Читать книгу Lord Of Lyonsbridge - Ana Seymour - Страница 10

Ellen tucked the long sleeves of her silk bliaut into the wristlets of her undergown. For a moment she wished she could strip off the elaborate finery and don a simple, coarse linen garment such as the one worn by the peasant girl working alongside her. The trailing dress and the heavy silver corselet that she wore atop it were not at all practical for hard labor. But donning rude clothing would not help her cause of showing these Saxons something of the civilized world beyond Lyonsbridge. By the time her father visited in the spring, she wanted the estate to be as smoothly run, the table to be as richly victualed, and the people to be as properly mannered as any back in Normandy. As the lady of the household, she would set the example.

“Will the table need polishing, too, milady?” the girl with her asked. They’d been rubbing oil into the two heavy wooden dining chairs that were reserved for the master and mistress of the household. Their carved backs had been thick with grime, but Ellen had to admit that the workmanship was as fine as any Norman craft.

“We’ll oil only the legs. The top must be scrubbed with sand.” Ellen stopped rubbing for a moment to look at her helper. “’Tis Sarah, is it not?”

“Aye, milady, Sarah.”

The slender blond girl’s eyes flickered briefly to Ellen’s face, then skittered away as if afraid that her mistress might cuff her at any moment. Ellen took pains to make her tone friendly. “You’re from the village, Sarah?”

“Aye, milady.”

They worked in silence for several minutes, before once again Ellen tried to engage the girl in conversation. “What family have you in the village, Sarah?”

The girl’s pale face flared with color. “She’s not been able to eat in days, milady. She’d be of little use here. She can hardly stand, much less work—” She broke off and looked up at Ellen, her eyes brimming.

Ellen frowned. “What are you talking about, girl?”

The girl’s tears spilled over. “Me mum. Sir William’s men said we were all to come here, no exception. But me mum’s got the wasting disease, and she’s took bad in this cold. Please don’t punish her, milady.”

Ellen straightened up from the chair she was working on and looked at the weeping girl in horror. “No one is going to punish your mother, child. Mon dieu, what a notion.”

“Begging your pardon, milady. I meant no impertinence, but Sir William said that ‘twas by your orders. He said she’d be whipped if she didn’t come to work today.”

Ellen felt a shiver of alarm. Surely there had been some kind of misunderstanding. In their zeal to please the new mistress, the guards may have been overly enthusiastic about rounding up the workers she’d requested. But whipping a sick old woman? She gave an uneasy laugh. “You must have misheard Sir William’s men, Sarah. There could have been no such talk of whipping.”

Sarah looked away. “Not his men, milady. ‘Twas Sir William himself who said it. Verily, I heard him meself.”

The girl appeared sharp-witted. Ellen could not completely discount her tale, but neither could she champion the word of a serf over that of the bailiff. The matter required further investigation.

“Who is caring for your mother now, Sarah?” she asked.

“She’s alone, milady. I’d not leave her, but the men forced me to come.”

“Then go to her. You’re finished here for the day, and you’re not to come back while she still needs you. If anyone bids you come, you tell them to speak with me.”

The girl’s tears had stopped, and she gave Ellen a piteously grateful smile.

“Run along,” Ellen told her. “I’ll visit you on the morrow to see how your mother fares.”

“Oh, milady,” Sarah gasped. She grasped Ellen’s hand with both of hers and made a quick curtsy, then turned and ran lightly across the dining room.

Ellen gazed after her, lost in thought. Her first impression of Sir William had not been favorable, and so far he’d done nothing to change that opinion. She considered him pompous and obsequious, but her cousin had appeared to be pleased with the accounting he’d given of the estate’s affairs. Still, if he was bullying her people, she wanted to know about it. Proper management of an estate was one thing, abuse was another.

She hadn’t seen the two people enter from the small door behind her and gave a start when one of them spoke.

“May we have permission to speak with your ladyship?”

It was the horse master, accompanied by a boy. Though his manner of address was more respectful than it had been the other day at the stables, he spoke forcefully, indicating that the request for permission was a meaningless formality. Nevertheless, after the news she had just heard from Sarah about ill treatment in the village, she was inclined to be tolerant.

“Good morrow, Master Brand.” It was easier speaking to him here in the castle than it had been at the stables. She felt more in control, though she couldn’t decide if it was because she was in her own home or because the gloom of the dining hall dimmed the intense blue of his eyes. She turned toward the boy with him and asked, “Is this lad your apprentice?”

Connor shook his head. “This is John Cooper. He’s asked my help in a certain matter about his family. Tell milady, John.”

The boy was looking at Ellen as if she were the Holy Virgin come to earth. He opened his mouth, but no speech emerged.

Ellen looked from John to Connor. “What matter?” she asked.

“It seems your men have taken the lad’s sister. He’s worried about her, with good cause.”

The tall Saxon had advanced toward her until he stood just on the other side of the chair she’d been polishing. That close, she could feel it again—the disconcerting force of the man. Since the age of twelve she’d had men fawning over her, petitioning for her hand, buzzing about her like bees at a flower. Yet this horse master, this servant who continued to treat her as if he had more important things to think about, made her knees grow weak like the most inexperienced of maids.

The boy with him finally found his voice. “Her name’s Sarah, milady. And she’s a good girl.”

“If your men have done the girl harm, there will be the devil to pay,” Connor added.

The square set of his jaw as he warned her did not detract from his attractiveness. Ellen felt infuriating flutters in her midsection. Sweet saints above, perhaps the man had cast an enchantment on her in the way he appeared to with his animals. She bit the tip of her tongue until the pain cleared the fog from her brain and she could manage a proper response. She could relieve the boy of his worry in short order, but first she felt as if she should make an effort to remind the stableman of his position in her household. “What affair is this of yours, horse master?” she asked coldly.

“Old John the Cooper is dead these past five years. Folks hereabouts are protective of his widow and children.”

She hesitated. Put like that, Master Brand’s interest didn’t seem so out of place, though she shouldn’t allow the master of her stables to be meddling in affairs between the castle guards and the villagers. She would no doubt do well to order Master Brand back to his horses, but she had the feeling he would not go easily. Finally she gave up trying to determine the propriety of his inquiry and said, “The girl was with me much of the morning. I’ve sent her home to take care of her mother.”

Young John’s chest sagged with relief. “Thank you, milady,” he said.

“’Tis fortunate that she’s safe and sound,” Connor said. “The surest way to trouble in the village is harassment of the womenfolk. I don’t know how you do things back in Normandy, but the men here won’t stand for it.”

He was lecturing her again. Ellen’s temper boiled over. She curled her fingers tightly over the carved back of the chair. “Master Brand, I believe we’ve had this conversation before. You’re a servant here. I’ll thank you to keep your advice on running Lyonsbridge to yourself. In fact, I’ll thank you to keep your opinions in general to yourself. Speak when spoken to, as befits your station.”

Connor did not seem the least bit impressed with her outburst. “You’ll find I can be of use to you, milady. If the boy had alarmed the other men in the village instead of coming to me, you wouldn’t have progressed well today in your cleaning. There are some who would rather strike out first and talk later. Even Sir William has taken advantage of my arbitration a time or two.”

“Sir William had little help when he first arrived, but now that my cousin and I are here with more of my father’s men—”

Connor interrupted her. “All the more reason to be careful. In general, the Saxons of Lyonsbridge are a peaceable sort, but the more soldiers about, the more chance for problems.”

Ellen tried to remember if any of her father’s retainers had ever spoken to him with such boldness, but she was sure Lord Wakelin would not put up with such behavior. “Keeping the peace at Lyonsbridge is Sir William’s concern, horse master, not yours. I think it would be best if you kept to your own dominion, which is the stable.”

Connor cocked his head as if considering further comment, but finally only nodded. A half smile played about his lips, which sparked Ellen’s temper once again.

“Where are your quarters in the castle?” she asked, seized with the sudden impulse to demote him to sleep in the rushes with the scrub boys.

“I don’t sleep in the castle. My home is the stables.”

Ellen’s eyes widened. “You sleep there?” In Normandy not even the lowliest stable boys slept with the animals.

His smile broadened. “Aye. Feel free to pay me a visit, milady.”

They’d both forgotten about the presence of the boy waiting behind Connor. He cleared his throat softly and Connor turned to him. “Run along, lad. Go to your mother and sister.”

John looked up at Ellen, uncertain. She nodded to him, and he turned and scampered away.

“It was my place to dismiss the lad, not yours,” Ellen pointed out.

“Aye. And that you just did, did you not?” Connor answered pleasantly.

The man was infuriating. There was no other word for it. She drew herself up and straightened her shoulders. “You’re dismissed, too, Master Brand. See that you have my horse saddled and ready for me tomorrow noon.”

“I’m at your service as always, milady,” he answered with a small bow, never taking his eyes from her face.

When he made no move, Ellen threw the rag she’d been clutching on the table and turned to leave. She could feel his gaze burning her back all the way across the hall.

Connor had a feeling that in spite of the lady Ellen’s imperious manner, she was looking forward to their next encounter as much as he. They had nothing in common and, in fact, much opposed. But their proximity struck sparks more surely than a smithy’s anvil. He’d wager a pretty penny that she felt it as strongly as he.

It was mad, of course. He hadn’t needed Martin’s reminder to tell him that any association, much less friendship, between a Norman noblewoman and a Saxon stable hand was absurd. But that didn’t stop him from tossing on his bed well into the night thinking about her. By the next morning he was tempted to leave one of the stable boys in charge and hie himself off to visit his brother at the abbey church. He had a premonition—a “sight”, his mother would have called it—that further meetings with Lady Ellen were going to end in trouble for them both.

He was still considering the wisdom of such cowardice when he saw her coming down the hill. She was earlier than promised, leaving him no time to flee, and he realized at once that he was glad.

He greeted her with a smile, but this time let her speak first.

She looked uncertain as to how to address him. Finally she said, “The sun has come out to warm us at last, it appears.”

“Aye. ‘Tis a fine day for a ride, milady. But forgive me, I’ve not yet saddled your mount.” She was wearing a green frock that made her coloring more striking than ever. Connor realized that he was staring to the point of rudeness. He turned toward the door of the stable. “I’ll just be a minute. Your Jocelyn is not a troublesome animal.”

One delicate black eyebrow went up. “Strange,” she said. “In Normandy the lads used to draw lots not to have to care for her. They said she was naturally wild.”

“All horses are naturally wild, as are all living things, for that matter. But they’ll respond to the right hand. You seem to ride her with no difficulty.”

“They said she was a one-woman mount. She responds to no other.”

“Ah.” Connor smiled. “I’ll saddle her for you, milady. Would you care to watch?”

She followed him into the shadowy recesses of the stable, a cavernous building with a double row of stalls on each side of a center aisle. “You’ve many horses, Master Brand,” she observed.

Connor slowed his pace so that he would not be walking in front of her. “No, milady, you have many horses. These animals belong to the Lord of Lyonsbridge. It’s always been so.” Connor kept his voice carefully even. He was not going to repeat his mistake of the previous day and rail on about Norman masters.

“Fine animals,” she said as they walked along the center stalls. “They’re thicker than ours.”

“Aye, and stronger.” He smiled at her. “I will refrain from saying that the animals mirror the Saxons themselves in comparison to the weaker Norman counterparts, because I’m determined not to anger milady today.”

She was standing in a shaft of sunlight that filtered in from a loft window on the far wall. In her leather riding gown she looked unattainably regal, but when she returned his smile, he felt it like a swift kick to his gullet. “Then I shall determine not to get angry,” she said. “And you may boast about your Saxons’ strength, if it pleases you. I made ample witness of it yesterday when we were cleaning the castle.”

“Hard work makes a man, we say.”

“Aye.” She appeared to be taking in his own strong arms and chest when she mused, almost to herself, “You, for example, would make two of my cousin.”

Connor had seen Sebastian Phippen touring the estate with Sir William. The Frenchman was tall, but reed slender, and his face looked white and pinched compared to the ruddy, broad faces of the Lyonsbridge residents. Connor did not, however, think it prudent to make such a comment about the new castellan, so he turned and continued on toward Jocelyn’s stall.

He stopped a couple of yards away and pointed to the animal. “Do you see the tenseness? She carries her head high, her tail tucked in. She waits to see who approaches. So talk to her and let her know. Softly.”

Ellen watched in wonder as he murmured gently to the animal and placed a hand on her neck. Her head lowered at once. “Watch how she licks her lips,” Connor said. “That means she’s ready to cooperate.”

He hoisted her expensive saddle to the horse’s back and tightened the cinches. The sleek animal didn’t so much as lift a hoof in protest.

“Mayhap she’s not as wild as I’d been told, horse master,” Ellen observed. “Mayhap my trainers back home were just telling tales.”

“Mayhap,” Connor said simply, then finished his task and stepped backward to lead the horse out of her stall.

“Can you give me directions to the cooper’s house?” Ellen asked.

“Aye, but.” He paused. “Milady, forgive me, but is it the custom in Normandy for maids to go about the countryside alone?”

Ellen laughed. “Nay. But I’m accustomed to doing as I please.”

Connor smiled. “Now that I believe, but I’d urge caution upon you. If you don’t think of yourself, think of the public weal. If aught happened to you, I trow your father would turn this land into a battleground.”

Her expression sobered, and she didn’t answer for a moment. Finally she said with a little pout, “’Tis vexing to be a woman.”

They’d walked out of the stable and both blinked at the sunlight. “Begging milady’s pardon,” Connor said, “but ‘tis not vexing to the rest of us.”

His sweeping glance over the length of her left no doubt as to the meaning of his comment. It was bolder than should have been allowed, but Ellen did not seem upset. In fact, her cheekbones tinged a sudden pink.

“Sir William says that order has been brought to Lyonsbridge,” Ellen said, ignoring Connor’s remark

Connor stiffened. “There’s a kind of order, aye. But that doesn’t mean you should be tempting the devil by giving him opportunity for mischief.”

“In Normandy they do say that the devil walks about here in England,” she said with an impish grin.

“You shouldn’t be tempting the devil nor anyone else,” Connor admonished, remaining serious. “If you’ve no escort today, I’ll take you to the cooper’s myself.”

He hadn’t intended to say any such thing, and the sudden light in her eyes at his offer set off danger signals deep in his head. As he’d told his brother, the lady Ellen had him muddled. The last thing he needed was more time in her company. But, he told himself as he quickly saddled Thunder, it would be worse if she ran into trouble her first week at Lyonsbridge. If she was so foolish as to travel abroad without a protector, he’d have to see to it that nothing untoward occurred.

It was his duty, he continued to assure himself as they set off together on the road to the village. When he had seen her safely back to the castle, he’d ride to find Martin and insist that the friar call on Lady Ellen and her cousin to explain that she needed to have an escort at all times.

He would ride with her just this once, admiring how well she sat her horse, how straight were the shapely lines of her back. He would ride with her just this one day.

Ellen couldn’t remember when she’d been so utterly conscious of another person. When he moved, making the leather of his saddle creak, her ears perked as if he had shouted. When he looked at her, his bronzed skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he squinted from the sun, the glance felt like a touch of his hand.

It was a glorious day, mild and sunny, yet she couldn’t relax and enjoy her communion with her horse and the road as she was wont. Instead she sat stiffly, waiting for him. to speak, wondering if she should say something first.

As the silence stretched past the point of comfort, in the same instant they both spoke at once.

“Milady—”

“Master Brand—”

Then they laughed together and each sat a little looser in the saddle. “The lady speaks first,” Connor said.

“I was just going to ask you about the family—the Coopers. You said the father is dead?”

“Aye. Killed in one of the last skirmishes before the peace.”

“He was killed by Normans, then?”

“Aye, leaving two children and a widow with child—children, as it turned out, for she gave birth to twins.”

Ellen was silent for a long moment, then said quietly, “Twins! She was left with four little ones, then, and the people here have long memories.”

“You can’t ask people to forget their loved ones, milady, their husbands and brothers and fathers.”

His face had hardened, and Ellen was suddenly sorry she had brought up the topic of the cooper. “Of course not,” she agreed quickly. “But I daresay there are wives and mothers aplenty mourning their menfolk back in Normandy. That’s why we must all be glad the peace is finally here and endeavor to keep it.”

“Amen to that,” he answered, and fell silent. But a pall had been cast over the bright day.