by Speer, Flora
Arianna looked around the room, her eyes lighting on Thomas. He stood near one wall, his golden head bent to Selene, who seemed to be staring intently at the floor. Arianna looked away, and caught Meredith watching her.
“I wish Selene would talk more,” Arianna said nervously. “She always seems terrified of Thomas. And I wish she would listen to me and wear something other than black or grey.”
Meredith started to say something, but before she could begin, Guy joined them, his face serious.
“I have had bad news from the king,” he said.
“Is something wrong at Afoncaer?” Meredith asked quickly. “Cristin. I knew we shouldn’t have left her there.”
“No, not Afoncaer,” Guy responded, taking her hand. “It’s Reynaud. There has been an accident. He was badly hurt.”
Arianna, seeing the stricken expression on Meredith’s face, put one arm about her, and felt Guy’s arm above her own, supporting his wife, who had gone white and was trembling.
“Would you like to sit down?” Arianna offered. “I see a bench over there.”
They led Meredith to the bench, which was placed against the wall in an alcove between two stone pillars. Meredith sank onto the seat, holding fast to Guy’s hand. Arianna went to find a goblet of wine. When she returned, Guy was sitting beside his wife, still holding her hand, and talking to her softly. Arianna was again struck by the closeness between these two. She had never seen anything like it between Sir Valaire and Lady Aloise. She handed the goblet to Meredith and then stood uncertainly, waiting to learn what Guy wanted her to do next.
“Thank you, Arianna.” Meredith sipped the wine. “I am sorry to trouble you. I’m better now.” She moved over on the bench to let Arianna sit down.
“Who is this Reynaud?” Arianna asked. “You must be very fond of him to be so distressed.”
“He was the architect of Afoncaer,” Guy answered, “and a good and true friend. He once helped to save Thomas’s life.”
“Then,” said Arianna, “you must do whatever you can to help him now.”
“And so we will,” Guy replied. “We have been discussing that.”
There was a rustle of movement before them. The throng of courtiers parted, and King Henry stood by the alcove. The three who had been sitting on the bench all rose, the women sweeping into deep curtsies, Guy bowing low.
“Are you ill, madame?” asked the king, watching Meredith’s pained expression.
“No, my lord, only overcome with fear for my dear friend Reynaud. Can you tell me all that happened to him? When last I knew of him, he was in France, and in good health.”
“He returned to England last July and went to Much Wenlock Priory, where they had need of an architect for the new buildings they plan there,” King Henry said. “I’ll not spare you, Lady Meredith. I know you are strong enough to hear the truth. A wall collapsed on him, and Reynaud was nearly killed by it. He has lost a leg, crushed beyond repair by falling stones, and it’s believed he’ll have no sight in one eye. They won’t know for certain until the wounds are healed and the bandages come off. But he may die before that happens, for I am told his wounds have festered and he burns with fever. It is a great loss. He was a fine architect.” King Henry shook his head sadly. “And now, if he lives, he will be an invalid.”
Arianna was watching Meredith closely, concerned about her. Meredith was pale, and she swayed as King Henry recounted the brutal details of Reynaud’s condition, but then she seemed to gather strength from some inner source. Meredith looked straight into Guy’s eyes, and once more Arianna had the sensation that they understood each other’s thoughts and were in complete agreement. She saw Guy give an almost imperceptible nod. Meredith nodded back and then spoke to the king.
“Is Reynaud yet at Much Wenlock, my lord?”
“The brothers there are caring for him,” Henry replied.
“Is he still a lay cleric? I have not heard that he had taken final orders.”
“That’s true,” Henry said. “Like so many other penniless young men, Reynaud entered clerical orders to acquire an education, and has taken only the minor vows. He’s a reader, but not a priest. His true vocation is building, as you know. The Church, and you and I, Guy, have made good use of that talent of his. But what will become of him now, crippled as he is, I do not know. If he lives, he may never be well enough to become a priest, though he will always have shelter at Wenlock.”
“I cannot forget all he did at Afoncaer,” Meredith said. “We owe him a great debt for that, and now we will begin to repay it. Reynaud must come to Afoncaer, and I will try to heal his broken body.”
“You cannot replace a lost leg,” the king remarked dryly, looking at Guy for confirmation of Meredith’s offer.
“I badly need a secretary,” Guy said, “and there is still work to be done on Afoncaer. We need a stronger wall around the town, and a larger cistern. So long as he has even one eye, Reynaud could easily plan and direct such projects, given the right assistants.”
“And you want my permission to employ him.” King Henry looked pleased. “I trust this will be a permanent arrangement? You will keep Reynaud at Afoncaer, feed and clothe and house him for the rest of his life? Which, I greatly fear, will not be long.”
“We will gladly accept Reynaud into our household once more,” Guy promised.
“I am in complete accord with your idea, my friend,” King Henry said. “I believe Reynaud would be content at Afoncaer.”
“Sire,” Meredith interrupted the men, “I can see a difficulty in this plan.”
“What is that, my lady?”
“Reynaud’s pride. We must present these arrangements to him as though we were asking for his help. Reynaud would not accept an offer made out of pity for a cripple. There is pity here for his condition, that is true, but there is much more of friendship and gratitude, though Reynaud may not see it so. We must be careful in dealing with him, or he may chose to remain at Wenlock and die.”
“Lady Meredith,” King Henry smiled upon her, “you are both wise and subtle. I would I had you among my councilors. Very well After hearing prolonged entreaties from Baron Guy, which he continued to present to me at every opportunity during the entire period of your stay at St. Albans, I finally, to silence his pleas and recognizing his dire need of a good architect, granted Guy written permission to take Reynaud from Much Wenlock Priory to Afoncaer. All of this, of course, took place before we learned of Reynaud’s accident. Do you think that story will satisfy his pride when he hears of it?”
“I hope so, my lord,” Meredith said demurely.
“It had better satisfy him,” the king said sternly, but with a gleam of humor in his eyes that belied his hard tone. “If Reynaud raises any objections, I’ll issue a royal decree commanding him to go with you. Stop at Much Wenlock on your way home to Afoncaer, and take that friend-blessed architect with you. I’ll see to it he’s duly informed of my will in this matter, and I’ll explain the circumstances to the prior there.”
“I thank you, my lord,” Guy said, and Henry moved on to another group of courtiers.
Arianna had been watching and listening intently. Now she asked Meredith, “If this Reynaud is so badly injured, will he be able to travel? How can he be moved without it causing him great pain? Have you some herbal mixture to relieve his pain? What about his fever? And how will you treat such terrible injuries? You seem very confident of helping him.”
“So interested?” Meredith eyed her speculatively. “Have you come to a decision then?”
Arianna’s glance wandered to the opposite side of the reception room, where she could just see Thomas’s head above the throng. It did not matter whether she was separated from him by the width of the whole world or in the same household with him; the anguish of loving him without hope would always be the same. But Meredith had offered her the opportunity to do something beneficial, and in that work she might find her salvation. In addition, she needed still to keep the promise she had made to Lady
Aloise, to whom she owed so much. Arianna took a deep breath and made her choice.
“I will go with you to Afoncaer,” she said to Meredith. “I would learn all I can from you. Let me begin with Reynaud.”
Chapter 4
St. Albans January 9, 1116
Selene was terrified. Her wedding day had come, and she could not stop trembling. She and Thomas had met regularly after that first afternoon in the cloister, so he was no longer a complete stranger to her, though the presence of other people prevented him from making any further advances toward her. She thought several times that she had seen in his expression a desire to kiss her again, and that frightened her. She had been present at Thomas’s knighting ceremony two days earlier, and at his request she helped to arm him afterward. When they sat together at King Henry’s great feast the same night he tried earnestly to make her unbend and show a little warmth toward him, but she could not. Her mother, and Arianna, and even her father, all told her that Thomas was delighted with her and eagerly looked forward to their marriage. He had been teased about his obvious affection for her often enough by friends and courtiers, and once even by the king himself, Sir Valaire said. It was clear to everyone who saw them together that Thomas had the deepest affection for his bride-to-be, and would treat her with great honor. None of that helped Selene now.
Her knees were shaking. She sank down on the edge of the bed, then immediately stood up again. The bed. She stared at it. She and Arianna had slept in it together since coming to St. Albans, but tonight she and Thomas would sleep there. The fresh sheets had been laid on it earlier that morning, and Arianna was banished to a trundle bed in the chamber Lady Aloise shared with Sir Valaire and their two younger sons. Tonight, only Thomas and Selene would occupy this room. A man. Doing that to her. Selene thought she would be sick.
If only she were not so confused. Her head whirled whenever she thought of the people she had met since coming to St. Albans and how different they seemed from Lady Isabel’s descriptions of them. She could not understand it. They had been so kind to her it was difficult not to like the members of her future family. And Thomas. Isabel had not specifically warned her not to like him, but Selene understood that it would be easier to do what Isabel wanted her to do if she could avoid caring for Thomas. She almost wished he were cold, or cruel, or brutal. She could have despised him then, and not felt so guilty at the betrayal of a husband’s trust that would be necessary.
She wished she had never met Isabel. But she had, and every day for the three months of Isabel’s twice-extended visit to Sir Valaire’s castle the older woman had flattered the unhappy girl, charming her with kindness and professing complete understanding of her feelings, until finally, in the name of the friendship which had become precious to Selene, Isabel had made a request. And, unaccustomed to having so much fond attention paid her and overcome with love and pity for the woman she believed had been mistreated and betrayed and wrongly sent into exile, Selene promised to do what Isabel wanted. No, it was more than a promise. With both her hands on the crucifix Isabel held before her, Selene had sworn a solemn oath. She had been well trained by the nuns who had taught her, and she knew that such an oath could not be forsworn without imperiling her very soul. Once the ritual was completed she was bound to do as she had vowed though it cost her life.
Now that she was at St. Albans and the Narrow Sea lay between her and Isabel, Selene had begun to regret the impulsive oath. But there was no one she could talk to, no way to ease her troubled conscience. She could not speak of what she had done to the priest when she made confession because she feared that part of her penance would be to reveal all to Baron Guy and Thomas. She knew such a revelation would bring disgrace not only to herself but to her entire family. She could not do that to her honest father or her brothers. And now Arianna, her one-time confidante, had been acting strangely, avoiding her in favor of Lady Meredith’s companionship. Having noted their growing friendship, Selene knew she dared say nothing of her pact with Isabel to Arianna. If she asked advice of Arianna, the girl might say something to Meredith, who would of course tell Baron Guy. It was plain to Selene that she had no one to trust or depend upon but herself.
The bedchamber door opened and Lady Aloise and Arianna appeared. Lady Aloise was garbed in her very finest blue silk gown and all her jewels. Arianna, in a deep green dress that brought out reddish highlights in her luxuriant dark brown curls, looked oddly solemn and subdued. Selene’s glance only flickered over the two women before her thoughts turned inward once more, returning to her own problems. She paid little attention to what they were doing as they picked up the wedding garments spread out on the bed and began to dress her.
Her serving woman had helped Selene to bathe earlier, in water scented with dried rose petals and violet flowers, and had left her wrapped in a woolen robe, beneath which she wore knee-length stockings held up by blue ribbons and soft leather shoes trimmed with gold. Now Aloise slipped the robe off her daughter, and Arianna brought the thin linen shift and helped Selene to put it on.
“You have insulted the waiting women by refusing to have anyone but Arianna and myself dress you,” Aloise told her. “They all expected to be here. It is the custom.”
Selene did not respond. She heard her mother’s words only as an irritating accompaniment to her own unhappy thoughts.
“You are cold, child,” Aloise said, one hand resting on her daughter’s shoulder.
“Then dress me and I shall be warm.” Selene’s voice was so flat and lifeless it startled the two women with her, and her mother looked at her with annoyance.
“This is a woman’s lot,” Aloise told her. “Your duty is to marry and bear children to your husband. Your father and I expect you to carry out that obligation humbly and with an agreeable spirit. There will be no sulking, Selene, no cold withdrawal of your heart from your husband. You owe him total obedience. Curb any thought of defiance.” Aloise snatched the fine cream wool underdress from Arianna’s hands and pulled it over Selene’s head, settling it on her rigid shoulders with a sharp tug. “I had hoped the nuns would teach you humility,” Aloise grumbled. “But you remain a proud, stubborn, and ungrateful girl.”
“I am like my mother in that,” Selene said, staring into Aloise’s shocked face. “But you may be certain I will never take as many lovers as my mother had. My sin may indeed be pride. At least I am not guilty of lust.”
Aloise’s hand slapped across Selene’s cheek so hard the girl nearly fell. Selene regained her balance and stood straight and stiff, waiting for the next blow. It cracked upon her other cheek and Selene hardly moved. She fixed her eyes on the opposite wall, her chin high. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Aloise raise her hand again. Selene braced herself.
“My lady, please!” Arianna caught at Aloise’s arm, stopping the forward motion that had already begun. “Don’t beat Selene on her wedding day.”
Aloise slowly lowered her arm. It was obvious she was fighting hard for self-control.
“You are right, Arianna. She deserves a good beating by her father, but we should not send her to her husband with bruises on her body. And I do hope,” Aloise breathed, her rage not really cooled at all by Arianna’s intervention, “I hope Sir Thomas has a strong arm and a large stick to keep you under control. You finish dressing her, Arianna. I cannot bear the sight of her another moment. Sir Valaire and I will return later to escort her to the church. And, praise to heaven, after today I need not see you again for a long, long time, Selene.”
“Thus you need not watch a young woman grow up while you grow too old for lovers,” Selene hissed at her mother’s departing back. Apparently Aloise had not heard her, for the bedchamber door closed with a smart click, and Selene’s tense stance relaxed a little.
“Must you always antagonize her?” Arianna asked. “You need not quarrel so much, if only your tongue were a little less sharp.”
“It doesn’t matter any more. After today, I’ll only see her to say a formal good-bye. That is th
e only happy thing about this marriage. I will no longer be under my mother’s rule.”
“She is not so wicked as you would like to pretend, Selene.” Arianna was struggling to separate the thick folds of the gown so she could lift it over Selene’s head. Selene made no move to help her. “Your mother has always been kind to me.”
“That is because you are not her daughter.” Selene raised her arms and waited for Arianna to put the dress on her. It took a while. The gown was made of heavy silk brocade that had been brought from Byzantium at great cost and then worked into the latest style by Lady Aloise and her serving women. It was pale green, with a blue and yellow flower pattern woven into it, shimmering here and there with gold threads. The bodice was loosely fitted, with a wide, round neck. It had wide elbow-length sleeves, bordered in gold, which allowed the longer, tighter cream sleeves of the underdress to show. There was a belt of gold and green threads embroidered with jewels to wrap twice about Selene’s slim hips. Below the belt a hugely full circular skirt fell in stiff ripples to the floor, hanging long enough in back to trail after her when Selene walked. Arianna knelt to arrange the skirt.
“You look beautiful,” she said, looking up at Selene. She rose, and taking up a wooden comb she used it to smooth and arrange Selene’s hair until it fell straight down her back in gleaming, midnight-black splendor. A short veil of sheer white silk went on top of her hair, then a narrow gold circlet, symbol of Selene’s rank.
“Will you wear the necklace?” Arianna asked.
“I suppose I must,” Selene sighed, watching while Arianna lifted Thomas’s wedding gift out of its silk pouch and held it up. It was of intricately worked swirls of gold – Welsh gold, Thomas had said – and it was set with emeralds. To match her eyes, he had told her when he gave it to her the day before. But jewels meant nothing to Selene, nor did all the festive preparations for the wedding. Because they would take place in an abbey, the celebrations would not be as boisterous as usual, and for that was Selene glad. She pulled her mind away from her own gloomy thoughts long enough to notice Arianna’s subdued manner as she held the gold and emerald necklace, straightening it before placing it around Selene’s neck.
