A Widow Plagued (4 page)

Then what is moral, Sara
?
she asked herself harshly.
Refuse to marry and allow yer daughter to become a child bride? Leave thyself destitute to beg on the streets?
Nay, this was the only way. No one could expect better of her. Her own husband would have replaced her within a sennight, if the union promised to be prosperous.

As expected, the ceremony proved brief and uneventful. Both plighted their troth and the priest blessed the union. The small company moved from the hearth to the table to eat their meal before it grew cold.

Thank goodnes
s
, Sara thought
,
that Millicent and Hannah had strewn fresh rushes upon the floo
r
. The sky roared to life with the sounds of thunder and rain, pattering onto the soft packed earth of the bailey. The sweet scent of the straw beneath her feet and the drumming sound of rain was lulling and comforting to Sara as she sat to eat her marriage feast.

She felt split into two persons. One was reliving the feast of her first marriage while the other sat to eat the feast with her current bride groom. Both parts of her were nervous and lacked confidence. Both sat quietly, eating small bites of meat with her dining knife. The knife had been a wedding gift from her first husband, Sara realized, and her stomach churned uncomfortably.

“Art thou quite well?” Sir Gavin asked, concerned by the blue tint to her pallor.

“I am sorry, Sir Gavin. I am a bit fatigued.”

“We shall not take overly long with the festivities, then,” he smiled ruefully. “Do not feel it necessary to eat, if ye are not well. Millicent, pass me up the decanter of cider. My wife will have a drink.”

Slowly, Sara drank the warmed liquid; allowing the spicy concoction to coat her tongue and throat, and warm her belly, she shut her eyes against the images of her first wedding night.

She had been sixteen. Lord Hastings’ wife had been dead for four years. He had entertained a mistress for a while but had sent her away several months earlier. The mistress bored him. Sara had always known that the Master’s interest in her had been of a grown up nature. The way he had eyed her after she had fought off the squire in the stables had been enough to let her know that he thought of touching her the way he liked to touch his mistress.

“Lucky for thee,” her mother, Henrietta, had explained, “another of thy father’s cousins, Sir Robert, has earned the favor of the king. He has been complaining of the way that Lord Hastings overtook thy father’s land. Lord Hastings is nervous that he will have to give up the property to Sir Robert. He has offered to marry ye and put the property in as a bride’s dowry, if I but acknowledge my husband’s intention to do so for thee. Ye will now be a wealthy lady. I need not worry about thy fate.”

Sara said nothing of her disquiet about the match to her mother. Her mother’s health had deteriorated significantly after a bout of pneumonia. She would likely not live through another winter. Sara wanted her mother to be at peace with her plans for her daughter’s future.

So, there she had sat, sharing a trencher with Lord Hastings, trying to smile and pretend she was happy as her mother looked on, contentedly. She had known all along that Lord Sanders would never sign over the deed to her father’s land. That night had been the first of many nights when she learned to hide her inner most thoughts and feelings deep within herself.

Her first experience with intimacy had been one she would prefer to forget. If she were lucky, she would get through this wedding night without crying. Sara could care less if she disappointed Sir Gavin, as she had Lord Hastings.

At this point, she would count the night a success if she were able to avoid vomiting all over the man. “Excuse me,” Sara said quickly, rising from the bench and rushing from the room. Outside, the rain coated her hair and she berated herself for allowing her silk gown to get wet, but there was no hope for it. Bending over, Sara wretched, emptying her stomach of its contents.

When her stomach finally finished contracting, she stood and wiped her mouth with her now soiled gown. There, in the doorway of the keep stood Gavin. He looked at her appraisingly.

“Is there anything ye need to tell me, My Lady?”

“N-no, My-Sir Gavin. I am sorry to leave the table. I am feeling ill. If ye will excuse me, I would like to return to my chamber and dry off.”

“Very well, I will dismiss our wedding guests.”

“No, please, I would prefer to go alone.”

“It is tradition for the bride and groom to be accompanied to chamber by their guests. Can we not allow them to escort us to the chamber?”

Sara knew by the tone in Gavin’s voice, that he really was not leaving the decision up to her. Nodding, defeated, she preceded him into the hall. Millicent’s tiny face looked strained, and Adam stared up at her in stunned confusion at her bedraggled appearance.

“We are ready to ascend to our chamber,” Sir Gavin announced casually. The others rose and followed them up the stairs. The procession was not nearly as lively as it had been the first time she was wed. Then, the men had stood outside the door, singing bawdy songs and offering racy advice to Lord Sanders. He had laughed and thought it a great sport, but Sara had been terrified that at any moment they might burst through the door to witness the marriage act.

Tonight, Hannah and Millicent kept up a light chatter whilst Adam laughed at something the priest was telling him about their travel to the keep. She felt uncomfortable and nauseous, but she did not feel threatened by her companions.

“Come, Sir Gavin, allow me to help yer lady undress before I retire for the night,” coaxed Millicent.

“Nay, dear Millie. I will assist My Lady with her person. Ye may all wish us well and see to yer own needs this evening.”

Adam chuckled at the entendre and bowed his head over Sara’s hand. “I wish thee a happy union, My Lady. He smiled his gopher smile and turned to retreat into the hallway. “God bless ye both,” agreed Father John. Hannah, moved to hug her stepmother, instantly regretted the move when her gown became damp. Laughing shakily, she said, “I could not be more happy for ye, Stepmother.” Millicent simply patted Sara’s hand and turned to escort young Hannah to her room.

As the door shut behind her, Sir Gavin bolted it and turned to look at Sara. She stood shivering by the fireplace, her hands clasped beneath her breasts. “Have ye something to tell me, My Lady?”

“I do not know what ye mean, Sir Gavin. Ye have asked me this already. Please, won’t ye just tell me of what ye refer?”

“Ye could not eat without getting sick. Ye are either very unhappy about this union or ye are hiding something. Which is it?”

“I-I am a bit nervous. Why? What is it that ye think I might be hiding?”

“The truth about the babe, perhaps? It has been over six months since yer husband’s death. Ye should be seven months gone by now. Judging by the size of yer stomach, the babe cannot be his.”

“Not his? Not my husbands! Art thou quite sincere, Sir? I have been locked up in this keep with my servants since my husband’s death. Just how might ye propose I might have become enceinte?”

“Ye and Adam seem to share a powerful fondness.”

Lifting her head to slant cat eyes at the object of her ire, Sara spoke coldly. “I am offended by yer implications, Sir. I would never have relations with my servants. I have been in mourning. How dare ye speak this way to me!”

“I simply aim to discover the truth of the matter. A bride groom has every right to be concerned when his bride is vomiting at their wedding.”

“Tis an upset stomach. Thou might also be a bit unsettled if thou learned in one day that thou were expected to wed and bed a man, in order to help him claim thy husband's title.”

“So the dragon breathes fire, does she?”

Sara narrowed her eyes at her new husband and refrained from rising to the bait. “I am cold. I will need to change now, so if thou wouldst excuse me?”

“Not at all. I am at thy service, Madam.”

“N-no. I can manage…if thou wouldst just turn thy back?”

“Nay. Turn about and I will loose thy ties.”

Sara looked at Sir Gavin for a long moment before she whispered, “Dost thou earnestly entertain the notion that I may have dishonored my husband’s memory?”

Gavin sighed and walked around behind Sara to work on the wet knot at her back. “Nay, I suppose not. Tis just, when I saw thee outside in the courtyard, I realized I know nothing of thy past. It unsettled me.”

Sara hiccuped, “Tis precisely because I am so unsettled that I became ill.”

“Perhaps we could tell one another a bit about ourselves. I know not how to proceed with this marriage, Sara. We shall not be able to consummate our union for some time. Yet, I dare not wait. The Black Death has the aristocracy besieged and desperate. For the first time in centuries, lesser families willing to support the crown with coin have hope of staking large parcels of land and weighty titles. I can show no weakness. At any moment, another potential heir could be vying to take my place.”

Nodding and shivering as Gavin slid her best belt onto the floor, Sara turned to look at him. “Millicent has left us some cider. I will change, and we can drink it by the rug at the hearth.”

Moving to her trunk, Sara withdrew her thickest linen under gown. She looked pleadingly up at Gavin until he humphed and turned his back. Stripping from her wet clothes, she quickly slipped on the rough hewn gown and bent to pick up her clothing. Laying them across the chair by her desk, Sara moved the chair closer to the fire, so that they might dry overnight.

“So,” Sara said, pouring them each some cider from the pitcher on the small end table. “Thou hast never been married?”

“Nay,” replied Sir Gavin, accepting the proffered mug. “As I said, I traveled and fought for the king. I had been saving my coin, in hopes of finding a home stead, when I discovered my claim to this land and titles.”

“How didst thou lay claim to the title?”

“The king informed me of the development, via a letter sent to me whilst I fought to squash a small skirmish is Sussex. According to His Majesty's decree, I must travel to Windsor, with my claim in tow. It is my plan to secure this location and then take ye, the bairn, and Hannah with me to meet the king and pay tribute.” Gavin sat upon the rug, leaning against the tall bed.

Sara sat beside him, crossing her legs, she cupped her cider in her lap. “Oh, that would be wonderful. But, not now, surely? Not with this plague at our door?”

“Nay. The plague has hit its peak, it seems. It will be withdrawing soon enough. As it does, we can establish this land with loyal servants and assure our claim on the property.”

“Why-why did ye not just marry Hannah? A male heir of hers would have further cemented yer claim. My lineage is only very distantly related to the old Lord.”

“Ye insult me, My Lady. Tis base and grasping to marry a child for the sake of personal gain. I claim these lands by right of my birth and service to the king. Marrying ye, my dependent, strengthens my ties to all my wards. Yet, I must take steps to secure the property. Without troops, this keep is vulnerable to attack.”

“Troops?”

“Aye. I have sent for mine own. They will stay in the stables and out buildings. I will not risk the inner keep with contagion.”

“How will we feed these men? How will I protect Hannah from them?”

“Thee and Hannah will not leave the keep. The men will be responsible for feeding themselves off the land. I will ask only that they be allowed to eat some apples from thine trees. Ye seem to have plenty.”

“They are thy trees, now, Sir Gavin. Thou might do with the apples as thou sees fit.”

Gavin lay upon his side, propping his head up with his hand, he whispered, “Thou art my wife. What is mine is thine.”

“Sir Gavin, I am thy property. What is mine is thine, aye. Yea, I do not believe it works the other way round.”

Chuckling, Gavin rolled upon his stomach and looked up at his new wife with renewed interest. “Thou art quite clever, aren’t thou?”

“I have been told as much, but never in a way that implied t’was a good thing. Dost thou approve, My Lord?”

“Oh, aye, I do. There is nothing more boring than dim-witted company. I shall have to try my best to keep up with thee, I suppose.”

“I have not been away from this keep for as long as I can remember. I doubt there is much I could say that would interest thee, My Lord.”

“Gavin. Please, just call me Gavin. I would like to call thee Sara.”

“Very well, Gavin. Dost thou intend to stay at this property after thou hast established thyself, or dost thou plan on leaving for London, once thou hast obtained the title and are earning a profit?”

“Ah, a clever wife, indeed.”
Perhaps too clever for her own goo
d
, thought Gavin. “I intend to settle here. There are times that the king’s business will pull me away. At those times, I will expect ye to run the household and defend the land against any who might threaten it. I have seen for myself thou art more than capable of doing so.”