‘Oh?’
Her lips curved, but her smile seemed sad, resigned. ‘He is malleable, you see.’
Malleable?
Her veil fell forwards; impatiently she pushed it back. ‘I thought to find a refuge in Alfold—instead, I find myself under siege here. And I am not speaking of the thieves. A few days after my arrival the Abbot of New Minster sent an envoy asking if I required an introduction to the Prioress of St Anne’s Convent. A week after that the Abbess of Nunnaminster honoured me with a visit.’
Hugh picked up his wine-cup. ‘Word certainly spread fast.’
She shrugged. ‘I made no secret of my arrival, why should I? In any case, Edouard had suggested I should apply to the garrison commander in Winchester for men who would support me and once I had done that, well, I suppose the entire district is talking about the Norman lady who has come to Alfold.’
‘Not just any lady, an heiress,’ he murmured.
Her mouth curved. ‘Hardly. The revenues of my manor in Normandy are meagre and entirely dependent on Edouard’s goodwill. And you have seen this place—it is so run down it is practically a waste land.’
‘Not for long, I am sure, with you setting things to rights.’ His gaze wandered to Sir Ralph and Sir William. ‘I take it they have transferred their loyalty to you.’
‘Yes, they are both landless like Sir Olivier.’
‘So they, too, are likely to be interested in your person.’
‘If they are,’ her voice was dry, ‘it is my lands they are interested in, not my person.’
Aude sat at the head of her board, eyes glowing with inner fire. There were tiny silver threads in her veil, which shimmered when she moved. She had an otherworldly beauty tonight—no, not just tonight, she had always had it, even as a child. Hugh’s gaze skimmed her face, moving lower so it rested for a moment on the breasts that pro claimed her very much a woman. Her waist was tiny. There was no doubt about it, Aude was beautiful. Dignified.
Yet an air of tristesse hung about her. It had been with her since Martin’s death and it made her appear un touchable. Distant, somehow. Hugh wondered if her knights felt the same. She wanted a malleable man?
‘They are fools if they cannot see your beauty,’ he found himself saying.
She exhaled sharply. ‘Beauty? Oh, yes,’ her voice dropped to a whisper, ‘I am beautiful in their eyes and shall remain so for as long as these lands remain mine. In the eyes of the nuns I also have merit, merit which has little to do with the state of my soul. Put plainly, the good sisters want to join my land with theirs.’
Hugh flinched, but there was truth in what she said. A landless knight would do much to wed a lady with even a small estate such as this. The knights about this board had little chance of acquiring lands unless they married well.
And here sat Aude, aglow with rare beauty, surely the answer to their prayers.
‘Under siege at your own table,’ he murmured, sipping his wine. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘At least Martin loved me for myself,’ she murmured.
Hugh almost choked. Did she not know? Was she really innocent of Martin’s true nature? He wondered if he should en lighten her. It might be better if she lived on in ignorance. Whatever Martin’s preferences, there had been real affection between them. She obviously idolised him. Diable. It was my fault she became his fiancée, it was I who first put the thought of an alliance between Beaumont and Crèvecoeur into her head by suggesting she became betrothed…
Hoping to tease her out of the melancholy that took her whenever she thought of Martin, Hugh smiled, but he knew it was crooked. ‘I leave you for scarcely a month, dear lady, and here you are beset by admirers.’
She lifted a brow. ‘Dear Lady? Heavens, Hugh, why the sudden formality?’ Her eyes danced. ‘You had other names for me once. I recall your calling me “Freckles”, more often than not, or “Chestnut”, or—’
‘Brat,’ he said, not missing a beat. ‘That was my pet one.’
Her brows snapped together. ‘Don’t, Hugh, I hate that one—’
‘Brat,’ he repeated, smiling when her scowl deepened as he had known it would. Something squeezed in his gut—how odd, it seemed he liked her frown. Testingly, he ran a finger over the scattering of freckles running across one smooth cheek bone. The action startled a delightful blush out of her. A scowl and a blush—how interesting, he liked that too. Squashing the impulse to repeat the gesture on her other cheek, Hugh eased back and shoved his hand under the table.
‘Indeed, you were a most ungallant youth.’ Aude had ducked her head, she was fiddling with a serving spoon. ‘It is such an ugly name.’
‘I like it. I had almost for got ten it, but it suited you.’
She gave him a withering look. ‘Well, as far as I am concerned the sooner you do forget it, the better. I hoped I had left my child hood behind me.’
Around them the meal was coming to a close. At Aude’s nod, a couple of serving girls rose to stack the wooden serving dishes; benches grated as they were pushed back.
‘Come, Hugh, we had best secure sleeping places for you and your party.’
Impulsively, ignoring the ever-watchful knights who were repairing to the fire with one of the wine-jugs, Hugh caught her hand. ‘A thousand thanks for agreeing to look after Louise.’
Her face softened. ‘Really, Hugh, Louise is welcome for as long as needs be. Although for your sake, I hope her visit will be a short one.’
He bowed. ‘My thanks, Brat.’
‘Hugh?’
She was gritting her teeth, she really disliked that name. ‘Mmm?’
‘You love baiting me, don’t you? Why is that?’
He grinned. ‘Why does the sun rise every morning?’
She gave him a blank look.
He shrugged. ‘Aude, I have no idea why, it is one of the simple pleasures in life.’
She jerked her hand free and, before she turned her shoulder on him, had given him a scowl that would curdle milk.
Everyone had retired, but Aude lay awake in the curtained box-bed under the eaves. She was listening to the sounds on the other side of the bed-hangings: the occasional snore from one of the men; Edwige’s soft murmur as she spoke to her husband.
As lady of the hall, Aude was the only one in a box-bed, the rest of the house hold had pallets in screened bed-spaces at the far end beyond the fire. The various murmurings were faint and comforting. Familiar. The box-bed had originally been built for Alfold’s Saxon thane, it was wide and capacious. It was also some distance from the central hearth but since summer had not quite run its course and the night was warm, heat was not a problem. In any case, one of the first tasks Aude had set Edwige on their arrival had been to tear down the moth-eaten bed-hangings and to burn the musty linens and mattress. The replacement curtains were embroidered with brightly coloured wools in cheerful swirls and patterns. Edwige had made thick linings for the curtains, so if Aude should chance to be in Wessex when the year turned, she would be cosy. The mattress was springy and smelt faintly of meadowsweet. Fluffy furs were folded at the foot of the bed. However, cold was not likely to be a problem today.
It was Hugh.
As Aude lay in the dusky shadows she couldn’t stop thinking about him. What a wretch he was to have taken her boat—twice!—in Jumièges. To be sure he had been under much duress, but even if he had not been under duress, he would probably have stolen her boat, simply to annoy her. He did love teasing her.
Did he dislike her? Brat. Such a hideous name. If he started calling her that in public, she would have him in the stocks. Brat. It reminded her of a past she was trying to forget, a past Hugh Duclair knew far too much about. Every time he uses it, he is remembering the time you acted as a squire for your father. She bit her lip. He had better not start teasing her about that within earshot of anyone else. Her shameful back ground was not known about in England, which was one more reason Aude had been so anxious to get here. She wanted independence, but she was also trying to leave her past behind.
And then Hugh turned up. She heaved a breath. Given how irritating he was, she should not have been so pleased to see him. But pleased she was, even though the man had barely walked through the door before he was interfering with her command, pointing out that she was concentrating her energies on domestic matters when there were military ones to consider. The realisation that his criticism was justified had made it doubly irritating.
She sighed. It was flattering that Hugh had remembered their brief conversation by the Seine and had found his way to Alfold. Of course, Hugh wanted a refuge for Louise…but did that mean he was about to embark on a particularly perilous course? Despite the warmth, Aude shivered.
William of Normandy was not known for his clemency towards those he believed were his enemies.
Some of the men were talking softly to one another; their mutterings rose and fell like waves on the sea. Her knights? Hugh and Gil?
Hugh had informed her that he and Gil would be leaving at first light. He had said he did not wish to put her in danger by remaining at Alfold. He had mumbled some thing about ‘all roads leading to Winchester’ and when Aude had questioned him as to his meaning he had refused to enlarge. Aude’s stomach knotted. Undoubtedly Hugh hoped to gain an audience with the King in Winchester. But King William was some where in the fens in a place called East Anglia; no one knew when he might return.
Whatever Hugh planned, it was likely to be dangerous. What was he up to?
If only she could do more to help him. Looking after Louise was such a small thing.
What else might she do, save pray that Hugh might take care? It was wrong that Hugh was living the life of an outlaw. It must be a night mare; until his name was cleared England was enemy territory for him. He was way out of bounds.
The bed-curtain was fringed with yellow light. Surreptitiously, Aude shifted it aside and peered past the fire towards Hugh’s pallet. There was nothing much to see at the far end though, dim shapes, grey shadows, dark patches. On this side of the screen, there were several bumps on the floor, any one of which might be Hugh.
Cedric, his bearded face lit by the fire, was hunched on the wall-bench nearest the door, arms on his thighs. He was taking the first watch. Not all the villagers were antagonistic towards their new lady and Cedric, whose cousin Goda had been the girl to have gone missing, had been delighted to be involved in any enterprise that might thwart the thieves. When Sir Ralph had followed Hugh’s advice and asked for volunteers, Cedric had been the first to speak up.
Aude’s gaze returned to the sleeping men; she could still hear the low rumble of friends talking into the night and, from outside, the sharp bark of a fox.
It was a shame Hugh had to leave; despite his interfering it was good to have him here, and not just for his military advice. It felt like old times. She might almost imagine he was reassuring himself that she was well.
The thought was warming. How odd, how very odd…
‘Farewell, Hugh,’ Aude said, reaching up to give him her hand to kiss. A bright morning had dawned, and Hugh and Gil were cloaked and mounted and ready to ride out. She had loaded them with supplies, food, blankets, wine-skins, even a bucket. She was certain they had a camp nearby, but Hugh would tell her nothing. She asked him one more time. ‘I don’t suppose you will tell me where you are going, or when we might hear from you again?’
Hugh kissed the tips of her fingers, lingering a little as a knight would over his lady’s hand. She even imagined she could feel him take a gentle nibble, as though he were tasting her. Aude willed herself not to blush, he was only doing it to annoy her, as she could tell from that teasing smile at the corner of his mouth. ‘Sorry, Brat.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And it is no use trying to wheedle anything out of Louise. She does not know everything and what she does know—’
‘You have for bid den her to tell me.’
His eyes danced. ‘Exactly.’
Shaking her head at him in mock anger, she withdrew her hand and stepped back so Louise could make her farewell. Aude wrapped her arms about her middle. They looked like a couple of pedlars and she felt hollow inside.
Hugh, be careful, please be careful.
The thought of him being caught and shut up in a dank dungeon…or worse, being executed for breaking the terms of his banishment sent shivers down her spine. The dangers for Hugh were as great in England as they had been in Normandy. Greater, perhaps, because Wessex was un charted territory for Hugh.
Except, thank God for small mercies, surely there were not many people in England who recognised him by sight?
‘Take care, Hugh,’ Louise said.
Amen to that.
‘And you too, Gil. God go with you.’
Louise at her side, Aude emerged from Eadgytha’s cottage, and blinked into the setting sun. The two days since Hugh and Gil had left to pursue some mysterious course in Winchester had been the hottest that she could remember.
Large white clouds had been sailing across the sky for most of the day and the atmosphere was thick and heavy. The wheat was ripe and most of the villagers were bringing the harvest in from the field strips. Scythes and bill hooks flashed in the dying sun. The stalks were being snatched up almost before they fell, they were quickly bundled and carted into the barns. Wheels rattled over ruts, villagers shouted, a child was wailing. ‘Mother! Mother! Mother!’
Outside Eadgytha’s cottage, the bees were humming over a clump of lavender. A yellow butterfly was fluttering up the path to the hall, its flight so ragged it must be dizzy with the heat.
‘I can feel that storm.’ Louise was looking at an ominous band of grey that was darkening the horizon. It was moving steadily towards them. ‘It is going to be bad.’
‘Yes, the sky is getting very dark. Last year’s harvest was poor; we can only pray they get the rest of the wheat in before the storm breaks. It wouldn’t do for the crops to be ruined at this late stage.’
‘No.’
In the two days since Hugh’s departure, Aude had done her best to ensure that Louise felt welcome at Alfold. To that end, she had taken Louise with her when she did the rounds of the village; they had just been examining Oswy’s shoulder.
‘Do you think Oswy will heed your advice?’ Louise asked as they took the path towards the Church.
‘I doubt it, that lad was born to climb. He has done well to accept the restrictions of the bandages so far.’
‘It was a good thought to make him help his mother with the herbs.’
‘I doubt that Oswy would agree.’ Aude grinned. ‘Tying up herbs for drying is hardly how that boy wishes to spend his time.’
‘Yes, but he is doing it.’
‘Only because I reminded him of the importance of the village building up stores; he can remember last year’s famine. Also, I have promised to think about unbinding him tomorrow evening. I doubt that Oswy would be so keen to help his mother on her own account. As soon as he is able I’ll warrant he will be back on that roof, that or he will be volunteering to act as look-out against the thieves. I over heard him talking to Sir Ralph about them yesterday; for some reason the thieves fascinate him.’
A rook was flying towards a line of trees that marked the village boundary and the beginnings of the tangled forest known as Crabbe Wood. Aude had yet to explore it.
The sky was dramatic—half-dark, half-light. In the east, the black clouds were continuing to pile up, huge iron-grey clouds tinged yellow at the edges by the lowering sun, a sun which cast an evening glow on the weathered boards of the church.
The church roof, Aude noted with a sigh, was yet another building where the thatch was in dire need of repair. She rolled her shoulders. Her veil was hot and she longed to remove it, but it was too soon to relax, she had one more visit to make…
Father Ambrose was in the field strip ad joining the church yard. His sleeves were rolled up and he was bent over his hoe, working between two lines of cabbages. Onions gleamed in a wicker basket at one end of the line.
‘Good eve
ning, Father.’
‘Good evening, Lady Aude.’ The priest paused in his work to smile at them. ‘And Mademoiselle Louise.’
Louise had been introduced as a distant relative of Aude’s, with no mention made of her family or title. As far as the villagers were concerned, Louise Duclair was Louise of Jumièges, exactly as Hugh had been made known as Hugh of Jumièges.
‘We won’t escape that storm, I fear,’ Father Ambrose observed.
Aude grimaced at the darkening sky. ‘It certainly looks that way; I shall pray that it is short-lived, it won’t help the harvest.’
‘That’s true. After such a dry summer, to have a downpour now, just as…’ He leaned on his hoe, expression sharpening as he tipped his head to one side. ‘Do you hear that? Listen…’
Dogs were barking some way off, sounding as though they were on the Winchester road. Behind a clump of trees a cloud of dust was rising. And there, again, borne on the evening breeze, more barking. A horn blared, a dust cloud rolled up the slope towards Alfold.
‘What is that?’ Louise asked, a pleat forming in her brow. ‘A pack of dogs?’
‘Hounds in full cry.’ Father Ambrose crossed himself. ‘Manhunt.’
Aude’s scalp prickled. Louise went white and Aude wished the priest had held his tongue.
‘M…manhunt?’ Louise said.
The priest’s face was tight with anxiety. ‘I am afraid so. There have been rather too many of those lately.’
Aude felt the colour drain from her own cheeks. Hugh! Was Hugh all right? Avoiding Louise’s eyes, Aude strove for a neutral tone. ‘Who would they be hunting, Father?’
‘Some felon or other, I expect.’
‘The band of thieves?’
‘Aye, or maybe some rebels.’
‘Saxon rebels?’
‘Could be.’
‘And would it be the King’s men who are doing the hunting?’
Father Ambrose gave a heavy sigh. ‘Yes, it is likely to be soldiers from the Winchester garrison.’
The horn blared, the hounds bayed, the dust had reached the ridge.
‘They are heading for the giant’s road.’ Father Ambrose looked thoughtful. ‘If the fugitives reach the wood, there is a chance they might escape.’ He glanced at Louise’s pale cheeks and gave her a kind smile. ‘I am sure it will not be anyone you know, ma demoiselle.’
Wessex Weddings 05 - Her Banished Lord Page 10
