A Tapestry of Dreams

by Roberta Gellis

  “Do not call me brother, Audris—”

  “It is too late to worry about that,” Hugh said, “since Demoiselle Audris named you brother to the king’s face. Moreover, you must not deny it because—”

  “No!” Bruno exclaimed, not loudly but with great force. “My mother—”

  “Hush, Bruno,” Audris interrupted. “I do not need to hear that stupid excuse again, and I think what Hugh wants to say is to my benefit, not to yours.”

  “Yes, it is, and to the benefit of Jernaeve and the northern shires as a whole. Bruno, you do agree that it would be better for Jernaeve to remain in your uncle’s care than for the Demoiselle to be given against her will to Warner de Lusors or Henry of Essex or—”

  “Yes, I agree,” Bruno growled. “I have tried to tell the king that the companions he brought are not best suited to holding a keep like Jernaeve. He has seen that the north is not like the south, but as for Jernaeve, he thinks I say the holder must be a northern baron out of loyalty to Sir Oliver. But still I do not think he would try to trick Audris into marriage—”

  “No, nor does he need to try it as long as he thinks he has a suitable master for Jernaeve in you, Bruno. No, do not interrupt me.” Hugh held up a hand. “I am not implying any dishonorable threat to Sir Oliver, but surely you must realize, Bruno, that your uncle”—he shook his head at the instinctive, mumbled protest and continued—“is not a young man. If some ill should befall him and the next holder be less trustworthy, then you can be brought in to contest the honor of Jernaeve.”

  “Oh, Bruno, stop shaking your head,” Audris urged. “I have told you before that I would rather have you hold Jernaeve for me than have some greedy boar of a husband take it away from me. But Hugh, are you sure the king has given up the notion of marrying me to one of his friends tonight or tomorrow? Bruno has so soft a heart that he trusts everyone.”

  “Audris—”

  “I do not deny the king would like to see one of his hungry gentlemen settled in Jernaeve.” Hugh answered Audris’s question as if Bruno had not spoken. “But he did stop pressing the subject of your marriage as soon as you called Bruno ‘brother.’ There is an easy way to be certain no false claims can be made, though. Bruno and I need only make sure you are never alone, Demoiselle Audris. Bruno’s evidence might be suspect, but I do not think I could be considered to be serving Sir Oliver’s purpose.”

  “And speaking of Sir Oliver, Audris,” Bruno remarked wryly, “he is glaring at me right now. I think you had better go up and change your clothes.”

  “We will walk to the tower entrance with you,” Hugh offered, “and wait below for you to come down. You need not then fear to find an unwelcome escort.”

  Audris reached out and took Hugh’s hand. “I thank you,” she said softly. “Your care for me, a stranger, is gracious and generous.”

  “You are no stranger to me, Demoiselle Audris,” Hugh replied gravely. “Bruno is my friend, and you claim him as brother. I owe you my care.” He hesitated, then laughed. “And is it not the duty of the unicorn to protect the fair maiden?”

  “The unicorn,” Audris repeated. “My unicorn.”

  She remembered then the tapestry she had begun, the unicorn saluting the maiden in the tower, and a faint chill passed over her as she recalled herself saying that the subject was a fantasy into which no meaning could be read. Another foretelling? But she did not release Hugh’s hand until they reached the stairs to her tower, and when she looked over her shoulder from the seventh stair, he was still standing there watching her go up. She smiled down at him, marveling at the bright beauty of his blue eyes and wondering why she had first thought him ugly.

  Chapter 7

  In the quiet of her chamber, Audris stared for a time at her loom, then shivered slightly. The unicorn in the picture in her mind had eyes of the same lambent blue as Hugh’s. She turned away abruptly and saw that Fritha had already opened the chest and was lifting out tunics and bliauts for her to choose among. She had not seen the maid leave the great hall, but was not surprised. Fritha had surely heard her uncle tell her to dress more fittingly. A chill of fear flicked through Audris. No doubt Fritha thought it a fine thing to be a great lady, but Audris wished heartily that she could give Jernaeve to her uncle and free herself of the recurring threat of being used as impersonally as a seal for the transfer of the property.

  She began to reach for the nearest garment, and then bit her lip. No more heedlessness, Audris warned herself. She must show that she was denied nothing; but she must not appear too rich either, lest she whet the appetites of those who thought of her as a prize to fill their pockets. And there was a new need, too, the need to enhance her looks for the sake of the blue eyes that saw her instead of a strong castle.

  Audris had no doubt that Hugh’s interest in her was purely personal because she knew he was totally unacceptable as a prospect for a husband to an heiress. Had he the smallest property or access to power, he would have been knighted at his age—and without wealth or influence, there could be no question of asking for her in marriage. He knew it and she knew it, so his admiration—or whatever it was he felt—was for her own sake.

  Audris smiled and looked with more interest at the tunics, pointing at last to a fine wool gown dyed a soft rose. Strong, bright colors were more commonly favored, but she had learned that such colors faded her light eyes and hair into nothing. Unlike her work clothes, which Fritha had pulled off over her head, this gown was embroidered lavishly with a repetitive pattern of thick columns in thread of gold around the low V neck and hem and around the enormously wide bottoms of the long, fitted sleeves. Since the neck of the gown was cut low, Audris removed her plain shift, too, and replaced it with a finer one. This also had embroidery around the neck, and six narrow bands of gold circled the base of the sleeves, which were deliberately too long. When pushed up over the hands, they folded so that the embroidered bands looked like glittering bracelets and showed under the wide edge of the sleeve of the gown.

  Having pulled down the shift and settled the tie and sleeves, Fritha eased the tight gown over Audris’s head. For daily wear, Audris favored the warmth of a long undertunic and short overtunic, both garments full and loose for free movement and fastened with a simple girdle to prevent them from getting in the way. Fashionable wear was quite different, impossible to don without help since it was molded to the figure with laces at the back.

  Had Audris been wearing such a gown when she first came before the king, he would never have called her “child,” for as Fritha tightened the laces, it became apparent that Audris was a well-developed, if small, woman. Her breasts, high and firm, were full, her waist narrow, and her hips well rounded. These were further emphasized by the heavy golden girdle, which went around the waist, crossed in the back, and tied in a decorative knot just above the pubis. With the eye directed by the V of gold at the neck and girdle, there could be no doubt about the ripeness of Audris’s womanhood.

  Last, Fritha undid Audris’s plaits, combed her hair, and rebraided it, twining the strands around gold ribbons. The ends of the plaits were tucked into gilded leather cylinders decorated with small pearls. Audris had no need to use false hair or any other device to fill out her braids; her hair was thick and would have curled had it been loose, and it hung nearly to her knees. The maid smiled broadly and clapped her hands together softly to show her pleasure in her mistress’s appearance, then fetched a piece of metal polished to a mirror sheen for Audris to see her handiwork. Audris sighed and then smiled. Not only was she reluctant to spoil Fritha’s pleasure, but she found that her spirits had been lifted by the image she saw.

  Normally, Audris would have waited for her aunt to summon her down, but she did not want to begin weaving when an interruption would come so soon, and doing nothing left too much time for uneasy thoughts. She asked Fritha to give her the blue cloak, also embroidered around the border in the pilaster pattern, clasped it around
her neck with a gold broach, told Fritha she was free until bedtime, and went out. Male voices floated up the stairwell, but Audris recognized them and did not hesitate until she came to the last step but one. There she paused, her full lips thinning as she heard what she thought was more bad news.

  “I am afraid David will invade again, and not long in the future,” Hugh was saying. “The temptation to break off another piece of Northumbria as he did with Carlisle will be too great.”

  “Do you mean we are not free of the Scots?” Audris asked anxiously, coming down the last stair.

  Both men turned to her. “There is no danger now, Demoiselle,” Hugh said, and Bruno spoke simultaneously, “You will be safe, Audris.” And then, as Hugh appeared to have lost his voice, Bruno went on, “Hugh fears that the peace King Stephen has made will not hold, but I am sure King Stephen is aware of the temptation to David. Is that not why he arranged for Prince Henry to accompany him back to England? And I do not believe David will break the peace while his son is in Stephen’s power.”

  “But Henry was not named hostage, was he?” Hugh asked. “That means he can find some excuse to leave the court any time.”

  “There is that danger,” Bruno admitted, “but I know the king has given orders that everything be done to please Henry. And how could Stephen call him a hostage when Henry had just done homage for the shire of Huntington and been named earl?”

  Audris had listened to this exchange with a frown. “No, this is not what I meant,” she said. “What I want to know is whether the Scots are back in our hills.”

  “The soldiers are gone,” Bruno answered, “but there may be stragglers about.” Then a look of horror appeared on his face. “Audris, you do not still run about the hills all alone? How can my uncle permit it? Anything could happen to you.”

  “What could possibly happen to me?” Audris asked, laughing merrily. “There is not a man or a woman for miles around who does not know me, and none of them would do me harm. Nor is this the crossroads of the earth where a hundred strangers pass every hour.” She put her hand persuasively on Bruno’s. “Come, brother, do not frown. Most times I take Fritha—”

  “A mute!” Bruno exclaimed. “She could not even scream if you were set upon.”

  Audris’s laughter rippled out again. “But I could scream, and Fritha is very strong. No, do not scold me, dearling. In all the years, I have never met one person I did not know, and the shepherds all call to each other to mind where I am when I am on the cliffs. If I am long out of sight, one of them looks to be sure I have not fallen.”

  Hugh had been listening to this in stunned silence. First he had been much taken aback by the change made in Audris’s appearance by her clothing. When he had seen her first, she had seemed pale and pathetic. Now he was put in mind of a thin alabaster cup holding red wine; Audris, like the cup, glowed from within, but her beauty was so fragile and delicate that, had he had the right, he would still have been afraid to touch her, lest she shatter. And while those thoughts were going through his head, she and Bruno were arguing about her wandering loose in the hills.

  “Audris, you are not still climbing…” Bruno did not seem able to finish the sentence and exploded, “God curse my thoughtlessness in teaching you to climb!”

  “Oh, hush,” Audris whispered, “you will attract just the attention we wished to avoid.”

  But the warning came too late. Warner de Lusors, the handsomest—and hungriest—of Stephen’s young men, had glanced around at Bruno’s anguished exclamation. Lusors could not hear what was said after Bruno’s voice attracted his attention, but he caught Audris’s swift glance across the room and the frown that followed, and interpreted those in his own way. The Demoiselle, he was sure, was annoyed at being trapped by her brother and Espec’s squire, both local boors, and was longing to escape into more worldly and amusing company.

  Lusors had heard Audris say she did not wish to marry, but like Stephen, he assumed that to be the result of female modesty—or deviousness. As to the many refusals she had mentioned, either she had lied—all women lied—or she wanted something better in exchange for her handsome estate than the barbarians bred in the area. He had had considerable success in the past and did not believe any woman could resist him, especially a shy, ignorant girl who had spent her life buried in a northern wilderness. In the past, fathers and guardians of heiresses had cut short his progress to a marriage that would give him a livelihood, but now he had the king’s support. Lusors was certain he need only present himself to win this girl.

  It took Lusors a few minutes to extricate himself from his conversation without drawing attention to where he wished to go. Nor could he take a direct route to his goal because the servants were setting up the tables for the meal, but quick glances allowed him to keep track of his prey and to note the glitter of gold about Audris’s gown. It would be a good match, Lusors thought as he made his way toward Audris and her companions. There would be no need to molder in this wilderness longer than it took to get the girl pregnant. He would allow Sir Oliver to stay and manage the place if the old man did not interfere. He himself could continue to follow the court to pick up additional gleanings—only he would now have a full purse to buy his own pleasures and would not need to pay for them with flattery to fools.

  Had Lusors heard Audris’s contemptuous remark about cuckoos—a bird that lays each egg in the nest of another species, where its young, once hatched, casts out the true nestlings so it can eat all the foster parents glean—he might have been more cautious in his greeting. As it was, he bowed slightly, smiled, and extended his hand, saying, “Let me escort you away from this cold corner, Demoiselle. Such loveliness should be where all can see it.”

  “Thank you, but I prefer the quiet of this corner,” Audris replied stiffly, ignoring his hand. “And I am not cold.”

  She was not immune to flattery, and Lusors’s words might have had an effect had not his eyes seemed to move so swiftly from her face to her rich dress, the pearl-sewn braid enclosures, and the elaborate girdle. She was also distracted by sensing that Hugh had tensed. Glancing at him, she saw that his mouth, soft when he had spoken to her, was now in a hard line, and his long chin thrust forward aggressively. Clearly he did not like another man to flatter her. Audris was thrilled by the signs of jealousy, but she did not realize that it was not Lusors’s words alone that had provoked Hugh. He had seen that Sir Warner’s eyes were as attracted by Audris’s breasts and hips as by the gold on her gown.

  “Ah, but I will protect you from any annoyance,” Lusors murmured. “You need not be shy with me, although I find it charming and delightful.” He used the rejected hand to gesture at Bruno and Hugh, and when they simply stared at him, said, “You may go. I will see to Demoiselle… er… to the Demoiselle’s comfort.”

  “No, stay,” Audris said angrily, gripping both Hugh’s and Bruno’s wrists. “And you, sir, I give you leave to go and discover my name before you give orders to my companions and dare to assume that you are better able to see to my comfort than my dear brother and my friend.”

  Actually, neither Hugh nor Bruno had given any sign of obeying Lusors’s order, and Audris knew there was no need to hold them to stop them from leaving. In fact, her grip was designed more to prevent her outraged companions from assaulting Lusors than it was to keep them with her, as her arrogant speech to Lusors was designed to deflect his rage from her companions to herself. There was, after all, nothing he could do to her, whereas if he complained to the king, Bruno or Hugh might suffer. Color suffused Lusors’s face, and the lifted hand clenched, but before he could release the angry bellow that was building in him, there was a burst of laughter to his right.

  Another of the king’s young gentlemen bowed deeply and raised a smiling face to say, “Demoiselle Audris, I am Henry of Essex. May I apologize for Sir Warner—”

  “I do not need your apology!” Lusors roared. Then, recalling his purpose and
the presence of the king not too far away, he swallowed and forced a smile. “Demoiselle,” he said in a slightly choked but much lower voice, “I assure you I knew your name. It seemed to me too precious to be freely mouthed. I wished to ask your permission to use it. Sir Henry is too bold. And as to ordering away your companions, I only wish them good. You do them wrong to hold them. They have been loitering long enough. They are only squires, and their duty is to their masters.”

  “Who will forgive them, I am sure,” Audris said, wondering what kind of idiot Lusors thought her, to mouth such obvious lies, “when I report that Hugh and Bruno awaited me by my asking.”

  “To shield you from the attack of so many too-eager suitors?” Henry of Essex asked, grinning. “There was no need. See, here come William Chesney and Richard de Camville. In such a crowd, Demoiselle Audris, you can come to no harm.”

  “You mistake me, sir,” Audris said, more gently than she had spoken to Lusors because she was amused by Sir Henry’s cheerful frankness. “I fear no harm, because I know my own mind and I am in my uncle’s care. Perhaps you did not hear what I said to the king. Bruno has been away from Jernaeve for years. I have missed him sorely, and I wish to spend every moment possible in his company.”

  “That is most unkind to us, however,” Richard de Camville said as he and William Chesney joined the group.

  “Yes, indeed,” Chesney put in. “You give riches to him who has plenty—for Bruno knows you well—and you deprive the starving—for we hunger to make your acquaintance so that we may learn to please you.”

  “You had better learn to please my uncle,” Audris riposted. “I have said already that I will consider only such men as he presents as suitable.”

  “And he has said,” Henry of Essex reminded her, “that you have refused every man he has presented. This comes near to the merry question of whether the chicken came before the egg or the egg before the chicken.”