“I had heard she was married, yes,” Raymond agreed, not begrudging the loss of her for an instant.
“So that means you are tied to one of the most famous and popular families in the Marches. Half Welsh they may be, but they are well regarded. Great friends of Urien Fitzroy they are, too, the finest trainer of fighting men in England. My own boy Alexander is nearly finished his time with him. If anybody could give that boy some discipline, it’ll be Fitzroy. That’s all the lad lacked. I say it though he is my own son, Alexander has the best aim of anyone I’ve ever met. If he can see a target, he can hit it. But not a jot of self-discipline. Well, at least he didn’t have any. I daresay he does now.”
As Charles rambled on, Raymond could almost taste the desire to have a son, too, and with Elizabeth for a mother, he would surely be a son to be proud of.
“This marriage also ties you to Baron DeGuerre,” Charles observed, pulling Raymond out of his momentary reverie. “What, you didn’t know? Didn’t Perronet brag of the relations you would be getting?”
“Not of DeGuerre.”
“Perhaps because Perronet doesn’t think much of upstarts, and Baron DeGuerre was born a bastard.”
“My own father was not nobly born,” Raymond reminded Charles. “He was rewarded for good and faithful service.”
“With another man’s estate.”
“With a traitor’s forfeited property.”
“Yes, well, that was long ago, and no one can deny that you and your father have served the earl well. And now that you’re related to the DeLanyeas by marriage, you’re also tied to Baron DeGuerre, a most formidable fellow. Indeed, they are all important men, so it is no wonder to me you were invited here, Raymond. Montross must have soiled himself when he heard. I’m not surprised he didn’t come.”
Fane Montross wasn’t there? To Raymond’s chagrin, he hadn’t noticed this, and he should have.
“He sent word he is ill, but I don’t believe it. Or maybe he is—sick that you’ve made such important connections.” Charles’s expression changed. “Why, Raymond, I thought you would be pleased.”
Pleased? He was here, and Elizabeth was at home, and so was Fane Montross.
Elizabeth knew his feelings about Montross, and the reason for them. She was an intelligent woman who clearly had no liking for Montross, either. Surely she would take care.
Raymond had brought only a small troop with him. The rest he had left behind under Barden’s command to protect his castle. Montross would be a fool to attack, especially now that Raymond had risen in the earl of Chesney’s estimation.
It was not Montross’s way to attack directly. He would use subtlety and subterfuge, which was why it might be true that he was too ill to attend here. Otherwise, Montross would have come and used the opportunity to speak against Raymond with other nobles, in private meetings. If he thought Raymond was getting too close to the earl, he would be here asserting his position as the more favored, and striving to ensure that it was so.
Unless he felt he had a more important reason for staying home.
Montross would know that Elizabeth was left behind. The villagers and tenants along the road had seen them ride out with baggage in tow.
If Montross dared to set foot on his land when he was not there…if he tried to visit the castle…if he touched so much as Elizabeth’s hand, having come to Donhallow on some pretense of business knowing Raymond was away…
“Goodbye, Charles. I must go home.”
“Go? But you have not yet made your obeisance to the earl,” his friend protested. “To leave now could be misconstrued as an insult, or perhaps even treason since the earl represents the crown.”
“I will make my apologies later.”
“When?”
“I will send him a letter if not return myself.”
“Montross wouldn’t dare—”
“We cannot know what that man might dare.”
“Raymond, this is foolishness! You have waited years for this and—”
“If the earl asks, tell him pressing business calls me home.” Raymond clasped his friend by the forearm. “I cannot stay. Farewell, my friend.”
“My lady?”
Elizabeth poked her head out of the buttery where she had been counting the butts of ale intended for the servants. Raymond had been gone only a few days, but it was as if the essence of Donhallow had gone with him, leaving it half empty. The days dragged, so to while away the time, she busied herself with any and every task she could think of.
There was also another distraction, but she kept that to herself, and would until he returned.
“Yes?” she said to Rual.
“There is a woman here, my lady, who says she must speak to you.”
Elizabeth stepped out from the buttery and wiped her hands on her makeshift apron. “A woman?”
“She says she is Erick’s mother and that she needs your help.”
Elizabeth had been thinking of the peddler’s family often over the past days and wondering how they fared. “I’ll see her at once. Where is she?”
“At the gatehouse. She will not come any farther.”
Understandable after the way her husband had ordered them to leave, Elizabeth thought as she tore off her apron and handed it to Rual.
“You are going to speak with her?” Rual asked warily.
“Of course,” Elizabeth replied.
“Lord Kirkheathe is not here to stop you,” Rual agreed.
Elizabeth paused. Now that she knew why Raymond had treated them as she had, she did not fear his anger. “I see no harm talking to the woman at the gatehouse, and perhaps providing her with a little aid. She must be desperate to seek me out after the way my husband treated them. Please take a count of the ale casks for me while I am with her.”
As she hurried out of the building toward the imposing gatehouse, she hoped Rual could count.
She spotted the distraught and shivering woman pacing uneasily near the bossed gates.
“Oh, my lady,” the woman wailed, sinking to her knees as Elizabeth hurried to her.
“What is it?” Elizabeth cried, helping her to her feet. “Are you ill?”
“No, I’m not ill, my lady.”
“Thank God. But what is the matter? Where is Erick?”
“With his father in a ruined hut not far from here. I…I came because we are starving, my lady. My husband doesn’t know I’ve come here. He thinks I’m foraging for food in the wood, but we can’t live off what I can find. My milk is nearly gone and I…I—”
She began to sob.
Whatever Raymond thought and despite her promise to consult with him about charitable gifts, Elizabeth could not send her away empty-handed.
“Say no more for now,” Elizabeth urged softly. “Come with me to the kitchen. I will get you some food.”
“Oh, thank you, my lady!”
“What is your name?”
She wiped her eyes. “Hildagard, my lady.”
Elizabeth gave her a warm smile. “I will get you some food.”
Anxiously twisting the cuff of the sleeve of her simple homespun gown, she said, “Your husband will not approve.”
“He may not be pleased, but he will not be angry once I explain,” Elizabeth assured her.
“I…that is, I’ve hurt my arm. I don’t think I can carry anything much.”
“Then I will come with you to help you. I would love to see Erick again.”
“Will you…will you bring soldiers?”
Elizabeth regarded her steadily. “Should I not?”
“Your lord may not like it. I would hate to cause you trouble.”
“As I said, Lord Kirkheathe will understand when I explain. At present he is not home.”
“But he might hear of it when he returns, and be angry with you again.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I will risk it to see your fine boy again. Besides, this way, we can take twice as much. Now come with me.”
Elizabeth escorted the still obviously fearf
ul Hildagard to the kitchen. Once there, Elizabeth briskly ordered one of the spit boys to fetch two baskets—a large one for her to carry, and a smaller one for Hildagard—a scullery maid to find squares of linen to line them, and Lud to get some bread and meat. If they thought her orders odd, or remembered the stranger’s face, they said nothing, but quietly obeyed.
“Sit a moment while I fetch my cloak and something warmer for you, Hildagard,” Elizabeth said. “I won’t be long.”
She hurried off toward her bedchamber, leaving Hildagard sitting in the kitchen.
While she waited for her patroness to return, Hildagard continued to twist the worn end of her sleeve with her thin, nervous fingers.
Chapter Twelve
After returning to Hildagard and leaving the kitchen with her, Elizabeth pulled the woman into the small, shadowed area between the kitchen and the well. Their baskets jostled together, and Elizabeth set hers upon the ground. Then she took off her hooded cloak.
“My lady?” Hildagard asked as she pulled the shawl Elizabeth had brought around her. Hildagard had demurred, but Elizabeth had insisted she take it and keep it. She told the shivering woman it was old and she had no more use for it, and that was true. Raymond was proving to be far more generous than she had ever dreamed possible, and had bought her a warm wool shawl so soft, she was always tempted to rub it against her cheek the whole time she wore it.
“We need a little trickery, Hildagard,” Elizabeth explained while turning her garment inside out, so that the plain woolen lining, the same brown color as Rual’s cloak, was on the outside. “With my cloak this way and my hood pulled over my head, I could be Rual. She is busy counting the ale barrels, and we should be out of the village before she’s finished.”
Hildagard looked far from convinced of the effect of the disguise.
“Well, it should be enough to fool the guards, if you talk to me as if I am Rual. After all, they won’t be expecting me to leave.”
“Are you certain of this, my lady?”
“Perfectly. We must get this food to your family, and I want to see your fine son.” She smiled at her companion. “I also have some things I want to ask you, about when you were with child.”
Hildagard’s eyes widened, as did Elizabeth’s smile. “Yes, I think so,” she said in answer to Hildagard’s unspoken question.
“Oh, my lady!” Hildagard smiled. “I will be happy to answer any questions I can. My mother was a midwife.”
“Truly? Are you?”
Hildagard shook her head. “Sadly, I am not. My mother died a few years ago, before I had learned all she had to teach. I remember much she told me, but not enough to call myself a midwife.” Doubt appeared on her wan features. “Perhaps you should stay here.”
“I feel fine,” Elizabeth protested. “Indeed, I haven’t felt so well in many years. And I think the walk will do me good. If your family is in the ruined hut near the river, it is not far.”
“You know of the place?”
“Indeed, I do,” Elizabeth said, feeling a blush steal over her face as she remembered the day she had first seen it. “I’m surprised we didn’t find you there.”
“We…we haven’t been there long.”
“No?” Elizabeth asked lightly. “Well, I am very glad you are there now, so that I can help you. Now come, and as we near the gate, you must speak to me as if I am Rual. Lady Kirkheathe gave you food and told me to come with you. Do you understand?”
Hildagard nodded.
“Very well, then, let us see if we can’t sneak past the guards.”
Picking up her basket of food, and with her head bent, Elizabeth started toward the gate. Hildagard hurried along beside her.
When they neared the guards, Elizabeth began to fear Hildagard was too timid to do as she suggested. She slowed her brisk pace and loudly cleared her throat.
Hildagard started like a deer in a meadow, then said, “It is very good of your lady to be so generous to us.” Her voice was strained, but no more than it had been when she arrived, and Elizabeth hoped the guards would not think her obvious nervousness caused by anything overly suspicious.
“I’m sure you’ll be back in time to serve the evening meal,” Hildagard continued. “It must be very pleasant work here.”
Her eyes on the ground, Elizabeth watched the toes of the guards’ boots as they passed by them.
“Your lord is a very frightening man, though. I would be trembling all the while I was in the hall, I’m sure.”
With Hildagard continuing to make such observations, they went on through the village without attracting any undue notice because it was crowded, this being market day. The villagers were either too busy buying or selling to pay much heed to two women hurrying along with baskets on their arms as if they were shopping, too.
Once out of sight of the houses, Elizabeth threw off her hood and grinned. “There now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it? In fact, it was so easy, I may have to speak to my husband about his guards’ vigilance when he returns.”
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” Hildagard murmured.
“I will not be talking about today particularly, you can be sure of that,” Elizabeth said as they left the main road to follow the path Hildagard pointed out, which went in the direction of the river. “I will speak in generalities. I wouldn’t want to get any of the guards in trouble, either.”
“You wished to speak of childbearing, my lady?”
“Yes. I thought women were always sick when they were with child.”
Hildagard grinned. “Some are, and some are not. It depends upon the woman.”
“Good, because as I said, I have never felt better in my life. Nevertheless, I am over a se’ennight beyond my usual time, and I have never been this late before.”
“Are your breasts tender, my lady?”
“They have been since before my husband left, but I thought perhaps it was because…well, I hoped, but…”
Hildagard smiled knowingly. “If they are still tender and he has been gone some days, and you have not yet come into your woman’s time, I think it might very well be the other.”
“I do hope so, Hildagard!”
“I think you will be a fine mother, my lady.”
“I love children.”
“Even when they’re naughty?”
“Considering I was always told I was a bad girl, perhaps especially so.”
Hildagard gave her an incredulous look.
“I assure you, it’s true,” Elizabeth confirmed. “Full of original sin, homely and hopeless.”
“Homely?”
“Ugly as the devil was the Reverend Mother’s favorite description of me,” Elizabeth explained.
“Was she blind?”
Elizabeth had to laugh at Hildagard’s question. “No, she could see very well. Indeed, some of the girls thought she must have eyes in the back of her head, too. Nothing much ever got past her.”
Except me, Elizabeth finished inwardly, and with the satisfaction that knowledge always gave her.
“Well, she must have been a very hardhearted woman to say something so cruel.”
“Yes, she was.”
“You have not had as easy a life as I thought.”
“My life has been easier than some, I allow, but it was very hard at the convent. Very hard.” Elizabeth sighed, then smiled again. “But I am very happy now, and if I have a child, all my prayers will be answered.”
Hildagard’s footsteps slowed and Elizabeth watched her face, seeing the struggle there.
Elizabeth smiled sympathetically. “Have no fear, Hildagard,” she said softly. “I know what—or who—probably waits at the hut, and it isn’t your husband and son. Are they kept in Montross’s castle? Once you deliver me there, are they to be freed?”
Hildagard stared at her with disbelief, then her face seemed to crumple and she began to weep. “He said…he said we would be free to go if I did this. Otherwise, he could accuse my husband of poaching and put him in his d
ungeon for a long time. Then what would become of Erick and me? Oh, my lady, I’m so sorry! You were so good to us and this is how I repay you.”
Elizabeth took hold of the woman’s shaking shoulders. “Hildagard, where is your family now?”
“In the hut. With him.”
“Thanks be to God for that!” Elizabeth said softly.
Hildagard took her hands from her face and looked at her.
“If they are there,” Elizabeth explained, “it should be easy for you to get away. I was much more concerned that he had them in his castle. I’m not sure what we would have done then.” She wiped the tears from Hildagard’s cheek. “You must stop crying, or he will know that I suspected a trap.”
“How…how did you know?”
“My husband once asked if I am a seer, but it is nothing so special as that,” Elizabeth replied. “It was obvious to me that there was more to your plea than hunger because you were so very desperate, even when you saw that I was going to help. Since you were alone, I reasoned somebody was forcing you, and keeping your family as hostage to ensure that you did what they wanted. My husband has one enemy that I know of close at hand, and one who seems the kind to use a woman against her husband.”
“My lady,” Hildagard said, “if you are not a seer, you are very clever.”
“At the convent, the only thing I had to study was the women there. After thirteen years, I should hope I would have learned something about people.”
Hildagard’s eyes once more filled with tears. “Oh, my lady, please know that if he did not hold my son, no power on earth would make me betray you.”
Elizabeth smiled with both sorrow and understanding. “I can believe that, Hildagard. Nevertheless, once you are safely away, I think we will not meet again, so I will say my farewell now. Goodbye, Hildagard.”
Hildagard grabbed her hand and pressed a grateful kiss upon it. “Bless you, my lady.”
“Come along, Hildagard.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Elizabeth marched purposefully toward the hut. She spotted the peddler’s wagon and horse nearby. Meanwhile, Hildagard hurried along behind, wiping the remains of the tears from her cheeks.
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