She responded, praise the saints, her ears twitching faster than a march fly, and I allowed myself to relax a little. I kept her to a hard walk until we reached the farthest reaches of the orchard, then I turned her back, and gave her a little more rein.
I had thought she might break into a trot or even a canter, but instead Dulcette did something remarkable, something I had never before felt while riding.
She broke into a fast-paced gait that was neither trot nor canter, but which was unbelievably smooth.
She ambled!
I had only ever seen a horse do it once before — the knight who had passed by our village had been riding a horse that ambled, and then I had watched in fascination at its fluid, effortless gait. An ambler was most highly regarded, for in this gait it could cross ground more speedily and with far less effort than could a horse that only progressed at a trot or canter. Amblers could go further and faster than most other horses.
I was riding a prized animal, indeed.
By the time I reached the gate where waited Ludo, I had a huge smile on my face — I simply couldn’t help myself.
‘She ambles!’ I cried, and Ludo’s face broke into a grin to match mine. ‘You will do well, mistress,’ he said. ‘My mind is easier now.’
I was still smiling in delight when I raised my head to look to the courtyard.
Instead, I met the eyes of Pengraic, who had been waiting a little further back, leaning nonchalantly against a wall, his arms still folded.
He caught my gaze, gave me an expressionless look, then turned away.
Chapter Eight
We departed Rosseley shortly afterward. The king, Summersete and Scersberie had been with the column forming on the road outside. Once the earl had mounted, he and Stephen led our contingent from the courtyard and the column began to move westward.
I turned on Dulcette’s back for a last look at Rosseley. The sun was well up and the manor house gleamed golden in the light, the meadows and orchard green and verdant. I must have intuited somehow that I would never return for the house blurred as tears formed in my eyes, and I turned back to the road ahead, wiping at my eyes as I did so.
I kept Dulcette close to the cart which held Lady Adelie, Mistress Yvette and Evelyn as well as Rosamund and the baby, John. Alice and Emmette rode their horses beside me; the twin boys, Ancel and Robert, also horsed, were far ahead close to their father.
The column held some sixty or seventy knights and men-at-arms. I was somewhat relieved to see that, while they all carried weapons, none wore their maille hauberks, which indicated that the king and earls did not think we were under any immediate threat. I thought the knights and soldiers must be relieved also, for today promised to be warm and the maille hauberks would have been stifling. Most of the knights and soldiers rode at the head of the column, but some fifteen or so brought up the rear behind me.
As well there were two score or so male servants and grooms, and another twelve carts besides that which held Lady Adelie. We travelled fast, even the carts, for we had some fifteen miles of roads and byways to travel to get to our first destination — Walengefort Castle, residence of the Earl of Summersete.
Dulcette was a delight to ride, her amble so smooth and comfortable I could relax completely. She and I had come to some silent agreement: we would respect each other. She no longer tried to run away with me, and I allowed her freedom in choosing her own path and pace. About mid-morning Ludo rode past and asked how I did. I simply smiled in return, and I think he was happy, giving me a nod as he rode on.
The day wore on. We stopped briefly at noon, resting under the shade of a group of beech trees and eating a lunch of fruit and bread and beer. I ate with the countess and her children (save the twin boys who stayed near their father), while the men cloistered themselves into two groups a little way off. Eventually, as servants packed away the lunch and men remounted their horses, Stephen came over to assist his mother and Evelyn back into the cart.
Then he led Dulcette over to a fallen log so that I might mount.
I was a little self-conscious with him this close and with his attention only for me. He and I had exchanged only a handful of words since he’d returned to Rosseley with his father, and the only times I had seen him were with other people attending and little chance for us to speak.
Now Stephen fussed over me as I mounted, making sure my feet were well set in the stirrups and the girth tight.
I prayed that the earl was not watching.
‘Maeb,’ he said, finally stopping to look up at me, one hand on Dulcette’s rein that I might not ride forward.
He paused, and I looked at him, feeling as if my heart turned over at the sight of his warm, handsome face.
He smiled, slowly. ‘I look forward to escorting you home to Pengraic,’ he said, his smile stretching even wider.
Then he slapped Dulcette’s neck and walked back to where his own horse waited.
I sat there a few minutes longer, searching for every layer of meaning to that short statement, and what that look in his eyes conveyed.
Soon enough, I recollected myself to look round. Surely the earl would be sitting his horse, staring at me silently.
But he was far distant, still on the ground, talking animatedly with the Earl of Scersberie, and I had the feeling that he’d not noticed a moment of what had just passed.
I turned Dulcette’s head for the road, where Lady Adelie’s cart waited for the main column to ride on.
That afternoon Stephen pulled his horse back to ride for a while by his mother’s cart, talking to her.
Together with Alice (Emmette rode ahead, before her mother’s cart), I rode a little distance behind the cart, which gave me the opportunity to sit and watch Stephen to my heart’s content. Of all the nobles and royalty in this travelling band, I thought him the most uncomplicated.
Eventually Stephen reined in his horse so that he fell back to where Alice and I rode.
‘Alice,’ he said, ‘our lady mother wishes to speak with you.’
Alice gave a nod and pushed her horse forward.
Stephen smiled. ‘And now I have my chance to dally a little while with the lovely Mistress Maeb.’
‘You should not,’ I said, ‘for your father will be angry with me. He thinks I have unseemly ambitions.’
‘For me?’ Stephen said. ‘I am indeed flattered, mistress.’
‘My lord, my only security is this household, and —’
‘I understand Maeb. I will stay only a moment. After Oxeneford, however …’ He smiled, and I could not help but return it.
After Oxeneford Stephen would lead this column, the earl left far behind and with no chance of seeing how often we talked.
‘When you attended us in the solar the day before yesterday,’ Stephen said, ‘you heard some dark things, yet you have been unable to talk of them since, nor seek any reassurance. When there is a chance, after Oxeneford, I will talk more openly and fully with you of those things. I wish I could do it now … but …’
‘Is it truly as bad as it sounded, my lord?’
‘Yes. I am sorry. There will be dark days ahead, Maeb. I pray we have left Rosseley in good enough time, that …’
His voice drifted off, but I knew what he meant. That we have avoided the plague.
Then the good humour returned to his face. ‘You looked so beautiful that night in the great hall,’ he said. ‘My father ought to be more worried about my ambitions. Not yours.’
With that, and a final wicked smile, he booted his horse into a canter and moved forward to rejoin his father.
That evening, as the sun was setting, we rode through Craumares then across the arched stone bridge over the Thames into Summersete’s castle of Walengefort. It had been a long day, very tiring, and I was glad enough to hand Dulcette over to a groom and aid my lady (and Evelyn, who was still in great pain) to their beds for the night. When I lay down by Evelyn, we exchanged only a few words before I slipped gratefully into sleep.
We rose early again the next day, mounting our horses and carts just after dawn to ride northward to Oxeneford. We followed the Thames now, riding a wide and well-kept road by the riverside. I kept Dulcette behind my lady’s cart, with the two older girls, Alice and Emmette for company. We did not talk much, for the pace was even faster than the previous day, and several times I saw either the countess or Evelyn wince as the cart rattled along.
Both the earl and Stephen stayed out of sight at the head of the column with the king. We had left Summersete in his castle, together with the twins Robert and Ancel (joining his household earlier than expected), but I’d overheard two of the knights saying he might be joining the king at Oxeneford within a few days.
I did, however, have another companion for part of the ride. After our break for the noon meal, and as Stephen had yesterday, Saint-Valery joined myself and the two girls for a while. I was more than cautious of him after what Evelyn had told me, and answered his questions as briefly as I might.
‘Have I said anything to offend you, mistress?’ he asked eventually, keeping his voice low that Alice and Emmette on the other side of me might not hear.
‘I worry only to whom you might repeat what I say,’ I said.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Mistress Maeb, you are far beyond your rustic childhood now. For better or worse, you have become part of a noble household, and thus will inevitably be drawn into the dealings of the court. Treat everyone with suspicion if you must, but be courtly and gracious in the doing, or else soon your enemies shall outnumber your allies.’
‘Forgive me, my lord,’ I said, stung by his rebuke. ‘It is just that I feel adrift within a dark marshland, where each and every word might sink me to my doom. To me it appears that silence is the greater safety. I fumble. I am sorry for it.’
‘Perhaps I also should beg forgiveness, for I have been peppering you with questions and allowed you to ask none. What would you know? This,’ he waved a hand at the column containing all its knights and lords, ‘must appear so strange to you.’
‘Oh, it does, my lord.’ I thought for a moment. ‘My lord, I am curious as to why the king, together with the Earls of Summersete and Scersberie, came to Rosseley with my Lord Pengraic. I know of the reason why they travel to Oxeneford, as must you —’
‘Elegantly put, mistress. For that you have my admiration.’
‘— but why did they accompany my Lord Pengraic? Surely they could have ridden straight for Oxeneford? Allowed my Lord Pengraic to collect his household and join them there?’
We continued in silence a brief while, Saint-Valery looking to the road ahead while he thought. Eventually he glanced over to ensure that Alice and Emmette were not close — they were chatting between themselves and had fallen back a little — before he spoke.
‘Matters are difficult,’ Saint-Valery said, ‘as well you know. There is the … sickness … and there is also increasing unrest.’ He paused again, picking his words carefully. ‘Pengraic is a powerful Marcher Lord, Maeb. He is the most independent and powerful of Edmond’s nobles. He controls great wealth and land and thus men-at-arms. He is, in effect, a king in all but name. Edmond, as well Scersberie and Summersete, accompanied him to Rosseley to ensure that Pengraic did, in fact, come to Oxeneford and not make straight for the Welsh Marches where he might collect his mighty garrison and … well … Edmond merely wanted to make sure Pengraic was at his side as an ally and not at his back like … well …’
I was horrified, and more than a little angry on my lord’s behalf. I did not like the man, and feared him, yet I felt intensely loyal to him if only for my lady’s sake.
‘Has not Edmond enough enemies and evils at his door,’ I said, not thinking that the words might go straight back to the king, ‘that he needs to start inventing new ones?’
Saint-Valery looked at me, then he burst into laughter as he had when I’d snapped at him during the feast. He calmed somewhat. ‘You are so much the —’ he began.
‘Saint-Valery,’ snapped a voice behind us, and we both swivelled in our saddles.
Pengraic was directly behind us, his horse’s head nodding between the rumps of Saint-Valery’s horse and Dulcette.
Sweet Jesu, I thought, how long has he been there?
Saint-Valery evidently thought the same thing, for he had gone white. ‘To the front, if you will,’ Pengraic said to Saint-Valery, and the man gave a nod and kicked his horse forward.
Pengraic drew his bright bay courser level with Dulcette, graced me momentarily with one of his expressionless looks, then moved forward himself.
I sat Dulcette, shaking as badly as a leaf in a storm. Pengraic had almost certainly overheard what Saint-Valery said, and then my reply. I was not so foolish as to congratulate myself for saying what was, as it happened, precisely the right thing at the right moment. Instead I realised again how close I had come to losing my place in the Pengraic household and embracing penury. I could just as easily have nodded and smiled at Saint-Valery. Even agreed with him, simply to appear gracious to a man who had so recently accused me of ungraciousness.
My shaking grew as I thought that, on the other hand, Saint-Valery might believe that I had known Pengraic was there, and had thus structured my outraged response for the earl’s benefit — and Saint-Valery’s (and through him the king’s) discomfort.
And how had Pengraic come to be so close behind us? I had thought him at the head of the column. I did not remember seeing him ride past us to the rear.
I was glad I was going to Pengraic Castle. The court and its treacherous eddies were too frightening and dangerous for me. I could not wait to escape them — and Pengraic himself.
Dark and damned the castle might be, but I thought it would prove considerably safer than these sun-drenched lowlands.
Chapter Nine
We reached Oxeneford late in the afternoon. The king had a palace outside the city walls, and it was there we would stay for a few days before travelling on to Pengraic in the Welsh Marches.
We skirted the city, turning for the north-western meadows, and suddenly I saw laid out in the fields beyond the palace the encampment of what appeared to me to be a large army. There were scores of tents with pennants flying the colours and heraldic arms of their occupants, long horse lines, cooking fires, men at weapon practice or standing about idling, and maille-smiths sweating over their work. It made the threat of unrest, even outright rebellion, seem very real to me, whereas before it had only been something lurking in the shadows of words and frowns.
Much of the column peeled off into this encampment, but Edmond, his closest retainers (including Saint-Valery), Scersberie and Pengraic and his household continued into the palace. I helped Lady Adelie and Evelyn out of the cart, then took control of John and Rosamund. Evelyn was moving better now, although she was still stiff and sore. We went inside the palace and were shown to our chambers. We were all glad to be allowed to rest, before the evening meal in the king’s great hall.
Unlike the meal at Rosseley, Evelyn and myself, and even Mistress Yvette, sat at places far down the hall tables, where we only talked among ourselves during a repast I thought indifferent to that offered at Rosseley. Evelyn was feeling uncomfortable, and no one noticed when I decided to accompany her back to our chamber where I thought I would help her to bed.
I stayed with her for a while, until Mistress Yvette returned and then went with her to help Lady Adelie to her bed. The earl and his countess had a magnificent chamber on the top floor of the main palace building, with a cleverly arched and panelled ceiling, and with its own great fireplace. Their bed, heavily draped in well-worked crimson hangings and festooned with furs, dominated the room and I spent more than a few minutes in some envy at their comforts.
The earl was elsewhere, and once Mistress Yvette and I had disrobed Lady Adelie and helped her into the luxurious bed, Yvette and I carefully folded the countess’ robes and lay them in one of the two chests in the chamber.
‘Maeb?’
I turned to
the countess, sitting in her bed with her ever-present book of devotion in her hands.
‘Maeb, Yvette is weary, although she will not speak of it, and is troubled by an ache in her temples. Will you attend me tomorrow morning, at rising? I would allow Yvette a morning to lie abed, for her own rest.’
‘Of course, madam.’ I was both pleased and a little nervous. I had attended the countess on occasion in the morning, aiding her to rise, but always with Mistress Yvette present.
‘In that hour before dawn, if you will,’ Lady Adelie said. ‘I would rise early for my prayer on the morrow.’
Privately I thought the countess could do with a lie abed herself, for she looked strained, but I merely nodded, dipped in courtesy, made sure that neither the countess nor Mistress Yvette needed me for anything else, and returned to the chamber I shared with Evelyn.
I had thought to find Evelyn asleep, but she was awake, and in some discomfort.
‘Evelyn? What is it?’
‘Oh, nothing too troublesome, Maeb. Do not fret. It is but this back. It cramps and will not let me sleep.’
‘I will fetch a hot poultice for you, Evelyn. It will relax the griping.’
I could see Evelyn struggling with herself. I knew Evelyn well. Part of her would not wish to trouble me, the other part desperately yearned for that poultice.
I laughed. ‘Do not fret, Evelyn. I know the way to the kitchens, for I went there earlier for madam’s posset. I will fetch the poultice, and then you will rest easy.’
Evelyn’s face relaxed in relief. ‘Thank you, Maeb.’
I found the kitchen easily enough, and tried to keep out of the cooks’ and servants’ way as I made a warm barley and herb poultice for Evelyn’s back. I wrapped it in some linen, then begged a wooden bowl from one of the cooks that I might carry it more easily.
It was late night now, and many of the torches had burned low. I crossed the small courtyard to the building where our chamber lay, but somehow took the wrong door. I only realised I had mislaid my way when I walked into a store chamber filled with barrels and realised that I had not passed through it on my way to the kitchen. It was very dark, the only light coming from a couple of open windows high in the walls, and I muttered to myself, cross that I had lost my way.