His Fair Lady (17 page)

“Hannibal?”

Mildred gave a small lift of one shoulder.
“Don’t know the animal’s name, but your gentleman, Sir Royce, would
allow none but himself to see to you. Once in the keep, he carried
you up the many flights to this room, saying you’d taken ghastly
ill on the crossing.”

The last part Ana remembered clearly. She’d
huddled against Sir Royce on the ship, his arm steadfast around
her. That was after some rather unpleasant bouts of sickness. She
hadn’t taken well to the choppy waters, and she didn’t wish to
think on it overlong now, lest she make herself ill all over
again.

Ana drew her hand idly across her waist and
let it rest there. Startlingly, she felt her bare flesh. Peering
beneath the coverings, she realized someone had undressed her. She
lay naked beneath the sheets.

“Who . . . ?”

“Now, don’t you worry yourself, my lady.”
Mildred smiled, jabbering on. “Once your knight laid you abed, I
saw to your needs myself. Shooed him out, I did, and stayed with
you through the night. But oh, what a handsome one your knight is,
my lady.” She sighed. “He obviously cares for you very much.”

“My
knight?
No, you don’t und — “

“Would you like a little wine, mayhap? Or a
bit of cheese and bread? That might settle your stomach. Or if
you’d like to try something more substantial—”

Ana held up a hand to stop Mildred’s flow of
words. “A sip of wine, thank you, but nothing more. I doubt my
stomach will tolerate anything solid at the moment.”

“Yes, my lady.” The maid scuttled over to a
corner table laid with a small repast. “‘Twill take time to
readjust. But you’ll be fit and hale again before the day’s half
spent, mark my words. Here you are now,” she said, returning. “Sip
the wine slowly.”

Ana accepted the goblet and took a small
taste of the cloudy liquid. Fortunately, Mildred had turned away
again and didn’t see her grimace. The drink was intolerable. Ana
vowed, should she ever be given the opportunity, she’d brew her own
ales and beers and ciders and never touch what these English called
wine.

Mildred crossed to the bedside once more,
smiling. “Shall I see you into your bath now, my lady, before it
goes cold? You’ll feel much improved after a good soaking.”

Ana found it embarrassing to have a total
stranger help her naked from her bed. Still, she required a steady
arm on which to lean. She felt weak and uncommonly stiff.

With Mildred’s aid, Ana stepped into the tub
of hot, fragrant water. The scents of lavender and rosemary drifted
pleasantly to her nostrils as she rested back, her bones melting
into the heat. It felt glorious.

Accepting a block of soap from the maid, Ana
found it perfumed with the same floral-and-herb blend. She set to
work on herself, relishing the silken feel of the soap as it slid
over her skin. ‘Twas utter luxury, an apt reward after the wicked
Channel crossing. She could linger here all day, she believed.

But the exuberant Mildred had other ideas
and took a second bar of soap to her hair, lathering and washing it
thoroughly. After numerous rinsings, Mildred pronounced Ana clean
from head to toe and held out a large towel for her to step into.
After wrapping Ana snugly in its folds, the maid left her sitting
by the fire drying her hair while she bustled back to the bed and
began laying out a host of new garments.

“Your knight favors you greatly, my lady,”
Mildred said past her shoulder. “He’s spared no expense on your
behalf.”

Ana’s eyes widened at the assortment of
clothes covering the bed. She could no longer see its surface.

“Sir Royce had them delivered early this
morn,” the maid continued. “There are several changes of gowns,
traveling robes, undergarments, and slippers. . . .” Her voice
trailed off.

Stunned, Ana rose from the stool and joined
the maid, surveying the spread of clothing as she did. There was a
change of chemises, several gowns and overgowns, veils, gloves,
girdles, slippers, and more.

A small storm began to gather deep inside
Ana. She wanted no gifts from the man and didn’t intend to accept
them. But when she searched for her own gown among the others, she
realized ‘twas not in sight.

“Mildred, where is my gown? The one I was
wearing when I arrived, what has become of it?”

“I sent it to the laundress to be cleaned,
my lady. And, if you will pardon my saying so, ‘twas in sore need
of it.”

Ana stayed the words poised on her lips,
remembering how deathly ill she’d been on the ship and how Sir
Royce had seen her through that time — holding her in his arms,
helping her the many times she heaved over the side — a very
unladylike experience, to be sure. No doubt her dress needed
cleaning, from the crossing as well as the long days spent
traveling on the roads.

“I do expect my gown to be returned.” She
spoke a bit sharply, then softened her voice, seeing the maid’s
look. “You see, ‘tis my wedding dress and, therefore, very special
to me”‘Twas the truth. Ana intended to wear the dress still, when
she married Gervase.

“Of course, my lady,” Mildred smiled. “And
you needn’t concern yourself. Our laundress, Marguerite, is
excellent with cloth of every kind. She’ll make the gown like new,
you’ll see.” She winked, her smile widening. “I do love weddings.
And I always trust my senses about such matters. My senses tell me
you’ve chosen well in Sir Royce.”

“Sir Royce?” Ana sputtered.

“Aye. You’ve a great defender in the knight,
by the looks of him. And so considerate and handsome he is too.
Considerate I say because he took a different bed for himself last
night and let you be, knowing how sick you were and all. But don’t
you fret. Plenty of time for cozying up. He’ll get you with many a
beautiful babe, and you’ll have no complaints about how he
accomplishes that, I vow.”

“Sir Royce and me?” Ana choked out, feeling
herself flush to her toes. But the cheeky maid had already spun
away before Ana could correct her misconceptions.

“He waits below for you now with Brother
Giraldus,” Mildred gabbled on as she held up one of the chemises.
“Best we see you dressed and down to him.”

Ana started to press the issue and explain
that Sir Royce and she were not wed. But instead, she found herself
tongue-tied as she fought down images of herself and Sir Royce
intimately involved. Such a preposterous notion. Outrageous,
really.

Were she a true lady of noble blood, Ana
knew she should redress the maid for her boldness. As it was,
judging by the quality of Mildred’s garments and the fact that she
was in service to nobles, Ana questioned whether Mildred’s station
might actually be higher than her own, for she herself was merely a
brewer’s daughter. Regardless, Ana decided to let the matter lie
and gave herself over to the maid’s ministrations.

With Mildred’s aid, Ana first slipped into a
long linen chemise. The garment’s cloth was light and finely woven,
infinitely more comfortable against her skin than the wool she
normally wore. Next, she drew on colorfully patterned hose, which
the maid gartered for her at each knee.

Relying on Mildred’s judgment, Ana
chose a creamy gown, embroidered with gold thread about the neck
and hem and possessing close-fitting sleeves. ‘Twas made of the
most wondrous fabric, something Mildred called
chansil
, a silk blend, she explained. Ana ran
her fingers over it, delighting in the smoothness of its texture.
But Mildred interrupted, assisting her into an overgown that she
called by its English name, a kirtle. This was of a sunny-gold
wool, its skirt falling only to the knees and its wide, turned-back
sleeves to the elbows.

Mildred turned Ana around and laced the gown
up the back, and when done, Ana found that the gown hugged her
shape to the top of her hips most revealingly. To finish the
attire, the maid fastened a girdle low about her hips, suspending
from it a small mirror and purse. The latter, Ana discovered, held
a single denier. Evidently, Sir Royce did not wish her to be
without coin, but was not about to allow her enough to buy passage
back to France. Last came slippers, the leather soft as butter.

“Now, my lady, let us see to your hair.”
Mildred led her back to the stool by the fire and began combing out
her long tresses. But as she drew her hair back and began to work
it into a braid, Ana stopped her.

“But, my lady, a married woman always binds
her hair,” the maid objected.

“Sir Royce prefers it loose and flowing,”
Ana returned, unsure he cared one way or the other, but
nevertheless not wishing her hair bound.

“Very well, my lady.”

Mildred crowned her hair with a light
flowing veil, transparent and shimmery, spilling down Ana’s back to
her hips. This the maid secured with a twisted silken cord,
repeating the colors of her gowns.

“You look ravishing, my lady,” Mildred
praised. “Here, see for yourself.” She handed Ana a disc-shaped
mirror of polished metal.

The reflection that gazed back from the
mirror startled Ana, and she found herself astonished by her own
transformation. Quickly, she set the mirror aside. She mustn’t
allow herself to become seduced by such luxuries and temptations,
she told herself. ‘Twas an illusion she saw in the mirror, created
with elegant clothes and costly novelties. Gervase waited for her.
She must keep her thoughts on him. She intended to regain her
freedom and return to Chinon to become a cooper’s wife, that and no
more.

“Sir Royce awaits, my lady.” Mildred spoke
at her elbow. “Are you ready to go down?”

“As ready as ever I shall be.”

Quitting the room, Ana followed the maid
through a long vaulted corridor, then down a flight of spiraling
stairs. As they turned into another passage, Ana saw a large glazed
window at its end. She found it curiously appealing, with its
regular gridwork of panes. Glancing ahead to the maid, Ana
continued to follow her, but then an odd, prickling sensation crept
over her. Hesitantly, she returned her gaze to the window. ‘Twas
somehow familiar.

Without warning, an image gripped hold of
Ana. In her mind’s eye she saw a young girl, no more than eight,
with flowing hair, silvery like her own. The girl laughed and
giggled as she ran along the corridor toward that same window. A
nursemaid chased behind her, both playing a game of some sort.
Their laughter echoed in the passageway, resounding in Ana’s ears
as though having just been uttered.

The child glanced back over her shoulder,
and when she turned forward again, she discovered a tall man at the
end of the corridor, outlined before the window. He caught her up,
joining in the laughter as he twirled her around, holding her high
above his head. As he lowered the girl and held her against his
chest, she spied something upon his shoulder, something that
attracted her. The child reached out to touch it, but before she
did, the image vanished.

Ana stumbled sideways toward the wall,
throwing her hands out to catch herself as she fell against it.
Mildred moved instantly to her side, bracing her up by the waist
and elbow.

“My lady, are you all right? My lady?”

Ana gulped for breath, the space
around her swirling
slowly to a halt, the corridor
empty save for herself and the maid.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine.” She massaged her
forehead. “‘Tis only the effects of the crossing that I still
suffer. I’ll be all right.”

But would she? Ana wondered, unable to
account for the strange incident.

“Come, my lady,” Mildred urged. “‘Tis just a
little further now and you can rest.”

»«

Brother Giraldus cocked his tonsured head to
one side, eyeing Royce’s injuries. Then a deep rumbling laughter
rolled upward from his belly and out of his throat.

“Do you mean to tell me . . .” He paused to
swipe the tears of mirth from his eyes, chuckling through each
word. “. . . to tell me that you battled Saracens for a full decade
and returned without a scratch, only to suffer all manner of cuts,
stitches, and contusions when you fetched a simple maid from the
country?” He erupted with laughter once more.

“I never said I hadn’t been wounded by the
Saracens, and I assure you, there is nothing simple about the maid.
Not this one.” Royce lifted a forebearing brow at the jolly cleric.
Annoyingly, at the mention of his stitches, they began to itch
along his arm where the flesh healed. ‘Twas a bothersome reminder
of his Ordeal-by-Juliana.

A solid rapping sounded at the door, drawing
both men’s attention. As Brother Giraldus pulled the door open,
Royce turned to discover the source of his injuries framed in the
portal. He sucked a breath.

Juliana was stunning. She illuminated the
very space in which she stood, like the sun and stars rolled into
one.

Royce struggled to find his voice as his
eyes roamed downward from her silvery blonde hair to her golden
gown, and slippered feet. Her veil added to the effect, a
shimmering mist of fabric cascading to her hips. Juliana appeared
every inch the finest of court ladies — certainly the lady she was
ever meant to be. Would that this vision could persist.

“Come in, child. Come in.” Brother
Giraldus broke the spell as he ushered Juliana into the chamber and
waved
away the servant woman who stood without. “Bless
me! Are you the maid who bested the great hero of Acre and Ascalon?
And such a little thing you are.” His eyes danced merrily as he
glanced to Royce.

Confusion crossed Juliana’s face, but still
her gaze remained fixed on Royce, consuming him as it had from the
moment the chamber door first opened.

“Hero?” she asked, the words whispering from
her lips.

“Why, yes, my child.” Brother Giraldus’s
eyes shifted between the two. “Did you not know? Sir Royce is a
famed Crusader knight.”