As he pulled the door to his room closed behind him, he caught sight of Keegan standing just outside the stable door. He was arguing with someone not in Mathieu’s line of vision. When the other man spoke, however, he knew who it was. Captain Knape.
“You lied to me, Keegan. You told me you found your charger tied to a post in the village. You knew all along what those two adulterers were up to, did you not?” Knape sounded angry, but eerily calm, too. He must be sober, a rare condition for the captain. Still, hearing the man’s voice unfettered by the slur of drink sent chills up Mathieu’s spine.
What was he up to? Here was a man who could be much more dangerous sober than in his cups.
“I told ya once, and I’ll tell ye again, Captain. We found Dirck tied to a post. I wasna about to leave my prize charger standing alongside the road for anyone to steal.” Keegan stood towering over the captain, with his arms crossed over his massive chest. His tone, though, held a pleading note.
This, too, sent chills through the ostler. He hoped he had not brought his friend trouble he did not deserve.
Mathieu stepped out into the open and both men turned. Knape narrowed his eyes and took a step toward him.
“So, you slipped free of the noose again, I see. I thought surely the duke would toss you in the dungeon for what you did.”
Mimicking Keegan’s stance—though on a much smaller scale—Mathieu crossed his arms and planted his feet wide. “I do not regret what we did, Captain. If it displeases you, I am sorry. But you had no claims on the girl. I see not why it should matter to you.”
Knape shook his head and spat on the ground. “If it had been up to me—”
“That’s the point, Captain. It wasn’t up to you. Leave it be.” Mathieu shocked himself with his boldness. But he’d had just about enough of this arrogant, evil man.
“I hope you both burn in hell,” Knape snarled, turning on his heel. As he stalked away, his muttering echoed across the bailey, torching Mathieu’s blood to boiling.
“If I hadn’t been so damned clumsy, ’twould have been me plowing the maid . . .”
Mathieu locked gazes with Keegan, who had heard the captain’s words as well.
“’Twas him that night. He almost killed her, the evil bastard.” Keegan’s already ruddy face reddened further. “The duke should be told of this.”
Mathieu heaved in a deep breath, then blew it out. He was in no position to rile the duke any further. Besides, Knape would never admit to what he’d done, not in front of anyone who mattered.
“I will have my day with Captain Knape, Keegan. Mark my words. One way or the other, Knape will pay for his sins. Not only for nearly killing my Eva, but for other evil deeds I’ve witnessed. The man is a heathen. His heart is as black as his cloak.” He locked eyes with Keegan. “I will have my day with Captain Knape,” he repeated. “As God is my witness.”
Alys was crying as she headed to the dortour to help Eva pack her few belongings.
“I can’t believe they’re making you a handmaid! You’ll have to wait on the ladies . . . help them dress and undress. Comb their hair. Clean out their chamber pots . . . It’s below you, Eva. You’re a duke’s daughter!” Alys wailed. “And with Blanche! Your days and nights will be torture, Eva. She’ll make you do all the really nasty chores. I hear the old bat snores like thunder.”
Eva shook her head. “I won’t be sleeping in Blanche’s room. The duchess said I can stay with Mathieu, in his quarters.”
Alys’ eyes widened, but she said nothing. The look on her face made Eva wonder.
Was Mathieu’s room really so bad? Worse than a cramped maid’s quarters?
Eva remained somber, keeping her worries well hidden. “’Tis the duke’s will. We disobeyed him, Mathieu and me. We violated custom. We deserve to be punished.”
“For how long?” Alys asked.
“The duchess said until Christmastide.”
As they turned the corner into the girls’ room, they heard weeping. Eva knew immediately who it was, even before she saw Beverielle’s ginger mane spread out over her pallet.
Guilt singed Eva’s heart as she went to sit beside her.
“I am so sorry, Beverielle. I had no idea this would happen. If I had known—”
Eva stopped short. Would she have done anything differently had she known her running off with Mathieu would destroy her sister’s future? It pained her to admit the fact, but nay. She would not have changed a thing.
Beverielle sat up and glared at Eva with hatred in her eyes. “You have what you wanted. Both of you do,” she spat, shifting her gaze on Alys. “I have no chance at making a choice for my future. Not now.”
“There’s still time,” Alys offered. “Mayhap the Italian will not favor you.”
“Ha,” Beverielle snapped. “He’s already making all kinds of suggestive comments, making me feel like a cheap tavern wench.” Her sobs bubbled up anew. “Which is what I am, is it not? Nothing but a common tavern wench.”
A clapping noise made them all jump and turn. There in the doorway stood Isabella, her lips pursed.
“What is this I hear? Why do you speak of yourself in such a way, Beverielle?” Lifting her voluminous skirts, Isabella made her way to the pallet and sat. She smoothed her hand down the girl’s coppery hair. “I don’t want to ever hear those words out of your mouth again, do you hear?” She tipped up Beverielle’s chin. “Look at me. Don’t you ever forget—you are of royal blood. You are the duke’s daughter.”
Tears continued to stream down the girl’s face. “’Tis true, though, Lady Duchess. My maman . . . she was . . .”
Isabella pulled Beverielle to her chest and held her like a small child. “Your mother did what she had to do to survive.” She glanced up at Alys and Eva. “It’s what we all must do, we women of this world. We must do what is necessary to survive. Of that, we should be proud. It takes great strength to do things not of our choosing, and to survive the consequences.”
Eva hung her head. “’Twill be hard for me to be a maid, Beverielle, but I will do it. And I will do it well.”
“I will work beside my beloved in a man’s trade,” Alys added. “In the blacksmith’s shop. My skin will be roughened and red and I will be covered in soot by days’ end. But I will do my best to make him proud.”
Isabella held Beverielle at arms’ length and held her gaze. “Remember too that you are not your maman. You are your own woman. You will make your own way in life.”
“But I’ve been given away to a man I do not love,” she wailed.
The duchess wiped a tear off her cheek with her thumb. “You may, in time. Besides, there is still time for things to change.”
But Eva could tell by the somber expression on the duchess’ face that even she doubted the girl’s fate stood a chance of change.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mathieu opened the door to his quarters and stepped aside to let Eva pass. The servants had brought her things earlier, which Mathieu had piled neatly on the chair in the corner. There was nowhere else to put them.
Eva said nothing as she crossed the threshold, glancing about the space. There wasn’t much to see. Mathieu waited with his heart pounding so hard he could barely hear her words when she finally spoke.
“It’s cozy, Mathieu. Does it stay warm in the winter?”
It was true, there was no hearth. But snugged up to the stables, the room did stay fairly comfortable, even when the winter drew near.
“We will not be here for the worst of the winter months. I . . . we will travel with the duchess to the chateau at Germolles. My quarters there are a little larger. There is a small hearth, and even a privy off the back.”
Eva plopped down on the pallet and lifted her twisted ankle to rest on her knee. “I have spent much time on my feet today. I’m afraid my foot pains even worse than usual.”
Again, guilt washed over Mathieu. A duke’s daughter had been lowered to the level of a handmaiden. All because of him.
“Are yo
u sorry? Do you feel you have made a mistake?” he asked, afraid to hear her reply.
She simply smiled and reached out her arms to him. “I know you knew me as a spoiled, willful child when I came here, Mathieu. But ’twas not true. Not really. I was shielding myself. I knew not what I would face here at Coudenburg. ’Twas easier to play the strong one and protect my heart.”
He knelt before her and lay his head in her lap. “I want so much more for you, dear Eva. I promise, someday, life will be easier for us. You will sleep in a finer place—”
“Shh,” she cooed. “Truly? In Ghent I slept on a pallet not nearly as big as this one. And I had to share it with my stepsister, who kicked in the night like a rank horse!”
The evening meal was tortuous. All eyes were drawn to them, again and again, with unspoken questions and silent accusations. The only one who seemed happy for them was Admiral La Laing, who greeted Mathieu with a hearty handshake and embrace as they entered the hall.
“Mathieu! I hear congratulations are in order. You have chosen wisely, my man. Your lady is lovely, indeed.” He took Eva’s hand and kissed it before folding it into Mathieu’s. “I wish you both a lifetime of happiness and contentment. Here, you two sit close to me.” They took the seats he indicated at the table just beneath the high table.
There was no festive banquet, no celebration—not that either of them expected it. Still, Mathieu wished there could have been some sort of acknowledgement of their union. Instead, they supped on simple fare, roasted pigeon and quail, along with a pottage of summer vegetables.
“Now that your future is somewhat . . . altered,” La Laing smiled and winked at Mathieu, “I won’t be asking you to go with me to pick out those colts. The duke wants to go anyway, and I don’t think the two of you would be very friendly traveling companions. At least, not until some of Philip’s ruffled feathers smooth.”
Mathieu sighed. “I had so wanted to see Barreau’s crop. How many will you bring back?”
“I’m not sure how many Philip is interested in, but I’d like to add at least four or five to our string. Can you handle that many for training come spring?”
“Oh yes. Easily. It’s my passion, Admiral. ’Tis what I do.”
La Laing drained his goblet and wiped his mouth. “Good. It’s settled then. Philip and I will leave in a few days . . . right after Alys and Rutger’s wedding. We’ll take just a few of the knights. The road between here and there is peaceful these days.”
The next weeks passed quickly for Eva, though not without trial. Blanche, it seemed, had mixed feelings about taking her on as an apprentice. On one hand, she scorned the girl for having violated tradition and defying the duke’s will. On the other, the old woman was relieved to have another on which to pile all of the tasks that had become difficult for her, at her age.
And distasteful, no matter what one’s age.
Eva was no stranger to domestic duties. She had emptied chamber pots back at home. She had helped care for her siblings and her parents’ clothing, washing and hanging and beating the creases out. But keeping up with the needs of a small family, and caring for a veritable fleet of ladies-in-waiting, were very different kinds of responsibilities altogether.
Eva spent most of her time worrying she would ruin the fine, fancy garments Isabella and her ladies wore. She knew how to handle fabric—new fabric, and fashion it into a garment. But caring for the clothing once soiled? She had not a clue.
The bright spot was the day of Alys and Rutger’s wedding, which took place in the same building where Eva herself had been wed not a week earlier. Their nuptials, however, were held on a bright, sunny morning with all the castle folk and many villagers there to witness, and in the main chapel, not hidden away in the sacristy. Eva was surprised she had even been allowed to attend, but the duchess herself asked her to accompany her and her ladies-in-waiting to the village.
Eva’s heart warmed to see how happy the couple were as they entered the hall that night for the wedding feast. Their joy reminded her of how grateful she should be for having a good husband of her own, a man she loved, and who worshipped her. As she and Mathieu shared their meal from a common trencher, their bodies so close they were touching from hip to ankle, Eva couldn’t help the thrill of anticipation humming through her.
She had come to her wedding night a virgin, but she had learned much in the weeks following. Now she and Mathieu anxiously explored yet new ways they could pleasure each other before falling asleep, exhausted every night.
The duke took six of his knights with him when he and Admiral La Laing left the next morning for Barreau’s farm in France. They would be gone a fortnight, at the very least, they told Mathieu. With both Philip and La Laing gone from the castle, the man in charge would be Captain Knape.
Little did anyone realize how perilous a situation this would leave the unfortunate soul who stumbled into the captain’s path.
Mathieu was grateful the duke had taken neither Keegan nor Gaspard with him. At least there were two of the guard whom the ostler trusted. The captain, however, made himself scarce, at least for the week. The ostler witnessed him stumbling back from the village on more than one occasion, late in the night when he did his walk-through of the barn to be sure all was well.
Drink, he was certain, would be the evil man’s downfall. But, in truth, when the captain was in his cups, he was less dangerous than when he was sober. Mathieu hoped Knape continued his binging until the duke and the admiral returned.
A fortnight passed quickly, and the duke was due home any day. Mathieu was excited, eager to see the fresh, unbroken colts he would add to the duke’s string of horses. He liked working with the young animals. Unspoiled, and although sometimes full of spirit, they presented a new challenge for the ostler which he genuinely looked forward to.
Eva was working harder than she ever had in her life, and Mathieu could see how it wore on her. Every night, she came to their quarters with her feet tender and swollen, particularly the twisted one. Mathieu did his best to comfort her, massaging the tender joint and once, even wrapping it in the same kind of poultice he used to treat the horse’s leg injuries.
“So, I’m no better than a palfrey now?” she asked as he wrapped her leg in what looked like muddy linens. “I’ll smell like one, too,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
Mathieu smiled up at her. “You know how I love the smell of horseflesh, so don’t expect that to keep you out of my bed.”
Eva promptly stuck her tongue out at him, and he reached up and pinched her bottom.
“Now, I want you to lie down and keep your foot atop those sacks I’ve piled on the end of the pallet. ’Twill help drain the excess fluid out of the joint. I promise, by morning, you’ll feel much better.”
He bent to kiss her sweetly before leaving her to rest. “I won’t be gone long. I’m going over to see how the knights are faring with the captain in charge. I haven’t seen either Keegan or Gaspard in a day or two.”
Eva’s eyelids had already fluttered shut. “I will rest here for just a minute . . .”
She was asleep before Mathieu left the quarters.
He found the knights’ encampment alive with light and noise. They had a bonfire burning, even though the night was warm. A fresh barrel had been rolled up from the cellar, and several men were already filling their mugs with frothy ale. He spotted Keegan first, who stood half a head taller than most of the other men, his coppery hair flashing in the firelight.
“Yo ho, ostler! Come join us. We’ve having one more grand get-together before the keepers return,” Keegan shouted, raising his mug.
Mathieu tipped his head. “You still have one keeper here, do you not? The most brutal taskmaster of all.”
Gaspard strolled up beside Mathieu and handed him a mug. “Knape’s been in the village most of this past week,” he muttered. “Only comes home every couple of days to sleep off his poison. Seems he’s found a wench at the Rusted Arrow he favors. Poor damsel. I pity her.”
The image of Knape pawing a tavern maid touched a raw spot in Mathieu’s memory. He felt the bile rise in his throat and washed it down with ale. “Poor damsel is right. I’ve seen what Knape is capable of when it comes to whoring. She’ll be lucky if she comes out of this with her life.”
Both Gaspard and Keegan stopped short and stared at him. “We know you have something on Knape, but you won’t share it. Why?” Keegan asked.
Mathieu ducked his head and stared into his mug. “Because, my friends, I’m afraid if I do, the captain will finish what he started all those years ago. He’ll kill me.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mathieu stayed with the knights far longer than he’d intended. He’d gone back to check on Eva several times, but he could not find the strength to disturb her. She had fallen asleep right in the middle of the narrow pallet, her bandaged foot still propped on sacks. If he crawled into bed beside her, he’d surely waken her. He decided on his third trip that it wouldn’t hurt for him to enjoy one more hour and one more mug of ale with his friends.
What no one expected was that Captain Knape would return again that night.
But that’s exactly what he did. As the embers of the bonfire faded and most of the knights had straggled off to their cots, a lone figure staggered through the bailey and into the encampment. Mathieu’s heart leapt when Keegan peered over his shoulder and said, “The taskmaster returns.”
The three men struggled to their feet, tossing back what was left in their mugs. Mathieu’s hope was that Knape would fill a last mug with ale before making his way back to his room in the keep. He was the only knight granted a real bed in the main hall.
Knape, however, had apparently come home looking for a fight. Mathieu bid his friends good eve and headed toward the stable, but when he passed Knape, he didn’t keep enough distance between them. The captain stumbled into him, slamming him hard on the shoulder. Mathieu almost lost his footing and turned on Knape.
The Warrior and the Wildflower Page 25
