A Winter's Knight

by Fiona Neal

  Edmund had given the gifts of sheets to his friends earlier. He had told Alice that they were delighted. The fine linen proved the most practical of presents.

  Edith had sat with Edmund and Alice a little earlier. The girl resembled her brother with her thick blonde hair, which in her case cascaded down her back. Her sparkling blue eyes and lovely profile were also so much like Edmund’s.

  Right now, the girl was dancing with one of the young men, and Edmund smiled as he watched them.

  “She really is a lovely girl,” Alice remarked.

  “She was betrothed, but the lad died as a young boy. Since them, no other negotiations have taken place. That fact troubles me, Alice, because I do not think she is fit for the convent.”

  “I agree, Edmund. Edith should be a loving wife and mother. I hope your brother will agree to her increase in dowry,” Alice remarked.

  “I doubt he can, Alice. Moreton Hall is not as prosperous as De Winter Castle. Of course, my brother knows a powerful alliance is of benefit to him, too, but I do not think it is possible right now. He does not have the funds to give Edith more money.”

  “I am sorry to hear that, Edmund,” Alice said.

  If Moreton Castle were ever in danger, a family relative of powerful family would prove an important ally.

  “Besides, my brother loves Edith. He wants her to be happy in her marriage. I don’t think money here is the most important thing.” Edmund remarked.

  “Yes, love is important, although few parents take it into account when choosing a mate.” Alice replied. She was most fond of Edmund, but she would say nothing about it now. Being in a crowd of people was not the proper place to admit such deep emotions. They should be alone before a nice warm fire when she said anything like that.

  Alice had heard that passion cooled. Surely, love didn’t. Still, they had not yet shared passion. Their marriage was one in just name. She should do something about that, but she did not want him to be disappointed—and he would be most dissatisfied if she could not return his ardor.

  Furthermore there was the matter of my fortune and his lack of one.

  Why did her husband measure himself by worldly possessions? Was it because he keenly felt the lack of funds? Maybe his poverty made him feel less than a man. He had never said those words. Nevertheless, Edmund’s valor more than made up for his poor financial state.

  He had saved her life three times: once when she was stricken and nearly frozen on their travels. Secondly, he refused to murder her, and again, when the men who tried to kill her grandfather had attacked her.

  People said words were cheap, but Alice believed that a kind, sympathetic utterance could be balm to an emotional injury. Words could hurt, but they could also comfort a person and the encouragement inspired confidence.

  Her grandfather approached and asked for a dance, and Alice agreed, for she liked the activity. And her tall, spare grandfather made a lithe, graceful partner.

  “How are you, dearest lady?” Lord De Winter asked, when they were on the dance floor.

  “I am fine, Grandfather.”

  “It seems to me that the wedding night went well.” He smiled and his eyes twinkled.

  Likely, the maidservant had given her report to him. The pomegranate juice fooled the woman, thank God.

  “Yes.” She nodded and blushed. She felt so guilty about the falsehood, yet her first night of marriage had turned out more pleasantly than she thought—so it was not a complete lie.

  “Are you happy, Alice?” he inquired.

  “Yes, Grandfather. I am, although Edmund finds that my high status is problem for him. I have learned to say nothing about it. I hope he realizes that when we die, we leave our money and all our possessions behind.”

  “Yes, we do,” her grandfather agreed. “But Sir Edmund is proud. He was stunned when I told him I wanted him to marry you. He said it was unorthodox, and it is. Still, he will learn that wealth is not the measure of a man. Virtue and honor are the things that make a great man, and he has a generous amount of those attributes.”

  Alice hoped Edmund learned that lesson soon. Until then, she would keep quiet on the subject of money and other possessions. She would watch her actions as well.

  And Alice prayed very devotedly that she could overcome her fear of intimacy.

  * * * *

  Alice wondered what she should give Edmund for Christmas. Of course, becoming his wife in fact as well as in name would likely please him most.

  But am I ready to do that?

  Alice felt more amenable to becoming intimate. She did want him, but she was so afraid she would disappoint him by suddenly becoming fearful and pulling away. She had said that she was closer to consummating their union—and she had meant it at the time, but her fears hounded her like a pack of persistent hunting dogs.

  Alice felt so inadequate. Oh, why did that drunken soldier have to attack and batter her? Yes, she was still a virgin—by the grace of God—but the assault had caused her to fear the act of joining with her husband.

  And it is stopping me from producing an heir, which is my duty.

  But maybe she should not think of her feelings so much. Perhaps she had concentrated on herself too much.

  I must think of Edmund and his needs.

  The poor man had been nervous on their wedding night, but he had been willing and able to perform his duty. He had needs, after all; human drives that she had not been able to satisfy.

  Edmund was only human. Would it just be a matter of time until the temptation became too great and he turned to another woman? That thought was too painful to contemplate, and she banished it.

  But Alice had needs—unsatisfied needs. They tortured her.

  Thinking about what she had not done was not helping the situation. In fact, it was just making her feel terrible. The fact remained she must become Edmund’s wife and provide an heir. Thinking about it wasn’t helping. She had to do something.

  But I am paralyzed by the fear of disappointing him—the fear of pulling away at the last minute.

  * * * *

  Alice sat alone in the apartments she shared with Edmund, and was still considering a Christmas gift for Edmund. She considered a mail shirt. He needed a new one. The one he wore had been repaired, but she hesitated.

  If she gave him an expensive gift, perhaps Edmund would think she was flaunting her wealth. He might get angry. She remembered his reaction when she suggested he buy those carpets for wedding gifts for Sir Crispin and Sir Nigel. No, he did not become annoyed, but he let her know his conviction was extremely firm.

  Edmund had a certain amount of pride, and he seemed so sensitive that he had little money. The wealth meant nothing to her. She had been ready to renounce every possession she had in the world to become a nun, but God had directed her on a different path, and she obediently followed that direction.

  Alice esteemed Edmund more than she ever thought possible. He could have forced her into having connubial relations. He was well within his rights, but he did not. He respected her and her wishes.

  But she did not wish to remain aloof from him. She wanted him. She was now afraid of disappointing him—and she couldn't get the thought of that drunken knight and his vulgar attempts out of her mind.

  Still, all these dour thoughts were not helping her select a holiday gift for her husband.

  But what could she purchase for him? Perhaps, she could sew him a fine linen shirt. It was an appropriate gift. She could also fashion him a tunic. Surely, he could not object to those things. They weren’t cheap, but their price could never compare to a mail shirt and hood. Those things took weeks to make, for the workman had to link about ninety-thousand tiny circles. It took time, patience, and dexterity to join those small, round pieces of metal.

  Of course, she could have the smith to forge a knife. But that would not be cheap either. Edmund could object. Alice decided she would just make him some clothes. He could not take offense to something that she fashioned with her own hands.
>
  Alice had already bought a fine length of light blue wool for Edith, and the cloak was almost finished.

  She must also finish her grandfather's gifts. Alice always had difficulty choosing a gift for him. The man had everything. He was a wealthy earl. She would make him a new silk tunic of green and gold. He liked fine clothes and the green would match his eyes. She had already finished the tablecloth for him.

  Alice then sent a servant to buy some fine linen and some heavy silk, and bands of embroidered trim. She must start on the gifts right away.

  * * * *

  Advent came, bringing the days of fasting and abstinence from meat. Alice diligently worked on her gifts when she was alone. And then they were just a few days before they celebrated the joyous days of the Christmastide.

  Alice and Edmund went to the bridge, but they took Edith and the young squire, Alec. The also chose Godwin to come along.

  Godwin now looked more like a young man. He had grown taller, so he appeared less gaunt, and his cheeks had become rosy with health. He had also gained some weight. Truly, he was quite a handsome fellow.

  Edmund had reported to her that Godwin was intelligent and was very eager to please.

  “Perhaps he would make a good knight,” she said.

  “He would make an excellent knight, Alice, but he will need money and a sponsor. I do not have the funds to help him. If I did, I should help my sister and increase her dowry.”

  “Yes,” Alice nodded. But now, her reverie was interrupted by Edith's question.

  “How will we get the mistletoe from that oak?” Edith asked. “It is far above us.”

  Alec, the dark-haired, gray-eyed, handsome young man, laughed. “That is a good question,” he said.

  “I will show you, my lady.” Godwin dismounted and scampered, like a squirrel, up the tree with a large basket over his arm. He quickly cut the white-berried and green-leafed plants from the tree with his sharp knife, filling the basket, and then he descended.

  “For my Lady Alice,” Godwin knelt said, giving her the basket and bowing.

  “Thank you, Godwin.” Alice smiled.

  “That was a clever feat, Godwin,” Alec said.

  Lord De Winter was now fostering Alec. He would soon become a knight, and Alice was happy he was here with them. He would inherit a great fortune, but he was not yet betrothed. She hoped he would marry Edith because they seemed quite fond of each other.

  Still, the girl did not have enough of a decent dowry to marry such a wealthy man. Nevertheless, from the way Alec was looking at the sweet, blonde Edith, Alice felt encouraged.

  Perhaps she could say a word or two about the situation to her grandfather. Before she did, though, she would discuss it with Edmund. She knew her husband would be quite annoyed if she had the temerity to discuss Edith's situation without his permission.

  They rode back to the castle laughing and joking, but always in the back of her mind, Alice knew she must overcome her fear intimacy.

  Furthermore, she was terrified Camden would make a hostile move. Edmund hadn’t mentioned the rogue again, but he might not want to distress her. Still, Alice felt sure the man would take a terrible revenge.

  They reached the castle and then entered.

  “I think some mulled wine would do us all some good,” Edmund ventured.

  “Yes, that would be lovely,” Edith added.

  In Alice’s solar, which was brightened today just by candles and a fire, for the weather was quite gloomy, the four of them drank their spiced wine.

  “I think I should like to hang the mistletoe,” Alice ventured.

  “Yes, let’s get to it,” Alec replied, a smile on his handsome face.

  Alice wondered if he would kiss Edith. She hoped so.

  Oh, why was she thinking of them? She should be trying to get over her own reluctance to share her body with Edmund. Alice suddenly realized she did not want an annulment. She loved Edmund. She loved him so much.

  But do I love him enough to overcome my apprehensions?

  * * * *

  Alice sat by the fire after the evening meal when Edmund came into their apartment. “You finished your inspection of the barracks early,” she remarked, smiling.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Alec and Edith spend a good deal of time together, and he will soon be knighted.”

  “So he will be,” Edmund answered. “It would be nice if he proposed marriage. He is also heir to a great estate and fortune, Alice.”

  “You said you would like Edith to marry someone she loved. I believe she loves him.”

  “Alice, love is usually not considered. She has just a good dowry. But I do not think it is enough for a young man like Alec. His family is immensely wealthy. My sister doesn’t have a chance with him.”

  “I think she does, Edmund.”

  “Alec will not give up a fortune for her, Edith.”

  “He won’t have to. We could give her a huge dowry.”

  Edmund raised his nicely shaped brows. “And how do you suppose we do that, dear wife?”

  Alice decided that she must measure her words. She had a plan, but she knew Edmund might not agree.

  “She has what you say is a good dowry. My grandfather told me to keep the dowry that I gave the abbey, and he has given me another one, as you know. I can add the first dowry my grandfather gave to me to what Edith already has. That would make quite a hefty sum. That dowry includes some rich lands too.”

  “I refuse to consider that, Alice.” He shook his head.

  Alice saw his fists clench. She knew he had a strong reaction to her suggestion.

  “That money and lands are yours,” he added.

  This was the reaction she expected, but Alice had a strategy.

  “Yes, it is my money, but I can lend the funds to you, and you can pay me back. It will be a loan, Edmund, not a gift.”

  “But it is not my place to give Edith a dowry. Money was left by my parents for that purpose.”

  “It is not enough…or so you said. I am willing to give you a loan. I thought you wanted her to be happy.”

  Alice did not mention asking him to pay interest. The church forbade that practice. They Church called it usury.

  “I do wish her to be happy, Alice. You know that.”

  She decided to make a tactical retreat. “Yes, I do know that. I am sorry, Edmund. It was not my place to interfere. This matter doesn’t concern me.”

  Edmund gazed at Alice. “You are right,” he said gently. “It does not.”

  “I hope you are not angry with me,” she said, feeling chastened, even though his tone remained soft and reasonable.

  “No, Alice, I am angry at my economic circumstances.”

  “I don’t wish to discuss the subject further if it will create a rift between us, Edmund. I have said all I wish to say. In fact, I believe I have said too much.”

  Alice picked up her distaff and became to spin the wool into fine yarn, but she felt the tension in the air. She knew there would be strain, and she had no doubt about that. Nevertheless, she thought that the idea of a loan would cause him to agree.

  How could I have been so wrong?

  Still, if he thought she would argue, he was mistaken. Alice had learned well the lesson of obedience in the convent. An argument would just make him more stubborn. She would pray that he changed his mind and accept her loan.

  “Alice, I do not wish to quarrel.”

  She looked up from her spinning. “There will be no dispute, my love. I apologized to you, Edmund. There will be no further discussion unless you wish to speak of it.”

  “Thank you, Alice.”

  “You are welcome,” she said.

  Still, she had put an idea in his mind—one he would ponder a great deal—at least that is what Alice hoped.

  * * * *

  “Alice,” Edmund called out, striding into her solar the next day.

  She was usually alone at this time because this was the period in the day when she read her boo
k of hours.

  “Yes, Edmund,” she said standing, and putting the a marker in the illuminated book and placing it on the table.

  “I wish to speak with you.”

  She walked to him, taking his hands in hers. “What can I do for you, husband?”

  “I have been pondering your suggestion. I even had a terrible dream about the situation.”

  “What suggestions do you mean?”

  “The idea about giving me a loan for Edith’s dowry,” he said. “You are right. I must not let her marry just anybody for lack of a large dowry, especially when she said she loved Alec. I love her, Alice. Edith deserves so much better than my family members have given her. I won’t let pride stand in my way when there is help to be had.”

  Alice suppressed a smile. She must not look triumphant. Besides, she had meant it when she said she would not discuss the matter further. She hadn’t. She had merely put the idea into his head.

  A very important thing she had learned in the convent was that a little silence went a long way—a very long way, indeed.

  “I think I should take the loan from you, Alice, and I will repay you.”

  “That is quite a change of heart,” she replied.

  “Yes, I cannot stand on pride about Edith’s future. She is a sweet girl, and she deserves the best.”

  “Are you quite sure your mind is made up on the subject?” Alice inquired.

  “Yes, I have looked at the situation from every angle. I also insisted on repaying you every month, as I should reimburse any other person.”

  Alice smiled at him. “You know I'm happy to help you.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “They let us go to the counting room, Edmund. We shall write up an agreement with the terms, and mark the tally sticks.”

  “Agreed,” Edmund said and smiled.

  “I think you should write your brother about Edith’s increased dowry. I hope he will be pleased.”

  “I believe he will be, Alice. He loves Edith, and he wants her to be happy.”

  “Good.” She nodded, and holding hands, they went to the counting room.

  The amount of money was large, but she gave him five years to pay it. Alice planned to save the funds from Edmund for when he needed them again.