Windsong

by Allison Knight

  Later than night, Alwyn approached the two of them as they sat on

  the bench watching men playing a game of chess. Rhys was beside him.

  “Do you play?” he asked Milisent.

  She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to be seated across from one of the men trying to concentrate on a game at which she was not that good while Alwyn looked on, as she was certain he would.

  “I understand you play,” he pointed to the harp Rhys held.

  “Who told you that?” She glared at Ella who had to be his source of information.

  Ella nodded. “She plays.”

  “Aye,” Milisent admitted, “but I do so for myself, not for others.” She was not about to say to him her brother had insisted a lady should be able to play well so she could entertain her husband.

  “Many here are from Wales and love music. It would please all present if you would consider entertaining us.”

  She glanced at Ella who was vigorously nodding. When Rhys stepped forward and placed the harp in her hands, she could not resist. Music had always been a wonderful way to escape the trouble Gilbert brought with him when he returned to his castle.

  “Aye, I will play but only one tune.”

  She nestled the instrument against her leg, plucked the strings to check the tuning and began one of the many songs Gilbert insisted she learn. She sang and lost herself to the music, enjoying the chance to ignore her circumstance.

  A loud voice disturbed the song. “I thought we hired a minstrel to entertain us.”

  Sybil’s strident voice rang through the hall. “Are you to tell us our visitor is naught but a singer of songs?”

  Milisent gazed into the eyes of Sybil and jerked back on the bench she occupied. Hate glared from Sybil’s gray eyes and her face was flushed with anger.

  Milisent lowered the harp. “I can play no more this night.”

  She stood, her demeanor stiff, for she had never before seen such hate. Sybil, who had a lot more height than her, intimidated her. The look she had received said Sybil not only hated her but wanted her gone from Alwyn’s home in any way possible. For the first time since she had been taken from Gilbert, she knew real fear. Did Sybil hate her enough to do her harm? She shuddered with the thought and hurried to their chamber.

  FOUR

  Two days later, Milisent was in the pantry fetching some cheese for the cook when Sybil cornered her. “I see you now occupy a proper place, a lowly servant to the cook.” Sybil spread her hands over the rich gown she wore and Milisent knew the gesture was meant to remind her she wore a servant’s gown. “Have you nothing to say?”

  Milisent bristled but ignored the words. She lifted the cheese from its place and attempted to gain the opening to the kitchen.

  “I am speaking to you!” Sybil blocked her path.

  “I have nothing to say to you. Let me pass.” Milisent stepped around her into the kitchen.

  From the expression on the faces of those working on the midday meal, Sybil’s words as well as her own had been heard.

  Ella stood inside the buttery doorway, anger etched on her face. “You will do no more work in the kitchen.” Ella snatched the round of cheese from her hands.

  “And you will not say to me what I do or can not do,” Milisent whispered.

  Ella gave her a grim look and pushed her toward their chamber. “I think it is time to leave this place.” Ella’s voice was meant for her ears alone.

  “Nay. Not for a time yet,” Milisent replied, her own tones just above a whisper. “They must think we have accepted our positions in this house. When they no longer expect such an attempt, then we will be able to escape.”

  After the noon meal Alwyn approached her. She had not moved fast enough to avoid his presence. “You have no need to work in the kitchen.”

  Milisent clenched her teeth. Ella must have mentioned something to Rhys. “I have a need to work. To be idle has no appeal.”

  “There are things you can do. The men say your stitches are fine.” Alwyn wore a confused expression on his face. She guessed the reason might be a kept woman was not known for her skill with a needle.

  “I prefer a more active endeavor.” She tried to move away, but he grabbed her arm to still her. Once again, heat and a swirl of emotion attacked her. Why did his touch affect her so?

  He released her with a comment. “Cook has no need of your aid. She has help aplenty.”

  The next day, after everyone broke their fast, the tables dismantled and servants went off to their daily chores a messenger hurried toward the dais. With his word, the hall erupted into chaos. Once again, Milisent understood not a word spoken.

  She slipped into the kitchen to talk to one of the kitchen servants who she had befriended the day before. “What has happened?” she asked the girl.

  “Poachers,” Betha whispered. “Our lord will have to gather his men and leave.”

  “Did you hear?” Milisent turned to Ella.

  “Aye, but I do not like your thoughts. As much as I, too, want to leave this place, now is not the time.” She nodded toward the dais.

  Milisent watched as Alwyn stood in quiet communication with Rhys. She guessed they would not be without company while the men sought the poachers. It appeared Alwyn would make certain she and Ella did not leave Throsle while he was gone.

  Despite the gossip, she still had no idea why they had been taken from Gilbert’s castle, nor why Alwyn insisted they must stay here with him. Sybil did not want them in the house, Owain had ignored both of them when he was near and many of the servants resented their presence, even though both she and Ella performed household tasks the servants did not want to do.

  She stood at the doorway to the buttery and watched as men gathered in the hall. Orders were given before everyone dispersed. Alwyn spent more time with Rhys and ignored Sybil who stood at his elbow, pulling on his kirtle.

  When he finished his instruction to Rhys, he turned to her and his voice rang through the hall. “Nay, I do not want to hear your compliments. Not now. I must see to this problem before it is out of hand.”

  “But, m’Lord—”

  “We have much to discuss, which we will do when I return.”

  He turned back to Rhys. “This may take several days. I leave this in your hands.”

  Rhys nodded as Alwyn stepped from the dais and headed for the courtyard where Milisent already heard the shouts of men and the stomping of their horses.

  Several days? Surely she and Ella could find a way to leave this place in that amount of time.

  “Nay,” Ella whispered behind her. “Do not think it. He is leaving Rhys behind and I have no desire to be dragged back here. They will expect us to try to leave so we must not.”

  Milisent glared at her and stomped back to their chamber. What a wonderful time this would be. Sybil would have the whole of several days to make her life a misery. Nor could she admit to Ella she would do almost anything to leave this place, for Alwyn and his effect on her grew with each hour she was in his presence.

  ~ * ~

  Alwyn left Throsle with his men, his thoughts troubled. Sybil no longer appealed to him. Taking her to his bed was the last thing he wanted to do and yet Milisent stirred his blood whenever he chanced upon her. He kept reminding himself she had belonged to Chelse so she was not for him, but that thought did not smite his desire. The sooner he heard from his enemy and could set the final part of his revenge in place the happier he would be. Then he would have to do something about Sybil.

  In his confusion, he could almost thank the presence of poachers in his forest. It gave him something more to worry about rather than his waning interest in Sybil and the effect Milisent had on him. Mayhap he could find Sybil a husband before Chelse sought to learn how much ransom to pay. Aye, he would look for a husband for Sybil once they found and punished the poachers.

  The two scouts met with him that night after they made camp.

  “‘Tis not one man, m’Lord, but several. Much in the style
of a Scottish raid.”

  “We found evidence of at least six horses, and they have taken two deer.”

  With deep concentration, Alwyn rubbed his left side. Despite his brother’s skill, the dagger that had pierced his side in that long ago battle, had nearly killed him. Arvel, even then, had been the family healer, learning everything he could.

  “Mayhap,” he dropped his hand from his side, “we have villains who have banded together to steal from the king. ‘Tis too far from the border to be Scots.”

  Owain beside him, commented, “Nay, ‘tis not Scots. I wager ‘tis a group of Welsh rebels intend on plaguing you for swearing allegiance to Edward. There are those who can not let go of the old ways.”

  Alwyn sighed, for he feared Owain had rightly named the miscreants. There were many who refused to see that the battles coming would name Edward victor. The king had many loyal vassals who could command a large army to fight in Edward’s name. Still, Alwyn hated to pursue any who might claim allegiance to Wales.

  Over the next three days Alwyn and his men followed the poachers. Twice the miscreants left the forest only to return, leaving the ashes of new fires and the entrails of fresh kill. Once Owain swore he saw the group, but it proved a false sighting. By the fourth day they found no sign of those they hunted. And by the fifth, Alwyn was swearing on the blood of several saints. They had failed to catch whoever trespassed in Edward’s forest.

  With a heavy heart, Alwyn led the men home. A part of him rejoiced

  he had not found his own countrymen criminals, and yet, he had failed to protect the land given into his care.

  After another day, they entered the courtyard of Throsle. Weary horses and men dispersed, each to seek warm food, a glass of ale and a softer bed than the floor of the forest.

  Sybil greeted Alwyn in the courtyard with a great show of affection, too much to ease his mind. She was up to something, of that he was certain. Rhys would be waiting to speak to him but she demanded his attention now, before he entered to the hall.

  “Sybil, I would speak to my man. Whatever you want must wait.”

  “Oh, nay, m’Lord. I have fresh ale, warm food and your bed waiting for you. Can you not speak to him another time? Nothing has happened here. All is peaceful, just as it was when you left.” She pressed herself close to him, rubbing against him as a cat might do.

  He tried to push her away but she clung. “I have much to tell you and you must listen.” She stopped him before he could enter the hall. “It is about those women you brought here.”

  He jerked to a stop and glared at her.

  “Do you know,” she continued without pause, “they need discipline but Rhys could not be bothered. Can you but believe the task fell to me?” She pouted as was her wont.

  Alwyn set her aside. “What have you done, woman?”

  She tried what she must have thought was a beguiling smile. “I told you, there was correction needed. Your man would do nothing. They defied all direction, especially the one called Milisent, demanding assistance as if she was of noble birth.”

  His jaw clenched and he opened his mouth to command she tell him what she had done, but before he could insist she blurted, “I now know who they are. She is nothing but a whore. You brought another whore into this house.” The look she shot him spoke loudly of her disgust.

  “You will tell me who told you about them.” He was furious, angry at whoever had told her of the women, and infuriated she had taken upon herself a position she did not hold, would never have. “They are nothing to you.”

  She grabbed his arm. “Why did you bring a whore into this house? I can not abide another woman doing for you. Next you will put her in your bed, a place I occupy.”

  He dragged her with him as he started for the dais. “You have no right to offer complaint here, Sybil. Nor authority to offer correction.” He stopped, trying to still the rage building in him. “‘Twas Rhys I left in charge. Who and what those women are is not of your concern. They are here at my command. What they do here is my responsibility and they will stay until I deem it time for them to leave.” He took a deep breath and glared at her. “Now, what have you done to them?”

  She stilled her hold and smiled at him. “She is of little use. Nor would she fare well beneath your massive bulk. Send her away and let me care for you.”

  He dislodged her hand, moved away and stalked to the dais. He needed to know what she had done and he needed to know now.

  ~ * ~

  Milisent leaned against the doorway of the buttery and wiped her sore hands on her skirt. The coarse gown she wore was as filthy as her hands. She had never been so dirty or so tired in all her life. With a sigh, she turned toward the chamber she and Ella originally shared. Mayhap she could rest for a few minutes before Sybil decided she needed her for another task.

  This week had been even worse than she thought possible. Sybil made her life a misery. Today followed the same pattern as the last six. Dawn was yet an hour away when Sybil sent someone to rouse her from her exhausted sleep with a command to clean the hearth, start the oven fires and scrub the kitchen floor. Yesterday, long before most of the servants began their day, she was ordered to clear the rushes from the great hall, then sent to gather more. Once she’d finished that task, she spent most of the day spreading the new rushes with several other terrified servants.

  If she was not so exhausted, Milisent would laugh. It had not been better after Ella obeyed Sybil’s command, for no sooner had she left than Sybil ordered a dozen tasks completed before the end of the day. For some reason Rhys was never present when Sybil issued her directives. The one time he heard her ordering the servants he objected.

  On the fourth day, Betha tried to help Milisent by attempting to do several of Milisent’s chores. Sybil caught her and, according to one of the older maids, gave her lashing and sent her from the house to the village to work with the smith.

  When Milisent objected to a task, Sybil, several stones heavier and inches taller, struck her. Milisent touched the bruise on her cheek and wondered what Ella would say when or mayhap, if she ever returned to the house. She decided it might be simpler to attempt the various undertakings rather than argue with Sybil.

  The day Sybil named her an Englishman’s whore, Milisent thought to defend herself then decided to say nothing. She was not ready to admit to this woman that she was sister to a man who was powerful in the eyes of the king. And Sybil would not believe her if she declared herself innocent of any man’s bed.

  Now, when she had almost gained her chamber, she heard the returning men. Mayhap now she would have a chance to rest, for Sybil would no doubt want to spend time with her lord. At least for a few moments, Alwyn’s woman would forget about her.

  ~ * ~

  Alwyn listened in horror as Rhys explained Sybil’s behavior toward

  his servants and the women he had brought from Fenton Castle.

  “Why did you allow such a thing?” he demanded.

  The sheepish look Rhys gave him told him much.

  “You could not control one woman?”

  “Nay, for much of what she did. There always seemed to be disputes among the villagers that required my attention. I only heard of some of it today.” He grimaced and stroked his bearded chin. “It is interesting that there was always something that needed my immediate attention and required I leave the house for a goodly time. I will explain about those problems later but I suspect Sybil planned most of them so I would be kept busy.”

  “And you say Ella was sent to the village?”

  “Aye.” Rhys looked glum. “That too she did behind my back. I only learned of it this morn, from the villager into whose home Ella was assigned.” He grunted with what sounded like anger. “The villager came seeking food for the extra mouth he had to feed. I suspect there is more I do not know, for the servants are terrified of her and will say little.”

  “Who among them will speak to me of all that has occurred?”

  “One of the older servant
s might. Today, she told me about one of the kitchen wenches, a girl named Betha who befriended Milisent, or tried to. I understand Sybil was furious and the girl felt Sybil’s lash before she was sent—”

  Alwyn exploded. “She dared lash one of my people?”

  Rhys nodded. Alwyn gritted his teeth. “Do you know where the girl went, this Betha?”

  Again Rhys nodded.

  “Go you to the village,” he said, “and bring Ella and Betha back to the house. Also ask if any of our men wants a wife to tame.”

  “Sybil?”

  “Aye, she will have to leave this place today. We will marry her off to one of my men.”

  “M’Lord, would it not be better to send her far away from here. She will only make trouble if she stays.”

  Alwyn groaned. “I have no choice. I can not send her from this place. I do not want it known I hold the women from Fenton for some time yet.”

  Rhys sighed. “I heard one of the chamber maid telling another Sybil knew who Milisent was and whose bed she warmed.”

  Alwyn snorted. “Sybil knows nothing. Pray, find her a husband, for I want her gone from here this very day.”

  “She will not go willingly.”

  “Nay, she will not, but she will go because I command it.” Alwyn stepped away from the dais then turned back. “I can always send her to a hut on the other side of the forest if she does not agree to my plan.”

  “That might be best.”

  “Go. Now, I must fetch Sybil and tell her what is to happen and why.”

  Rhys chuckled. “You might wish to be back in the forest chasing poachers. You have my sympathy.”

  “By the Lord’s blood, ‘tis your prayers I need, not your sympathy.”

  ~ * ~

  Desperate to clean herself, Milisent rested for a short time and then thought to sneak into the kitchen for enough hot water to wash. Never had she gone this amount of time without a bath. She sniffed at her clothing, certain the smell was as unpleasant to others as it was to her.

  She stopped at the doorway and glanced into the hall. Sybil had a talent for catching anyone not performing the many chores she assigned each morning. Milisent sighed with relief for there was no sign of the woman.