Authors: Roberta Gellis
“No!” I exclaimed. “You think me a selfish monster indeed if you believe I would call my sister's husband to war in the rescue of mine. I will beg for money. I will beg for men. I will do everything a woman can do to raise as large a force as I can. But I will also do everything in my power to
prevent
Hugh from being involved in any fighting.”
I did. I swear I did everything I could to keep Hugh from leading my small army, but it was all in vain. Despite my need, I would never have gone to Jernaeve at all if I believed he would think of joining the fight to save Stephen unless I asked it of him. I am sure Bruno never told me that Hugh had once promised to take service with the king when his old master, Sir Walter Espec, no longer needed him. The king had freed Hugh from that promise when he did homage for Jernaeve in Audris's name, but Hugh was like Papa and Bruno; he did not forget old promises.
Did Ypres know? Was that the reason that he advised me to ride straight north to Jernaeve rather than northwest to Ulle? He said it was safer, that the whole central part of the country was seething with unrest, with war bands marching to and fro and outlaws attacking travelers and merchants. He took the trouble to speak to Fechin and Merwyn and describe a route that should safely bypass the strongholds of Matilda's supporters. And we did come safely to Jernaeve, only once having hidden in a wood while a troop marched by and once having outrun a party that rushed out at us from a ruined village.
Hugh and Audris were at the lower gate to meet us, Audris's face whiter than bone and her eyes round with terror. She had been weaving and from her tower window had seen Fechin on Barbe before we crossed the ford. As I had, she feared Bruno was dead. I had forgot she might recognize Barbe, and though I had written to Audris almost every month ever since I had been with her in Jernaeve, I had not told her Bruno had been taken prisoner because I knew she was with child again and was afraid to cause her worry.
So my tale burst from my lips before I had even dismounted from Vinaigreâat least I cried out that Bruno was alive and with the king. Before I could say more, Audris flew from tears to joy. I did not think that unreasonable, for I had felt the same, and she began at once to talk of ransom.
“Hush, love,” Hugh said. “Bruno will not leave the king. If he had desired to be ransomed, we would have heard the terms long ago. Remember that the king was taken prisoner in February, and this is July. Let us go back into the keep so Melusine can rest and eat. Ride up,” Hugh urged me, but I shook my head and dismounted.
“I hope you do not blame me for lying to you,” I said, taking Audris's hand. “I was afraidâ”
She patted her belly, which was large, with her free hand and shook her head. Then, still holding me, she began to walk across the bailey. Her step was not as light as usual, but she was breathing easily and I was astonished when Hugh picked her up and began to carry her up the steep path to the keep. She said once, “Put me down,” but when he did not, she only sighed and did not protest again.
I poured out the rest of my news on our way into the keep, and Hugh shouted with pleasure when he heard that the empress had been driven out of London and had fled with no more than the clothes on her back. However, they would not let me explain my business until I had bathed and eaten, and I was glad of it. I found it harder than I thought to ask for money, but Audris laughed at me and waved her hand, brushing away any thought of debt.
“I am alive only because of Bruno's care of me,” she said. “Between my brother and me there can be no thought of debt. Money is lightly come by. A few tapestries and a few hawks will pay for all.”
“Bruno will not agree,” I said, smiling at her. “You know that.”
“Bruno will have nothing to say about it,” Audris replied. “If you do not tell him, he will not know.”
Hugh laughed. “We will see. Men may cost less than you think, Melusine. I will send out a summons and send this news to Espec. You may not need to bear the burden of the force we raise. Leave that to me.”
“But will not that make trouble for you with your overlord?” I asked fearfully. “I know Henry is King Stephen's vassal, but he is also King David's son. I thought he could not blame you if I hired men in the queen's name. He could not know you had given me the coin to pay them.”
“I hold directly from Stephen,” Hugh said. “Henry has no right over my service to the king.” Then he smiled at me. “And even if he did, I am sure he would look the other way. Henry does not love Matilda. He was here not very long ago, bemoaning his father's need to uphold his oath to herâand Henry never swore that oath.”
I sighed with relief and gladly relinquished the gathering of men in Northumbria into Hugh's hands. Then I asked whether he knew a good man to lead them. “I do not think my father's old friend Sir Gerald could do it,” I said. “He is loyal and will be able to lead the men from Ulle, but he always served under Papa, and I am not sure how he would manage men who do not know him. I wish there were time for me to bring him here so you could talk to him, but there is not, and Ypres said I must have a good leader.”
Hugh was looking at me strangely. “What are you talking about? If I summon men, I will lead them.”
“No!” I cried. “No!”
He looked shocked and hurt. “Do you not trust me?”
“Trust you? What has that to do with it? Must I sacrifice my sister's husband to regain my own? No! Not you! I will do without the men from Northumbria. Curse me that I ever came here. No! Is it not evil enough on my soul that I will send an old friend to die?”
Audris put her hand on mine. “Melusine, my love, is there something you have not told us? Is this cause so hopeless?”
“No! I swear it is not.” Tears began to run down my face and Audris drew me closer on the bench and put her arms around me. I tried to think. How did I know Maud's hope was not illusion? I knew because William of Ypres did not suffer from illusions in matters of war. “It cannot be hopeless because Ypres is burning to begin.”
“Oh?” Hugh drew out the word in a pleased way. “How do you know that?”
“I had to explain to him what I wished to do before the queen would give me leave. He told meâwell, I did not understand everything so I wrote down all I could rememberâbut the way he spoke told of his eagerness.”
“Good.” Hugh's brilliant eyes shone with pleasure. “William of Ypres has his head fixed firmly on his shoulders. He does not indulge himself in dreams. I will want to see what you wrote.”
“No!” I said, setting my teeth. “You are not going to war on my account. Audris, forbid him! Beg him!”
“I cannot forbid him,” Audris said slowly, “and it would be wrong to beg for what would hurt him. But I will ask.” She leaned forward, the better to see her husband, who was sitting in Sir Oliver's chair. “Why, Hugh? Is there no one else fit to lead?”
That was when I learned of Hugh's promise to the king. Audris seemed to know of it, and nodded her head as soon as he reminded her. She sat back then, apparently content to let him go to war, but I did not yield so easily. I wept and pleaded, and Hugh came and joined us on the bench, also embracing and soothing meâbut not wavering a whitâuntil at last I brought out the deepest horror in my mind.
“You must not,” I pleaded, and then I wiped the tears from my cheeks and eyes and stood up to face them. “Do you not know that I am death. I told Audris. No man or woman who has loved me has lived out a natural span of life. And it will all be in vain too. When we have captured the empress and bought the king's freedom, Bruno will be dead.”
Hugh looked from me to Audris and back again and, to my utter amazement, burst out laughing as he got to his feet. “Now I know why you two loved each other at first sight. One is a witch and the other a prophet, and both are given to imagining horrors that do not come to pass.”
Then he grew sober, drew me close, kissed my forehead, and stood back with a hand lightly on my shoulder. “Melusine, you are a very foolish woman. I am sorry there has been so much sadness in your life, but it is not uncommon. I inherited Ruthsson for just the same reason. My grandfather had four sons and three daughters and a pack of grandchildren, and his brother and I are the only two still alive. I forget just what killed each one, but I know that plague and war played their parts as in your family. It did not hurt me as it hurt you because I never knew any of them, did not even know they were my family until long after all were dead, but I do not go about calling myself death personified because I inherited. Now, I will leave you to Audris to sort out, and I will start my messengers on their way.”
“Hugh is quite right,” Audris said, holding out her hand to me and drawing me down on the bench beside her again. “Plague and war strike everywhere. You know, my love, that it was only by Bruno's care of me that I survived a plague that killed my father and Bruno's mother and nearly all the people in Jernaeve keep and village. It is no person's fault when such dreadful things happen.” She smiled at me. “In some ways you are very like Bruno. He also blames himself for not preventing from happening things that no man could prevent.”
I remembered saying that to him myself just before King Stephen had gone to attack Lincoln keep, where he had been captured. I uttered a sob, but smiled at the same time. I was comforted in a sense, but my fear for Hugh still lay, a great weight on my heart. I took Audris's tiny hands in mine.
“Forget my foolishness. But even if I am not something evil that puts a death mark on those who care for me, war is dangerous. Do you not fear for Hugh?”
“Yes,” Audris said, “but not beyond measure. I fear for Hugh when he goes out to drive raiders off the land, and even when he rides a new, half-trained horse.” She freed one hand and touched my cheek. “But you see, Melusine, in my life mostly good things have happened to me. Thus, I fear in hope, in expectation, that no harm will come to my loved ones. You fear in despair, and that must be an unbelievable pain. I can heal many ills, but I do not know how to heal that.”
“It cannot be healed, but you bring me comfort,” I told her, pressing the hand I held. “And I think at long last I am learning to bear it without lying to myself to avoid the painâwhich only makes it worse until I find myself sitting on the floor in an empty chamber looking at the wall.”
“Oh, Melusine,” Audris cried, embracing me and holding me tight. “What happened?”
I told her and was comforted again because she did not scorn me for my weakness or withdraw in horror. “But if no harm comes to Hugh and if Brunoâ” I had to swallow as panic closed off my voice, but I did go on. “And if Bruno is restored to me alive, perhaps I will find the bearing easier.” I sighed. “Even if I do not, I must learn to bear it, or someday I will go into that dark place and not be able to find my way out again.”
“I do not think so,” Audris said. Her expression was thoughtful. “I do not think it is the pain of grief you cannot bear. Perhaps the first time it was, that and the fear of your father's disapproval because you had lost Ulleâa fear that would be greater when you knew he was dead because one cannot explain to the dead or get their forgiveness. But in Westminster I think what drove you to hide from yourself was that you could not abandon your need for either your father or your husband. That was the child fighting against the woman. No one wishes to leave childhood behind, and it is true is it not that your father was quick to lift from you any burden you felt was too heavy?”
I stared at her open-mouthed for a moment. True? Of course it was true, all of it, but especially the part about Papa lifting burdens from me; in fact, often Papa would not give me burdens I wished to carry. Yet I saw at once what Audris meant. Papa was safety. I could turn my back on anything I did not like while Papa lived. Bruno was different. He needed my strength as much as I needed his. I nodded at Audris.
“Yes, I was always Papa's dear little child.”
“Well,” Audris said, “you are a woman now.” Then she smiled. “I did not like it when it happened to me either. And it is true that a grown-up woman cannot run for help like a child, but a grown-up person may share a heavy burden.”
“I have certainly shared mine,” I said wryly. “It seems to me that I have dumped it on you rather than sharing it. And this is a bad time for you, Audris. You are very near your time, are you not? Surely you want Hugh here when you are brought to bed.”
“Want Hugh?” Audris turned eyes full of horror on me. “I would not have chosen to have him go to war, but I am almost glad even of that if it will save me from Hugh when I am brought to bed. Is it not bad enough to bear the pangs without needing to comfort someone else? He is not so bad this time. He only asks me
ten
times a day how I feel instead of fifty and only twice or three times instead of ten times carries food to me because I do not eat enough. These last months
are
hard for me because I am small, but I am healthy and strong. You saw him carry me when I could walk. I know it is because he loves me, but still I must bite my tongue not to scream at him.” Suddenly she giggled. “Wait, your turn will come. Bruno will be worse than Hugh. I would not be surprised if you
prayed
for a war to take him away.”
I laughed in response, but somewhat uneasily, fearing she was putting a good face over reluctance so that her need would not come before her brother's. “But you will be alone,” I said.
“Alone? Do not be silly. My Aunt Eadyth is here and Hugh's Aunt Marie. Both of them have born children and will be of much more help than Hugh. And if strength is needed for something, there is Fritha, my maid. She is as strong as an ox.”
How foolish I was, I thought. Most women looked to other women for help and comfort; naturally Audris would rather have her aunts than an ignorant and frightened man when she was brought to bed. I would prefer women too. It was only out of habit that I thought of a man as bringing comfort. Then I realized that Hugh must not have yet considered that problem and breathed a sigh of relief.