Late afternoon arrived. I had not been able to eat anything all day, and now, whenever I tried to sit still, I found that my hands trembled imperceptibly. My stomach was a knot of nerves.
From our chamber with its thin wooden partition walls we could hear the build-up of voices close by in the solar.
Sweet Jesu, how many witnesses had the earl invited? I had thought two or three — why bother with a crowd — but, as I moved from the women’s dormitory to the solar, it became very evident that the earl had determined on a crowd.
I paused at the doorway, hiding one last time in the shadows, taking comfort from them, then raised my head and stepped through into the solar, Evelyn a step behind me.
Dear sweet Jesu, there was a multitude of people.
Later, when I had the time to sit down and sort through them by name, I realised that there were only some twenty people in the solar, but to me, at first sight, it looked like hundreds.
They all turned to look at me virtually the moment I stepped into the chamber.
My stomach turned over, my heart likewise, and I wondered what I was doing to have agreed to this. Then I realised I had never actually formally consented, and for one wild instant my brain considered the possibility of just running from the chamber shrieking denial.
And then I smiled, inclined my head slightly, took a deep breath and stepped forward.
There were only men in the chamber, no women. I recognised d’Avranches, Gilbert Ghent, Taillebois, Owain and several knights from the garrison. Then to my shock I saw Walter de Roche, the Earl of Summersete, whom our party had left at his castle of Walengefort on our way to Oxeneford.
What was he doing here?
Beside him was the earl, dressed in a fine tunic of scarlet and blue, heavily embroidered with golden silk in the heraldic symbols of Pengraic, and wearing a jewelled sword belt and scabbard.
Suddenly, gratefully, I did not feel overdressed and was glad I had donned the finest kirtle after all.
To one side of the earl, as the crowd continued to part, I saw an even more richly dressed young man of about my age.
He was tall, almost as tall as the earl, and of good strong features with curly brown hair and warm brown eyes. I lingered a little at his eyes, for they somehow seemed familiar to me, then I caught myself and lowered my own, for this was obviously a young man of rank (another earl, I wondered? Or de Roche’s son?).
The earl, my earl, Pengraic, stepped forward and held out his hand. His eyes, too, were reassuringly and somewhat unusually warm, and he gave me the smallest nod of approval.
‘My lord,’ I murmured, dipping in courtesy. With Pengraic still clasping my hand, I turned in Summersete’s direction, as the next senior ranking man in the chamber, and dipped to him as well.
‘Mistress Maeb,’ Summersete said, his entire face alive with sardonic humour at the idea that a girl he had last seen travelling as the least of Lady Adelie’s women was now about to take the lady’s place.
Then, obviously, the young man. I was feeling more confident now. I had made a decorous entrance, and had thus far greeted everyone in seemly order.
Nothing could go wrong.
‘My lord prince,’ Pengraic said, and my heart suddenly sank in horror. Prince. Oh sweet Virgin, this was one of Edmond’s sons. No wonder those eyes had looked familiar.
And I had ignored him in favour of Pengraic and Summersete when his rank demanded that I should have greeted him first.
‘My lord Prince Henry, this is Mistress Maeb Langtofte, in whose honour we all gather this afternoon.’
‘Mistress,’ said the prince, taking my hand from Pengraic’s and holding it gently as I dipped again, my face flushing in my humiliation.
‘I am sorry, my lord,’ I said, mortified that the first true words I spoke had to be an apology, ‘I did not know —’
‘It is of no matter,’ Henry said. ‘You could not have known me.’ He let my hand go. ‘By God, Pengraic, no wonder the haste!’
There was a ripple of polite laughter about the chamber.
Pengraic managed a small, tight smile, and I realised that he did not like Henry overmuch, or perhaps resented his presence.
Why is he here? I wondered, realising that Pengraic did not invite him willingly. And Summersete? Both of them suddenly appearing?
‘Perhaps we might get on?’ Pengraic said.
‘By all means,’ Henry said. ‘The sooner we progress to the feast the better.’
Pengraic led me, Henry and Summersete just behind, to a table where a large parchment lay.
I realised that another humiliation lay before me.
‘These are the jointure documents, Maeb,’ Pengraic said, ‘drawn up by Owain who was clerk enough for the duty. They convey to you the manors of Cogshall, Shiphill, Wharton and Hexthorpe as your jointure, your support and sustenance in the event of my death. We both need to sign them, and my lord prince and Summersete will witness.’
With that Pengraic picked up the pen, dipped it in the ink, and signed his name with a flourish.
Then he handed the pen to me.
I took it, hesitating.
I could feel Pengraic tense, perhaps thinking I was about to refuse (or, worse, ask for more).
‘I can make a mark only, my lord,’ I said softly.
‘A mark is as legal as a name,’ Pengraic said, as if utterly indifferent to the matter. ‘That is why we have witnesses for such things.’
Immensely grateful to him, I dipped the pen in the ink then, at the place he indicated, drew a shaky X.
I stepped back, Henry taking the pen from me, signing his name with a flourish, then Summersete.
‘And now the vows,’ Henry said cheerfully.
Pengraic took both my hands in his, our wrists crossed in the traditional vowing manner.
‘Before these witnesses,’ Pengraic said, ‘I swear I will willingly take Mistress Maeb Langtofte of Witenie to wife.’
Eyes turned expectantly to me.
‘Before these witnesses, I swear I will willingly take Raife de Mortaigne, Earl of Pengraic, to husband.’
‘Done!’ said Summersete, moving toward a manservant who held a tray of full wine cups.
‘Not quite,’ said Pengraic.
He reached behind him to another servant who held something wrapped in a sky-blue cloth. Pengraic picked it up then turned back to me. ‘To my betrothed,’ he said, ‘as symbol of my good faith.’
I had not expected a gift, but at the same time was not surprised by it. Acceptance of the gift would be as legally binding as the vows spoken prior. I was glad also, for this now would make my own gifting far less awkward.
I quickly checked for Evelyn … good, she was standing close.
Then I gave a little dip and took the bundle from Pengraic. ‘I thank you, my lord.’
I unwrapped it, gasping in unfeigned wonder as I beheld a stunningly worked girdle woven with gold wires and links and set with pearls, diamonds, emeralds and rubies. It was a magnificent thing — I had never seen the like, nor ever expected that I should receive such a gift.
I looked at Pengraic. ‘You do me great honour,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
He gave a smile and I thought I could read him well enough now to see that he was pleased with my reaction.
‘You must put it on,’ said Henry, and stepped forward as if to take the girdle and fix it himself.
I was too quick. I held the girdle out to Pengraic. ‘My lord?’
Evelyn was at my back, undoing the girdle she had so carefully stitched. She slid it from my hips, then I stepped closer to Pengraic and held out the girdle to him.
He took it, stepping close so that he could wrap the central and most exquisitely bejewelled portion of the girdle about my waist, handing the ends to Evelyn. She crossed them over behind my back at my waist, clipping them together, then handing the ends back to the earl. He draped them low on my belly, loosely knotting the ends of the girdle so that it sat snugly.
‘It is be
autiful,’ I said.
‘For what you did for my children,’ he said, very low.
My eyes flew to his. Others may have heard what he said, but they would not have known the significance.
I collected myself and turned slightly to Evelyn. She handed me my gift to the earl, wrapped in fine lawn. I handed it to him.
‘My gift to you, my lord,’ I said as I dipped in courtesy.
He looked surprised, but pleased, and his mouth curved in a smile as he unwrapped it.
He stared at the gift, then his smile widened slightly and he looked at me with what might have been some real warmth in his eyes.
‘It is lovely, Maeb. Thank you.’
I smiled in sheer relief that at least he had not hated it.
‘What is it?’ Henry said, stepping close.
‘It is a belt purse,’ said Pengraic, holding it out so those near him could see. ‘Exquisitely worked.’
The belt purse was of plain leather, but I had stitched a cover for it. For the background stitching it had a dark forest, much like that depicted on the walls of the castle chapel, while in the centre and foreground was a depiction of Pengraic Castle. Above the battlements I had stitched a fanciful sun and moon.
‘If the sun and moon ever come that close to this castle’s battlements,’ said Henry, ‘then I would think it a most unhappy event.’
‘Indeed,’ Pengraic muttered, then he stepped forward and kissed me.
It was not a deep kiss, but it was the first time he had kissed me and I was more than a little startled by its warmth, for I think I had only ever imagined a cold, hard kiss from the man. Maybe he meant it to convey his thanks for the purse.
‘It is a most exquisite design,’ he said, ‘and I thank you most deeply for it, and for the thought behind it.’
My heart still raced, but now with relief that my gift had gone down well.
‘Well,’ Henry said, ‘they are now betrothed, the gifts given and received. Surely we should drink to their health, and then proceed down to the great hall for our entertainment and feasting?’
Chapter Seven
Despite Prince Henry’s obvious desire for haste, we tarried in the solar for an hour or two more, drinking spiced wine and exchanging pleasant conversation. I admit I downed the first cup of wine a little too quickly, but it did relax me and I was careful with later cups.
Summersete cornered Pengraic and kept him in low, serious conversation. Prince Henry stayed by my side, exchanging inconsequential words as, one by one, the other men within the chamber came up to greet the prince and to wish me well.
Eventually, the prince managed to steer me into a clear space where we might not be overheard easily.
‘A meteoric rise, mistress,’ he said, his affable manner sliding away. His eyes had lost their warmth, and with that I thought he had lost all in him of his father.
‘It was not of my doing, my lord.’
‘I had not known, when I arrived here this morning, that I would be asked to witness Pengraic’s hasty new marriage. I was an admirer of Lady Adelie and sorrowed to hear of her death when Stephen’s message arrived at court.’
‘I also admired her, my lord.’
‘My father mentioned you, before I left Oxeneford.’
‘He did?’ Already on my guard because of the prince’s cooling manner and his questions, his words now confused me.
‘He told me to watch for Lady Adelie’s attending woman, Maeb. He said you were very beautiful. He was not wrong.’ The prince glanced about to ensure we were not being observed, then he slid a finger of his right hand under my girdle, against the soft mound of my belly.
Maybe he was his father’s son, after all.
‘I had thought to dally with Lady Adelie’s beautiful attending woman, but alas, I cannot see now how that might be without creating further crisis in the realm.’
‘Then by all means, let us avert the crisis,’ I said, drawing back so his finger slipped away from my girdle. I felt sullied and wished he were not here.
‘Your presence has quite startled me, my lord,’ I said, ‘for I had heard no rumour of your arrival.’
Instantly I regretted the last. Maybe Pengraic had known Henry and Summersete were on their way, but did not judge me of enough consequence to be informed.
‘We had thought to surprise Pengraic,’ he said. ‘But your betrothed husband is a difficult man to unsettle.’
He thought this might be news to me? ‘Why the need to unsettle him?’
‘Lord God, woman, you need some tuition in the skills of courtly conversation. Such direct questioning.’
‘She has the skill to unsettle you, it seems,’ Pengraic said, coming up behind us.
Again, there he was, having obviously heard much of our conversation.
I hoped he had not seen the finger under the girdle.
Pengraic took the empty cup from my fingers, handed it to a servant, then took my elbow.
‘It is time for us to descend,’ he said, ‘and feast.’
Confined by the dimensions of the keep, the great hall of Pengraic was somewhat smaller than the one at Rosseley, but it was still impressive. It had two fireplaces: one at the southern end of the hall, one in the eastern wall, and both were chimneyed to keep the air clear. At the northern end of the hall stood the dais holding the lord’s table; there were several braziers set behind the table to keep those at the high table warm.
The floor was of stone, its surface smooth and neatly joined. Hangings covered the northern, eastern and western walls, the subject matter reminding me again of the paintings in the chapel. Heraldic pennants and lamps hung from the panelled ceiling and torches lined the spaces between the hangings.
As at Rosseley, two long tables ran down from the high table. Most of the diners were already here, enough to fill both tables, but yet sparse enough in number that there was ample space between each diner. The plague’s shadow still hung over life at Pengraic.
Despite the shadow, there was a minstrel playing, and servants to carry ewers of wine and platters of food.
The music ceased and all stood as we entered.
I was reminded starkly of the feast at Rosseley when Edmond had attended. Then I’d been a naïve girl from the country, watching with wide eyes as the king and nobles processed up the hall.
I was little changed from that person, although life and death had marked me in the meantime. Yet now I was among the great nobles who strode up the centre of the hall, if not yet one of them, and eyes followed me, watchful, wondering, calculating.
It was unsettling. It would have been unsettling enough with Pengraic, but I was not walking with Pengraic.
As senior woman present (or close enough to my marriage to be so thought) I accompanied Prince Henry, the senior nobleman. We led the procession into the hall, slowly walking up the centre of the hall to the high table. To either side people bowed, their heads low as we passed.
I was very tense. Not so much because I had at my side a prince, but because of what that prince had revealed of himself. No wonder Pengraic did not like him.
I would need to watch my tongue tonight, and I hoped that the prince would be a few places from me.
It was not to be. As host, Pengraic sat at the centre of the table facing into the hall, myself on his right and Prince Henry on my right, so that I was positioned between the two men. Summersete sat on Pengraic’s left, d’Avranches beyond him and Owain (his place at the table surprised me) sat on Prince Henry’s right.
Servants hastened to offer us bowls of water to wash our hands and then towels to dry them. The wine servitors then filled our cups, and Henry led the hall in a toast to Pengraic’s and my betrothal. He managed it courteously enough, and once the cheers and good wishes and the drinkhails! had died down, servants set fine plate and platters of food before us.
Pengraic filled my plate for me, taking the choicest of morsels to set before me and, as Saint-Valery had so many months previously, took care to keep the lip of my wi
ne cup clean by wiping it with his napkin every so often. He offered me salt from the ornate silver salt cellar, and I nodded my thanks as he tipped it from his knife to my plate.
Every time a new course was served, the servants waiting behind us leaned in to clean the table, straighten the table cloths as much as they could, and gave us fresh napkins and plates or trenchers, whatever the course demanded.
It was all very formal, and very courteous, and I made sure to only sip at my wine and nibble at the food, keeping my responses to either Pengraic or Henry as brief as possible. Every so often I looked to Evelyn for reassurance. She sat a little way down the table on my right, and each time she caught my glance her way she smiled and gave me a small nod.
I slowly relaxed.
For a time the conversation was convivial and courteous. Most of the men concentrated on their eating, only asking polite queries of others as they ate and drank. The minstrel strolled about the centre of the hall, singing songs of nobility and adventure and, each time he came nearer me, foolish romantic ballads that had me blushing — more from the attention than the words.
Time passed. I relaxed more and, even though I had but sipped at the wine, I’d had enough to start to think that I may have been mistaken in forming a poor initial opinion of Henry.
Eventually the men sat back, their appetites sated. Pengraic gestured for the man serving the wine to step forth and refill all the cups.
‘My lord prince,’ I said to Henry, who was leaning back slightly in his chair and looking sleepy with wine, ‘what brings you to Pengraic? On my oath, I did not expect to meet with one of Edmond’s sons when I stepped into the solar this afternoon!’
Henry gave a little shrug of his shoulders. ‘Summersete and I were riding on my father’s business to the Bishop of Hereford, when, in Monemude, we fell to thinking we must make sure that Pengraic was still well. We had heard the plague was here and that Lady Adelie had died, and we were concerned.’
‘Your concern, as always, does me great honour,’ Pengraic said in a voice that indicated Henry’s concern did everything but.
‘It was truly a terrible time, my lord,’ I said to Henry. ‘The death …’