To Defy a King (20 page)

'Soon,' he said. 'Soon we will have our own room and our own bed.'

Mahelt made a face and stood up. 'It won't stop ears at the door and eyes at the keyhole,' she said, 'and people measuring the time we spend alone and watching to see how swiftly my belly swells.'

Hugh rose too. 'We'll find moments and places.'

'Like now, in the garden?'

'I promise you.'

She shook her head. 'I must go. I have duties.' She said the final word with a twist to her mouth.

Hugh caught her back as she reached the door in the wall. 'I swear it,' he said, kissing her again, cheek and brow, throat and lips. Mahelt gasped, but slipped under and away from him.

'We shall see,' she said, but there was a smile on her lips left by the kiss as she went out into the courtyard and rejoined the castle activity.

Hugh touched his mouth and tried not to think of all the things he had not told her about Ireland.

18

Framlingham, late April 1208

Hugh sat in his father's chamber and for the third time attempted to read the letter demanding his attention. It was a draft charter granting lands to Colne Priory and he was supposed to be checking the wording, but he couldn't keep his mind on the matter in hand and the characters were as meaningless to him as they had once been when he was six years old, struggling to learn his letters and his Latin. Uttering an oath of frustration, he cast down his quill and went to the window. His whole body felt as if the sap was uncoiling through it, burgeoning with the warmth of spring and the flourishing abundance that was all around. Horses grazed in the lush fields with foals afoot. On the mere, the water fowl trailed strings of fluffy youngsters. There were fledglings in the nests, new pups in the kennels, kittens in the stables. All had their young at foot. Even his father-in-law had had a new son waiting to greet his return to Ireland. They had received the news of little Ancel's birth three weeks ago. Glancing over his shoulder, he sighed at the tallies and parchments waiting his attention. Mahelt had recently celebrated her fifteenth year day, but Hugh had been away in Ipswich. His father said there must be a formal bedding ceremony, to conclude the agreement they had made with the Marshals, but it was going to be another two months before the household was gathered in Framlingham at the same time. His father was serving at court and it was going to be past midsummer before he came home, and in the meantime, Hugh needed to go to Yorkshire to deal with his own estates.

Continuing to gaze out of the window, he pondered his dilemma. Mahelt was of age and the agreement had been kept in good faith. The waiting time was over but the occasion needed to be a proper rite of passage; yet he recoiled from the notion of a grand bedding ceremony with the bloody sheet displayed in the hall as proof to everyone of a deed accomplished. He knew Mahelt would be mortified. That prying aspect set them both on edge each time they kissed or touched, knowing they were under scrutiny like a mare and stallion in the mating season.

Muttering under his breath, Hugh returned to the board and tried to work.

Framlingham's constable William Lenveise arrived to ask him about employing some crossbowmen for the garrison and wanted to discuss their wages. After he had repeated the same question twice, he began to look a trifle irritated.

'Sire?' he said pointedly.

Hugh waved his hand in apology for his distraction. 'Take on four,' he said,

'and we'll employ others as required. We don't need more at the moment.'

Lenveise bowed from the room. Hugh rubbed his eyes, gazed at the parchments, and with another oath, abandoned them and went downstairs.

Ida put down her sewing and looked at her son in surprise. 'You want my blessing to take Mahelt to Settrington?'

'Yes, Mother.' Sitting down beside her, he picked up a length of ribbon from her sewing basket and wove it through his fingers.

'Does this mean what I think it does?'

Hugh looked at the silk gleaming on his hand. Over and under and through.

'Yes,' he said. 'By all means let us have a ceremony at Framlingham when my father returns and for formal purposes, but I need to be alone with Mahelt - properly alone.'

His mother's expression filled with concern. 'And what of your father's wishes?'

'He can still have his ceremony,' Hugh said with quiet determination, 'with a phial of chicken blood to deflower the bedsheet if he must have all in order. I have obeyed him thus far, but I am not him and he has to give me room to breathe. I know my wife as he does not - and I would know her better yet. How can I concentrate on what I'm supposed to be doing when she is here all the time - at my side but out of bounds?'

Ida gave him a pensive stare. 'And will you able to think any better when she is within bounds? Will you get anything done at all then?'

Hugh met his mother's soft brown gaze. Usually her looks for him were tender. Often her eyes held a lively sparkle but just now they were tired and sad. She hadn't said the words with her usual twinkle and she was considering him sombrely. 'Yes, I will,' he replied firmly. 'I will be whole and complete - and so will she. While we are here we are as children under your eye. We need time on our own to become man and wife.'

His mother was silent for a long time. Then she sighed again. 'When I married your father, he brought me to Framlingham. It was in the days before the towers and the new house were built and there was just the old hall. He wasn't an earl then, but a young man trying to make his place in the world. I had lived at the court for many years, but I was glad to come here.

We had time together, alone, and I valued those moments above gold and above the coronet of an earldom.' Her eyes glittered with moisture. 'Indeed, those weeks we spent then have been a blessing and a curse down the years.'

Hugh raised his eyebrows.

'It was the sweetest time of my life. We were just an ordinary newly wedded couple with only ourselves to please and to do as we chose. Your father toasted bread over an open fire in the bedchamber and we fed each other on love . . .' She swallowed hard. 'We have not had so many moments since then. What the world has not taken away the changes of time have wrought.'

She gave him a sad, poignant smile. 'Yes, go; have your time and with my blessing. I will not deny either of you that sweetness.'

Hugh knelt to his mother and felt her light touch on his head.

'Once you stood no higher than my knees,' she said with a catch in her voice. 'Now you have to bend to yours.'

'In honour,' Hugh replied and she took his hands between hers and kissed him on either cheek.

When he had gone, Ida wiped her eyes and looked round the room at her various needlework projects. Each stitch was a tiny mark in time, building up from that single starting point into a garment or a wall hanging, or a length of braid, speaking of months and years of work - time that she had not spent with Roger except for the odd occasion. All of these pieces were tangible keepsakes of industry and loneliness. The reminders she had of the shared times with her husband were their children, but one by one they had cut the threads and woven lives of their own beyond her sphere - just as her husband had gradually distanced himself from her and spent his time with the business matters of the earldom. Grandchildren would fill the gap, she supposed, and of course there was always more sewing. She gave herself a brisk mental shake. Thinking that way was foolish and unproductive. She ordered her women to bring the coverlet of pale silk on which she had been embroidering white and pink roses in preparation for the bedding ceremony.

It was almost finished and if they all applied themselves to it today, it would be ready for Hugh to take in his baggage to Yorkshire as a tangible gesture of her love and blessing.

Mahelt dismounted in the stable yard of Hugh's manor at Settrington and gazed around, drinking in her surroundings. The house reminded her in many ways of her family's home at Hamstead. It was of a comparable size and even had a similar river flowing nearby. There was the same pleasant, cared-for air, and because it reminded her of a piece of home, she was immediately endeared to it. The arched windows made her think of surprised eyes and a smile of light streamed through the doorway.

Riders had gone ahead so that the servants had had time to prepare for the arrival of the main party and enticing smells wafted from the kitchen buildings. The hall was clean and bright; the interior walls wore a coat of fresh white limewash given splashes of colour by shields and banners. The furniture was sparse, but of good oak that gave off a honeyed smell of beeswax.

They had come to Settrington via the coast, sailing up from Yarmouth to Bridlington, and had then ridden westwards to Settrington. Mahelt had loved every moment. Unlike her father she wasn't prone to seasickness and had enjoyed the wind in her face and the spray sparkling over the gunwales and salting her lips. Hugh had sea water in his blood and she had watched him with pride and desire as he helped reef the sail and took his turn at the steer-board. It had felt so right to sit beside him under the awning of the deck shelter, a shared cloak protecting them from the wind, as the galley surged northwards and the seabirds rode the updraughts from the smudged coastline on the port side.

Hugh made her comfortable before the fire in the hall and had servants bring water to wash her hands and refreshments of good wine and dainty little pastries. He murmured that he had something to do and would return on the moment. Mahelt smiled and nodded, and used the time to settle her thoughts and absorb the atmosphere. The bench she was sitting on was old but well cared for and gleamed with a soft patina. She suspected Ida's stitchwork in the beautifully embroidered cushions. She leaned her head back, savouring the wine and the feeling of tranquillity and freedom.

Returning, Hugh sat down on the bench at her side. His face was flushed and he seemed very pleased with himself. 'Do you like it?' He gestured around.

'Very much.' She smiled at him. 'It's just like being married, isn't it?'

Hugh threw back his head and laughed aloud. 'I would not know, but I am ready to find out.' He ate a pastry and washed it down with the wine. 'This place has been mine since I was seventeen years old.'

She gave him a flirtatious look through her lashes. 'We should have come here sooner.'

'I thought about it, but then I certainly wouldn't have been able to keep my promise to your parents and mine.'

Mahelt's stomach gave a small, pleasant lurch.

'I have something to show you.' He put his cup down and held out his hand.

'Come with me?'

Mahelt laughed. She felt warm and weak. 'It's not another pony, is it?'

Hugh's eyes were luminous 'Not this time.'

Mahelt took his hand and followed him outside and up the stairs to the door leading to the chamber over the hall. He removed his hood and covered her eyes with it as if about to start a game of hoodman blind.

'I don't want you peeking through your fingers,' he whispered against her ear. His voice was muffled by layers of cloth, but the laughter and the tension in it were still unmistakable and a small, luxurious shiver ran down her spine.

He took her hand again, opened the door and led her step by step across a room. She felt the firm but yielding springiness of rush matting under her feet and sensed a soft draught from a window against her cheek. He guided her sideways to avoid an item of furniture. Deprived of her sight, she found her other senses were alert and tingling. His hand was warm in hers, leading.

She felt the heaviness of a wool curtain and knew he was raising his arm to clack it aside on its rings. He pulled her gently over a threshold and closed the curtain again behind them.

'You can look now,' he said and removed the hood.

Mahelt blinked, then stared and stared. They were in a bedchamber as she had thoroughly expected, but such a chamber as she could never have imagined. A low fire flickered in the hearth, taking the chill off the room.

The walls shone with white plaster and were painted with a frieze of delicate green scrollwork interspersed with pink dog roses. Open shutters of warm madder red allowed the afternoon light to stream across the floor and flood the bed in radiance. Sheets and bolsters of crisp white linen contrasted with a coverlet that was a field of embroidered roses. There were rose petals too, scattered upon the pillow. The bed was without hangings, so that all was open to the bright day. A delicate scent of mingled flowers and spices filled the air.

Mahelt was dumbstruck with wonder and a little tearful. Her chest felt as if her heart had expanded and there was no room to breathe. Hugh cupped the side of her face on his hand and with great tenderness unpinned her headdress and removed her netting cap to let her braids tumble down.

'I have dreamed and dreamed of this,' he said hoarsely, running his hand down one of her lustrous plaits. 'I know we are to have an official ceremony with witnesses, but this is for us. On land that is mine and without interference from anyone. Just me and you, if only for a few days. I swear I shall not hurt you. You will come to no harm in my hands.'

Mahelt's breathing quickened. 'I am not afraid of this, or of you,' she whispered.

Hugh lifted her up and carried her to the bed and the full spring light dazzling on the coverlet. All would be luminous clarity for this first time, sanctified in light. He wanted to see her body; to know everything there was to know about her so that she could truly become a part of him, and he a part of her.

He uncoiled her hair from its braids and let its dark silkiness twist around his hands. The sun shot the filaments with tones of gold, ruby and royal purple.

Her eyes were midnight and charcoal, rayed with amber around the pupils.

As her lips parted under his, he tasted honey and wine. Now that the moment was here, Hugh no longer dwelt on a knife edge. He wanted to make it last for ever. He wanted them to have all the time in the world.

He undressed her slowly, clothing her in kisses to replace the garments he stripped from her. He explored her skin, admiring with the eye of a lover and artist the lithe lines of her body. Her legs were long; her breasts were small and round; he could easily cup them in his hands like sun-warmed apples.