The Holding - Book 1 in The Medieval Knights Series (25 page)

"'Tis an odd remark for a priest to make," she said.

Godfrey smiled and replaced a bolt of vivid cloth.

"God did not see fit to take my eyesight when I gave Him my vows, and for that I am grateful."

"You are an unusual priest," Cathryn pointed out, helping him to reorder the bolts.

"And you are not the first to remark upon it," he answered. "The scarlet suits you, Cathryn. William would be pleased to see you in it."

All the cloth had been replaced, all except the scarlet acca. She dropped it as if burned.

Father Godfrey smiled again and left as softly as he had come. When he was gone, Cathryn again picked up the scarlet. She could not seem to stop herself, and if Father Godfrey was correct, she might not need to try.

She touched just a corner and then an arm's length. It was not long before the fabric was unrolled and draped over her shoulders. Cathryn looked down longingly at its vivid color and blazing warmth, and twirled to catch a glimpse of it spinning out behind her.

Would William like her in the scarlet? It was hardly possible that she could look less appealing than with the faded castor gray she now wore. In the scarlet, she felt... she felt...

Cathryn dropped the cloth into the chest and hurriedly closed it before rushing from the room in search of Marie. She would probably find her in the company of Ulrich. With a vision of herself swathed in the glimmering red, Cathryn hurried on. She needed an excuse to keep Marie away from Ulrich anyway.

* * *

It was the sound of giggling that alerted her, coming from the corner where the kitchen wall met the wooden wall of the enclosure. It was a well-shaded spot and nearly black on a day such as this. The rain had stopped, but looked ready to return again before dusk. It was a dreary day—hardly a day to be standing in the mud, giggling.

Rounding the corner, Cathryn was taken aback at the sight that met her eyes.

A buxom young woman with bright blue eyes and glossy brown hair was trapped, so very willingly trapped, within the outstretched arms of Ulrich.
Marie!
He had her pinned within the corner, her back against the wall, his arms planted on either wall to hold her in a very warm cage. And she was laughing! Marie, washed and wearing clean clothes, had been transformed into a pleasing-looking woman. And under Ulrich's appreciative eye and glib tongue, her manner had been transformed as well. The timid girl was gone. A coquette had supplanted her.

"Ulrich!" Cathryn began, and had the satisfaction of seeing him drop his arms and spin to face her, a blush rushing up from his throat. "You have time to waste, it seems, for this is the second time today that I have caught you idle. If your lord does not have enough tasks to keep you busy, then mayhap he will lend your strong back to me. Under my eye you will find the day passes quickly, and you will yearn for the rest the night brings."

"Lady, your pardon," Ulrich answered, "but time spent with Marie is not time wasted. Indeed, it is the reason for my rising each day and the curse of my sleeping at night, for then I must be absent from her and only await the dawning—"

"Yea, Ulrich, I understand," Cathryn interrupted. "You like Marie."

"Ah, lady." He sighed, casting his eyes to the smiling object of his discourse. "Do I 'like' to breathe? Does the hawk 'like' to hunt? Does a knight 'like' to battle? Nay, she is the reason for my existence, and without a smile from her, my day is as black as if there were no sun in the sky to light our way."

"You have little reason to worry that there will be no sun," Cathryn noted, fighting a smile, "as Marie smiles often when you are near. But begone; I have a greater need of her than you," she commanded.

"Yea, Lady Cathryn," he acquiesced, moving off. He looked backward at the object of his affection so often that Cathryn wondered that he did not fall facedown in the mud. As lovestruck as he was, he most likely would not notice if he did.

"Now, Marie," she said when they were alone, "I have decided to make use of one of the bolts that my lord brought to our marriage. I need your help."

"Yea, lady, I will help, and gladly," Marie answered eagerly.

With brisk steps, they were at the chest in the storeroom. When Cathryn lifted the heavy lid and Marie saw the shining scarlet in the flickering light, she gasped in pleasure.

"Oh, lady, 'twill make you glow as bright as fire flame!"

"You think it not too bold for me?" Cathryn asked, suddenly unsure of her course. She had never worn anything brighter than citron all the years of her life.

"Oh, nay, nay," Marie argued, "'tis all the fashion for ladies of rank to wear colors bright and bold."

Cathryn smiled in amusement, "And how is it that you know more of fashion than I? We who have not left the walls of Greneforde for endless seasons?"

Marie blushed lightly and answered, "'Tis Ulrich who told me."

"Believe all Ulrich tells you and you plot your own heartbreak."

"I do not believe
all
he tells me, only, why should he prevaricate upon the subject of women's fashion?"

Cathryn chuckled and began to gather the cloth in her hands.

"I do not know as to that, but I will say that it is wise to consider the 'whys' of whatever he whispers in your ear."

"Or proclaims to his lord's lady?"

Cathryn stopped in surprise. Marie? Parrying words with her? Truly a transformation had been achieved, and with a few kind words from a romantic squire.

"I am learning that I do not need to counsel you, Marie." Cathryn laughed lightly as Marie closed the chest. "Mayhap you should counsel me? The cloth," she specified, "how shall we fashion it?"

The upward climb to the solar was achieved on light feet as they discussed how the cloth should be cut and sewn.

"Ulrich has told me that fashion is running to long and slender for ladies of the French nobility," Marie said, sitting on a stool in the well-lit room and running loving fingers over the scarlet acca. "Perfect for you. Lady Cathryn."

"In what manner do they fashion the sleeve? Or did Ulrich forget to mention that particular?" Cathryn teased, enjoying herself immensely despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"Aye, lady, he told me, for 'tis different than the English sleeve. It is worn so long that the ends must be knotted to keep them from dragging on the floor, and also the width is cut fuller."

"And better?"

Marie blushed. "He did imply so."

"It is queenly fabric and should be worked to its own best advantage, but I am English and will wear an English sleeve," Cathryn stated, ending all talk of sleeves.

"What will you use as mantle, Lady Cathryn?"

"I had given it little thought," she admitted. "Let us begin with the acca and move to the subject of the mantle as we are ready."

Cathryn had just laid out the fabric to determine the line of cut when Kendall requested admittance to the solar. He showed his breeding. A man did not enter the solar except by express invitation of the ladies present. Cathryn quickly stood in front of the flaming fabric and bade him enter. For reasons unknown to her, she did not want all within the walls of Greneforde to know she was fashioning a new garment for herself. And out of William's cloth.

"Lady Cathryn! William and Rowland have returned from the hunt lugging a large boar between them!"

There was naught to say to that. Boar was a vicious adversary and therefore rarely was its taste enjoyed. The three rushed from the room and down the stairs, eager to witness such a glad homecoming.

William was dismounting as they hurried from the stair tower. He was covered in blood and grinning from ear to ear.

"Our lord had gone a-hunting and come back heavier than when he set out!" Tybon joked loudly amid the general noise.

"Would you have him come back the lighter?" Alys laughed.

"Nay, for that would make us all the lighter! In our stomachs!" Lan supplied, and his remark brought gales of laughter from the crowd for his saucy wit.

"His person should not look lighter, as with one who has expended great effort," Rowland said with a rare smile, and loudly enough for all to hear, "for he did but little to bring down the beast, which was rooting peaceably in a field."

"Little, you say? Why, is he not a monstrous big beast and am I not covered in blood?" William demanded good-naturedly.

"Aye to both, but the most strenuous work done by you this day was in the carting of him back to Greneforde!"

"Spoken by the man who did none of the first and little of the second." William laughed, pointing his finger at Rowland accusingly.

"And so they bicker," Lan said with a smile to show his true intent, "while the heaviest work is yet to come."

"The heaviest work?" William laughed. "You make light of my accomplishment? To face down an enraged boar, for I assure you, he did not welcome the spear that pierced him, is no light encounter."

"Nay, you with your mail armor and spears and sword and warhorse against one of God's dumb beasts... nay, I can see you were sore outadvantaged."

The crowd tittered and looked to see if Lord William was enraged by their joking. He was not. He was noble and they were not; the gap between them was wide, yet they lived in close proximity within the narrow walls of Greneforde curtain. The sense of being of one family came to each of them in time. Cathryn's father, Lord Walter, had been a warm man, and they had taken their cue from him. It was difficult to cast off the patterns of a lifetime, and they were hardly eager to. Lady Cathryn, alone in her leadership since her kin were all dead, had welcomed the teasing warmth of those around her, though they were hardly her equals. Lambert had been avoided and looked upon by them as a rabid dog. William, so new to Greneforde, was proving his worth, and they were grateful for his coming, but would the gap be wide that separated lord from freeman? Only Lord William could decide it, and they looked to him now.

William looked with face aghast at Rowland, who sat laughing in silent mirth until the tears ran down his nose.

"And so, my newest adversary," William challenged, "what is the heaviest work regarding the boar?"

"Why, the gutting and skinning of him, my lord, as any one of us can tell you."

Cathryn watched them all with a smile she was not aware she wore. When had they accepted him? She did not know, but accept him they had.

"My lady"—William turned to her—"do you tell me so as well?"

Cathryn shrugged delicately. "'Tis tiresome work, to be sure, but which is the heavier task, the killing or the skinning, I could not say, not having done both."

"And so she proves her blood by not taking sides against her husband," Ulrich proclaimed, adding his own eager voice to the throng.

William did not turn to comment on Ulrich's statement; he would not turn from Cathryn's smiling face, a smile reflected on his own face in full.

"John!" William called, his eyes holding his wife's. "Heat water! Ulrich, see to my horse!" And holding her so forcefully with the power of his pewter eyes that she felt physically touched, William spoke his final command: "My wife will attend me at my bath."

At his words, the lively butterflies in her stomach fell dead at her feet.

* * *

The last bucketful of heated water dropped into the tub with a heavy splash, and then the servant disappeared. It seemed to her that all the servants had been overly quick in both the filling of the tub and the leaving of William's chamber. The sounds of descending footsteps faded quickly, very quickly, and then were gone. The quiet in the great tower was unnatural, or it seemed so to her. The pounding of her pulse was the only sound to be heard. It was unnatural.

She looked up. William stood in all his blood-soaked glory, his smile still bright, waiting for her to disrobe him. And so she should, so she should; if only she could take a breath, she might be able to move.

He would not prompt her. She would get no push from him. She would proceed or not, on her own and at her own pace; he determined that that would be the best for her composure. She was a woman who preferred to hold the reins of her own mount, and so he would let her and he would wait. In time, she would come to trust him. She must.

Slowly, paralyzingly slowly, she approached him. Never did the width of this chamber seem so wide. She was a fool. To touch blood-soaked garments, to undress a body longing for the bath, it was not so great a deed that she should quake in fear and hesitate, praying with all the fervor of her soul that the Lord of Hosts would split the sky and spirit her to heaven with the rest of the saints. No, it was a simple bath. And for bathing one must needs remove the clothes.

Fie!
She was a coward! And for what cause? She had seen his unclothed body before. Aye, she muttered to herself, and that was the source of her cowardice.

William said nothing. He waited patiently. And when she finally touched him to remove his tunic, he did not flinch or start or in any way change. And he ignored the trembling of her hand.

It was not so difficult to render her husband ready for the bath. It would be wise of her if she could become well used to it, for he was ever about his bath, and she suspected that he would ever want her assistance. And so she would assist him. She had faced more daunting specters, she silently assured herself.