearly having made a small escape of her own. She was breathing deeply of the fresh air flowing through the narrow channel of the window and her gaze was fixed upon the summer green of the trees beyond the castle walls.

Hawise halted. She could not just walk past and pretend not to have seen her. This was Brunin's mother; imminently to be her own mother-in-law. 'My lady?'

Eve turned from the window and studied Hawise with her sad, smudged eyes. 'I hope you were not upset by Lady Mellette's words.'

Hawise frowned while she pondered whether to speak the truth or a path-smoothing platitude. 'I think that she intended them to upset, my lady,' she answered after a moment. 'And not just myself.'

Eve gave her the pale semblance of a smile. 'I am not carrying this babe well,' she said, laying her hand upon her belly. 'The sickness comes suddenly and as it will with no regard for propriety.'

It was an excuse, not the truth, Hawise thought. 'I am told that I have no regard for propriety either,' she murmured.

Eve's smile developed a wry twist. All to the good,' she answered softly. 'I have never had the backbone to hold my own with her.' She glanced towards the door, not needing to say which 'her' she meant. 'She chose me for her son because I was dutiful and biddable and she knew that I would not take her place in the bower. Now she is growing old… and so am I. It is time that there was a new challenge… new blood. From what I have seen, you will take up the battle that I could not fight.'

'It doesn't have to be a battle,' Hawise said, but with a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Eve looked bleak. 'It already is, and one you have to win… unless you want to follow in my footsteps. I would wish such a fate on no woman.'

Hawise swallowed, feeling out of her depth. 'Your husband, my lady. Could he not…'

'My husband is no Joscelin de Dinan,' Eve replied bitterly. 'He does what he sees as his duty towards me, but he has no more notion of what women want than a pig has of flight. Nor, if the truth be known, does he want to become embroiled in "women's business". As long as I am there to place a cup of wine in his hands and warm his bed, he cares not. In my turn I am no Sybilla Talbot to stand my ground, but you…' She looked Hawise up and down. 'You are different.'

'So is Brunin.'

Eve nodded. 'Yes, he is,' she said. 'Lady Mellette is right. He is much like his grandfather.' Her gaze grew soft and sad. 'I have often wondered how Warin de Metz would have fared with a less abrasive wife.'

'She brought him the land and the prestige,' Hawise said.

'As you are bringing Brunin one half of Ludlow. I pray that you can both set everything to rights. Whatever Mellette says or does, I want you to know that you are most welcome within our household, and I am pleased to call you daughter.'

And I am glad to call you mother,' Hawise answered gracefully.

Eve shook her head and gave a knowing laugh. 'No, you are not. The best you can do is adapt and tolerate.'

Before Hawise could decide how to respond, there were footsteps on the stairs and Marion arrived, breathless and pink from the steep climb. She stopped short when she saw Hawise and Eve, then came on, pausing to curtsey to the latter.

'Where have you been?' Hawise asked.

'That's my own business.' Marion tossed her head. 'I'm not always asking you where you have been, am I?' She swept into the main chamber and Hawise winced.

'Matters are difficult between us,' she told Eve. 'Marion used to be sweet on Brunin and it has stung her pride that I am to marry him.'

Eve looked thoughtfully at the space through which
Marion had just passed. 'I remember her from a visit your household made to Whittington,' she said. 'She tried very hard to impress Lady Mellette, which indeed she did, but…'

'But Lady Mellette wanted Ludlow to add to the FitzWarin gains,' Hawise finished the sentence. 'I know my worth in her eyes.'

'It is the value you set on yourself that matters.' Suddenly Eve's voice dragged with tiredness. 'I think I will go and lie down awhile.'

'You can use my bed if you don't want to go back into the main chamber,' Hawise offered.

Eve gave her a grateful look. 'Bless you, daughter,' she said.

Since his arrival on the eve of their wedding, Brunin had seen little of Hawise. After a brief greeting in the courtyard, surrounded by family and retainers, she had retired with the women and he had been drawn into the hall with the men to discuss not so much his imminent nuptials as the forthcoming Welsh campaign. At the formal dinner, later in the day, bride and groom had again been separated, he sitting with his family, she with hers, as for the last time she took her formal place as a daughter of her father's household. In future, that place would be as a FilzWarin wife. There had been little opportunity for conversation, let alone whispered words; no occasion to don even a semblance of the familiarity that they had once shared. After their recent confrontation he was not even sure that it was possible.

Now it was the morning of their marriage day and there was no time left to find out. Brunin wondered if Hawise felt as apprehensive as he did. He had no intention of sharing his anxieties with any of the grinning men circling the chamber like friendly but dominant dogs of the same pack. Their teasing and advice were all part of the ritual and he had perforce to endure them. He had done his own share of teasing and prank-playing in the past. Only let this day and night be over, he thought. Only let everyone depart and the celebration end. Except that after celebration came separation and war.

'You'll outdo the bride,' his father grinned, looking him up and down. Brunin's tunic was fashioned of plum-coloured Flemish twill, thickly embroidered with thread of gold at cuff and hem and throat. His belt and shoes were stamped with gilding, and his scabbard leather polished until it gleamed like Jester's hide.

'I hope not.' Brunin looked round at the men. They were all eager for the festivities, for a chance to make merry before they rode out to join Henry's muster. For some it might be a final chance; there was an air of urgency, and a need to seize the moment. Since he might be one of those who did not return, Brunin could feel the weight of expectation pressing down on him. 'Perhaps my grandmother will though, in that purple.'