Rose of Hope (47 page)

As the meaning of her words sank into his mind, a red haze washed over his vision. The rage rose so quickly it nigh choked him. He fought it. A mindless response was worse than useless.

When he could speak, he said, “Certain you are of this?”

“I believe so. A hand against my back did overset my balance. Aye, and also, methinks I heard someone pass by, running down toward the hall even as I fell.”

He gave thought to her words. “There is but one here who holds you in such low esteem, Ysane, and who might be bold enough to try such a thing.” He walked with her, supporting her down the stairs and into the hall. It gladdened his heart she seemed to move with reasonable ease. “Will you be well, my rose, if I leave you now?”

“Of course,” she said, though he heard her breath catch, now and anon. She adjusted her headrail. “I will have Roana with me, and others.”

“’Tis my wish you are not to be alone. I would have your word you will insure this.”

“You have it. But what think you?”

“That I will learn where the slave Leda was when this happened. Has she no witnesses that put her far from the stairwell, I will have her locked in the gatehouse until I can question her.”

“Fallard, do naught in haste. ’Tis my belief I was pushed. Still, it may be I but imagined what I felt. ’Twas light, that touch, and mayhap, ’twas naught but my own mind seeking to understand what happened. Mayhap, I did truly trip on my hem. I…well, ’tis only that I can be not sure.”

“I understand. But the other is also possible. I will rest not, nor will I leave you alone until I am satisfied we have no attempted murderers in our midst…and we have still not found our traitor.”

With these words, and a buss of his lips against hers, he left her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The rest of the day went well in spite of its inauspicious beginning.

Ysane’s first act was to order the seven-day baths, earning ferocious scowls from Roul and Fauques. Next, she supervised the new batch of tallow candles being dipped in the courtyard. After that, accompanied by Roana and Lewena—who requested of Randel they stay a few extra nights—she walked to the village. With them, were servants carrying more blankets and clothing for the children of Ceorl and Sreda, as well as extra foodstuffs for those who sheltered the homeless family.

They visited the houses of the ill and elderly to help cook and clean, but Ysane was subtly encouraged to sit, rather than work. Whenever she tried to sweep or wash a dish, someone politely took away the broom or gently moved her from the pails. After this happened several times, she gave up and let the women have their way. In truth, she hurt too much to argue.

They chatted of many things while they worked. It took little effort to coax forth Lewena’s smiles as she spoke of her children, or to encourage Roana to tell of her happiness. Indeed, her cousin seemed to float her way through the day. That Trifine made her nigh deliriously happy was plain for all to see.

As the day progressed, Ysane felt her movements slow and become more pronounced, though she refused to allow her cheerful mien to waver. She felt about as flexible as Fallard’s sword, and it seemed the world had developed a disquieting tendency to tilt.

She made no demur when Lewena came to take her arm. “Ysane, ’tis time to return to the hall.”

She heard Roana tell the alewife to send Luilda to the hall and then her cousin’s arm was around her waist. They made their way slowly homeward.

***

Fallard spent the morn overseeing the beginning construction of Ceorl’s new home, then closeted himself with Tenney. The hoarder wished to discuss an anomaly in his records, one he had earlier mentioned. “My th-thegn, I believe I have pr-previously spoken of how two of your f-f-fiefs, Montceaster and Nevyndon, which border each other, have become unpr-profitable over the past t-t-two twelvemonths. I can find no g-g-good reason why.”

“Show me,” Fallard said. He soaked a crust of bread in his nooning meal of chicken and onion stew and took a bite. When the hoarder laid out his suspicions, he agreed something was wrong, as both fiefs should show far more gain.

He set both elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers, tapping his pursed lips with the tips of his thumbs. “I admit to puzzlement, Tenney. You say these two stewards have no history of incompetence, personal greed or bad management, so why are their quarterly dues steadily falling? Neither man mentioned difficulties during their recent stay. Do you still believe them involved in felonious activity?”

“I am c-c-certain of it. There is no other explanation. Yet, I was assured all was well when I spoke with them. I wished to m-m-make you aware of the situation, that you may to handle it as you p-please.”

Fallard rose and silently paced, working out his hunch. He hoped he was wrong, but the more he considered, the more possible it became. Both the stewards were Saxons. Though he had not come to know them well, he had sensed from both men a sly disrespect towards him and the other Normans during their stay at the hall. The two had also spent most of their time either alone or with each other. Were they siphoning Wulfsinraed’s profits to finance the rebels?

He would have to deal with this at once, for any man who stole from his lord, ultimately stole from the king. Passing those ill-gotten gains to rebels lifted the crime beyond theft to treason.

“Tenney, is Wigmaer as capable as you?”

“Aye, m-m-my thegn.”

“Good, call him here.”

The hoarder looked as if he feared he was to be dismissed, but he hurried to obey.

While Fallard waited for the assistant hoarder to arrive, he wandered to the window to look out on the drooping tree limbs in the orchard. Only time would tell if they would recover from the ice that had encased them, to bud again and bear fruit. Movement nigh the crypts resolved itself into Roul, Fauques, and several other youngsters. The corners of his eyes crinkled. Like all boys their age, they had a lively, if morbid interest in such places.

The crypts reminded him of his little rose and he wondered how she did. He suspected she would return soon from the village, probably in considerable discomfort.

The door opened and Tenney returned with the assistant hoarder.

“Good day, my thegn. ’Twas your wish to speak with me?” There was curiosity in Wigmaer’s tone, but naught more.

“Aye. Come and sit.”

A short while later, Wigmaer leaned back. “Tenney is correct. There are troubling irregularities here.”

“Both of you pack for a journey,” Fallard ordered. “Tenney, I send you to Nevyndon and Wigmaer, you are for Montceaster. You will review their records, assess their profits for the past two twelvemonths and tally their supplies. You will return not until you know why they fail to meet their obligations. Do not allow yourselves to be intimidated by the stewards, or your work in any way obstructed, for you will operate in my stead, under my authority. I will prepare written orders to that effect.

“A patrol will escort you, enough men to split into two groups and still protect you both well. The moment you arrive, place two Wulfsinraed guards at the hoarding room doors and two more at the entrances to the storehouses so none may enter without your permission. I want no one to have opportunity to hide aught that should be seen. Be ready to leave in an hour. Send word when you know aught for certain. Send word by the end of a seven-day, whether you learn aught or not. Any questions?”

“Nay, my thegn,” they answered in unison. Tenney began to gather the things they would need as Fallard left the chamber to find Ysane.

***

In the busy hustle and bustle of the kitchen that eve, none took notice when an auburn-haired slave, using a sleight of hand any London pickpocket would envy, dumped a small portion of a clear brown liquid into a mead-filled goblet of blue glass. She continued into the hall with her own tray of trenchers.

Another maid caught up the blue goblet, along with three others, on her way out the door. As she hurried around the mead-benches and approached the eating platform, a small tear in the hem of her cyrtel caught in the toe of her shoe. She gave a startled cry as she fell and instinctively threw her hands forward to catch herself. The goblets flew in all directions. By chance, the precious blue goblet landed on a pile of fresh straw and thus was saved from breakage. But the mead within pooled at the very back of the platform. The girl picked herself up, stuttered abject apologies to the curious expressions of those at the table, gathered the goblets with shaking hands and fled back to the kitchen.

At first, no one noticed the rats that slithered from beneath the platform and greedily lapped at the small puddle, but as the rodents moved further into the open a slave saw them and chased them back underneath.

Not until three days later did the stench of something dead grow so strong that a servant was sent with a broom to sweep out from beneath the platform. He found the stiffened corpses of two rats, their muzzles and front paws covered in dried blood. He twitched his nose in disgust and promptly dumped them in the river.

***

After sup the day of Ysane’s fall, Fallard sat at the hearth of one of the hall’s fire pits. Gathered around him were Randel, Trifine, Jehan and Domnall. Humor tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched the expressions of the two Saxons while he explained his plan to build a pillow mound—a structure of earth surrounded by a strong wattle fence—along the inside of the wall on the far side of the craftsmen’s cottages. ’Twas not the enclosure or its construction that had both men eyeing him as if they thought themselves the butt of a jest, but what he intended to keep in the mound.

“’Tis a queer thing you ask us to believe,” Randel finally said after Fallard finished explaining. “Hares, but not you say. But how can a hare be not a hare?”

Trifine chuckled.

“I said not that ’twas a hare, but a rabbit,” Fallard said, “and that a rabbit is
like
a hare, but not.” He supposed ’twas a difficult thing to understand for those who had never seen the difference. “Rabbits are better eating, and, aye, those Saxons privileged to feast on the sweet, tender flesh have pronounced it superior. Trust me. You will see and learn for yourself when the stock I purchased arrives.”

***

Across the space nigh to the other firepits, Ysane sewed a new linen tunic for Fallard. She, Roana and Lewena were eavesdropping unashamedly on the men’s conversation.

“Know you whereof Fallard speaks, Ysane?” Lewena asked as she worked on her embroidery.

“Nay, I have not heard of this…’rabbit’ creature.”

“Nor I,” said Roana, “but if one believes Fallard, ’twould seem a very fine dish, fit for the table of a lord and indeed, even that of the king.”

Lewena nodded. “Fallard did mention the king enjoys it. Ysane, you must invite us when these creatures are served. I would taste this new food for myself and ’tis a surety Randel will wish it also, if only to assure himself ’tis not a tale told in jest.”

She chuckled at the disgruntled expression on her husband’s face.

“I will call upon you both to try the dish and judge its merits,” Ysane said, laughing. “Methinks mayhap, I shall also invite Thegn Noll and Lady Matty. ’Twould be a merry time of it should they also be present at such a noble feast!”

She smiled at the enjoyment on the faces of her companions, glad for the peace of the eve and that she felt so much better from her fall. Though Luilda warned she would be sore for a few more days, she had rested ere sup and the healer’s poultices and potions had eased the worst of the aches that still plagued her. She set aside her sewing, sipped the honey-sweetened blackcurrant tea the women were sharing, and took up a sheet of vellum.

“Look you,” she said, and started to draw the outline of a new tapestry she wanted to weave. “I will soon finish the tapestry on which I have worked, and want to begin a new one. Tell me, what think you of this pattern?”

She began to explain her idea.

The women soon dissolved into giggles, for Ysane wished to weave a comical scene involving the confused unicorn in the song she was learning to play on her dulcimer.

***

As the men’s talk moved on to the spacious new cottage being erected for Ceorl, Fallard allowed his attention to wander to the women, or more specifically, to one woman.

I must remind myself when we retire to our chamber this night to ask what inspires so much mirth.

The firelight played on his wife’s animated face and shone like dark orange flames in her green eyes as she glanced at him now and anon.

The sigh he breathed was a deep, slow, silent inhalation, but ’twas one of profound well-being, for this eve was the first quiet gathering of none but family and close friends since his tempestuous arrival at the burh. Sup had been relaxed and enjoyable. At the far end of the hall, Wurth the scop told the story of ‘
The Seafarer’
. He strummed his lute in time to the chanting refrain. In the corner opposite, the handful of young children belonging to the hall’s retainers gathered together, laughing or arguing as children will do while they played games under the direction of their nurse. Scattered about the hall, men played chess or knucklebones, Norman and Saxon in comfortable companionship, while others whittled or listened to the music. Roul and Fauques, with the other squires, played at games designed to test their manly skills. Even the hall’s servants went about their ceaseless chores, more at ease than he had yet seen them.

For twelvemonths, he had yearned for this scene to play out in a hall of his own and now, ’twas difficult to believe ’twas real. To be complete, all that was needed was the presence of children of his own seed.

Contentment such as he had never known took flight within his soul.

He absently answered a question put to him by Domnall, then felt his glance drawn back to his wife. She looked straight at him, and offered a secret little smile. The room narrowed to naught but the two of them. How long they were locked in that spellbound sphere he knew not, but he was brought abruptly to himself when Trifine nudged his ankle with an ungentle toe.