said the leech, ‘see this then.’
He switched aside the bedcovers. I lay exposed to their gaze, naked but for a linen shift open to the waist, my arm strapped to my side. Rigid with fear, I dared not move or breathe for fear they would see how conscious I was of their scorn. Where the others stood and how they looked I cannot tell. But I knew that if I opened my eyes I would see first Lord Raoul’s cold grey-green stare. At last he reached out and pulled the covers back in place.
‘ ’Tis skin and bone,’ he said. ‘God’s death, is there never end to woman’s folly? Rot me if there has not been more trouble these past hours than all seven years previous. Send then to Guy of Maneth, that my mind will not change. He leaves at dawn and would learn how she does. You marked how he was last evening, first not knowing her, then over-eager to claim acquaintance . . . But he had not seen her since Cambray . . . And when she wakes, bid the Lady Mildred take her to her charge. We will think on things further. And that, too, you may tell the Lord of Maneth. But I will avouch this, sirs: she has grown taller perhaps, but no different from that hellcat I remember when I left.’
His voice ended abruptly. I heard him go limping from the room. When all were gone, I lay upon the down-filled bed and felt my body shiver with shock. It was not so much what they said, their plans and policies and military moves—those made my head ache to think on but I did not at first consider them as closely as I should. It was their disdain, disinterest, that men should think so little of Gwendyth or me as to make her death and my grief of no importance. Except for the kind old leech, not one had spoken of me but as something ‘worth bidding for’, as Sir Brian had so gracefully expressed it. No doubt they did have plans for Cambray, no doubt it was as important as I was not. But no man could have the one without me too. That was the law. As for Lord Raoul, when we had first met he had called me ‘brat’, ‘she-wolf’, and I had not forgotten. But to be labelled thus—‘hellcat’ was it? ‘sly as a snake’, and worst of all ‘skin and bone’—these things lay not within the realm of forgiveness. Long would he rue the day he spoke those words. Yet I tell you now, in part he spoke truth, for I was slow in coming to womanhood and was then as slender and unformed as a boy. And he did not know that I heard him. But, for those words, I could have killed him where he stood. So thus between anger and grief, I watched the rest of the night through.
After the death of my brother, I count these the saddest hours I have ever known. For now I truly was alone and must make use of my wits, such as they were, to save me, since there was no one else I dared to trust.
How long I lay thus, I care not to remember. I woke to full consciousness to see the Lady Mildred advancing purposefully across the room, the leech bowing and muttering behind her. God’s death, but she could so fill a space with purpose when she wanted, that, small woman that she was, she seemed the largest of us all.
What had been spoken of in the night, what had happened, became now as a dream that I had imagined. Reality was billowing arms, and honeyed words and determination, strong as steel. For a little body, who gave the impression of fragility, she was indomitable. For the first time I realised that the Lord of Sedgemont had not made so poor a choice in having left her to guard his castle in his absence. Now, having been told to take me to her charge, she was determined upon her duty. I was too weak at first to protest and, in some ways, found amusement in watching her. As for the other maids and waiting-women, well, one might do worse than echo Lord Raoul’s observation about women in their bower. They bored me silly within the day with their chatter and their concern and their sly prying. Yet I found I could not lift
He switched aside the bedcovers. I lay exposed to their gaze, naked but for a linen shift open to the waist, my arm strapped to my side. Rigid with fear, I dared not move or breathe for fear they would see how conscious I was of their scorn. Where the others stood and how they looked I cannot tell. But I knew that if I opened my eyes I would see first Lord Raoul’s cold grey-green stare. At last he reached out and pulled the covers back in place.
‘ ’Tis skin and bone,’ he said. ‘God’s death, is there never end to woman’s folly? Rot me if there has not been more trouble these past hours than all seven years previous. Send then to Guy of Maneth, that my mind will not change. He leaves at dawn and would learn how she does. You marked how he was last evening, first not knowing her, then over-eager to claim acquaintance . . . But he had not seen her since Cambray . . . And when she wakes, bid the Lady Mildred take her to her charge. We will think on things further. And that, too, you may tell the Lord of Maneth. But I will avouch this, sirs: she has grown taller perhaps, but no different from that hellcat I remember when I left.’
His voice ended abruptly. I heard him go limping from the room. When all were gone, I lay upon the down-filled bed and felt my body shiver with shock. It was not so much what they said, their plans and policies and military moves—those made my head ache to think on but I did not at first consider them as closely as I should. It was their disdain, disinterest, that men should think so little of Gwendyth or me as to make her death and my grief of no importance. Except for the kind old leech, not one had spoken of me but as something ‘worth bidding for’, as Sir Brian had so gracefully expressed it. No doubt they did have plans for Cambray, no doubt it was as important as I was not. But no man could have the one without me too. That was the law. As for Lord Raoul, when we had first met he had called me ‘brat’, ‘she-wolf’, and I had not forgotten. But to be labelled thus—‘hellcat’ was it? ‘sly as a snake’, and worst of all ‘skin and bone’—these things lay not within the realm of forgiveness. Long would he rue the day he spoke those words. Yet I tell you now, in part he spoke truth, for I was slow in coming to womanhood and was then as slender and unformed as a boy. And he did not know that I heard him. But, for those words, I could have killed him where he stood. So thus between anger and grief, I watched the rest of the night through.
After the death of my brother, I count these the saddest hours I have ever known. For now I truly was alone and must make use of my wits, such as they were, to save me, since there was no one else I dared to trust.
How long I lay thus, I care not to remember. I woke to full consciousness to see the Lady Mildred advancing purposefully across the room, the leech bowing and muttering behind her. God’s death, but she could so fill a space with purpose when she wanted, that, small woman that she was, she seemed the largest of us all.
What had been spoken of in the night, what had happened, became now as a dream that I had imagined. Reality was billowing arms, and honeyed words and determination, strong as steel. For a little body, who gave the impression of fragility, she was indomitable. For the first time I realised that the Lord of Sedgemont had not made so poor a choice in having left her to guard his castle in his absence. Now, having been told to take me to her charge, she was determined upon her duty. I was too weak at first to protest and, in some ways, found amusement in watching her. As for the other maids and waiting-women, well, one might do worse than echo Lord Raoul’s observation about women in their bower. They bored me silly within the day with their chatter and their concern and their sly prying. Yet I found I could not lift
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