Sir William nodded, and Nathaniel uncoiled his line and began to swing it in a long, slow circle. The hawk gathered itself even more tightly, its wings fluttering in anticipation. With a pump of Sir William’s fist, the hawk erupted into flight, its tiny bells ringing, the long line trailing behind it as it flew, arrow-true, for the lure that spun around Nathaniel’s head. Talons flashed, and as I blinked, bird and lure slammed into the ground in a puff of dust.
The hawk sat proudly atop the lure, glaring, then began to tear at it. Nathaniel took a step back. Sir William walked forward, gathering the line between him and the hawk carefully into his hands, and stood over his bird.
“Well done, my friend,” he said, watching it eat. “Well done.”
He stooped to take up the bird once more onto his glove. I was surprised that it did not protest, but then I saw it continue to eat from his hand and understood. A reward for a job well done.
“I think that’s enough for today, Nathaniel,” Sir William said, his voice low but carrying. The servant gathered up the lure, now even more ragged than before, hitched the perch over his shoulder, and headed back to the mews.
“Well, Kate, are you coming down from there or not?”
I blinked. He had not raised his voice at all, had not raised his eyes from the bird on his glove, but his words hit me with full force as though he were right beside me.
I had forgotten, in the joy of watching this beautiful predator, that I was completely exposed here on the steps.
Damn.
I rose with as much dignity as my filthy, ragged dress and state of exhaustion would allow and went slowly down into the courtyard.
“Come,” he commanded.
This was unlike the hounds. I wanted so badly to go closer to the hawk, to touch its feathers. Were they silky? Were they soft? But I would not do what he ordered. I remained rooted to the spot.
“What’s this, Kate?” he said, smiling, darting his eyes to me. “Afraid?”
I scowled. “Not at all.”
“You should be.”
Damn him. Damn him for the devil he was. I took a hesitant, sliding step closer.
The bird’s head pivoted immediately, tracking my movement. My heart began to race. He was right, I should be afraid. Its beak was as thick as my thumb and looked fit to rip it off. And the talons, sharp as razors where it shifted on his hand. I swallowed thickly.
When I came no closer, Sir William took the three steps necessary to move alongside me, his right arm by my left so that the length of his body was between me and the hawk. I cursed my traitorous body for trembling so.
“He is beautiful,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I told myself it was because I was hot and thirsty.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice also low so as not to upset the hawk. “But he is a she.”
“Oh.” Why did that make my cheeks flush? It must be the sun, the warmth of Sir William standing so close. “Have you had her long?”
“I bought her a few months ago, after my father’s death,” he said, stroking the feathers of her breast. I longed to do the same but feared to try.
I did not fear to confront him, however. “What of my bird?”
His glance flashed like lightning from the hawk to me and back again, but I could not read what I saw there. Was he annoyed? Surprised? Satisfied?
“Your bird is no more ready to be given than you are ready to receive her.”
My cheeks heated. “Why?” I snapped. My tone made the lanner hawk restless, but I charged on. “Because her will is not broken? Because she is not as obedient as one of your dogs?”
He shook his head slowly, careful not to disturb the bird as I had. “I won’t ever break her will, Kate. When she hunts free, she will hunt as my partner, not my servant. She will return because she wishes to do so. She is no hound following at my heels, hoping for my affection, doing all for my pleasure. She is still a wild thing at heart, and always will be.”
Looking at her fierce, bright eyes, it was my turn to shake my head. “I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”
“That is your choice.”
“She will return,” I said, “because you feed her.” My stomach made an embarrassing rumble in reply. I watched him struggle against laughter.
Thoughts spun in my head too fast for me to pin down. Men and beasts, dogs and hawks, predators and prey.
In the dark center of the hawk’s clear, blue eye, I saw the memory of its attack on the lure. The swift, sure, instant death it was capable of dealing out. Feathers and blood and talons.
“Excuse me, Sir William.”
To my surprise, he made no parting comment as I staggered up the steps and into the keep.
When I had dragged myself up to the little chamber in the tower, I found a broom and some empty sacks waiting for me.
I could hear his mocking voice in the empty space. “You don’t expect the servants to deal with that mess, do you?”
Moving slowly, I swept the straw into a rough pile in the center of the room, placed the sacks on top of it, and lay down. At least I slept for a little while before he was nudging me awake with his boot.
“Kate,” he was saying, “come, come and see who is here.” He hardly waited for me to open my eyes, hauling me up from the floor and brushing straw from my kirtle as though it were worth doing. I let him, not minding his hands.
“Who is here?” I repeated his words, hoping for an answer.
“You will see.” Taking hold of my hand, he pulled me off down the stairs, ignoring my protests that my feet in their silken slippers could scarce find purchase on the worn stone.
As we emerged into the hall, I yanked my hand free and paused, hoping to regain some of my composure if not my dignity. I hoped, too, to see one of my father’s men with a trunk of my clothes. Truly, I could imagine no sight more welcome. But I did not recognize the neatly dressed man standing in the center of the hall, his hands behind his back, nor the two younger men with him, surrounded by large boxes they had clearly just set down. Atop the boxes were bulky shapes that could only be kirtles wrapped in muslin.
The men, seeing Sir William enter, bowed low.
I hesitated, almost afraid to approach. Could it be that these were meant for me? At last, at long last….
Sir William said, “Now, Kate, it seems to me you have some objection to this kirtle you are wearing.”
I tore my eyes from the tailor and his assistants. “Yes. Yes, of course I do.”
He waved a hand at the men. “The tailor has arrived from Coventry and awaits your leisure.”
I thought it best that I should not run. Instead, I took Sir William’s proffered hand and allowed him to escort me to the tailor. The tailor bowed low again, first to Sir William and then to me.
“Your lordship,” he said in a voice as crisp as the tailored pleats on his gown. “Your ladyship. I am speechless with the honor of having been sought out to fashion these habillements for you.”
I glanced at Sir William, eyebrows raised, but he showed no reaction to the man’s ridiculous speech.
“And I can well see that the lady is as glorious as the kirtles which you have ordered for her, my lord,” the tailor went on, with a sly smile toward Sir William. This remark bought him only a frown, and he hurried to direct the apprentices to bring forth a long, flat box. “Firstly,” he said, “here is the headdress your worship did bespeak.”
With a flourish, the lads produced a headpiece such as one of the ladies at the king’s court at Westminster might have worn. It was the very height of the latest fashion, and height was the very perfect word for it.
“Oh!” I said, unable to conceive of other words. “Oh!” The tall cone of the headdress was a deep russet silk embroidered with gold thread, shining like a maple tree in its autumnal glory. The point rose a foot or more from the crown, and from its tip cascaded a length of gossamer gold veil that seemed to move with a life of its own. My hands went out for it.
I had never been offe
red something so beautiful in my life. And consequently, I had never wanted anything so badly in my life.
“Nay, it is all wrong,” Sir William said. “It’s like a silken sword. Fie, away with it.”
“No!” I cried, lunging at the apprentice holding the headpiece, grabbing his arm. “Its fashion suits, and many great ladies and gentlewomen wear caps such as these.”
“When you are gentle,” Sir William said, “you may have one too, and not till then.”
None too gently, he removed my hand from the apprentice’s arm and waved him away. “Where is the dress, tailor?”
The two apprentices unwrapped one of the muslin bundles. I was wary now. After being denied the headdress, I had no certainty of gaining this kirtle. But surely, even if he disliked it, he would let me have it if only to get me out of the ruins of my wedding dress?
I almost could not bear to look.
The kirtle was the same russet silk as the headdress, trimmed with a wide, gold braid and, Lord help me, were those pearls? The square, plunging neckline would show a lovely chemise underneath. Once this wedding chemise had been washed, it would look very well. Scarcely daring to breathe, I took a step closer. It also had a stomacher, that insert of stiffened fabric that flattened one’s torso and made one’s bosom appear fuller and more rounded. It had false sleeves, long swathes of extra fabric draped from the shoulders like a partial cape that would sway beautifully when I danced. The kirtle was cut to the highest fashion and made of the finest materials. I could have been presented without shame to King Richard himself.
“Oh, God ’a mercy,” Sir William cried. “What is this here? Fit for a vulgar masque, not a true lady, not for my wife! What is this? What is this?” He jabbed his finger accusingly at the garment, stabbing at the depth of the neckline, the stomacher, the extra fabric around the sleeves.
“You bade me make the dress properly and well, sir, and so I did,” the tailor said, wringing his hands. “I have made it to suit the fashion and what would best suit your gracious lady.”
“Speak not so,” Sir William replied, yanking the dress from the apprentices and flinging it to the floor. “I did bid you make it, but I did not bid you ruin it.”
“Sir,” I said, scooping the precious thing into my arms and moving away from him, “I never saw a better-fashioned kirtle, nor one more elegant, more pleasing, more commendable.”
“It is none such,” he insisted, grabbing at the dress.
“Nay!” I yelled. “For once, you will listen to me! Why won’t you listen to me? Why doesn’t anyone ever care what I want?” My heart was racing, flying, fast as a striking hawk. The tailor fled, cowering with his apprentices near their boxes like soldiers behind battlements. My voice shook as much as my hands, but I forced it out. “I will speak what is in my heart lest it break.”
Sir William stared but I could not read his expression. “It seems to me you have never had trouble speaking your mind,” he said at last. “Whether that is the truth of your heart is another matter entirely.”
He was so smug. He thought he knew everything. He thought he knew me. I had never been so angry. I could scarce see.
He took hold of the kirtle with both hands. I would not relinquish it. The tailor, his handiwork in peril, grew bold. “Sir! My lady! Please!” He hovered between us, his hands fluttering over the precious kirtle.
Sir William jerked and I felt the fabric give. “No!” I screamed and “No!” again as, with another yank and a loud rip, the dress came apart in my hands. I sank to my knees, the ruined gown in my arms.
The tailor leaned down to take the pieces of the kirtle from me. “It was not finished fine,” he said gently, as though to a child. “It was only half-stitched so as to be fit to your ladyship. It may yet be mended.”
“What does it matter?” I murmured, my words lost in the whisper of silk sliding out of my hands.
Tailor, apprentices, dress, headpiece—all rushed out. I did not move.
In the sudden silence, Sir William crouched before me. He looked at me for a long time before he spoke. “Come now, Kate. This matters not. It is the mind that makes the body rich, and as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peers through the meanest clothes. Do you see, Kate?”
His words poured over me, but I felt nothing. I made no reaction.
“Is the jay more precious than the lark because his feathers are more beautiful?”
More birds.
“Of course not, Kate, and neither are you the worse for your dress.”
I shook my head, not disagreeing. “Leave me.”
He remained.
“Leave me, I say.”
“I will have you understand.”
“I understand your cruelty. Go away.”
At last he rose and left me.
If I had needed escape in the morning, I needed it a thousand times more after that. One of the lads directed me to the west of the keep, to the pasture where the horses grazed. The wide expanse was lush with grass and flowers. The hand-laid wall of native stone that bordered it began not far from the wall of the castle and ran away from me toward the river that formed the moat. It was so long that I could not see where it ended. Moss spotted the rough stones, and along the top, puddles lingered in little hollows where birds came to bathe and splash. Their songs and chirps filled the air. The three horses grazed, a little apart from each other but in company together. The serenity of the scene imbued me with an immediate sense of peace. It was exactly what I needed.
The fellow must have trusted my word that I could not saddle a horse and assumed I was even less likely to ride one bareback. The wall was chest-high on any ordinary horse, though Sir William’s charger probably could have walked over it. I smiled to myself. Perhaps not. I sized him up honestly, in the clear light of day. He was big but not that big, and in any event, he seemed disinclined to flee.
I plucked a bunch of daisies from the base of the wall and clambered up. What use caring for my dress now? For a time, I sat on the wall and watched the horses move slowly about the pasture, my hands idly twisting the daisies into a chain. The fresh air, the quiet of the place were good for me, and I felt much of the anger and confusion of the last few days sliding away.
I have no idea how long it was before Conveyance took notice of my presence and ambled over to greet me. He put his muzzle in my hands and tore away the daisy chain, then snuffled my palms looking for a real treat. “Are you seeking an apple, sir?” I asked, laughing, and rubbed behind his jawbone. “I have none, alas, for if I had one, I would have eaten it myself.”
He pushed against me, whickering, and I continued to scratch his face and ears. “I have never had a horse of my own, you know,” I told him. “You are my very first, and I intend to spoil you greatly.”
He blew a breath out at me.
“Well, yes, I am not beginning very well if I neglect you now. But you see, I am not being treated very well myself at present and, therefore, I cannot spoil you yet. There will come a time, I promise you. I will sort this out.”
I wanted to laugh at myself. I was talking to a horse! But I was friendless here, and there was something so easy, so comforting in speaking my thoughts out loud and in knowing he would not judge, would not say something sharp or witty or combative. Conveyance was the one creature here I did not have to fight with. “How did I get into this predicament?” I traced the blaze of white on his face. “In fact, it is not so different from the manner in which you arrived here. Bought and paid for, and that’s the truth. That’s the way of marriage for wealthy maids, Conveyance.”
The horse snorted into my skirt, his breath hot and wet in my lap. “Well, I suppose you can’t make it any worse,” I said, laughing. Indeed, I was as lighthearted as I had felt in days.
“And yet Sir William’s behavior is unaccountable. I do not understand him at all. When we met, he seemed determined to think the best of me, despite knowing that everyone in Whitelock thought me the worst sort of woman. And now, any show
of kindness is gone. He seems a very devil himself, and even his servants fear him. If he is not mad, and I cannot believe that he is, then I cannot see any purpose in his actions!
“But what if my father won’t see his error and take me back?” I paused, searching Conveyance’s eyes for a reply. “You are right. Why would I want to go back to my father? Is it any better there? Perhaps. Oh, I don’t know! At least I understand my father. I understand Blanche.” I combed my fingers through the long, coarse hairs of Conveyance’s mane. He leaned against me, heavy and warm. Only his steady, soothing presence could have mellowed me enough to speak so calmly of my family. “All my father ever wanted was a son, you see. What else does a wealthy merchant want but a son to bring into the business, to leave all of his wealth to? Thus, you see, I was a dreadful disappointment. Not only was I a girl, but in bringing about my mother’s death, I delayed his getting a son that much longer, what with the mourning time and then marrying again. And then Blanche arrived, and my shortcomings were only that much more glaring. She was mild where I was wild, sweet where I was sharp, content where I was demanding, easy where I was clever, fair where I was ordinary….” My voice trailed off, the familiar litany too painful to continue. Instead of my wonted hot anger, it only opened an aching wound of loss, of unfairness, of bitterness. I never indulged these feelings. They were hallmarks of weakness. Shuddering, I sighed into Conveyance’s neck, hugging him close. From the slow cadence of his breathing, he might have been sleeping. I sighed again, trapped under a dozing horse. “‘‘Why can’t you be more like your sister?’” I murmured, twining my fingers tightly in his mane. “They all wanted me to be like her. And there were times, my friend, I wanted that too.”
A footstep ground on a patch of dirt and pebbles behind me, and I twitched in my place. Conveyance jerked his head up and flung it over my other shoulder to see who was there. I turned at the waist.
“Sir William,” I said.
“My lady,” he said. He had an apple in one hand, half-eaten. He seemed to be out for a stroll, or perhaps he was looking for me. Maybe it was one disguised as the other.
Finding Kate Page 19
