The Warrior's Wife (2 page)

 

Secure in her shadowy corner of the bridal chamber, Lady Katherine de Fraisney plucked a fading flower from one of the garlands decorating the curtained bed. Kate breathed in what remained of its perfume as she watched the rest of the women in the candlelit and stuffy room. Noblewomen, knight’s ladies and servants crowded around the bride at the chamber’s center, laughing, pushing, shoving, as they all tried to help the girl disrobe. Kate made a face. Disgusting antics! As if preparing a virgin bride for her deflowering were some game.

Given a choice, Kate wouldn’t have been within a mile of Emma’s bedding right now. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice. When she tried to refuse her father had dragged her to the bedchamber’s door, then shoved her inside.

It wasn’t that her father wanted her to participate. All he cared about was displaying his newly available daughter to the female relatives of potential bridegrooms.

Beneath a month’s worth of resentment a sliver of triumph glimmered in Kate. His effort was wasted, or so she hoped. She was doing her best to see that no one noticed her standing in this corner. Not that any of them would know her. Her twelve-year absence from this shire made her a stranger to all of them, and they to her. Indeed, the only people Kate knew at this wedding were her father and Sir Warin de Dapifer, her father’s steward. That was her father’s fault. She’d been only eight when he’d sent her to live with the de Fraisneys, to be raised alongside her future husband.

In the room’s center the disrobing continued. Shoes and stockings flew. No less a woman than an earl’s aged widow crowed as she came away with Emma’s belt. Lady Haydon laughed and caught her daughter’s overgown as another gentlewoman tossed it to her.

Dressed in scarlet, Lady Amicia de la Beres, the pretty, dark-haired woman who was this wedding’s only other young widow, came away with the bride’s green undergown. One of Lady Haydon’s younger daughters reached for Emma’s chemise. Her mother stopped her.

“Nay, lovey," Lady Haydon said, “you can loosen our Emma’s hair, but only a married woman or one once married should do this. Who wishes to remove my daughter’s last garment?" she called out in invitation. “Is there anyone who hasn’t had a hand in this yet?"

Still safe in her corner, Kate grimaced. Lady Haydon acted as if baring every inch of Emma to her new husband was some great privilege and not just another step leading to the repulsive act of copulation.

Memories of her own wedding night remained all too fresh in Kate’s mind: the unrelenting noise of the shivaree, standing nude while strangers made embarrassing jests, especially about Richard. Poor, ailing Richard. He’d been naught but a frail, knock-kneed lad of ten and four at the time, Kate all of two years his senior.

Once they’d been well and truly humiliated everyone left them alone to complete a marriage neither wanted. Richard had bluntly informed Kate he wouldn’t touch her, then had rolled onto his side and gone to sleep, much to Kate’s relief. After living with the de Fraisneys for so long, Richard seemed more a brother than a husband.

When the guests awakened them the next morning to find no blood on the sheets, there’d been lectures for both Kate and Richard. Then Lady Adele, Richard’s newly widowed mother, had given Kate explicit instructions on how to touch her young husband’s manhood to bring about her own deflowering. Even so many years later the mortification of that conversation ached in Kate.

The next night neither she nor Richard dared risk defiance. Kate did as instructed and touched Richard. It worked; Kate could still remember every one of those painful thrusts.

For every day afterward, Lady Adele nagged Kate to do her marital duty, always hoping her daughter-by-marriage would come with child before her sickly son departed this world for the next. All for naught. After Richard’s death the only things Kate kept from her first marriage were her dower--the portion of the de Fraisney property Kate would hold for her life’s time--and the hopeless desire to never again lie abed with a man.

“I think she hasn’t helped yet," Lady Amicia called out, beckoning Kate out of her corner with a wave of her hand. “Come and aid us in this, my lady.”

Kate’s heart jolted as everyone in the room, even Emma, turned to look at her. Between her own foul memories and the strangeness of these women, she couldn’t do it. “Nay, not I. Choose another," she protested.

“Are you so shy, then, Lady de Fraisney?" Lady Haydon laughed. “Too bad, for I think me it won’t be long before we’re undressing you. I’ve been watching your sire this night, interviewing man after man. At this rate, he’ll have you betrothed before we celebrate the last day of my Emma’s event."

Kate’s heart twisted. So everyone knew her father couldn’t wait to be rid of her for the second time. She’d been a widow for barely a month and home even less and her father acted as if she were a cheese on the verge of going bad and he a cheesemonger eager to foist her onto the first gullible customer through his door. Lord, but the only time her sire spoke to her was to tell her to open her mouth so that a potential husband could see she still had all her teeth.

Someone pounded on the bedchamber’s closed door. Kate started as the sound thundered into the room. “Let us in," shouted the men from the solar that lay outside the chamber.

“Oh, hold onto your cocks," the countess shouted back. “We’re not ready for you yet." The old noblewoman squinted nearsightedly at Kate. “Hie now. Come out of there, child, and do your duty."

Kate blanched at the word and the painful memories it woke. Lady Amicia shot her fellow widow a concerned look, then caught the arm of a small, plump woman.

“Leave her be, my lady, and let’s have Lady FitzHervey here do it. She’s not yet had the chance to undress a bride, although she’s three years wed herself. Let her remove Emma’s chemise."

As Lady Amicia spoke, she sent Kate a sidelong and reassuring glance. Never so grateful for a rescue in all her life, Kate offered her a tiny smile in return.

A moment later, Emma stood clothed only in the waves of her long red-gold hair. Lady Haydon moved to the door and laid her hand upon the latch. Her plain face was flushed, while her eyes fair danced with excitement.

“Are we ready?" she asked of the women within the room.

“Aye," all but Kate shouted, as the others formed a wall between the bride and those soon to enter, so none might see Emma before the proper moment.

Lady Haydon threw open the door. Gerard d’Essex flew into the room, borne on the shouts and laughter of those who shoved their way in behind him. The bridegroom came to a halt but a foot from the nearest woman, his cap already off and his belt missing. The men ringed Gerard for what seemed but an instant. Clothing flew in every direction, then they stood back from the naked man.

“Your husband is ready, sweet bride," crooned one young swain. “Now, stand aside you old crones, so yon wife can see her man and he, her."

At his command, the women parted. Emma’s sisters lifted her hair, smoothing the long tresses over her shoulders and down her back. Bright color seeped up Gerard’s neck as he gazed at his naked wife.

“I find no flaw," he said, his voice thick and quiet.

“Nor do I," Emma giggled.

Much to Kate’s surprise, Gerard’s shaft jerked, then began to rise of its own accord. The men hooted and stamped their feet in approval.

“How now, daughter," Lady Haydon cried out with a laugh. “It seems your sire has found you an eager husband. Remember you all I’ve taught? Let him kiss your lips," she started, only to be interrupted by another round of hooting, this time from both men and women.

“Upper or lower lips?" one man asked.

“Lower is better," shouted the aged countess, “for every woman has an easier time of it when a man kisses her nether lips." Her laugh was a hen’s cackle.

Kate’s ears burned. She looked in pity at the bride, wishing she had some comfort to offer. But Emma wasn’t cringing at all. Instead, she laughed, her eyes brighter than the color on her cheeks.

“It’s Gerard, not Emma, we should instruct," Lady Amicia called out, as she pointed to the bridegroom. “He needs to be reminded to stroke and caress until his wife’s breath comes fast. He mustn’t fail to please her, not if he wants a handsome babe nine months hence."

Despite the bright color blazing on Gerard’s face, he glowered at those around him. “I know what to do."

“Do you?” Emma asked, her tone sultry. She strode to the bed and patted the mattress. “My mother has given me her instructions. If you have more to teach me, my liege, come show me now."

Gerard’s eyes widened. His shaft saluted. “Out!" he shouted, already pushing his friends toward the door. The women followed, still shouting bawdy instructions.

Kate trailed at their heels, one of the last to leave. She was barely inside the solar, Lady Haydon’s private parlor, which occupied the other half of the keep’s upper chamber, when the door slammed behind her. It was the sign the dozen or so soldiers waiting in the solar wanted. Each one lifted his shield and began to beat upon it with his sword, all of them shouting like wild men.

Behind the soldiers musicians lifted their instruments. The piper teased a long, squealing belch from his pipes, the drum banged, the violist sawed his bow across his viol’s strings, while the sackbut bellowed. The shivaree had begun. The noise would continue for as long as those in the solar could hold out, their object to distract the bride and groom from completing their marital duty.

Kate covered her ears and raced out the door that led from solar to hall. Here at Haydon the keep tower was too small to accommodate more than the small solar and the lord’s bedchamber. Everyone else lived in the massive stone hall that sprang from the keep’s side, that space being three times as long and just as tall as the tower.

The chamber was a fine construct, its walls dressed in plaster painted with a brightly colored design, save that there were no true windows. Instead, narrow, cross-shaped openings, meant for crossbows not viewing, cut through the thick walls at regular intervals. Painted linen panels draped these defensive windows to stop drafts.

Since fabric stopped light as well as air, a bank of torches ran along each long wall and a great fire danced upon a central hearthstone to drive back the room’s natural gloom. Just now a pair of jugglers were tossing their balls above the flickering flames, pretending they burned their hands each time they caught one. For all their screams, their voices were barely audible over the roar of conversation in the room, so many guests were gathered here.

To Kate’s surprise, Lady Amicia waited for her just inside the hall. The young widow’s smile blazed on her face, her green eyes glowing with the promise of friendship.

“Why, here you are at last,” Lady Amicia said, threading her arm through Kate’s. “I’ve been waiting all evening to meet you. Now that the bride and groom are settled and you’re finally free of your sire, we have some time to become acquainted.”

A little startled by this odd introduction, Kate cleared her throat. “My thanks for what you did in there. I just couldn’t--”. The remainder of her statement died unspoken. She wasn’t going to tell someone she didn’t know about her miserable wedding night and marriage.

Lady Amicia dismissed her gratitude with a wave of her hand. “No thanks are necessary. All I knew was that you looked uncomfortable and those old biddies were going peck at you for their own amusement. I’m Lady Amicia de la Beres, but you may call me Ami if I may call you Kate.”

Delighted, Kate smiled. “If you please.”

“I do, indeed,” Ami said, her smile all the brighter. “I knew from the moment I saw you we were bound to be friends. Come. We’ll find a place to sit where it’s quieter and we can talk.”

She paused to scan the hall. With the newlyweds abed many of the older guests were saying their good nights to their host. Without their elders’ watchful eyes, the more youthful folk were at last free to wandering the hall as they would. So many people up and about meant there were plenty of empty tables and benches from which to choose.

“There, back in yon corner,” Ami said, pointing to a table that was far from the hall’s noisiest area. “We won’t hear a word anyone else says over there. I can’t speak for you, but I’m sick of all this talk of rebellion and pence-pinching kings.”

“Rebellion?” Kate asked in surprise as they went. Even though she knew it was silly, she shot a glance behind her toward Haydon’s door, as if some troop might appear through it this very moment. “What rebellion?”

Ami shot her a sidelong glance. “Folk said you’d been cloistered in your marriage, and I see now it must be true if you don’t know that some men call for an uprising against our king.” Ami shook her head. “They talk, saying our monarch will never be content until every knight and nobleman in the realm has an empty purse and no weapons in store.

“But enough of that,” she finished, as she took a seat, then pulled Kate down on the bench beside her. “Now, we must tell each other everything,” Ami commanded. “I’ll start by saying I’ve been nigh on dying to meet someone of my own age and rank. Even though I’m only a sheriff’s widow I came into the king’s custody upon my husband’s death. I am the lowest ranking widow in his custody and the other ladies at court take great pleasure in snubbing me when they can.”