And yet, here we sat talking of inconsequential things and nibbling on cheeses and meats and dried figs.
Generally, the earl and d’Avranches kept conversation going with a prosaic discussion of repairing the garrison keep from the damage the plague fires had wrought. Eventually, they both decided they needed to inspect some work that was being done on the upper floors of the garrison.
Such was my marriage feast. The earl told me we would have a light meal in the evening, again in the solar, and then he and d’Avranches departed with the other knights. Owain stayed a few minutes longer, then he, too, left.
Evelyn and I were on our own.
We passed the afternoon in desultory manner, stitching away at yet more garments. I spent the time mostly thinking and worrying about the night ahead. I was no stranger to what went on between a man and a woman: having lived my childhood in a village, I had spent enough time, along with other children, with my eye glued to cracks in planks of barns and other outbuildings where young lovers chose to cavort.
If I had been as other village children I would have chosen a lover as a young woman and only married when I was breeding my first child.
But my life had taken a very different course, and here I was, noble wed, awaiting my marriage night. I was nervous enough of Pengraic without wondering how he might expect me to behave in bed. What did he want from a wife? Quiet compliance? Screaming enthusiasm? I didn’t know.
Given that I had known his former wife, though, I could make some suppositions. Adelie would doubtless have been quietly compliant (unless she presented her husband with a very different side than she showed to everyone else). She had herself told me that the earl was demanding of his marital rights, and that she was always glad when she was breeding so that she might evade such demands. Is that what the earl liked? Or had he kept a mistress who had provided him with the bed sport he truly desired?
Sweet Jesu, did he have a mistress? At court, perhaps? I had not once thought of this possibility, and I had not been with the household long enough to know. Did Evelyn know?
I could not ask her.
I just wanted it to be over. My marriage night was merely something to be got past, something where I wanted to know what was expected of me that I might do my best to comply. Perhaps I would start breeding soon and then, like Adelie, I could find a reprieve from my husband’s demands.
As always, the unknown assumed a more terrifying guise than what turned out to be reality.
We had our supper, and then I retired to the privy chamber with Evelyn to get ready for bed. I suppose that had this been a marriage made in more usual times, the ceremony would have been more elaborate. As it was, it was utterly perfunctory.
I was beyond relieved to see the bed had been replaced, and that there were new hangings on both the bed and at the window. The bed had even been shifted to another part of the commodious chamber. There were bad memories still in here, but at least the new and rearranged furniture made it easier.
Evelyn and I did not talk much. I was too nervous and she, I think, too uncomfortable at the new relationship between us: I cannot imagine Evelyn had ever thought of us as lady and attending woman. We laid aside my kirtle, brushed out my hair, and then Evelyn gave me a light wrap to put over my chemise so I could wait for the earl.
I did not know whether to climb into bed or wait in a chair by the fire.
In the end, I chose the chair by the fire. Evelyn left me, saying she would return in the morning.
For now, and for the rest of the night, I would be alone with my husband.
I sat for what felt to me a very long time, but which in reality was likely only a brief period. I think the earl must have been in the solar, waiting only for Evelyn to leave.
When he came in, I rose hastily, and dipped in courtesy. He walked over and gave that small strange smile of his and, a little hesitant himself, ran a gentle hand behind my neck.
‘I do not require such formality in our bedchamber, Maeb.’
I felt vulnerable at the touch of his hand, but relieved at the mention of requirements. ‘I do not know what you want, my lord. I do not know how to please you, or what pleases you.’
Again, that small smile. He brought up his other hand, running the fingers slowly through the bulk of my hair before he gently kissed my forehead. ‘Get into bed,’ he said, ‘while I disrobe, and then we can talk.’
I walked to the other side of the bed as the earl disrobed. Should I offer to assist him? No, he had told me to get into bed. Somewhat self-consciously, for I had never before been naked before a man, I set my wrap to one side before stepping out of the chemise.
I slid into bed, trying not to hurry as I drew the coverlets over my breasts. My hair was so long it caught behind me, and I pulled it over my shoulder, using it, as well as the coverlets, as a form of defence.
The earl undressed unhurriedly, then slid into bed beside me.
We sat there, my stomach knotting.
‘I know that my decision to choose you as a wife, particularly after the manner in which I spoke to you on that day we met, has been a surprise to you,’ he said.
I made a noncommittal noise, desperately unsure of what to say.
He shifted so he could look at me directly, and the knots in my stomach increased. ‘My opinion of you changed as you settled into my household, although I was never happy about the regard in which Stephen held you, nor, indeed, that which you felt for him. I had heard reports of how you rode together much of the way to this castle, and that angered me.’
The earl lifted a hand and brushed a small amount of hair away from my shoulder. ‘I spent half my time being angry at you, Maeb, and the other half being grateful you walked into Rosseley. You twist me both ways.’ He sighed, his hand still stroking at my hair, gently touching my shoulder now and again. ‘I worry that my desire for you might deflect me from my purpose. I worry that you might be my undoing.’
‘My lord, I —’
‘Perhaps I should not have remarried,’ he continued, giving me no chance to speak. ‘There are such pressing matters ahead I need to focus on, and such dark times, that it would be simpler for me without the burden of a wife and a family. Better without the temptation of such a lovely girl in my bed. On the other hand, a wife would be a comfort to me. You would be a comfort to me. Should I have married you? I don’t know, perhaps not, but it is done now, Maeb, and we shall both have to make the best of it.’
Hardly reassuring words, although his voice was gentle. He worried that I would be his undoing? He referred to Henry, obviously, and how my witless naïvety might make the earl vulnerable.
His hand slipped behind my neck, very slowly stroking. ‘Maybe we might have a marriage where we can both be of comfort to each other. Do you think we might manage that?’
‘I will try, my lord.’
‘Call me Raife, in this privacy. We hold equal rank now. You should learn to wield it.’
‘I am too unsure to wield it!’
He laughed and its genuine amusement startled me. ‘You will become more comfortable, in time. Call me Raife, now. Say it.’
‘Raife.’ It felt strange. ‘It will become familiar to you,’ he said, leaning forward to kiss my neck. His hand went to my shoulder. ‘Come now, lie down.’
I lay down, he sliding down to accompany me. I prayed this would be over soon and that he would not be too displeased. Then I could close my eyes and move toward tomorrow when everything, I was sure, would be easier.
‘Do you know, when I married Adelie, we were both so young. I was fifteen, and Adelie only fourteen or so.’
I smiled, a little tremulously.
‘On our wedding night she spent three hours on her knees on that side of the bed,’ he nodded to my side, ‘praying fervently.’
Sweet Jesu, is that what he expected me to do?
‘No, fair Mae,’ he said, kissing my shoulder now, ‘I do not want you sliding away from my warmth onto the colder orbit of the floor. Stay right w
here you are. But, oh, that night, I was full of righteous lust, Adelie of pious duty. I fear she did not enjoy herself. But … that was Adelie. This is you. Perhaps we can manage all kinds of excitements between us, you and I.’
My mind instantly leapt to the dark whispers I’d heard among women of the village: that some men liked to obtain their pleasure with knives and bindings, even with fire and blood.
My fear must have shown on my face, for the earl chuckled.
‘No, Mae! I do not intend to beat you! Nor harm you in any way. I would never do that. Never. Tell me you understand that.’
I liked the way he used the diminutive of my name. It reassured me, somehow. ‘I know that you would never harm me, my … Raife.’
‘If only your voice carried conviction, wife, but I can live with the mere words for the moment. Time will bring trust. I will never harm you, Mae. Never. Whatever you may come to think of me. You are the one person I could never want to harm.’
I rolled my head over to look at him, knowing my eyes still mirrored my doubt.
‘Oh, Mae …’ He kissed me, very deeply, his hand caressing my body. I was still uncertain of him, but I tried to relax as he touched me intimately.
‘Just trust me, Mae.’
‘Yes.’
‘Whatever happens.’
‘Yes.’
I was relaxing now, and astonishing myself by realising that I enjoyed the touch of his hand. He rolled me over to face him, and I leaned in, pressing my breasts against his chest, for the first time recognising the power of my own body and of my own sexuality as I heard his breath catch.
We kissed again, more passionately now that I was a little more at ease, and he pressed me the length of his body.
‘You are full of surprises,’ he whispered, kissing me on my cheek and chin, and a sweet, sweet spot on my neck that made me shudder. ‘So full of surprises. I must beware of you.’
All I heard was the desire and wonder in his voice rather than the words themselves, and I did not think any more on what he said.
Thus was my marriage night. I shall not speak more of it for modesty’s sake — I have already spoken too freely. But it was not what I had expected, and certainly not what I had feared.
I had hoped only that I would please him. I had not thought that I, also, would find pleasure in him, and from him.
Chapter Nine
Thus I became the Countess of Pengraic. A new circumstance and an uneasy one. Previously I had watched the world from a lowly rank, and I was comfortable there. I knew my place. But suddenly I was transported to the very highest of ranks within secular society. I had to relinquish so much of my understanding of the world, and virtually all of my learned and comfortable behaviours.
I no longer knew my place. All I could do was rely on Evelyn, to a lesser extent on my husband, and from my memories of how Adelie had behaved. But I had only known Adelie a short time and what I learned from my memories of her was limited. How did I command? I did not know. What were my rights — and my courtesies — in command? I did not know. For instance, Evelyn was now my attending woman rather than my friend. We both found that adjustment uncomfortable.
I wanted, as a gesture to Evelyn, to ask her daughter to join me as an attending woman as well, but did not know how to go about this. Did I ask my husband? My instinctive feeling was that yes, I should ask him … but was that instinct a relic from Mistress Maeb, low-ranked attendant? Did Pengraic have any care as to who my attending ladies were? Should I just ask Taillebois to organise her transport here and be done with it?
But would that antagonise de Tosny, in whose household Evelyn’s daughter currently resided. Did I need to ask him? As a countess, did I need to ‘ask’ a lower ranked noble … or did I just take? I didn’t know! Again, my gut instinct was to ask de Tosny’s permission, to be courteous, but my head argued a countess did not need to ‘ask permission’.
There were other doubts and considerations. Did I need more than one attending lady, when I had no children? Was two an extravagance? Wasteful? Indulgent? What would Adelie have done?
It was such a simple matter, one which I am sure would have concerned my husband not the least, and which Adelie would have solved and acted upon within an instant. But I spent days, weeks, worrying over it and, in the end, did nothing.
I had not been raised to be a noble. I did not know the order and manner of things in such a life.
I struggled.
I worried about my struggles, because this was but life at Pengraic Castle which, while formal enough, was nothing as compared to life at court. I started to hope that when my husband finally surrendered to Edmond’s wishes and returned to court, he would leave me behind. Adelie had remained behind at Rosseley; might not I at Pengraic?
In the meantime I managed as best I could and hoped I did not embarrass my husband. My new role as wife was much easier than my role as countess. Pengraic did not ask much of me. At night we shared a bed and, most nights, we coupled, and I became far more confident in that aspect of my new duties.
As I had discovered on my marriage night, I found love-making surprisingly enjoyable. Surprising because I had never thought of Pengraic in terms of ‘lover’, and I had supposed that sharing a bed and my body with him would prove to be as awkward (and sometimes as frightening) as so often were our conversations. After all, that was what Lady Adelie had led me to expect with her sighs and talk of her husband’s ‘demands’.
But, no. I did not struggle to be self-assured in bed, as I did out of it.
I quickly grew to enjoy my husband’s attentions, and grew to trust in my own abilities as his sexual partner. I had never thought I might enjoy love-making so much, or grow to look forward to it. From what my husband said on the matter (and even more from his undoubted enthusiasm for our bed sport), I realised that my lack of inhibitions (as compared, I supposed, to Adelie’s) pleased him and that gave me ever more confidence. I was careful not to be too presumptuous, and to always defer to my husband — I did not want him to think me the harlot — but I was relaxed and accommodating, even at times a little forward, and our bed was one of the few places I ever heard my husband laugh spontaneously.
I pleased him and that left me with a warm sense of accomplishment. He was gentle and courteous in bed, when he was so often not when out of it, and that pleased me even more. It allowed me to be more tolerant with his moments of ill-temper during the day. I also came to realise that when he was uncomfortable he retreated behind his mask of indifference, at times hiding behind anger and snappishness.
Gradually I grew to know my husband better.
Over several weeks our life settled into an increasingly comfortable routine. We rose early and we broke our fast and generally shared few words over a frugal meal in the solar. My husband (the words slowly rolled ever more easily from my tongue) then spent the majority of the day within the castle, overseeing the task of rebuilding (where necessary), restocking and re-manning the castle, and restoring morale. He sometimes spent a few days at a time away at neighbouring towns and villages; Ragheian and Monemude, Tretower and Crickhoel.
I spent the days within the solar sewing, or within the chapel praying or chatting with Owain with whom I maintained a friendship, even after my elevation to countess. The nights, if my husband was home, we spent dining within the great hall in some informality. These were often cheerful evenings, especially if an itinerant minstrel was passing through, or even players or jugglers. Other guests might be present, such as travelling friars and monks, messengers, merchants, pilgrims, all of whom added their own interest, news and tales to the evening. We oft had dancing — the minstrels taught me of the newer dances in favour at court — and even courtly games to while away the evenings. And thence to bed, which, for its lack of formality, my husband’s laughter and the sport we shared, was the part of the day I always looked forward to most.
I enjoyed the closeness and warmth of our privy chamber. I also enjoyed the fact that my husband preferred t
o share our chamber at night with me alone. Most nobles had a servant or two sleeping on a truckle bed, or on a cot at the foot of the main bed, but not the earl. I was grateful for it, that we could enjoy our bed sport, and each other, without fear of what my husband’s valet, Charles or, heaven help me, Evelyn, might be thinking as they listened.
One day, while my husband was off with d’Avranches, I decided I was sick of the solar and was not in a mood for Owain or the chapel. With Evelyn left behind in the solar, I walked out to the stables in the outer bailey. I had often thought of Dulcette, and wondered if she had survived the time of chaos when the plague hit the castle. Perhaps I might stroke her nose and dream of riding her … as part of my insecurities as countess I did not know if I could request to have her saddled, or if it was proper (or even safe) for me to ride out by myself.
I would just content myself with stroking her nose, and feeding her an apple I had taken from the fruit tray in the solar.
And, if she had been lost when so many horses roamed untethered, then the mere walk to and from the outer bailey would amuse me and keep me entertained for the morning.
The outer bailey was a foreign land to me. I had not had a reason to visit here previously and I halted just inside the bailey after I’d walked through the tunnel under the northern keep. It was a bustle of activity. To one side was the kitchen for the garrison, men coming and going with baskets and carcasses.
The blacksmith, Sewenna’s husband, was hammering away by a roaring fire, his face and torso red and sweating in the heat. Several men were washing horses down in one corner. In another a group of children played. Yet somewhere else a group of women, wives of the craftsmen and soldiers, stood and chatted. Soldiers sat in the sun and mended and polished saddlery and weapons.
I hesitated, not sure where to go. I knew the stables were here, but suddenly I felt very self-conscious. Would my presence cause problems? Should I be here at all?
‘My lady?’
A soldier, in middle-age with a grizzled face and sun-browned arms, had appeared at my side.