Sarah had left Alais a heavy cloak for her to wear over her shift while Sarah was cleaning her clothes and Alais slipped into it gratefully, the room seemed cool after the warmth of the bath on her skin. Now that she was clean, she had time to examine her husband’s chamber. There was not much to see. The large curtained bed took up most of the available space. She sat on it and decided that it was most comfortable. Against one wall was a large, brightly-painted chest. She knew that this would contain Sir William’s clothes and other possessions. A small shelf held a jug and a tiny, delicate carving of the Blessed Virgin and Our Lord as a baby. She guessed that this must have belonged to Lady Maud.
Sarah reappeared with Alais’ dress. It certainly looked much cleaner.
“Thank you,” she said, taking it from the servant and pulling it on over her shift.
Sarah then attended to Alais’ hair. Alais had expected her to be rough; she could not have had much practice with Lady Maud, since Sir William would not have brought her to this estate very often. When Alais complimented her on her skill, Sarah replied that she had been Lady Maud’s maid when she was a girl and had gone with her on her marriage to Sir William.
“And have you been here since Lady Maud’s death?”
The older woman nodded.
“Sir William had no reason for a lady’s maid when he no longer had his lady.”
Alais thought that the woman was leaving much unsaid, but decided not to pursue it. It would be unseemly to be asking questions of the servants about her husband or his previous wife. She wondered, though, that Sarah had not been called back to Liss to be her own maid.
Sarah had finished and turned to go. “Wait! Is there any news from the town?”
“Much, my lady.” The older woman shook her head, sadly. “And none of it good. Many people have left the town. A number have found their way here, but I do not think we will be very safe if the French arrive.”
No, thought Alais. Their only hope could be that the French would pass by on their way elsewhere. She wondered now that she had bothered with the bath. They should be readying themselves to fight the French. Biting her lip, she restrained herself. Edmund was in charge here and he had been told to keep her safe. He would be taking care of the manor’s defences.
Alais went out into the courtyard and was surprised at the number of people sitting there as if waiting for something. She noticed that the servants moving around outside carried swords at their waists. Some men stood at the gatehouse waiting to raise the gate for the next group of people coming in, whilst ready to defend the manor against invaders. She saw Edmund and Matthew talking together and went to them.
“You seem well-prepared,” she said.
“Yes,” replied Edmund, “Hugh has spent much time here making sure that we can defend ourselves.”
Alais wondered at that.
“But this is such a small property she said, “Would it not be better for the people to flee?”
“No, this is Hugh’s only property. It came to him on his marriage.”
Now Alais understood. This was the property of the tall knight, her stepson, not her husband.
Deciding that she could be of no use in defending the manor, she turned her attention to its temporary inhabitants.
As the afternoon wore on, a large number of people started to arrive at the manor house fleeing the destruction being wrought by the French. Alais helped Matthew to welcome them, directing them to the church or the barn depending on the extent of their injuries. Servants were assigned to the barn to look after the wounded.
The townspeople were scared and tired. The village’s priest moved among them, offering what solace he could. He moved off with the first group directed to the church. Alais assumed he would pray with them. None of the injured was likely to die, so he would not be required to offer last rites to any of the people in the barn. Alais noticed that Edmund was questioning each group as they entered the courtyard, either asking for information about Sir Hugh or trying to gauge the threat from the French. She walked over to confirm her suspicions. A man had just arrived with a small child. They were both unhurt.
“What’s happening?” asked Edmund.
The man shook his head.
“Don’t know. Lots of fires. Lots of dead people. They say it’s the French invading.”
Edmund shook his head impatiently. He already knew this, he needed new information.
“Did you see a knight?”
“Knight?” repeated the man.
“A tall, fair man on a big bay horse, with a sword,” interjected Alais, impatiently.
“No. Could have done with one, though.”
“Thank you,” said Edmund, directing them to Matthew.
“I am sure there is no need for you to worry about him,” Alais offered, when he returned.
Edmund looked at her dismissively. “I do not worry about him. I should just like to know what he is doing.”
Alais smiled faintly at the lie.
“Very well. I am sure you are correct,” and she moved away herself to go and help Matthew.
This was a situation for which she had been preparing herself for the last few months. Leigh had been in danger from the day the war had started and she had made plans for the time when she would find herself defending her home against the French. Edmund had told her that Sir Hugh had made defensive preparations, even though he had not taken the idea of a French invasion very seriously. She could only assume that he had also prepared for the eventuality that people from the town would take refuge within his stone walls.
Alais went into the barn. Here the wounded were being treated by some girls directed by an older servant.
“Can I help?”
The woman turned, her expression doubtful.
“I am skilled with herbs and not frightened by blood,” explained Alais.
The servant’s face darkened in anger. “There is much blood here, my lady. It is not something for one such as you.” Alais knew she could help here and did not want to be turned away just because she was a noblewoman and this servant did not think her capable. She allowed her voice to take on a harsher tone as she responded.
“I was prepared to help my people in just such a time as this. I am not there, so I must trust that my women paid attention when I was teaching them. I am here and even if you have better skilled healers, I can still do the manual tasks and release someone else.”
To Alais’ relief, the woman agreed with her reasoning and nodded her head. She had not wanted to have this argument with Matthew or Edmund, for they would surely have kept her in the manor’s hall out of harm’s way.
“Molly,” she called out, “take Lady Alais with you.”
Alais saw a young girl step forward. She was being assigned to one of the youngest servants. The older woman had a low opinion of her skills and her ability to deal with this situation and was testing her. Alais bit her lip to keep in the words that would spill out in her own defence. She had to remind herself that this was not her home and the people here could have no idea of what she could and could not do, so she rolled up her sleeves and followed the girl.
Molly was plainly scared. She was looking after a woman who had a bad cut to her arm. Alais smiled at both of them confidently. She reached out and held the woman’s hand. “That must be painful,” she said, quietly, so as not to scare either of them, as she tried to examine the wound through the slit in her sleeve and the darkness of the barn.
The woman nodded. Her face was filthy, covered in tear-smudged dirt.
“Do not worry,” said Alais, “it will leave a scar, but you will be able to use the arm.”
Both the woman and the servant relaxed. Alais looked at the girl. “What do you propose to do?”
The girl looked scared again. Alais realised that this must be her first experience with an injured person on her own.
“First, I must make sure I can see what the injury really is,” the girl stammered at last.
Alais nodded her enc
ouragement. “Very good,” and, cutting the woman’s sleeve with the knife that hung from her belt, she began to roll up the sleeve of the woman’s dress so that the girl could see properly. Seeing that Alais was going to assist and not take control, the girl cleaned the wound carefully and they both studied it. “It will need a poultice,” said the girl, more calmly. “But it will not need stitching.”
“What herbs would you have me fetch?” asked Alais, seeing that it would do the girl more good if she assisted rather than took over.
The girl, made brave by her success so far, named a selection and Alais nodded her approval and went to fetch them. She then went in search of hot water while the girl worked out the proportions required. Encouraged by Alais' approval, the girl was now working confidently to finish her preparations. Alais added the water and the girl bound the poultice to the wound. The woman smiled her thanks and Alais and the girl worked on, moving to the next person who needed them.
In the mid-afternoon Matthew sent a bucket of small beer out for them to drink. Alais left the barn and sought out Edmund. “We should think about feeding these people.”
He grunted. “It would take a miracle to feed this number, but it is not my decision.”
“We cannot wait for Sir Hugh to return,” exclaimed Alais.
“I mean it is Matt’s decision. He is Hugh’s steward, not me.”
“Then I shall speak to him.”
As she went in search of Matthew, she had to agree with Edmund that it would, indeed, take a miracle to feed this number of people. They had kept coming all afternoon and the yard was full of people moving between the barn and the church.
There was not enough to feed everyone, but Matthew agreed to feed the women and the children and eventually some pottage was brought out for them.
Later, as it started to get dark, some burgesses on horseback arrived. They spoke briefly with Edmund and then went back to the town with all the able-bodied men and as many of the wounded men as felt they could fight the French. It occurred to Alais that the French must be finding it more difficult to invade than they had thought, although she wondered what this army of merchants and sailors could do against French soldiers. They must have found a leader and she wondered whether it was the tall knight who had saved her life. She sensed that Edmund would not simply tell her what he had discussed with the burgesses and swallowed her pride to go and ask him.
“Hugh is taking the lead against the French. Some of the men who did not run away stood with him and once they began to force the French back, he sent the burgesses to bring back more men to fight.”
“So, he is safe,” she breathed.
“Safe? No, my lady. He is in battle. He is not safe and neither are those near him, on either side.” He did not smile and Alais knew that he was serious.
As night fell, she and Edmund were left alone again. The wounded were sleeping restlessly in the barn and the servants had, for the most part, returned to their normal tasks. In the darkness they watched the town, still burning. “He will not be back tonight,” she said quietly to Edmund. “It is too dark now for him to travel. There is no moon, nor likely to be.” She looked sadly up at the cloudy sky.
“I know.” But still he looked into the distance and not at her, as if looking could make his master appear.
“I know you would rather have gone with him,” she said.
“Yes,” he said bitterly, “I should have been by his side.”
Alais was struck by the man’s loyalty. It seemed to her that there was a deep relationship between the two men, which was rare between a noble such as Sir Hugh and a villein, like Edmund. Something held them together, something she could not yet understand. She yielded to the temptation to touch him and put a hand on his arm. “Come and take some food and then rest,” she said. “I fear there will be a great deal to do tomorrow.”
With one last look down the road as if hoping to see a horseman appear out of the darkness, Edmund followed her back into the manor house.
It appeared the servants had been waiting for either Alais or Edmund to return before they served the evening meal. Alais knew that the whole village would have gathered in the hall to share a meal after mass that morning, so their meal tonight would be light. And now that she was giving it some thought she realised that she was hungry, not having eaten since the previous evening and then only sparsely. Matthew came forward and led her up to the dais. She sat there alone. Edmund sat at one of the tables along the walls and was joined by the priest. Alais realised and thought herself stupid for not realising or enquiring earlier, that since this manor belonged to Sir Hugh, as his father’s wife, she was the highest ranking person here and that was why she had been given the highest seat and why the servants had waited for her. Alais found the hall quiet compared to mealtimes at Leigh where there were always cousins and visitors sitting at the table with conversation and laughter.
The food was good and there was a quantity of it. Matthew, being a good steward, had noticed that she was in need of sustenance. She had thought that her fear about her mother would have robbed her of her appetite, but she found that even if she had not been hungry, she would have taken account of her advice to Edmund and eaten well in preparation for the events of tomorrow. She was too tired to care that she was alone at the top table. The events and strains of the day had finally caught up with her. Had they been at Leigh she would probably have invited Edmund and the priest to join her, but this was not her home and she did not know how such things were managed here.
As well as good food, she was also served a seemingly endless quantity of good, but strong wine – one of the advantages of living so near a port that had good links with Gascony. She was not so tired that she could not appreciate it, but was careful not to drink too much; she wanted to sleep, not be unconscious.
Once the meal was over Matthew showed her to the bed, also up on the dais, that was separated from the main hall by a screen. She looked in confusion at the large bed and realised that this would be hers for the night. Always having had sisters or cousins, or, on this journey her mother, to share with, she had never slept alone. And now in a strange house, worried about her mother’s safety, she was to be alone for the first time. The sounds of the male servants making themselves comfortable in the hall came through the screen. It was comforting to know that there were people nearby.
She took off her outer garments and got into the bed and curled up under the blanket, trying to get warm.
Although the autumn days were already getting short and damp, the small screened-off room was warm and the bed was dry. Alais quickly became drowsy and found her thoughts wandering to the knight who had rescued her.
Leigh was not secluded and she had met all their neighbours socially. She had met many nobles’ sons, including some who had acquitted themselves well in the king’s service, but there was something different about Sir Hugh. She knew that it was dangerous to dwell on the effect that he had had on her, but even if he could do nothing for her mother, he had saved her own life and deserved her gratitude. There was little she could do for him in her current situation. Perhaps her gratitude and friendship would be enough. There would certainly be time to get to know him better as they travelled to Liss together. A small shiver of anticipation ran through her body at the thought. She was definitely in danger from Sir Hugh, that much was clear. Was there anything in his appearance that should have warned her? She thought not; apart from his height, there had been nothing remarkable about him. Certainly his fair hair made him stand out but his face was marred by a nose that had been broken at least twice. With a small scar above his left eye and another one on his chin, he was definitely not handsome. Yet there was something that had called her to look at him, rather than the more handsome Edmund.
Until Sir Hugh had touched her she had not really thought of him as a woman might think of a man, but by then it was already too late; she could no longer deny to herself that she was attracted to her husband’s son. Horrified, she thought
that she should be confessing her sin, rather than dwelling on it. Now she missed her mother needing her guidance. Alais despaired at the thought that Lady Eleanor might no longer be alive, that she would have to make her own way from now on. Of course, she had her husband and he would guide her, but she suspected that she would not be able to discuss as much with him as she had with her mother. Certainly she would never be able to tell him that she found his son attractive. She could have told her mother and Lady Eleanor would have told her what to do. Alais tried to imagine her mother sitting by the bed discussing the events of the day as she had so often in the past, but she knew what she would say, that Alais must honour her vows completely. Alais clenched her fists as she recognised that she could not allow herself to be distracted by this man; she belonged to her husband, not his son.
Chapter Three
When Alais awoke it was still dark, but there was noise coming from the other side of the screen. This must be what had woken her. Hearing men talking in low voices and the sounds of things being picked up and set down, she called out for a servant to bring her lighted candles. She was immediately attended by the woman who had waited on her the evening before. Heedful of the expense of using candles in the morning, and the cold of the early morning, Alais dressed quickly and passed into the hall. Edmund and Matthew were talking quietly, seated at one of the side tables. Edmund was picking at a plate of bread and cheese. When they noticed her, they stood and walked across the room to her.
“Good morning, my lady.” They both bowed to her.
“Good morning, is there any news?”
“None.” It was Edmund who spoke. “Will you break your fast now, Lady Alais?”
Matthew glared at Edmund, unhappy that he had not been able to get his word in first.
“That would be most welcome.” She forced herself to smile her gratitude, although her concerns about her mother were uppermost in her mind.
The Traitor's Daughter Page 3
