Sanctuary of Roses

by Colleen Gleason

Chapter Nine

  Madelyne pulled another offending weed from a patch of lavender, tossing it onto the stone pathway behind her. The day was beautiful, with a full, bright sun casting warmth over all the earth, and the scents of herbs and flowers carried on a gentle breeze. The garden at Mal Verne had long been neglected, and she had taken to spending some of her day among the calendula, peppermint, thyme and ladies mantle.

  She'd been at Mal Verne for nearly a fortnight, and had fallen into a bit of a routine. After the fire, which had destroyed one portion of the village, the news of her ability to treat injuries became known, and Madelyne found herself in some demand for such tasks. Thus, she allotted the morning hours immediately following Mass to receiving the villagers and seeing to their hurts. Through Jube, Lord Gavin-as she'd come to think of him-had given permission for her to use a small storeroom built off the kitchen for her infirmary. When asked why the villeins did not seek the services of the town leech, Jube replied that news of her years at the abbey, and proximity to God, lent her abilities more credence in the eyes of the townsfolk.

  After her time spent with the villagers, Madelyne was often approached by Mal Verne's steward, Jonnat, with issues that would normally have been handled by the Lady of Mal Verne.

  The first time Jonnat came to her with problems caused by infighting among the seamstresses, Madelyne did not know how to respond. "How does the lady of the household handle such problems?" she asked in confusion.

  Jonnat looked at her, confusion mirrored on his own face, and snapped his jaw shut. She saw him dart a glance around, then return his attention to her. "The lady-we do not speak of her within the lord's hearing. . . or otherwise. "

  Madelyne barely refrained from rolling her eyes in frustration. Whatever the absent Lady Mal Verne's role in her husband's life, it seemed much too extreme that her name not even be mentioned within the household. However, she forebore to respond. Instead, she took it upon herself to visit the solar where the seamstresses worked. With a few pointed questions and some veiled suggestions that the lord would not be pleased to be bothered with such trifles, Madelyne was able to smooth out the problems and get the women back to work.

  Jonnat was so grateful-for, apparently, he'd been unable to handle the catty, spiteful women-that he made it a practice to approach her with other such feminine related problems. Madelyne did not begrudge assisting the man, who was a bit elderly and prone to confusion when faced with feminine wiles. And having lived among only women for so long, Madelyne was well-versed in such conflicts-for even in the abbey, there was occasional jealousy and gossip.

  Thus, it was not until after the midday meal that she found the time to escape to the chapel for some moments of reflection, and then to God's other home, the outdoors, to bury her hands in the soil and encourage the struggling plants to grow.

  Since the fire, she'd seen little of Mal Verne himself. Though he'd been burned heartily by a fallen ceiling beam, he'd insisted on rising from his bed the following day-overriding her protests-and going down to the village to supervise the rebuilding of the burned out homes. She'd heard from Tricky, who had the information from Clem, that Lord Gavin had declared that no home be built closer than twenty paces to the next.

  A sudden high-pitched giggle pierced her ears. Madelyne pulled back onto her haunches and looked toward the high growth of boxwood, which was shuddering much too violently to be simply the breeze passing through. Just as she turned, the bushes next to the thick boxwood hedge parted, and Tricky stumbled through. She had her skirt clutched in her hands and she was looking behind her, another giggle tumbling from her mouth, as she dashed toward the pathway.

  Upon seeing Madelyne, she paused, raising a finger to her plump, berry-like lips, and, eyes twinkling, ducked behind a rosemary bush.

  Heavy crashing announced the arrival of someone larger and stronger than Tricky, and Madelyne watched in faint amusement as Jube burst through the hedge several paces from where her maid had appeared. He skidded to a halt in his tracks when he caught sight of Madelyne and froze, looking acutely uncomfortable.

  "Hail there, Jube," Madelyne said, pulling a small growth of oregano from the midst of the lavendar patch.

  The tall blond man stood, tugging at his tunic and brushing dirt and leaves from the sleeves of his sherte, then shifted his weight from boot heel to boot heel. He looked around covertly, but did not move. "Good day, my lady," he said at last, glancing toward the rosemary bush.

  "I wondered where you'd gotten off to," Madelyne commented idly.

  "Ah, yes, my lady. As I knew you would be occupied for some time here in the garden, I went to see to. . . mmm. . . some other business. " He rubbed his prominent nose, then pinched the spot where it bent to one side. "Er. . . has anyone happened along here recently?"

  She bit her lip to hide a smile. He tried so hard to sound casual, but his gaze continued to dart around like a butterfly. "Nay, not that I have noticed. " She avoided looking toward the rosemary bush, which vibrated briefly. "I have been very busy, though, and may not have seen someone if they passed by quietly. "

  "Mmmm. " Jube clearly did not know how to react, and 'twas obvious that he was torn between his duty to watch over her, and his desire to learn where Tricky had escaped.

  Madelyne took pity and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Go you and finish your business-I shall be here yet until the sun reaches the top of that apple tree. "

  He smiled at her, and, passing a hand over his thin hair, gave a quick bow. "Thank you, my lady. I will return then. " He started to go, then turned back. "If anyone should pass this way, you may. . . mmm. . . never you mind. " And, with a faint flush staining his pale face, he bounded off down the path with the grace of a plow-horse.

  No sooner had he gone than the rosemary bush shuddered in earnest and Tricky blundered out of hiding. Her face was flushed with enthusiasm and her honey-colored hair straggled in messy wisps, springing from the confines of its braid. "Many thanks, my lady!" she said.

  Madelyne's amusement grew. "An' what kind of chase do you lead him on?"

  Tricky sank down on the ground next to her, reaching for a tuft of grass that grew amidst the thyme. "He thought to kiss me, and I thought to foil his plans!" She tossed the grass to one side, heedless of the fact that it missed Madelyne's head only by a slight margin.

  "If he has overstepped his bounds, you need only tell me," Madelyne told her, looking at her shrewdly. . . while at the same time, wondering what it would be like to have a man think to kiss her. Lord Gavin's face popped into her mind, and she bit her lip. Had he mayhap thought to kiss her on the wall that first eve at Mal Verne? And if he wished to, why had he not done so?

  Madelyne suppressed the sudden shiver of heat that slid up her spine, then resolutely dismissed the thought. A man such as Gavin Mal Verne would want naught to do with a mousy nun such as she. . . and, dear Lord, she'd forgotten-he was married! She pursed her lips, renewing her silent vow to return to life at the abbey as soon as possible. She'd been with out its walls for less than a fortnight, and already she was tempted to stray from God's path!

  "'Tis naught for you to be concerned with," Tricky was saying earnestly. "Jube has behaved only kindly toward me, and I have no quarrel with his attentions. " She beamed, plucking a daisy, and began to pull its silky white petals from their yellow center mooring. "He loves me, he loves me not . . . "

  Just then, a dark shadow fell over the two women. Tricky looked up, squeaked in surprise, and floundered to her feet. "My lord!"

  Madelyne raised her face, shielding her eyes from the sun that blared behind him, but did not move from her position. "Good day, Lord Gavin. "

  "My lady. " He cast a brief glance at Tricky, who had begun to melt away into the nearby shrubbery. "Patricka. " He looked around, then down at Madelyne, who had shifted so that the sun did not blind her. "I do not see Jube, my lady. Is he not nearby?"

  Madelyne saw Tricky's sudden intake of breath an
d replied mildly, "He was here only a moment ago, my lord. I believe he stepped away to. . . tend to some personal matter. "

  "Ah. Chasing some unsuspecting maiden most likely. "

  Madelyne stared up at him, aware that her surprise was openly on her features. Had he actually made a jest? She looked closely at his face, but saw no indication of good humor in his eyes. He plucked a stem of peppermint and began to chew on the leaves.

  Tricky stepped backward once more, trampling on the boxwood. "With your leave, my lord, my lady," she babbled, "I shall find Sir Jube and inform him that his presence is requested. " Without waiting for a response, she turned and crashed into the thick brush and disappeared.

  Lord Gavin peered after her for a moment. "What ails your maid, Lady Madelyne?"

  She shrugged slightly and returned to her task of pulling up the oregano that had begun to sprout throughout the garden. Her hand trembled, and she felt her heart leap into her throat when he crouched down beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his scuffed brown boots and his strong tanned hand resting on the dirt. He was too near, and she could not think clearly.

  "You've spent much time setting right the gardens of Mal Verne, as well as guiding old Jonnat in his tasks. The villagers speak highly of you and your healing skills, and I wish to thank you for all you have done. "

  Madelyne kept her gaze trained on the plants in front of her, afraid that if she looked over and was caught in his stare, he would see what in her eyes she did not wish for him to know. "I am not used to being idle," she replied. There was a silence and she nearly gave in to the urge to look at him, but instead kept her attention trained on a ladybird that scuttled along the stem of a daisy.

  "I wish also to thank you for tending to me, and to my hurts. How fares the woman we saved from the fire?"

  "Lettie is doing well. Barden's mother, Coria, has taken her into her home and cares for her. "

  "And how fares she with the loss of her son?"

  Madelyne brushed some dirt from her skirt. "She has become accustomed to the loss, my lord, and though she grieves for him, she has found strength in caring for Lettie and the child she carries. " Now she had the courage to look up, and she was surprised to see him staring into the distance, his face carved in emotionless stone.

  "I had hoped to save them both," he admitted, still gazing, unseeing, toward the horizon. Then, as if comprehending the words she'd spoken, he whipped his gaze to hers. "Lettie carries a child?"

  Madelyne nodded once, suddenly shy under his heavy gaze. "Aye. She had only suspected before the fire, but now she has told Coria, and together the women have learned to deal with their grief by focusing on the coming baby. "

  "I shall send her a cow and some hens," he murmured to himself.

  Madelyne returned to her task, and felt rather than saw him as he sank further to the ground, sitting next to her so that the toe of his boot nearly brushed her skirt. What he could hope to accomplish by his presence, she did not know, so, emboldened, she turned to ask. "My lord, is there aught that I can do for you?"

  As she spoke, he reached out and caught a flyaway strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Madelyne froze, her heart thumping in her throat, as his fingers brushed her ear and the side of her face. "Nay. " The single word was carried softly on the breeze and hung there for a moment until he spoke again. "I wished only to seek the serenity of the garden, and the calmness of your presence after a day of much activity. "

  Shaken, Madelyne forced herself to return to her weeding. What could he mean? Still acutely aware of his presence, she felt him reach for and pluck another stem of mint, and smelled the crispness of its scent as he chewed on it.

  "You prefer to be out of doors," Lord Gavin commented in a dusky, rumbling voice.

  "Aye. 'Tis the best place to enjoy the world God has given us. To smell the clean air, to enjoy His creatures and the green things He has created. . . . " Madelyne glanced at him, then quickly back to the clump of oregano that grew in the midst of the mint. "Even when it grows where we do not wish it to," she continued, gesturing to the oregano as she pulled it from the earth. "One must stop and give thanks. "

  Lord Gavin looked at her in such a way that made her feel as though he'd never before seen her. "And I-'tis something I rarely think to do, my lady. The times I spend in this world are on the back of a horse, or brandishing some blooded weapon. . . and rarely have I a peaceful moment such as this. . . to smell the mint and to touch the soft leaves of the rosemary. "

  There was silence for a long moment, again, and just as she was about to speak, the sound of footfalls thumping down the path reached them. She and Lord Gavin looked up to see Jube, accompanied by Clem and Tricky, hurrying toward them.

  "My lord, a missive has arrived from the king," Clem announced, brandishing a parchment with the sovereign's red wax seal on it.

  Lord Gavin took the message and broke the seal, heedless of the pieces of red wax that crumbled to the ground. "Does the messenger await a reply?" he asked as he unfolded the paper.

  "Aye. He is to join us for supper and stay only the night, then return to his majesty with your response. "

  Madelyne watched as he perused the letter quickly, and saw his countenance still and settle into the harsh features she was familiar with. All trace of ease faded from his face, and when he looked up, even his dark brows had drawn together in a fierce black line. He looked at her, and his eyes were stone cold and flat. "The king requests your presence at his court. "

  A pang of fear shot through her, and she managed to subdue it with a swallow and a slow breath. 'Twas only the royal order that she had expected, yet Mal Verne seemed inexplicably disturbed by the missive that he had certainly anticipated. Without thinking, she touched him, resting her fingers on the hard muscles of his arm. She felt him start beneath her hand, almost as if he wanted to pull away from her touch. . . and she dropped it immediately. "What is it? Is there more?"

  He had folded the parchment and stuffed the stiff paper into the belt of his tunic as he rose to his feet. "Your father has learned of your presence here at Mal Verne, and he has expressed his concern for your safety and his desire to see you. "

  The shaft of fear pierced her again, and Madelyne felt light-headed. Her father. Fantin. She grasped a handful of skirt and pulled awkwardly to her feet. Quelling the panic that threatened to overtake her, she replied carefully, "When must we leave?"

  He measured her with his gaze, then flickered his attention to Jube and Clem. "On the morrow. His majesty expects us at Whitehall with all haste. "

  Peg would accompany them to court.

  The older woman and Tricky had taken charge of the packing, leaving Madelyne to do naught but sit near the fireplace and be subjected to a discussion of her clothing, fashion, and personal attributes as if she weren't present.

  "Nay, child, not that violet! 'Twould make her look as lost as the drabness of a plowed field," Peg admonished Tricky, who had held up an undergown of the offending color. "Verily, my sister's daughter by law could wear such a color as that, for she has hair a pale wheat color. But for one such as my lady, why, only the reds and greens and golds, and mayhaps a blue or so, will do for her. My brother's daughter's mother was known for her beautiful blues woven in cloths made for the ladies of the courts in Paris. Aye, she would pick the flowers and cut their stems, leaving only the blue leaves before she would stew them in a pot-for days and days, he would tell us. . . and the smell would be enough to turn yer stomach, it would. . . and I suppose she must cook them out of the house, else. . . . " Her voice trailed off, and she paused, looking at Tricky, who had been listening avidly, and then at Madelyne, and then down at the cloth she clutched in one hand. "Hmmph. . . aye. . . . hmm. " She turned, folding a golden undergown and laying it carefully in the trunk.

  "I cannot take all of this clothing," Madelyne protested, gesturing at the mounds of cloth on the bed and stools. "Will not the lady miss it when
she comes here?"

  Peg looked at her in bewilderment. "What are you speaking of, child? The lady is not coming here-at the least, if she were to do so, she would have no use for clothing!" She gave a short chuckle, then sobered. She picked up another gown. "Did you not know? Lady Nicola is dead, my lady. "

  "Lady Nicola? Lord Gav-Mal Verne's wife-is dead?" Madelyne felt a sudden, foolish unburdening of her heart.

  Tricky sprang off the stool on which she'd perched for a moment's rest and placed her hands on her round hips. "Aye, 'tis so, my lady. Did not Lord Mal Verne tell you?"

  Peg snorted, casting a sidewise glance at the other two. "Lord Gavin speaks not of his wife, nor will he allow any of us to speak of her in his presence. "

  "Aye, 'tis why, then Clem spoke so quickly and softly in my ear when I asked him. " Tricky frowned, folding her arms over her middle, and pursed her lip into a pout. "An' I bethought he meant to steal a kiss by doing so. "

  "Tricky! Clem tried to kiss you as well?" Madelyne could not suppress the niggling annoyance that her friend should suddenly be the target of affection of two different men, when she had not-

  Had not what?

  Caught the attention of the mighty lord of the manor? She huffed out a breath of air and bit her bottom lip. Marry, she was a fool to entertain such fantasies!

  Her maid was shaking her head. "Nay, Lady Madelyne, it 'pears I was mistaken that he sought to kiss me. " She appeared slighted by this realization and returned her attention to delving into a new trunk of old clothing.

  "Well, there's no sense in bein' put out by the fact that he ain't kissed ye yet," Peg wagged a motherly finger. "Kissin's a good thing, but ye don't wanna be too free with'em. 'Course. . . it's the best way to know true love. " She held up a ruby-colored gown and shook it out. With a nod, she added it to a trunk filled with clothing. "When the right man kisses ye, ye'll know he's the one! Mark my words. I've had my share of kissin' and only my Peter was the one who made m'head spin like a top!"

  Peg pushed down on the lid of the trunk that overflowed with gowns and overtunics, shoes, hose, and several cloaks. "Aye," she puffed, sitting heavily on it, and brought them back to the previous topic, "My lord Gavin is quite the closed-mouthed ogre about the lady. Tricky, fetch those ties there-beyond the bed clothes. "

  Madelyne joined the other two women as they struggled to wrap the ties about the bulging trunk. Curiosity got the better of her, though, and she asked, "What happened to Lady Nicola? And why will Lord Mal Verne not speak of her?"

  The older woman smoothed a hand over her bright red hair with the pale yellow streak. "I served Lady Nicola as her tiring maid at court, ye know, and I saw how it happened. "

  Tricky plumped herself on the floor next to the trunk, tucking a cushion beneath her rump. "What was it that happened?"

  "Well, 'twas oh, nigh on seven years past. . . nay, six summers. Lady Nicola accompanied Lord Gavin to the court of the new King Henry and Queen Eleanor as they went to pledge fealty to our new rulers. She was a beautiful if foolish lady, and had been married before she was wed with Lord Gavin. She oft complained to me that the lord traveled overmuch, fighting in battles and that he did not woo her as he should. "

  "Well, 'tis no surprise. Lord Gavin is not the wooing sort," Tricky snorted. "'Tis obvious even to me, who has been in an abbey since I could walk!"

  "Tricky!" Madelyne could not disagree, but she would not have spoken such a thing.

  "Nay, my lady, 'tis true. And since the death of his wife, Lord Gavin has been e'en less gentle. " Peg took up the story again. "At any rate, I was with Lady Nicola on the first she saw him. . . not Lord Gavin, mind, but the man who would be her lover.

  "Even to these old eyes-well, they weren't so old six summers past, but old enough that a fine face and figure won't easily turn them-er. . . ach, aye, yes, even to these eyes, the man was fine and courtly. Not so tall, but taller than Lady Nicola. . . and his hair brushed his shoulders like a moonbeam. " When Tricky snickered, Peg pulled from her reverie to glare down at her. "Those were the words of Lady Nicola, and not my own, know you well.

  "Aye, she did moon for him, and wail over his manners, and his sapphire blue eyes, and the skill with which he played the lute. . . and she waited until Lord Gavin was called home to Mal Verne. She begged for him to allow her to stay with the king and queen's court. . . and Lord Gavin, sharp though he might be, cared for her enough to allow her to stay. "

  Peg stopped, and when Tricky humphed in impatience, she shrugged. "'Tis easy to guess the rest, of course. Nicola found her way to the man's side, and he wooed her with his smile and his beautiful voice-I'll not argue that when the man sang, he had the voice of an angel-and his gentle charm. In Lady Nicola's eyes, he was all that Lord Gavin was not. "

  Madelyne felt a stab of pain for Mal Verne. The man might be a warrior, and a rough one at that. . . but surely he did not deserve to be dishonored by his own wife because he did not sing beautifully. 'Twas no wonder that he did not wish to speak of her.

  "Did Lord Gavin learn of her betrayal? She did betray him, did she not?" Tricky asked, adjusting her bottom on the pillow like a child in the throes of a bedtime tale.

  Peg nodded sagely. "Aye. 'Twas not until later that my lord learned of her fancy. . . months later. And aye, she did betray Lord Gavin by bedding with her lover during their time at court. Lord Gavin did not learn of the depth of her unfaithfulness until he came to bring her back to Mal Verne. " Her eyes became troubled and she patted the streak of yellow in her hair again. "Quite a row, there was. . . the lady would not leave, and my lord insisted that she go. She loved him, she said to Lord Gavin, and she wanted only to be with him. "

  Drawing her eyebrows into irregular ridges, Peg paused for a moment as if to gather the threads of the story. "I did not hear it all, but another of the maids claimed Lady Nicola insisted that her lover was a man of greatness and holiness . . . hmph, I said when that was told me. . . a fine face and lilting voice do not make a great man! And one who would couple with another man's wife is no holy one in my mind!"

  "Did Lord Gavin make her leave with him?" Tricky asked. Madelyne did not know whether to be amused or alarmed at the glow of interest in her friend's eyes.

  "Aye. He took her back here to Mal Verne. A fortnight later, a missive arrived for her. 'Twas from her lover, of course-his name she never spoke in my hearing. She planned to ride out and meet him, so they would leave together. "

  Peg sighed, and stood suddenly, shaking out her skirts. The pleasure of tale-telling evaporated from her face, and Madelyne recognized sorrow blanketing her features-but was the sorrow for Lady Nicola or for Lord Gavin?

  "The rest I do not know," said Peg. "There is no one but his lord and her lady who do. All that has been told to us is that she left here in the dead of night-escaped his wrath, some say-and Lord Gavin went after her. When he returned, 'twas with word that she was dead from a fall off her horse. "

  Coldness gripped Madelyne's heart as she remembered her own flight with her mother. What would Fantin have done if he'd learned of their escape and caught them? The thought sent a wave of emptiness and fear through her. "And no one knows what happened?"

  "Nay. None but the lord and the lady herself. And she ain't speakin'. "