Clara set the food on the makeshift table she’d created and watched Rowena smear honey on a hunk of bread and bite hungrily into the cheese. ’Twas damp and cool in there. On a prior visit, Rowena had said she was afraid to start a fire for fear it would attract attention. She was, after all, living in the king’s forest, something King William had forbidden. Soldiers could easily smell a fire and investigate. But hot water was needed, so Clara kindled a fire and set a pot to boil. “You did the right thing, leaving Lord Taurin, if he threatened to steal your babe. Now, let’s have a look at him.”
Clara examined the boy, and after talking with Rowena, confirmed that she needed more food to keep nursing. Clara encouraged the woman to eat and drink more, leaving also some strengthening herbs to steep in hot water. Clara also suggested the woman carry her child in a pouch, to take advantage of her body’s heat and relax both her and the child for nursing. They spent the rest of the afternoon fashioning Clara’s wimple and shawl to act as a tightly slung pouch for the babe. He awoke, and after Clara had prepared another, smaller meal for Rowena and was satisfied that the boy was nursing well, she departed.
’Twas nearly dark when she reached Little Dunmow. Her first stop was the smithy’s house, where she collected Brindi. Yesterday, during her rounds to see the new mothers, Clara had asked the smithy’s wife to take the girl when Clara was out and about.
“I did just as you said, Clara,” Brindi announced as they exited the smithy’s house. “When Kenneth tried to bring me back to the hut, I ran down here.”
“Good. I hope you helped Gwynth, too.”
“I did! I played with the babes and helped knead bread, and swept and changed the threshing. Why don’t we have threshing on our floors, Clara?”
“In Colchester, ’tis not as easy to acquire. So I merely swept every day. Remember, we had a plank floor, not a dirt one. ’Twas easier to keep clean.”
Skipping, Brindi began a tale of the game she played with the little boys in her care. Clara barely listened. Her mind lay on Rowena and the cold hut in which she stayed. The spring weather might be mild, but the fens and peat bog held the damp cold all summer long.
They returned home just as the sun shot one final, reddish ray across the sky. But, being already deep in the keep’s shadow, the hut did not enjoy its warmth.
Kenneth sat in the hut’s main room. A fire crackled in the hearth, and a pottage of roots and lentils simmered slowly above it. The scents of supper filled the room, offering the only hint of cheerfulness.
“I bid you good evening, mistress,” Kenneth announced with marked sarcasm. “Did you have a good day visiting?”
“Good evening to you, too, sir. I had a satisfactory day. You’ve made supper, I see. What a fine wife you will make someday.”
“Do not jest, woman. I could have reported you to Lord Adrien for your behavior.”
“What behavior is that?”
“The ruse you created with Brindi and stealing away to visit Rowena.”
“’Tis your own fault for not seeing through it at the time. I would have thought a seasoned soldier like yourself would not be so gullible.”
Kenneth stiffened, and immediately Clara set her sister behind her. “You would be in far more trouble had I reported you,” he said.
Clara lifted her jaw. “And you would be, also, would you not, for falling for such a ruse?”
“I won’t make that mistake again.”
They glared at each other for a long moment. Clara wanted so badly to order the man from her home. But she was glad he hadn’t said anything about her absence, even though she was certain his discretion was in part not wanting to report his own failure. She had no desire to incur more of the wrath she’d already earned.
Who knew what would happen then? Brindi could get hurt, or the two of them could be sent to the dungeon together. If both of them could not visit Rowena, who would protect her? The woman had refused to start a fire, and living in such cool dampness for too long would only cause both mother and son to sicken.
Clara swallowed hard. Keeping Rowena hidden there was only a temporary measure; they hoped Lord Taurin would give up his search for the child. But how long would that take? Without protection, Rowena wasn’t safe living deep in the woods by herself. She would certainly not survive the winter there.
Clara bit her lip. If only she could trust Kenneth. He could do so much for Rowena. On the way home, Brindi had told her of his concern that she’d been hurt when she’d fallen in the hollow.
Lord, give me someone like that who can protect Rowena.
Abruptly, Clara’s stomach growled, reminding her that she’d not eaten all day. And before her stood a Norman soldier whose culinary skills surprised her. The steamy warm scent of his pottage wrapped itself around her like a warm cloak.
She’d been so nasty. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for preparing this meal. You did not have to.”
He shot her a fast sideways glance as he bent to stir the food. “’Twould seem I need to prove my abilities to be a good wife.”
Clara cringed. “Forgive my sharp tongue. It has caused me more trouble than I care to think of. I shouldn’t have said anything. Your meal smells wonderful, and I am grateful for it. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Not at Rowena’s?”
“Nay. I made her a meal and checked on the babe. He’s been fussy lately.”
“What was wrong with him?”
“Rowena has not been eating enough, I suspect. He was hungry himself. That’s why I prepared her a meal.” She shut her mouth firmly. She’d said too much already.
“The boy would not go hungry if he was with his father.”
With Brindi helping, she hastily set the table. “I disagree, and you know that. Lord Taurin had no right to treat Rowena so poorly and no right to threaten to rip a babe from her arms.”
Kenneth straightened. “But at least the babe would not go hungry.”
“He won’t now. I’ve left foodstuffs for her.”
“Aah, that’s where the quarter of cheese went. I guess we didn’t need it.”
Pursing her lips, she smacked down the last bowl onto the table. Brindi shot another look up at her sister, no doubt waiting with bated breath for another argument. “Are you so starving that you could not live without it? Look at me! I’m no more starving than you. Indeed, I have far more roundness that most women.”
Brindi snickered as she held out her bowl for some of the pottage. Kenneth took it and winked at the little girl. “I would never be so bold as to assess your roundness, Clara.” He served up the supper. “You have rosy cheeks, thick strong hair that refuses to be tamed, no doubt following your personality, and you seem to be in the best of health. Neither of us needed the cheese. I just noticed its absence, that’s all.”
“Are you saying I have an untamed personality? Next you’ll be telling me I am a raving madwoman!”
“Well, you have the hair for it.” He handed her a bowl of steaming pottage while eyeing her unruly curls, made all the more so without her wimple to tame them.
She dropped to her seat with a huff. Brindi smiled into her bowl. Only after grace was said did Clara listen to her stomach’s request for food and dig in.
It was delicious. He’d added herbs to flavor the stew. And ’twas welcome after the coolness of the evening and spending the day in a damp peat cutter’s hovel.
With that thought, the meal turned heavy in her stomach. Rowena was correct to be wary of starting a fire and attracting attention. In the king’s woods there were those who hid from the Normans, rebels who would take one look at the delicate Rowena and her dark, Norman-looking child and—
Clara shoved away the rest of her meal. She couldn’t eat while Rowena struggled to hide from Lord Taurin. But Clara didn’t dare bring her here. Lord Taurin had already scared the townsfolk in Colchester and he’d not yet visited there. Should he come here...
“Is there something wrong with the meal? I assure you, ’tis good food.”
She shook her head. “Nay, ’tis not your meal at all. ’Tis my worry for Rowena and her babe.” She lifted her hand. “Please, I don’t want to hear your thoughts on it. ’Twill not change my mind. But I am concerned, and sitting here, eating hearty food, enjoying the warmth of a fire while she cannot, does not sit well in my belly.” She rose to tidy up her hut.
Brindi leaned over the table and dragged Clara’s bowl closer to her, not willing to waste a spoonful of the meal. Clara let her. It was good. A fine meal indeed, but she’d lost her appetite.
As Kenneth rose to help her, she began to rearrange the pots and jars of herbs on the shelf above the fire, with no direction but the need to keep her hands busy. She flicked up a section of coarse cloth that lay beside the hearth. It should be folded and tucked away.
Behind her, Brindi gasped and her spoon clattered into her bowl.
Chapter Seven
Kenneth spun in time to see Brindi scramble off the bench to kneel at the base of the hearth where he’d found the apple.
“It’s gone!” she cried.
Clara frowned. “What’s gone?”
“My apple! Someone stole my apple!” Brindi’s wail increased through her words, finally ending with a blatant cry of anguish.
“What apple? I don’t have any apples here.”
“Nay!” she wailed further. “Lord Eudo gave me it and now ’tis gone!”
Kenneth stilled. “That was your apple?”
Brindi sniffled. “Aye. Lord Eudo gave it to me when the soldiers took me to him after finding me living alone. The guild masters were called and they said I should come here. I was crying and one of the guild masters yelled at me, but I couldn’t stop crying. So Lord Eudo gave me an apple to eat on the way here.”
Clara frowned and tipped her head. “But you saved it and hid it here? I didn’t see it.”
She nodded. “I moved it around so you wouldn’t find it. ’Twas my treat, but we’ve had good food and I have not been hungry yet.” Her wail increased. “But it’s gone now!”
Clara shot an incredulous look at Kenneth. “Did you eat it?”
He shook his head. “Nay. Well, I ate the skin, but the rest is out on the roof now.” He didn’t want to say his plan, but it had to be said. “I carved it into a head.”
Brindi howled louder.
“Shush, Brindi, or we’ll never get to the bottom of this!” Clara frowned at Kenneth. “You carved it? What on earth for?”
He blew out a sigh. “’Twas to make a doll’s head. For Brindi. She has no toys. I thought a doll would be fun for her. I had nothing else to carve. I’d used up all the wood I could find on your door. So when I found the apple yesterday, I thought ’twould do fine as a doll’s head.”
A curious look passed over Clara’s features before she turned to her sister. “Why didn’t you tell me you had an apple? We wouldn’t have eaten it had we known you were saving it.”
Trying to control her sniffling, Brindi managed to get out, “I was afraid you’d give it to Rowena.” Her wailing started anew. “I know ’twas selfish, Clara. I know the chaplain says I am to give up worldly things, but it was so perfect and I was afraid I would be hungry again! But now ’tis gone and no one can eat it!”
Clara drew her sister into her arms, her raised brows and dumbfounded expression almost comical on her face. She looked at Kenneth. “Where is the apple now?”
“Tucked into the thatch of the roof to dry. I didn’t want to hang it in here because I wanted it to be a surprise.”
A cold silence fell on the room. Even Brindi stopped her crying. She didn’t look happy, considering he’d just said he was trying to make her a doll. In fact, she looked so incredibly sad that regret washed over him like the icy waves of the channel when he’d landed at Peven’s Eye. That landing before the battle at Hastings had been met with choppy waves and the chill that came with the expectation of war.
Right now, the same expectation lingered, not with Brindi, as she looked absolutely crushed, but with Clara.
“And what of the rest of the apple? The peelings? Boiled, they make a tasty juice, and the leavings are good for the hens.”
He swallowed. “I ate them on the way up to the keep.”
The chill remained. He threw out his arm. “I’ve brought pastries from the keep’s kitchen to finish off the meal!”
“Why did you return to the keep?”
“After you two left, I returned my mail, and the cook offered the pastries to me. It bothered her that Brindi had slipped away the day of her arrival, as if she thought Cook was an ogre.” He didn’t bother to add that he had also asked Margaret about making a body for the head. Maybe that part could be the surprise.
“I didn’t think she was an ogre. I just wanted to see my sister,” Brindi finally said, her tone calmer now. She was also eyeing the cloth-covered platter, knowing that pastries lay within.
Kenneth took it down from the mantel and lifted the cloth. The pastries were shiny and golden, their crusts sprinkled with honeyed nuts. Even his mouth watered at their sight.
He looked up at Clara, anxious to change the subject. “You mentioned being concerned for Rowena. How long have you known her? Did she really just wander into town looking for a midwife?”
Clara handed a pastry to Brindi. Her apple temporarily forgotten, the girl bit heartily into the treat. “Rowena was brought to me,” Clara said, watching her sister. “She’d been traveling with a family, and the mother was anxious to be rid of her, probably having guessed her circumstances. I promised I would help her.”
“What did she say had happened to her? Did she simply admit to you that her child belonged to a Norman lord and that she needed help to keep it away from him?”
“She said nothing at first, though I knew she was in trouble.” Clara sat down and took the smallest pastry on the platter. Oddly, she returned it a moment later.
Brindi snatched it immediately, making Kenneth smile as he took the last one on the plate. They ate in silence, until he began again.
“Did you hide her before or after the babe was born? Lord Eudo thinks after.”
Clara didn’t answer right away, and when she looked up into his questioning gaze, he knew she was assessing him.
Aye, she knew he wanted to know where Rowena was, and he held his breath, hoping beyond hope that she would blurt out the answer.
“Why ask me that? It won’t help you locate her.”
Kenneth sat back. He wasn’t used to women who were as forthright as Clara. She was so far from the Norman women he knew. His mother had taught by example the importance of being demure and reserved. Clara was plainly bold, strong in personality and blunt in her questions.
Yet, while not a delicate expression of womanhood, she was all woman. Strangely, he could understand her suspicions. After all, she’d been forced out of her home for standing up for what she believed was right. Could he fault her for being cautious and reluctant to trust?
He shrugged. “If I am to protect you from Lord Taurin, for we at Dunmow Keep take our oath to protect our people seriously, then I should learn a bit about you. It must have been hard to hide away a woman so close to giving birth.”
“I hid her after the birth. I didn’t dare risk not being available at her time. Had she been hidden away, I would not have known when she had need of me.”
“So the townsfolk knew of her?”
“Of course. ’Tis a small town, and a woman heavy with child is easily noticed. But Colchester is also a busy town. Many ships come up the Colne to trade, and people from the surrounding villages are often there. She was noticed, but no one questioned who she was.”
“How did you find out she was a runaway slave?”
Clara folded the cloth that had covered the pastries. “When the babe was born, ’twas obvious that the child’s father was Norman. Rowena is a fair Saxon, and the babe was dark-haired with strong Norman features. She was always afraid, and when she first came to me, I saw yellowed bruises healing o
n her. I knew she needed protection, so I finally asked for her story, with the promise that I would protect her with my life if necessary!”
Her final words were filled with warning and Kenneth read them with immediate clarity. Clara had pledged to protect with her life, so even if Kenneth learned the truth of Rowena’s location, he would have to battle Clara first before turning the information over to Taurin.
That challenge issued, it could not be ignored. What was he to say? His pastry now sat heavily in his stomach. He had pledged to discover where Rowena was and hand her and the babe over to Lord Taurin. ’Twould save potential bloodshed for the village he had sworn to protect. But Clara would stop that with her life, and he was to protect her, too.
A saying he’d heard in London once returned to him. Only time will clear muddied waters.
But would they have enough time?
His gaze strayed to Brindi. The girl’s eyelids had grown heavy since she’d polished off the second pastry. Noticing it also, Clara stood. “’Tis time for bed, Brindi. You’ve had a busy day today.” With that, she bustled the sleepy girl into the other room.
Kenneth remained at the table, idly listening as Clara helped her sister settle for the night in the other room. Their voices rolled over the crackling fire that was yet to be banked. Clara said prayers with Brindi, thanking God for the blessings of the day and praying for Rowena and the babe, and for the cook who’d so kindly sent the sweets.
The whole prayer was punctuated in various spots by Brindi asking God for a kitten, and Clara trying to get the girl’s attention back on her prayer. Kenneth smiled.
Shortly after, Clara lifted the cloth that hung between the rooms and went to stand near the fire. Kenneth noticed that she, too, bore heavy eyelids. For all the answers he wanted from her, compassion held him back.
Still, her exhaustion raised questions. Did that mean that she’d traveled far to reach Rowena? Wherever the mother was, ’twas within half a day’s travel. But Clara had stayed long enough to prepare two meals, so the mother and baby must be closer.
Protected by the Warrior Page 7
