Twelfth Night

by Speer, Flora

  “You are the first person I have ever complained to!”

  She sounded so forlorn that Aline immediately regretted her outburst. “Connie, I’m sorry. May I call you Connie? Look, I’ve had a terrible day. If I told you just how terrible, you’d never believe me. The only advice I can give you is to stand up for yourself with Blaise. Do it politely but firmly. And, for heaven’s sake, don’t cry. A woman’s tears always make a man feel guilty, and guilt makes a man angry. Trust me, it never fails. Don’t – I repeat, do not – cry in front of Blaise.”

  Just listen to you, Aline, giving advice to this poor girl when you have made such a mess of your own romantic life.

  “I will try to do as you suggest,” Constance whispered. She paused, swallowing hard. Aline was pleased to see her straighten her thin shoulders. “I fear I am not a very good hostess, Lady Aline. I shall send a servant with fresh linens and a quilt for your bed. You will want a bath after your cold journey. I’ll have hot water brought to you at once.”

  “It’s a bit chilly in here for a bath,” Aline said.

  “You shall have a brazier for heat.” Constance paused by the door. “Thank you for listening to me. My heart is lighter now.”

  “Remember what I said. Talk to Blaise. Tell him how you feel. And stand up for yourself.”

  “I will try.”

  When the door closed behind Constance, Aline sank onto the bed, her face in her hands. How she wished she could unburden herself as Constance had done. But there was no one. All she could do was sit on the edge of the straw mattress and try to figure out what had happened to her. She remembered looking at the Book of Hours…the painting of the Yule log…the snow outside the library windows. She could think of no rational explanation for her sudden presence in the twelfth century. She pinched her arm hard, just to be sure she was awake, and then she tried to imagine what Gramps would do in her place.

  Rejoice. Celebrate. Enjoy. She could almost hear him saying the words. Gramps had always seized every opportunity to enrich his own life and the lives of his granddaughters. He had tried to teach them to do the same.

  “All right, Gramps,” she said aloud. “I don’t know if I will ever get home again, but while I’m here I am going to participate in this life. If I get frightened, I’ll just pretend I’m living out one of those stories you used to tell Luce and me. After all, this is like one of your medieval tales come true.”

  She went to the window to pull back the wooden shutter and look out at Shotley. It had stopped snowing. Through a jagged rent in the clouds she could see the night sky and a few stars. To her left rose the outer wall of Shotley Castle, with a heavily cloaked guard standing watch on the battlements. Directly below her and to her right lay open fields, silent beneath a smooth mantle of snow. Beyond the fields a forest extended as far as she could see. The road upon which she had come to Shotley was around the corner of the castle wall, out of sight to her left.

  It was so quiet, so peaceful…a silent, holy night. With one hand still on the shutter latch, Aline rested her head against the stone window frame. There was no glass in the window, but she wasn’t cold any more and she hadn’t felt so relaxed in months. She heard the muffled voice of the guard on the wall talking to someone, and then it was quiet again. Aline gradually became aware of a sense of deep contentment.

  “My lady?” A maidservant came into the room carrying a bundle of linens. She was followed by two boys lugging a wooden tub and a girl with a bucket of steaming water. Yet another boy carried a black metal brazier, which he set up on a tripod stand before dumping a basket of charcoal into the pan.

  Then Constance was there, igniting the charcoal with a piece of braided straw that had been dipped into tallow and tossing juniper branches into the brazier to sweeten the air. More buckets of water were brought in until the tub was full. Constance scattered dried rose petals and herbs onto the surface of the water.

  “Now, bathe quickly,” she bade her guest, “before the water cools. Here is a towel for you to use. Would you like to borrow one of my gowns, or would you prefer to wear your own to night?”

  “I’ll wear my own dress. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll ask for one of yours.”

  Aline could hardly believe the change in Constance, until she realized what had caused it. The girl had no doubt been raised to become the mistress of a castle and must have been familiar with her duties long before she married. With the female and young male servants she seemed to have no trouble giving orders and behaving like the lady of the castle. It was her husband who terrified her and by extension, though to a lesser degree, her husband’s father.

  “Shall I help you, my lady?” the maid offered, reaching to unfasten Aline’s belt.

  “Thank you. I can manage by myself.” She saw them to the door and then, seduced by the rosy fragrance rising from the tub, she stripped off her clothing to submerge herself in the hot, scented water. In addition to the towel, the maid had left a cloth for washing and a bowl of gelatinous stuff that she had called soap. It gave off a pleasant herbal scent, but Aline found it sticky on her skin. She used the extra bucket of water left for that purpose to rinse herself, then hurried to dress again. Constance had supplied a wooden comb, but there was no mirror so she had to fix her hair as best she could by touch. Lacking her purse, she had no makeup.

  “No moisturizer, either,” she noted. “I’ll have to do something about that soon, or I’ll begin to look like a chapped prune in this cold. Connie must have a recipe for some kind of potion for a lady’s skin.”

  Fearing she might have taken too long at her toilette, she hurried down to the great hall only to discover that she was early. Blaise stood alone before the nearer fireplace, a silver goblet in his hand.

  “Will you join me, my lady?” It was just a superficial politeness on his part and she knew it, but she saw an opening to praise his wife to him.

  “I would like some wine, thank you.” She watched him pour it from a silver pitcher. “How kindly Lady Constance has treated me. I feel like an honored, invited guest instead of just a lost traveler.” She had decided to use that excuse to explain her presence at Shotley.

  “Constance but does her duty.” As he was doing his, making conversation with a guest in whom he was not interested.

  “How old is she?”

  “She has sixteen summers.” He looked mildly surprised by her question. “Why do you ask?”

  “I am impressed that someone so young could be so competent a chatelaine. My room is spotless, the servants are well mannered and helpful, here in the hall the rushes on the floor are fresh and sweet smelling, and the silver sparkles. You are fortunate to have so industrious a wife, Sir Blaise.”

  Now he looked even more startled, but she could see him thinking about her remarks. Apparently it had never occurred to Blaise that Constance worked diligently to see to his comfort and his father’s. Good, let him revise his opinion of his wife and understand that she was not the fool he took her to be.

  Then Constance herself came into the hall from the screens passage. Busy directing a trio of servants in preparing the high table for the evening meal, she did not at first notice her husband, but concentrated on her work. Aline stole a sidelong glance at Blaise and was pleased to discover that he had a considering expression on his face, as though he had never really looked closely at his wife before.

  A moment later Adam arrived in the great hall and Aline’s full attention shifted to him. He had put off his armor in favor of a thigh-length tunic of dark green wool and a heavy gold chain with a large emblem hanging from it. His hair was still damp from his bath and he was freshly shaven. When he came toward her she felt the corners of her mouth lifting to match the smile on his face.

  “I am glad to see Blaise has acted the host in my absence,” Adam said. “Is the wine hot enough?”

  “Indeed, yes. And wonderfully spiced. Is it Lady Constance’s recipe?”

  “It was her mother’s.” Blaise shot her a wondering look, and Aline decided
she had said enough about Connie for one night. Any more compliments and Blaise would begin to question what she was trying to do.

  “You must sit beside me at the table,” Adam invited. Aline placed her fingers on his extended wrist and walked across the hall with him as if she did that sort of thing every day of her life.

  He had the oddest effect on her. She had believed she was well past the age for trembling limbs and a palpitating heart in response to any man, but the warmth of Adam’s wrist under her fingers made her feel positively dizzy. When he smiled into her eyes as he seated her next to the lord’s chair, she thought of swooning. Smiling back at him, she saw that he was similarly affected. He hovered for a moment, bent toward her, one strong hand on the arm of her chair. She did not move. She could barely breathe. She noticed for the first time what a finely shaped mouth he had. It was a little too wide for the rest of his face, but his lips were nicely modeled and his teeth were white and even. Her own lips parted in silent invitation. She saw longing in his eyes and knew her own must hold the same message.

  Still, he was lord of the castle and she but an unknown woman. He turned from her to sit in his own chair, leaving Aline shaken and wary. She did not want any kind of emotional involvement. Romance seldom ended happily in her experience, and it certainly could not when the lovers came from different centuries. It was ridiculous even to think of Adam in that way. She had defended her heart against better-looking men than Adam of Shotley. She would control her feelings and refuse to become attached to him. Still, she could not ignore him. He was, after all, her host.

  “We will eat only fish tonight and tomorrow,” he informed her. “We are fasting in preparation for the holy day. On Christmas I can offer you a grand feast.”

  “I’m not sure I will still be here then.”

  “I do not think you will be able to leave, even if we can discover where your servants have gone. The snow has stopped for now, but more will come tomorrow, and I believe it will be a great storm.”

  “How can you tell?” she asked. If even twenty-first century weather forecasters with their radar images and satellite photos were unable to predict the weather a day in advance with any accuracy, how could Adam be so sure?

  “There is an old man who works in the stable,“ he said, “who an hour ago told me that all his joints are aching and his forehead, too, a combination that always presages snowfall. Then there is my leg. I have an old battle wound that sends me its own message of coming foul weather. These hints are to be disregarded at one’s own peril.”

  “No wonder you were in such a hurry to reach home.” She thought his method of forecasting was probably as good as any other. “I shall expect a heavy snow then.”

  They broke off their conversation as the servants appeared and began to serve the meal. There were two main courses, both fish as promised. For the first dish, salted herring had been baked with dry bread and herbs and eggs and other ingredients that Aline could only guess at, to make a tasty casserole. The second presentation was a large freshwater fish, poached and served up with an elaborate sauce. There was also a stew of boiled vegetables, and there was plenty of fresh bread and a wheel of cheese. Wanting to keep a clear head, Aline switched from the hot, spiced wine to homemade perry, a ciderlike beverage made from pears.

  “This seems more a feast than a fast,” she said to Adam.

  “With no meats and wooden plates and cups instead of silver, I would hardly call it a feast,” he told her. “On Christmas, we will have oysters. I brought a barrel of them home with me.” He paused, watching while Constance served poached fish to Blaise and ladled sauce for him. Dipping his spoon into his plate, Blaise tasted the dish.

  “’Tis good,” he said, nodding his approval. “I like the sauce.”

  “I am pleased, my lord. Cook will be happy.” Constance began to blush.

  “Sit with me,” Blaise ordered, catching her wrist, “and eat from my plate.”

  “Oh, no, my lord, I cannot. I have so much to do. I beg you to excuse me.” Her face now bright red, Constance pulled her wrist from Blaise’s grasp and left the dais, heading towards the screens passage and the kitchen. Blaise sent a scowling look after her.

  “Silly girl,” Adam said beneath his breath. “Each time he tries to be kind to her, she runs away from him.”

  “She is shy.” Aline felt compelled to speak, though she did not want to reveal what Connie had confided to her. “It’s possible that she finds your son a bit intimidating.”

  “Well, she should not. She is his wife and lady of this castle, since I have no wife at present.” Adam raised a spoon filled with fish to his mouth. Aline waited, sure he would have more to say on the subject of Blaise and Connie. She was right. Adam swallowed the fish, took a sip of wine, and went on. “For myself, I think people ought to have the good sense to make the best of the lives they have been given.”

  “Is that what you did?”

  “Aye.” He applied himself to the fish on his plate. “Lady Judith was a good woman. She managed my household well and never interfered with my duties as lord. She gave me my heir. We respected each other, and I grieved deeply at the loss when she died.”

  “Did you love her?” It was an impertinent question, but Aline had to know the answer.

  “Love?’ He stopped eating. “Of course not. I have observed that whenever nobles indulge in such passions, it always seems to end badly.”

  “So I have also observed,” Aline said dryly, thinking of her own life. “Still, what we are talking about between Blaise and Constance is not desperate, soaring passion, but a degree of warmth that will allow them to live together in peace and contentment.”

  “It is perfectly obvious that they are not content now,” Adam agreed. “I love Blaise well and I wish him happy. I have advised him as best I can, but I am not skilled in dealing with a woman like Constance. My Judith would never let herself be cowed by me, and I respected her for it.” He sent Aline a long, assessing look.

  “My lady, would you think me presumptuous if I asked for your help? If you can think of a way to make that marriage a happier one, I will be forever grateful to you. Perhaps I should not speak so freely to one whom I do not know, and a woman at that. But then, perhaps a woman will know better than a man what ought to be done.”

  “I very much doubt that Blaise would listen to anything I have to say.”

  “Talk to me,” Adam said, “and I will convey your thoughts to Blaise as if they were my own. Meanwhile, you could speak with Constance.”

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

  “Lady Aline, you owe me a favor.” His hand covering hers took the sting out of his insistent words. “Did I not this very day rescue you from death by freezing upon the open road? Have I not welcomed you into my home, fed you and offered you a bedchamber? Will you repay me by refusing a simple request?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she no longer responded to male manipulators and that he was taking unfair advantage of the situation, when it occurred to her that he did not intend manipulation. In the world in which he lived, what he had done for her deserved to be repaid as promptly and as cheerfully as she could possibly manage. In his world, which for the present was her world, too, it would be churlish of her to say no to what he was asking.

  “I am not refusing you, my lord. I will do whatever I can to help because I genuinely like Connie – er, Constance – and because I think she ought to be a lot happier than she is. Just don’t expect too much of me – or of either of them.”

  “Any improvement would be a blessing.” Adam sighed. “I hoped that in my absence they would find a way to grow closer. But I have been told since my return that Blaise’s interest has lighted upon one of the maidservants. He needs children to carry on our line, and I would dearly love to see grandchildren before I die, but they must be legitimate.”

  “I understand.” His hand was still on hers. Aline stared at it, large and hard and long-fingered, with a scar acros
s the back of it. He might have lost the use of his hand from such a wound. Fighting the impulse to run her finger along the scar, she made herself imagine Lady Judith bandaging it. Then he let her hand go so he could raise his wine cup and hold it out to the servant who moved along the table with a pitcher.

  “I am a poor host,” Adam said, to “to speak only of my own troubles and press you for aid, and never ask how you came to be alone in the snow on my road. What happened to your attendants, Lady Aline? If you know where they have gone, I will send men after them tomorrow morning and have them returned to you.”

  “I didn’t have any servants,” she said, her words eliciting a hard look from him.

  “Were you fleeing?” he asked. “You said you were not, but since you did not know me when we first met, perhaps you feared if you told the truth, I would leave you there to die in the cold.”

  If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me.

  “I was traveling alone,” she said.

  “No noblewoman travels alone,” he responded, “nor on foot.”

  “Adam, I swear to you, I am not fleeing from anyone. I would return home at once if I could.

  Or perhaps not immediately, she thought, looking into his eyes.

  “Where is your home?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Can’t you just accept that I’m here now and let me stay for a

  while?”

  “If you were a man, I would demand an answer of you.”

  “I’m not a man.” She watched his gaze move from her eyes to her lips, and thence to her throat and the deep neckline of her dress.

  “Most assuredly, you are female,” he murmured. “Very well, my lady, I will agree to ask no more questions of you, thus putting you into my debt a second time.”

  “And what will you ask in payment for this new favor?” she whispered, knowing full well what it was he wanted. And, heaven help her, aching to give it to him despite her best resolutions.

  “We shall see.” A brief, teasing smile warmed his face. Then he looked over her shoulder and the smile faded. “We retire early at Shotley, my lady. I’ll see you to your room.”