Bone of Contention

by Roberta Gellis

  For a moment Loveday’s face looked old and drawn, its clean lines sagging as she recalled past grief. She was not beautiful, Magdalene thought, but certainly did not deserve St. Cyr’s description of her as a “whey-faced sack of mud.” Her hair was an indeterminate shade of brown as were her eyes, but those eyes were bright with intelligence, her skin was lovely as was the soft curve of her mouth. And her body was not sacklike at all; her full breasts lifted her gown becomingly and her waist and hips were all that a woman’s should be.

  “Well, of course I asked why her gates were locked and why I was being threatened with pitchforks,” Niall said, “and she told me the whole story. I was…annoyed.”

  Loveday giggled. “He was steaming mad. His face was so red, I thought his head would burst into flame.” Then she looked up at him with adoring eyes. “But he didn’t yell at me or hit me.”

  “Why should I hit you?” Niall said in a choked voice. “I wasn’t angry at you.”

  “Yes, well.” Magdalene sighed. “With some men, their wife’s innocence is less important than having something to hit.”

  Niall snorted. “Just as well then that St. Cyr chose that very time to show up. The steward called a warning that four armed men were approaching and I came running out—”

  “Unarmed?” Magdalene asked.

  “Oh no. There have been such grumblings and rumblings that I had my mail shirt on under my surcoat, and my helmet and shield are always on my horse. I was angry enough to ride out and take all four of them, but I have not been Lord William’s captain for some years without learning when to swallow my bile. I warned the men on the manor to get long staves or pitchforks and keep St. Cyr’s companions from taking me from behind. Then I bade the steward to open the gate. As I said before, I could have cut him down in two strokes, but Loveday shouted at me not to kill him so I beat him off his horse with the flat of my sword.”

  “And the other men?”

  “Two fled as soon as they saw me knock aside St. Cyr’s sword and realized the pitchfork men would not run. Two younglings had got out their slingshots and were pelting the third man with stones until he withdrew beyond the gate. Then I dismounted to cut St. Cyr’s purse to get the fake betrothal, and he drew a knife on me, so I used my fist on his head, threw him belly down on his horse, and drove it out.”

  “Why in the world did you tell Niall not to kill the man?” Magdalene asked Loveday. “Now the chances are that for revenge he will come back with many more men and really try to burn down the manor and kill the servants.”

  “I was afraid Niall would get into trouble,” she said. “If that man was truly at Noke by Lord Waleran’s order—and how else would he have known about me—and Niall killed him, Lord Waleran would certainly hear of it from the men who fled. Who knows what vengeance Lord Waleran would take for the despite done him in killing his man?”

  “Yes,” Niall put in in an exasperated voice, “and that is why I daren’t take Loveday to my father to keep her safe. Lord Waleran could squash my poor father like a bug. Nor, of course, dare I take her to Lord William. He must not be embroiled in any fracas with Lord Waleran right now and, besides, what would he do with Loveday?” He hesitated, and then added uncertainly, “Could he ask the queen to house her?”

  “She is the king’s ward,” Magdalene pointed out, but she sounded doubtful. Even if the king were willing for his wife to take Loveday into her Household, that could not possibly he arranged in an hour or two.

  Before Magdalene could voice her doubts, Loveday said, “No. From what Niall has told me, Lord Waleran is so much a favorite with the king that if he went to Stephen complaining of Niall’s interference, I might be handed over to be delivered to St. Cyr.”

  “So you have to take her and keep her safe until this matter of the forged betrothal agreement is exposed.”

  Magdalene stood staring at Niall, eyes and mouth open in shock. Finally she swallowed and said, “You are serious? No, you are mad! I am a whoremistress. You cannot entrust a maiden to my care.”

  “You are also the most honest woman I know, Mistress Magdalene,” Niall said. “If you say Loveday will be safe in your care, she will be.”

  “Niall, do not be a fool. I am staying in a whorehouse. Last night I, myself, was nearly assaulted by a drunken client. I cannot swear to keep her safe.”

  “But you did get away from the drunk,” Loveday said slowly, clearly thinking as she spoke. “And you did not expect it to happen, so usually you are safe from such affront. That means when you were attacked you must have been out in a public room for some reason—”

  “I was seeing a client out,” Magdalene said pointedly, wanting to make her situation clear.

  “Yes, well, of course—” Loveday offered a small smile “—I would not need to be out in a public part of the place for that reason. And I doubt the men who come there would invade your private quarters, even if they were drunk.” She thought another moment and then added with perfect calm, “Indeed, Mistress Magdalene, I will add my plea to Niall’s that you allow me to lodge with you.”

  Magdalene drew a deep, exasperated breath. “But Loveday, even if you were physically safe, your good name would be sullied if anyone discovered that you had been staying in a whorehouse. And the Soft Nest is frequented by just the kind of people you know—merchants and substantial yeomen.”

  “I still think it better than if I were caught by St. Cyr.”

  “But people will talk. And in the future if your husband hears of it, he may begin to harbor doubts about your virtue, which could lead to some painful misunderstandings.”

  “How?” Niall asked. “I will be her husband and since the whole thing was of my doing, how could I doubt?”

  “And who will know of my staying with you? No one besides Master Redding knows I am in Oxford. If I veil myself so that no one sees my face… Mistress Magdalene, I doubt I would survive longer than it took to marry me and kill me if St. Cyr lays his hands on me—”

  “And I must tell Lord William about that treacherous clerk.” Niall drew a sudden breath. “Good Lord, Magdalene, what if the clerk’s purpose was to embroil Lord William with Lord Waleran? I must go warn him. I must go now.”

  Magdalene’s eyes widened. Maybe that was the reason Waleran had chosen a totally unacceptable man, so that Loveday would refuse and whomever William sent—any one of his captains would have been more to Loveday’s taste—would defend her and involve William.

  “Very well,” she said. “Go and tell William what has happened, and for God’s sake, tell him you have left an innocent maiden in the Soft Nest, and he must find other arrangements for her as soon as possible.”

  “Bless you, Magdalene,” Niall exclaimed, bussed her loudly on the cheek, and ran down the stairs.

  “I am not so innocent as all that,” Loveday protested with a grin. “What with spending half my time deciding which horse should cover which mare and what bull would best freshen this or that cow, not to mention watching to make sure we get our money’s worth from the stud if he does not belong to my own farm, I am scarcely ignorant of the coming together of male and female.”

  “Oh yes, I was once a country girl myself,” Magdalene agreed thoughtlessly, laughing, then looked down and bit her lip, annoyed at what she had exposed. She covered by adding quickly, “But somehow it is different when it is men and women rather than horses and mares. I hope you will not be shocked.”

  Loveday raised her brows. “I have servants, too, who are not always perfect.” Then she laughed. “I will not be shocked, but I hope you have an explanation for my sudden appearance.”

  Magdalene laughed too. “It so happens I have. The true reason I have for being here is private, so I have been telling everyone who asked what I was doing in Oxford that I came to pick up a girl for my house in Southwark—” she sighed “—as if London had no girls. However, it is a convenient excuse. You can be that girl. I will call you…Maeve. But I am afraid I will have to tell the whoremistress of the Soft N
est the true tale or she might succumb to bribery and agree to use you.”

  Loveday readily agreed. Magdalene picked up her shopping basket and gestured Loveday toward the stair.

  * * * *

  Fortunately, despite Magdalene’s qualms, Loveday’s establishment in the Soft Nest went without any difficulty. Master Redding, who had heard the tale of the attempt to force Loveday into marriage when Loveday sought refuge with his wife, quickly offered to contribute a veil and a light cloak to change Loveday’s appearance. His cooperation surprised Magdalene until she realized that his purpose was to be rid of Loveday before Waleran de Meulan could learn she had appealed to him for help.

  He even sent an apprentice to lead Loveday’s gelding, still loaded with her travel basket, through the back alley and ride it to Blue Boar Lane. There Magdalene called Diccon to take the horse out back and leave him with her own mare and mule, and the apprentice was sent back to Master Redding’s shop. Then Magdalene simply led Loveday to the back chamber, mouthing “Come when you have time,” to Florete as they passed.

  She felt Loveday stiffen after they entered the Soft Nest and she saw the women in bedgowns and thin shifts in the common room and by the curtains that lined the corridor. However, the girl relaxed when they entered the back room and cheerfully asked if she could help put away the items from Magdalene’s shopping basket. Magdalene waved toward a shelf near the left-hand bed, meant, probably, for a man to put his purse or other valuables on. Loveday carried the basket over and removed the long, buttered loaf, now wrapped in a napkin. She exclaimed with surprise when she saw already on the shelf a thin roll of parchment bound around a tightly stoppered ink flask and several quills.

  “Could I—” she began, and was distracted when she found the strawberries. “Where shall I put these?” she asked.

  Magdalene looked at what she held and laughed. “In your mouth…and mine.” And she gestured Loveday to bring them to the table where they promptly sat down to finish them.

  Niall came in before all the berries were gone but only stayed long enough to snatch a few for himself and say that William begged Magdalene to keep Loveday for the night, or at least until he had a chance to ferret out what was going on. Niall also told Loveday not to worry about Noke, that he was returning to the manor with ten men to be sure it and her servants would be safe.

  Magdalene saw him out, and stopped by Florete’s table to ask if she could rent clean sheets for the second bed. Then, unable to resist the bemusement in the whoremistress’s eyes, she told a brief version of who Loveday was and her need to avoid an unwelcome suitor. And to engage Florete’s sympathy, she pointed out that the man who claimed Loveday was the one Florete’s men had disposed of the previous day.

  “Pretty little thing,” Florete muttered. “And she doesn’t need to walk on our road. She’s got lands. Yes, I’ll keep her secret and I’ll do my best to keep her safe.”

  Satisfied, Magdalene returned to her room. Together she and Loveday made up the second bed. Then Loveday asked Magdalene if she could use the pen, ink, and parchment on the shelf.

  “I will gladly replace them or pay for them,” she said. “I wish to write to the king and protest the forged betrothal.” Then she drew a determined breath and added, “I will tell him not only that I can sign my own name and do not need to mark an X, but that I could never have agreed to such a proposal because I am already betrothed to Niall Arvagh of Murcot.”

  Chapter 6

  20 June,

  The Soft Nest, Oxford

  “But—” Magdalene began to protest.

  The door slammed open and William of Ypres stood in it, looking from one woman to the other. He then examined Loveday more closely, walking up to her and then around her, very much as if she were a mare, then teetering back and forth, heels to toes.

  “All right,” he said, “so it isn’t your face that’s in question, it’s the lands. What are you worth, girl? Do you know?”

  “To the penny, Lord William,” Loveday snapped back, her voice a feminine echo of his flat, practical tone, a flush of irritation brightening her eyes.

  Magdalene bit her lip and went to close the door.

  “Well?” William asked.

  Lips thinned with anger, Loveday told him.

  He shook his head. “Nice,” he said. “Just what Niall needs, but not worth Waleran’s interest. Not worth mine either, except…who is this St. Cyr?”

  “I have no idea. I had never seen him nor heard of him before he appeared at my manor.”

  William snorted. “You saw him then, girl. He was threatening to marry you. You refused. Why?”

  “He stank!”

  Magdalene stifled a giggle as William rolled his eyes heavenward. “She doesn’t understand what you want, William,” she said. “Loveday, what Lord William needs to know is why Waleran de Meulan should take enough interest in St. Cyr to drop a wealthy orphan in his hand. Was the man French? Was he a man of birth who had fallen into low estate? What did you observe that might help us understand why Lord Waleran chose him?”

  “He wasn’t French,” Loveday replied immediately, interest replacing irritation in her face now that she understood where Lord William’s questions were leading. “I told my steward in French to get several menservants to drive the creature away, and he didn’t understand me. As to fallen into low estate? I cannot be so sure of that, but I think not.” She shook her head. “There was something about him that shouted lowborn.’ There are things one does not unlearn, no matter how drunk and dirty fate makes one. His English was coarse, he never learned that on any manor. The way he used his hands to gesture—”

  William nodded abruptly, cutting off her description. “All right, then the man was nothing and no one and there is no open reason for Waleran to offer him a prize. I need to take Niall’s warning then, that the clerk and the whole accursed business might be designed to show me as eager to frustrate Waleran no matter how harmless his action. I cannot show myself in this.”

  “But if Niall appealed to you as his master?” Magdalene asked. “Could you carry a protest from Loveday to the king?”

  “What has she to protest? Niall said something about a betrothal agreement—”

  “A forgery!” Loveday exclaimed. “I can read and write. I would not sign my name with an X. Beyond that, how could I agree to a new betrothal when I am already betrothed?”

  “What?” William scowled. “To whom?”

  “To Niall,” Loveday said.

  It was the second time Magdalene had heard the claim and she believed it no more this time than the first. Still, she had taken a strong liking to Loveday of Otmoor. Few maidens, herself included, would have stood up to William of Ypres as Loveday had. So Magdalene tried to keep her face bland and blank as if this were old news of an established fact.

  Meanwhile, William blinked at Loveday, then shook his head in a dazed way. “No. Niall would have told me. Woman, what are you about?”

  Loveday met his eyes steadily. “It is a very long story, going back to before my father’s death. Since I know Niall was in a hurry, likely he thought the tale of our betrothal could wait. It has waited more than four years, a few days longer would not matter.”

  “But when I first told him to court you—”

  “Did he say he didn’t know me?”

  “No. No, he didn’t. He said ‘Loveday,’ and then smiled—” William laughed. “I thought he was smiling at the name, but that clever devil was having a little joke at my expense.”

  “Not a joke, my lord,” Loveday said, smiling now. “He was going to impress you with his charm and ability. He was going to ride back and say everything was settled and then you and his companions would admire his address with women—”

  “Phah!” William exclaimed. “So when did this betrothal take place?”

  “I am not very sure exactly when, but it must have been nearly four years ago. Six years ago my brother and Niall’s sister were married. Less than nine months later, they were
both killed in a stupid accident. At first we were all too shocked and grieved to do anything but mourn, but about a year later when my father had recovered, he decided that he was still in favor of uniting the families, so he spoke to Sir Brian about renewing the bond by joining Niall to me. It took some time for my father and Sir Brian to come to terms. Sir Brian had the better birth, but my father could afford a good dowry. I gave my approval, but to tell the truth I do not know whether Niall was even in the shire at that time.”

  “Well, if you have the document—”

  “Alas, there is no document. It was a word-of-honor agreement. The priest was supposed to write it all down, but within a week or two of the final agreement, possibly while a messenger was seeking Niall, the plague struck. My father and my two remaining brothers died.” Her voice wavered and tears filled her eyes. “The priest died too.”

  “Then it is not so easy. I have only your word…”

  “Sir Brian Arvagh will remember, as soon as Niall can get to Murcot and mention it to him.”

  “I am sure he will,” William said with great solemnity, although the laugh lines around his eyes were crinkled.

  “Then I will write to the king—in my own hand—to protest this false betrothal. I will explain the whole case. My steward and the other old servants will also bear witness. Can I send this letter to you, my lord? To what place? At what time? Will you bring it to the king?”

  He stared at her hard, then nodded. “Write. I will send a messenger to pick up the document tomorrow morning.” Then he turned to Magdalene, who had been standing silent near the door. “Magdalene, come with me. I want a word or two with you.”

  They went out together, and William pulled the first woman standing by a curtained alcove into the corridor. “Out,” he said. “Magdalene will pay you later.” Then he pushed Magdalene in and a moment later followed her, his hand on his knife hilt.