He had a wife to see.
Just as Dane and Dastan were turning for the keep, they could hear screams in the distance. Dane cocked an ear, confused and alerted.
“Did you hear that?” he asked Dastan.
The knight nodded, hearing more screams. “It sounds as if it is coming from the hall.”
As they watched, servants began shooting out of the whitewashed structure that contained the kitchens, but there was even more screaming going on inside. When Dane saw William break out in a run towards the kitchen, he began to run as well. They had no idea why people were screaming and running from the kitchens, but they were certainly going to find out. Something horrific must have been happening, and after the raid that morning, they couldn’t discount that somehow, someway, Welshmen had made it into the kitchens where there were knives and fire and other deadly things.
The swords came out. As William entered through the kitchen yard, followed by several armed soldiers, Dane and Dastan, and several more armed soldiers, entered from the main doorway.
And what they saw was certainly not what they had expected.
The first thing Dane saw was Grier on top of a table, covered in flour. Charlisa was against a wall with a massive spoon in her hand, screaming and swinging the spoon like a weapon, and everyone seemed to be in a panic as a flour-covered rooster went on a rampage around the floor. It was the most puzzling, and possibly most hilarious, sight that Dane had ever seen and he probably would have laughed his head off had he not just come from a very depressing and serious situation.
He wasn’t in the mood to laugh, as Lady de Russe was about to find out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Where do you suppose our husbands have gone?” Grier asked.
She was asking the question of Charlisa, who didn’t have an answer for her. After Dane had run out so quickly, Grier had spent the better part of two hours behind the bolted chamber door until one of the senior sergeants came to tell her that there had been a raid on the market, but that the raiders had fled and Shrewsbury men, including the duke, had returned after a search of the surrounding countryside.
With the castle no longer under lockdown, at least for the moment, Grier was free to go about her day, but she really didn’t have any idea what that meant other than bathing and dressing, which she did with Euphemia’s help.
The old servant was in fine form this morning, chatting away about things they had been discussing last night, but it was odd how differently Grier felt about the same conversation after being intimate with Dane the night before. Yesterday, she had been open in asking questions of Euphemia, but now that she had experienced the mating of a man and a woman, she felt quite private about it.
She didn’t want to talk about it, even when Euphemia chattered on about how to please a husband. To Grier, what had taken place between them was deeply personal and she didn’t want to share it with anyone, not even with Charlisa who had come to see how she was faring after drinking so much ale the night before.
Grier was glad to see the vivacious blond, but truth be told, she wasn’t feeling all that well. The ale had given her a raging headache. However, it was her first full day at Shrewsbury as the duchess, and she was eager to get on with it. With Charlisa’s encouragement, she finished dressing in the red dress made of wool, much softer than anything she’d ever known wool to be, and pinned the lovely marriage brooch on her breast. After last night, the brooch meant something to her, a gift from the man she had married. A man she was quickly growing very fond of. Fully dressed and ready to face the world, she followed Charlisa on a tour of Shrewsbury so she could learn what she needed to learn about running a castle.
It was a daunting yet exciting task.
But the truth was that it was difficult to focus on daily tasks when her husband was nowhere to be seen, and Charlisa felt the same. The outer bailey was full of men, but no knights. Still, the women continued on, and as the morning mist began to clear and the sun began to shine through, Grier and Charlisa picked up a companion in Laria, who joined them on their walk. As they moved across the inner bailey bridge and skirted the outer bailey where the men were mustering, it was that scene that had brought about Grier’s question –
Where do you think our husbands have gone?
Charlisa seemed quite distressed that Dastan was not in sight. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “The soldiers have said they have returned, but I do not see them. I hate it when Dastan rides to battle, but I suppose I should not complain. Since we have been married, there has hardly been any trouble at all. The worst was last month, when Lord Garreth was killed. They were gone three weeks and when they returned, it was with Lord Garreth’s body and Dane was declared the new duke. And, oh! That horrible majordomo, Adalgar. Have you been told about him? He had been with Lord Garreth for many years and he wanted the dukedom for himself. When it was given to Dane, he told us that Dane was sure to fail and that they would wish for Adalgar to return.”
Grier hadn’t heard about the horrible majordomo but, already, she hated the man. “But Dane has not failed,” she said. “He will not fail. He is a great knight and his father is the Duke of Warminster. He was born to serve Shrewsbury.”
Charlisa looked at her, a smile on her lips. “He is kind and handsome,” she said. “Just as my Dastan is kind and handsome. We are very fortunate, you and I. We have married kind and handsome men.”
Grier couldn’t help but smile, perhaps an embarrassed gesture. She’d noticed that Charlisa was very nearly obsessed with “handsome” husbands, as if it should be the most important thing to all of them.
Not that Grier disagreed with her.
“I suppose we are,” she said. “It is odd; a week ago, little did I know this would be my fate. It seems as if this has all happened so fast and I am still trying to catch my breath.”
Charlisa wasn’t unsympathetic. “I can only imagine how you must feel,” she said. Then, she continued rather hesitantly. “What was it like to be an oblate? Did you pray all day and all night, and hardly sleep?”
Grier shook her head, laughing softly at Charlisa’s question. “Nay,” she said. “We prayed at designated times, just as you do. The rest of the time, we had assigned duties. Some of us worked in the garden, some in the kitchen, and some of us sewed.”
“What did you do?”
“I sewed.”
“What did you sew?”
“Lace shawls that the abbey sold,” she said. “We did not have much income, and the shawls brought in badly needed funds.”
Charlisa leaned in to her, as if to tell her something in confidence. “I do not sew very well,” she admitted. “I think I was born with ten thumbs.”
Grier laughed. “I am sure it is not that bad.”
But Charlisa nodded firmly and before she could answer, Laria spoke. “She is a terrible seamstress,” the girl declared. “You will always know anything she makes because it looks as if a blind man pieced it together.”
Charlisa pinched the girl, who yelped and rubbed her arm in the offending spot as Grier continued to giggle. “Well,” Grier said thoughtfully. “You show me what I must know about running a house and hold, and I will show you how to sew properly. Agreed?”
Charlisa nodded eagerly. “Agreed.”
With that, the trio headed over to the kitchens, which were in the outer bailey behind the great hall. Grier found everything about the outer bailey fascinating; the soldiers, the trades, even servants running about on their assigned tasks. There was a whole world there, a world that she now presided over, although it didn’t feel quite real to her. It was a strange place, filled with strangers, but they all belonged to her and to Dane. This was to be their world together, forever, and there was joy in that realization that she never imagined possible.
Their wonderful world, together.
A week ago, she could never have dreamed that this would be her life. Two days ago, she could have never imagined she would actually be happy with this marriage, bu
t she was. Charlisa was correct; she’d married someone handsome and kind, someone that belonged only to her, and for a woman who had been beaten and starved, isolated from the world for most of her life, she was far too trusting in her newfound happiness. She had no sense of reservation about it. Surely anyone who made her so happy was someone who deserved her adoration, respect, and loyalty.
That was the way she looked at it.
For the first time in her life, she was actually happy. She very much wanted to belong in this world that now belonged to her. And that included newfound friends that she was very curious about.
“Tell me of yourself, Lady du Reims,” Grier said as they headed into the kitchen yard through a tall wooden fence. “How did you come to marry Sir Dastan?”
Charlisa lit up like a spark at the mention of her husband. “My father is a great warlord who is allied with Dastan’s uncle,” she said. “Dastan’s family is one with great means, but my family has greater means and a greater army, so it was simply a matter of convincing Dastan that a marriage to me would be in his best interests.”
“But you are happy?”
Charlisa’s expression told the story. “So very happy,” she says. “He has told me that he loves me. That is all I need to know.”
Grier thought on the prospect of having a husband’s love. It wasn’t such an outlandish thing, considering her father had loved her mother. Even as a child, she had known that. The thought of having Dane’s love seemed like the most unreachable of wishes, for surely a man who was forced into marriage would not love the woman he’d been tied to. Perhaps he could be fond of her, but love? It didn’t seem possible, and her heart sank with that thought. Perhaps, God could give her his blessing in a husband that loved her.
It was a lonesome prayer.
“You are very fortunate,” Grier said after a moment, envious of something Charlisa had. “Dastan seems like a good man.”
Charlisa nodded her head fervently. “He is,” she said, watching Laria as the woman went over towards the hen house. “But enough about my husband; I could speak on Dastan all day long and you would weep with boredom. Therefore, let me tell you about the kitchen yard, where we are now. You did wish to learn about Shrewsbury, so let us start here. The cook manages the yard and I will introduce you to her. She is an old woman named Alvie, and can hardly hear, but she is a master when it comes to cooking and tending the kitchens. We cannot get along without her.”
From that point on, Grier listened closely to all Charlisa had to say. The woman spoke of the buttery, the butchery, the sheep herds they had that provided not only wool but meat, and the very large flock of chickens they had in an enormous coop that was watched over by two men whose sole job was to make sure the chickens didn’t fall prey to any predators.
Evidently, they needn’t have worried too much about protecting the chickens, because Laria was inspecting some newly-hatched chicks and a nearby rooster took unkindly to her. Suddenly, Laria was being chased by a very big rooster, screaming as she ran around the kitchen yard. Charlisa started laughing, as did Grier, watching the young girl fend off the rooster who grew angrier every time she tried to kick or swat at him. It was very humorous until Laria headed in their direction and both Grier and Charlisa realized that big rooster was coming for them. Charlisa grabbed Grier by the arm and they fled into the kitchens with Laria on their heels, who slammed the door behind them so the rooster couldn’t follow.
Inside the hot, fragrant kitchen, Grier continued to giggle as Charlisa berated her frenzied young cousin.
“I have told you to stay away from the chickens,” she scolded. “You know that the roosters will chase you!”
Laria wasn’t too contrite in spite of the attack. “But the chicks are so sweet!”
Charlisa rolled her eyes. “You are useless,” she said. Her attention returned to Grier. “I apologize, my lady. I did not intend that your first visit to the kitchen yard would end in you running for your life from an angry rooster.”
But Grier wasn’t bothered in the least. “Not to worry,” she said. “We had to come to the kitchens, anyway, and here we are.”
Charlisa nodded, distracted from her pouting cousin as she looked around the low-ceilinged structure. There was an enormous hearth with all manner of pots hanging over it on iron arms, and a big oven built right up against it. Everything was hot and steaming, and as they watched, kitchen servants bustled around completing their tasks.
There was a woman whose sole job was to make bread, and Grier watched with interest as the woman worked busily on what looked like two or three different types of loaves. There was also a woman who was responsible for the fire in the hearth, and a massive iron pot of water was tucked up towards the rear of the hearth, steaming. That was the castle’s hot water supply, Grier was told.
Everyone seemed busily going about their tasks as the cook, a very big woman with a round face, round nose, and thinning white hair supervised what was going on. She had a big spoon in her hand, as she’d been stirring something that was cooking over the hearth, but when she turned and saw Charlisa and the ladies, she quickly put her spoon aside and rushed to greet them.
“M’lady,” she greeted Charlisa. “What can I do for ye?”
Charlisa indicated Grier. “This is Lady de Russe, our new duchess. You will be taking your orders from her from now on.” She then spoke to Grier. “My lady, this is Alvie. She has been at Shrewsbury for a very long time.”
The cook looked at Grier in surprise, quickly bowing her head. “The baby,” she murmured, her eyes wide at Grier. “Ye’re the baby. The little lass. I knew yer mother, m’lady. God’s Soul… ye look just like her.”
That caught Grier off guard and very quickly, she felt her emotions bubbling up. “You… were here when my mother was alive?”
Alvie nodded. Then, she seemed to tear up, lifting her apron and blowing her nose in it. “Aye, m’lady,” she said. “I was here. I loved yer mother; she was a kind and decent woman. Do ye not remember me? I used to call ye ‘Lamb’. Ye used to come to my kitchen and ask for sweet cakes. Do ye not remember?”
Grier thought very hard, realizing she did remember coming to the kitchens as a child where a woman would give her sweets. “That was you?” she gasped. “I remember asking the cook for sweets and you would give me cakes of oatmeal and honey.”
The old cook was nodding furiously, bobbing her head in agreement. She looked as if she was about to burst into tears as her red face became even redder.
“That was me,” she said. “I was devastated when yer mother passed and yer father sent ye away. We didn’t know where ye went, but that bastard of a majordomo told us ye’d gone with the church. And now ye’re back!”
She seemed so happy about it, which made Grier feel some joy as well. She could hardly believe there was someone left at Shrewsbury who remembered both her and her mother from those years ago.
“I am,” she said. “I have come back to stay. I have married the duke and this will be a happy place again, I promise. I do not know much about this majordomo some have spoken of, but I am glad he is gone. Did you take your orders from him, then?”
Alvie lifted her big shoulders. “Mostly from Lady du Reims, but sometimes the old fool would try and tell me what to do. But I wouldn’t listen to him; nay, I wouldn’t!”
Charlisa smiled as the old cook’s hackles went up. “Adalgar was not a very nice man to the female servants,” she said, trying to be tactful. “I did not fear him, because the duke put me in charge of the kitchens and the hall, but whenever he tried to exceed his authority, Dastan would step in and he greatly feared Dastan. It was a blessing when Dane became the duke because it forced Adalgar from the castle. He was under the delusion that he was to be the next duke.”
“The idiot,” Alvie sniffed. Then, she beamed at Grier. “But now that ye’re here, we’ll have happy times again. ‘Twill be as if yer dear mother has returned. Now, Lamb, what can I prepare that is special for ye? I know! Sweetcakes!�
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Grier didn’t even have time to answer the woman before she was rushing off, calling to another servant lady and telling her what they needed to prepare. Grier and Charlisa watched it all, looking at each other and shrugging.
“I suppose that means she is happy to see me,” Grier said, grinning. “Truthfully, I’d forgotten all about her. What a lovely discovery.”
Charlisa agreed. “It is a lovely discovery,” she said. But then she paused, spying Laria over near the baker, sniffing at the bread that was coming out of the oven hot and fresh. “One of the first things I must tell you about your duties is to watch out for my cousin. She cannot keep her hands off of anything.”
Grier turned to look at Laria, chuckling when the baker slapped the young woman’s hand as she tried to tear a piece from a fresh loaf of bread.
“She is young,” she said. “She will learn to behave soon enough.”
“Unless the rooster finally catches her and stabs her to death with his spurs,” Charlisa said. Shaking her head at her cousin, she returned her attention to the cook and a thought occurred to her. “Have you ever cooked anything before?”
Grier shook her head. “Never,” she said. “As I said, we all had assigned duties at the abbey, and my duty was to sew. Why?”
Charlisa smiled, that same dreamy smile Grier had noticed the woman had when she either looked at or spoke of her husband.
“Because I think it would be a wonderful thing to cook something for my husband,” she said. “To make him something to eat with my own hands. Don’t you think that would show him how much I care for him?”
Grier had no experience with anything like that, so she didn’t really know, but she didn’t want to sound naïve. “I am sure he would like anything you did for him,” she said. “But what would you cook?”
Charlisa took Grier by the hand, pulling her over to where the cook was beginning to throw ingredients into a big wooden bowl.
The Dark Brotherhood: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 78
