flash of anger.
'And you yourself are a widow?' the Countess continued.
'Yes, my lady.' Catrin kept her eyes on her clenched knuckles lest she reveal her irritation. Richard needed her and she could not afford to be dismissed. 'My husband was killed in a fight with a Welsh lord. I still mourn him deeply.' She bit her lip.
There was silence for a moment, then the Countess gently touched Catrin's shoulder. 'That is a grievous pity,' she said compassionately. 'Life is always difficult for a woman alone. You are welcome to remain in my household. Another pair of hands is always useful.' Mabile crossed herself and rose to her feet. 'Come, child, it is late. She will sleep peacefully here with the priest until dawn.'
Murmuring her thanks, Catrin rose and followed the Countess. She could raise no enthusiasm for the prospect of remaining in Mabile's household, but at least it was a roof over her head, and a relatively secure one at that. There was nowhere else to go.
If Amice's slumber in the chapel was deep and peaceful, the same could not be said of the Countess's ladies. In the blackest part of the night, when the single candle left burning had begun to gutter in a puddle of wax, Catrin and the other women were wakened by Richard's terrified shrieks. The sound tore across the room and was made all the more terrifying by sleep-fuddled wits and the depth of the hour.
With pounding heart, Catrin staggered up from the bed she had been sharing with three others and hastened to soothe him.
'Hush, Dickon, hush. It's all right, nothing but a bad dream.' She stroked his damp brow. His eyes were wide open but unseeing, and his chest rose and fell in rapid gasps for air. Beneath her touch, his breathing calmed, and after a moment his lids drooped and he turned from her on to his side, sucking his knuckles in his sleep.
One of the women had kindled a fresh night light from the old one. She held it aloft, the cupped flame reflecting light on to her thick plait of dark red hair. Her name was Rohese. She was a skilled embroideress with a voice and skin like silk, and a nature as sharp as a tapestry needle.
'What's wrong with him?' she demanded, her tone making it clear what she thought of the matter.
'What's wrong is that he saw people butchered and his mother raped by a dozen soldiers,' Catrin retorted angrily. 'Wouldn't you have nightmares too?'
Rohese sniffed and declined to answer. 'I hope he does not make it a habit,' was all she said and, ramming the new candle down on the iron spike, stalked away to her pallet. The other women followed her example, some with sour looks, others more sympathetic, but all less than sanguine at having been roused from sleep in so frightening a fashion.
Twice more that night the Countess's women were disturbed by Richard's screams. Forewarned, Catrin was able to calm him more swiftly than the first time, but not before everyone had been thoroughly woken. If Rohese had been hostile at the outset, she was positively venomous by dawn.
Richard had no recollection of his nightmares and was bewildered by all the furious glares cast in his direction. Catrin protected him fiercely from the others. Yesterday's headache still throbbed behind her eyes and she felt almost as exhausted as when she had retired.
'It is not his fault,' she said, as the women dressed and prepared to go down to the great hall to break their fast. 'He needs time to settle, that's all.'
'Well, I refuse to have him sleep in our chamber another night!' Rohese snapped.
'Surely that is for the Countess to say.'
Rohese gave her a glittering look through narrowed lids. 'I doubt she will oppose my request when I tell her about the kind of night we have all passed.'
Catrin returned Rohese's glare and was sorely tempted to slap the sneer from her haughty face. 'Then ask her and see what she says. I think that you forget this child is her husband's half-brother, and the old King's son.'
'And his mother got herself banished for
'And you yourself are a widow?' the Countess continued.
'Yes, my lady.' Catrin kept her eyes on her clenched knuckles lest she reveal her irritation. Richard needed her and she could not afford to be dismissed. 'My husband was killed in a fight with a Welsh lord. I still mourn him deeply.' She bit her lip.
There was silence for a moment, then the Countess gently touched Catrin's shoulder. 'That is a grievous pity,' she said compassionately. 'Life is always difficult for a woman alone. You are welcome to remain in my household. Another pair of hands is always useful.' Mabile crossed herself and rose to her feet. 'Come, child, it is late. She will sleep peacefully here with the priest until dawn.'
Murmuring her thanks, Catrin rose and followed the Countess. She could raise no enthusiasm for the prospect of remaining in Mabile's household, but at least it was a roof over her head, and a relatively secure one at that. There was nowhere else to go.
If Amice's slumber in the chapel was deep and peaceful, the same could not be said of the Countess's ladies. In the blackest part of the night, when the single candle left burning had begun to gutter in a puddle of wax, Catrin and the other women were wakened by Richard's terrified shrieks. The sound tore across the room and was made all the more terrifying by sleep-fuddled wits and the depth of the hour.
With pounding heart, Catrin staggered up from the bed she had been sharing with three others and hastened to soothe him.
'Hush, Dickon, hush. It's all right, nothing but a bad dream.' She stroked his damp brow. His eyes were wide open but unseeing, and his chest rose and fell in rapid gasps for air. Beneath her touch, his breathing calmed, and after a moment his lids drooped and he turned from her on to his side, sucking his knuckles in his sleep.
One of the women had kindled a fresh night light from the old one. She held it aloft, the cupped flame reflecting light on to her thick plait of dark red hair. Her name was Rohese. She was a skilled embroideress with a voice and skin like silk, and a nature as sharp as a tapestry needle.
'What's wrong with him?' she demanded, her tone making it clear what she thought of the matter.
'What's wrong is that he saw people butchered and his mother raped by a dozen soldiers,' Catrin retorted angrily. 'Wouldn't you have nightmares too?'
Rohese sniffed and declined to answer. 'I hope he does not make it a habit,' was all she said and, ramming the new candle down on the iron spike, stalked away to her pallet. The other women followed her example, some with sour looks, others more sympathetic, but all less than sanguine at having been roused from sleep in so frightening a fashion.
Twice more that night the Countess's women were disturbed by Richard's screams. Forewarned, Catrin was able to calm him more swiftly than the first time, but not before everyone had been thoroughly woken. If Rohese had been hostile at the outset, she was positively venomous by dawn.
Richard had no recollection of his nightmares and was bewildered by all the furious glares cast in his direction. Catrin protected him fiercely from the others. Yesterday's headache still throbbed behind her eyes and she felt almost as exhausted as when she had retired.
'It is not his fault,' she said, as the women dressed and prepared to go down to the great hall to break their fast. 'He needs time to settle, that's all.'
'Well, I refuse to have him sleep in our chamber another night!' Rohese snapped.
'Surely that is for the Countess to say.'
Rohese gave her a glittering look through narrowed lids. 'I doubt she will oppose my request when I tell her about the kind of night we have all passed.'
Catrin returned Rohese's glare and was sorely tempted to slap the sneer from her haughty face. 'Then ask her and see what she says. I think that you forget this child is her husband's half-brother, and the old King's son.'
'And his mother got herself banished for
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