Dalfrid glanced again at the purse of coins, then gave Roland one of his meaningless smiles. “Cuthbert has paid what he owes, my lord. He understands you’re not the sort of man who would allow his father’s and brother’s deaths to disrupt the business of the estate.”
“No, I am not.”
Dalfrid put on an expression of sorrow nearly as false as his smiles. “Alas, my lord, I have some news that you will not be happy to hear. Gerrard and his friends have caused some, um, trouble in the village. They got into a brawl in the Cock’s Crow and there was considerable damage done. Tables and benches broken, as well as a shutter. There was also the loss of a large keg of ale. It was shattered and the contents spilled.”
Roland suppressed an annoyed sigh. “How much does the tavern keeper want?”
“Ten marks, my lord. Naturally I went to the tavern myself to survey the damage.”
“Naturally.”
“It was as Matheus said. There was something else, my lord.” Dalfrid delicately cleared his throat. “One of the serving wenches claims she was attacked.”
Roland fixed his gaze on Dalfrid’s fawning visage and waited to hear the news he’d been dreading ever since Gerrard had discovered girls.
“Not Gerrard, my lord, and not raped,” Dalfrid quickly explained. “She claims one of your brother’s cronies blackened her eye, as well as inflicting some other bruises. I paid her for her, uh, difficulties.”
“Where was my brother during this brawl and the beating of the maidservant?”
“Out cold, my lord, in the stable.”
That he should be relieved to hear that his brother had passed out from drink! “Is there more?”
“No, my lord.”
“Thank God for that,” he muttered, finally picking up the purse of coins. “My wife needs new clothes. Her own were destroyed in a fire on our way here, along with most of her dower goods save for the coin.”
“At least something was saved, my lord, and you also have the alliance with her father. Lord DeLac is not without influence at court. A most valuable connection, my lord.”
Given his expression and enthusiasm, one would think the marriage had been Dalfrid’s idea.
“And of course there is the lady herself,” the steward continued. “She alone is surely worth—”
“Yes, she is,” Roland interrupted. He didn’t want to hear Mavis’s “worth” discussed by Dalfrid, or any other man. He put out his hand holding the coins. “I also want you to help her with the wedding feast.”
Even as he reached for the purse, Dalfrid’s already beady eyes narrowed even more. “Wedding feast, my lord?”
“Yes, and there is the money for it,” Roland replied. “Since I am lord of Dunborough and Lady Mavis is new to Yorkshire, there should be a proper celebration so she can meet the other nobles.”
It would also make her happy, but he would not say that to Dalfrid.
“As you say, my lord,” Dalfrid replied as he tucked the purse into his wide belt, “a wedding feast is indeed called for. When should this take place?”
“Soon.”
“Say, a fortnight?”
“If Mavis agrees that is enough time.”
Dalfrid nodded.
“I shall expect you to come to me for approval of any costly items, especially if you’ve already spent what’s in the purse.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“I will see that she keeps the expenses reasonable.”
“I’m sure you will, my lord,” Dalfrid said with another smooth smile. “I’m sure you will.”
* * *
Arnhelm threw his leather pouch onto a cot in the barracks of Dunborough. “Well, men, we’re here,” he said to the rest of the escort from DeLac as he looked around the long, narrow room lined with cots. Two pegs had been hammered into the stone wall beside each one, and a long wash table ran along the far wall. “Could be worse.”
“Could be better,” Verdan said as he tossed his pouch onto another cot and lay down, pillowing his head in his hands and crossing his legs at the ankles.
The other men likewise disposed of their baggage and milled about.
“When do we eat?” Teddy asked, scratching his beard.
“When we’re told,” Arnhelm replied, sitting on his cot.
“When do we go home?” Rob asked more urgently.
“When we’re told.”
“I hope tomorrow!” Teddy muttered. “Yorkshire’s too bloody cold!”
“Game of draughts?” Rob suggested, and the men moved off to play in the corner where the lone brazier stood, to watch or make wagers on the outcome.
Verdan sat up and regarded his brother with a frown. “Don’t you really know when we’re leaving?”
“No, and I ain’t goin’ to ask,” Arnhelm replied. “It’s our duty to see our lady’s safe and by God, I want to be sure she is. And you know as well as I do that Lady Tamsin’s going to come and ask us how she was when we left here, sure as we breathe.”
“Aye.”
“So we stay as long as we can.”
Verdan nodded at the rest of the men now engaged in a lively and loud game. “They aren’t goin’ to like it.”
“Good thing they aren’t in charge, then, eh? Besides, it ain’t them Lady Tamsin and Sir Rheged’ll talk to.”
* * *
Eua led Mavis through the yard toward the hall of Dunborough Castle, the largest building within the inner curtain wall. There was a squat, square tower close behind it, likely the original keep and perhaps attached by some kind of walkway. Another half-timbered, two-storied building with shuttered windows on the upper level, none on the lower, spread out to the left of the hall.
The massive hall itself was chilly and drafty and rather bare, the walls supported by thick stone pillars, with huge oaken beams on plain corbels spanning the roof. There were few windows, and those were at the top intended to allow smoke from torches and the central hearth to escape. A wooden dais was at the far end.
They continued through another, smaller door at the far end of the hall and to the right of the dais. Opposite that was a wider opening to the left. Judging from the sounds that came from the corridor beyond, that led to the kitchen.
Opening the smaller door revealed a corridor that went along the outside of the long, two-storied timber building attached to the hall.
“His lordship’s solar’s in the tower,” the dour maidservant explained as they entered the corridor, “but you can’t get to it from here. Only from outside.” She paused at the first door. “This was Sir Blane’s chamber. Broderick’s was this one,” she noted in that same flat, emotionless tone as they passed a second door.
They came to a third door. “That’s Gerrard’s, not that he uses it much,” the maidservant said, her tone vastly different. She spoke as if she expected Mavis to be impressed that Gerrard apparently slept elsewhere, no doubt with a variety of women.
Mavis found that anything but impressive.
Eua pushed open the door to the fourth bedchamber. “This is Roland’s. And yours now, I suppose.”
Mavis tried not to show her dismay as she surveyed the barren chamber, but even the servants at DeLac had better quarters. The only furnishings were a narrow bed more like a soldier’s cot covered by a thick woolen blanket, a washing stand, a stool, a wooden chest that no doubt held Roland’s clothes and a small table with an unlit oil lamp upon it. When she looked at the bed again, she regretted the loss of her dower goods, especially the linens, even more.
But that was not all that was wrong. “My husband and I require a larger bed. That is barely big enough for one.”
“There’s his late lordship’s, I suppose,” Eua replied with a shrug of her shoulders.
“No, not that one.” Mavis could all too well imagine the sort of
things that had happened in that bed, whether the women were willing or not. “A new one.”
“Anything costs money, you have to talk to Dalfrid, my lady,” Eua replied. “You know who that is?”
Mavis was not pleased with the woman’s question, or the manner of asking it. “Of course. He’s the steward.”
“Then you ought to know anything requires money, you go to him. Where should I tell the men to put your things?”
“I have only a small chest of clothes and toilet articles.” She tried to sound unconcerned, but a blush stole up her face nonetheless. “There was a fire on the journey here and all my other clothes and dower goods were destroyed.”
“A fire, eh? Too bad,” Eua replied with another shrug of her shoulders and a skeptical expression.
Who did this woman think she was, to speak to her lord’s wife in such a manner? One thing was certain, it could not continue. If Mavis had learned anything from Tamsin, it was that respect was essential when dealing with servants.
Mavis drew herself up and spoke in her best imitation of her cousin. “It was too bad. Now fetch me some hot water and a brazier to warm the chamber. At once!”
Finally Eua made a show of deference, bobbing a curtsy before she left the chamber.
Hopefully, all the servants wouldn’t be like Eua, Mavis thought as she watched her go. Then there was Gerrard, but at least she had some experience dealing with vain and arrogant young men.
Mavis again surveyed the spartan chamber and sighed. This was not what she’d been expecting. Not at all.
“By God, you are a beauty.”
Forewarned by the slight difference in pitch, Mavis turned to find Gerrard standing in the door.
“All alone, eh?” Gerrard noted with a smile as he strolled, uninvited, into the chamber.
Yes, he was like her husband, but vastly different, too, and not just because he smiled so broadly, so easily and so often. Roland was a strong, silent warrior who would surely fight with grim determination. Gerrard was undoubtedly bold and probably did well in tournaments, but she wouldn’t be surprised to learn he lacked the stomach for a real battle.
“If I were your husband, I would never leave you waiting, especially in such a godforsaken excuse for a bedchamber. But then, Roland never concerns himself with anyone’s comfort.”
“Including his own,” she replied. “I’m sure he has many things to attend to since he’s returned.”
“If I had a wife as beautiful as you,” Gerrard said, sauntering closer, “the business of the estate could wait.”
She backed away. “Perhaps, then, it’s better you don’t yet have either a wife or an estate of your own.”
That wiped the insolent grin off his face. “My brother has robbed me of my inheritance.”
“If he was the eldest, the estate was his by right of primogeniture.”
“Only if he is the eldest. No one can prove that.”
“Wasn’t it also a provision of your father’s will that Roland inherit?” she asked, even though she wasn’t sure that was the case.
Fortunately, judging by Gerrard’s sullen scowl, she’d guessed aright. “I don’t doubt my late father was influenced by the greedy, ambitious son who slavishly followed his every command.”
Instead of the insolent one? she silently asked. Aloud, she said, “As a son, it was his duty to obey.”
“As you obeyed your father when you married Roland?”
“I would have fled my father’s household and sought sanctuary in the church rather than marry against my will,” she answered honestly and although her marriage was none of his concern.
Gerrard laughed and came closer still. “I’d sooner believe my horse can talk than a woman like you would marry Roland willingly.”
A shadow fell across the floor. “What are you doing here, Gerrard?” Roland asked from the doorway.
Mavis smiled with relief. Meanwhile, Gerrard crossed his arms, leaned his weight on one leg and regarded Roland with another mocking grin. “Well, brother, it seems you’ve finally remembered you have a wife.”
“And you’ve apparently forgotten this is my chamber, not yours.”
“You didn’t tell me your brother was so amusing,” Mavis said, walking past Gerrard to take her husband’s arm. “He was just telling me he believes his horse can talk.”
“I said I can sooner believe my horse can talk than that she wed you willingly.”
Mavis smiled up at Roland’s stoic face. “And since I did marry you willingly, he must either believe his horse can talk, or admit that he was mistaken to make such an assumption. But perhaps we should excuse him. I’ve only just arrived and he does not yet know me.”
“I look forward to getting to know you better, my lady.”
She gave Gerrard another smile, albeit a more brittle one, and her eyes were not amused. “I look forward to learning more about my husband’s brother, too.”
Especially why Roland had made Gerrard his garrison commander. Having seen them together, that was a mystery. “Is the evening meal ready, my lord?” she asked.
Roland’s hand covered hers as he nodded, the action not without a hint of possessiveness. “Yes. Come, my lady,” he replied, turning to escort her from the chamber and leaving Gerrard to follow.
Mavis didn’t have to look back to see if he did. She could hear him following behind them like a smirking, impudent shadow. Nevertheless, she tried to enter the hall with confidence and poise—but what she would have given then to have her green gown and silken veil!
Regardless of her attire, Arnhelm and Verdan and the men of DeLac greeted her with smiles and nods. The soldiers of Dunborough watched her more warily, and others who looked to be men of some responsibility such as the huntsman, the fletcher and smith, did likewise. The three young men who’d been with Gerrard on the road were also there, unsteady on their feet in a way she was unfortunately familiar with, while a tall, slender man, well dressed in a long woolen tunic of dark blue, waited close to the trestle table on the dais. She spotted Eua at the farthest corner of the hall.
The hall was still rather barren. There were no linen coverings, and the only chairs were at the high table, with benches at the others. Torches now burned in the sconces.
Gerrard sauntered past them to join his friends, while the man in the blue tunic hurried toward them, pausing a moment to give Gerrard a bow that was not acknowledged.
“My lady, this is Dalfrid, steward of Dunborough,” Roland said. “Dalfrid, this is my wife, Lady Mavis, the daughter of Lord Simon DeLac.”
“It’s an honor, my lady!” Dalfrid cried, bowing deeply. “I must confess my breath is quite taken away by your beauty.”
In spite of his effusive welcome, there was something about the man Mavis immediately didn’t like. She wasn’t sure if it was his long, narrow face or his wheedling way of speaking or the way he rubbed his hands together, but something seemed amiss.
“Dalfrid will show you the stores tomorrow,” Roland said, “and give you any assistance you require to prepare for a wedding feast.”
“Wedding feast? I thought you didn’t have feasts at Dunborough,” she said, too surprised to hide it.
“I decided our wedding was a worthy occasion to celebrate, and a feast will give you the opportunity to meet our neighbors and tenants and the more important villagers.”
As pleased as she was that he considered their marriage important enough for a feast, a thousand thoughts, questions and worries burst into Mavis’s mind—first and foremost that although she’d asked Roland about feasts, she had never planned one. Tamsin had been in charge of such events in recent years. Yet now she was to not just take control of this unfamiliar household, but plan her own wedding feast, too?
“We should have more than enough stores,” Roland continued, “and there is no
great hurry. Let us say in a fortnight’s time.” He fixed his penetrating gaze on her. “That will be sufficient, will it not, my lady?”
Whatever her concerns and doubts, she didn’t want to imply she wasn’t up to the task. “Certainly, my lord.”
“Good. I’ve also told Dalfrid to see that you have whatever new garments you require.”
That was much more welcome news. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Any request you have that requires purchase or payment, you should make to Dalfrid. If there are concerns, he will bring them to me.”
“Then, Dalfrid, we require a new bed,” she said to the steward. “The one in Sir Roland’s chamber is much too small.”
In the silence that followed, Mavis could have heard a raindrop fall. Roland’s head slowly swiveled toward her. Dalfrid’s eyes widened and his jaw hung slack, while everyone else in the hall was apparently equally stunned, except for Eua. She let out a snort of laughter that was more embarrassing than the silence.
Blushing, Mavis desperately tried to mend her mistake. “I thought the sooner... That is, it’s small for two.”
Dalfrid recovered. “I’ll see to it at once, my lady.”
“Tomorrow will do,” Roland said evenly.
“Tomorrow, then, my lord,” Dalfrid replied.
By now several servants had appeared at the entrance to the kitchen bearing trays and trenchers. The steward made another bow and went to a table on the opposite side of the hall where Arnhelm, Verdan and the escort from DeLac were sitting. Gerrard and his friends were still smiling with amusement and exchanging whispers.
Mavis looked around again. “Where is the priest to bless the meal, my lord?”
“We have no priest in the castle. Father Denzail serves in the church in the village.”
The manner in which Roland replied told her that was another of his father’s edicts he had yet to change, should he wish to do so.
They took their seats and the maidservants started toward the high table. Eua, she noted, stayed where she was, although she gestured and pointed to direct the servants like a general leading a battle from afar.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you about the bed, my lord,” Mavis said before the servants got to the high table. “I didn’t think—”
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