Susan Spencer Paul (23 page)

“Lillis,” said Alexander, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth, “there are so many things I would say to you this night—” A bright orange kitten rudely leapt into his lap, interrupting him with its loud, demanding squeals. “Damnation!” he muttered, glaring at the small and shaggy creature.

Lillis giggled, and Alexander didn’t have the heart to throw the thing off his lap. Seeing that their bold companion had not been tossed aside, several of the other cats decided to brave the ascent to Alexander’s lap. Lillis began to laugh fully and Alexander was forced to stand in order to end the siege. Complaining, the cats and kittens scurried away.

“Where did they all come from?” he demanded. “I remember seeing cats when I came here before, but this is madness! You actually let them inside?”

Lillis had to wipe her eyes before she could answer laughingly, “Yes, I let them inside. I love cats. When I was a little girl I used to beg my father to let me bring home one of the village cats, but he always said no. He hated cats with a passion. He said they made him sneeze. But when I turned five he gave me a kitten for my birthday.” Her expression softened and she smiled in memory. “She was the sweetest little gray-and-white creature and I loved her so much. Of course, once she grew she was pregnant every few months and soon the castle was filled with all manner of cats and kittens. My poor father! He hated each and every one of them and sneezed constantly, but he couldn’t bear to hurt my feelings by getting rid of them so he put up with the misery.” She sobered and grew thoughtful. “I was surprised to find there were still cats here when I returned. I thought surely he would get rid of them when he sent me to Tynedale, but I suppose he had grown used to them.” She fell silent.

“Perhaps they reminded him of you,” Alexander suggested, and the thought surprised him, for he’d never before considered Jaward capable of any tender feelings, not even toward his own daughter.

“Perhaps,” she said, then added with a smile, “Would you like to play a game of chess before we eat, my lord? Do you remember how we used to play in the evenings at Gyer?”

“How could I forget? You were beginning to beat me too often.”

“Only with Willem’s help,” she said, standing to fetch the one gaming table that Wellewyn possessed. “But he’s not here tonight so we will be well matched. And it is the strangest thing. I don’t recall there being a set of playing pieces at Wellewyn, for I can never remember my father playing, but the twins found it somewhere.” She set the table between them and went to bring the pieces. When she returned with a red velvet bag, she said, “It is remarkably like the sets at Gyer, don’t you think?” She dumped the pieces out.

Very remarkably, Alexander thought. Indeed, he might have said that they were
exactly
like the sets at Gyer, but he didn’t. If Lillis was happy, he was happy. The twins could steal everything he owned in order to attain that goal.

They commenced a friendly game, and Alexander knew a contentment he hadn’t felt since Lillis had left him. It seeped into him, into his very bones, so that he was thoroughly relaxed and happy. There seemed to be no better place in the world than the place he was, sitting before a warm fire in Castle Wellewyn, sipping wine and playing chess with his beautiful wife. Her face, across from his, animated with frustration and delight during the game, made him feel crazed with love.

They laughed loudly while they played, and talked in low voices, and laughed loudly again. Alexander dutifully told her about the children and Edyth and Aunt Leta, and readily answered all of her questions about everything from his plans for new crops to how the brothers at the monastery were doing. Lillis, in turn, told Alexander about the improvements being made at Wellewyn and of the growing satisfaction among the people there. She related how the twins had made themselves popular amongst the villagers with their cheery natures and willingness to help in the repairs being done. Willem, she said, had proved to be a capable manager, and had won the trust of the people of Wellewyn with his ability to quickly and fairly settle disputes, and with his ready availability to one and all, equally.

The cats and kittens grew braver after an hour or so and slowly crept back, one by one, to sit beside them. Before he realized what had happened, Alexander found that his lap was filled with warm, sleeping, purring cats, and when he looked he saw that Lillis was in the same situation. She must have seen him looking, for she smiled at him in such a grateful way that, though he wanted to, he didn’t push the creatures off. He would do anything to please her, and with a jolt realized that perhaps he and Jaward had had more in common than he’d have ever thought.

“M
adam,” said Alexander, setting his eating dagger down and patting his full stomach with satisfaction, “that was indeed a fine meal, just as you promised it would be. I give you my compliments.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” Lillis accepted grandly. “For our Lord Gyer we spared nothing, though I know our simple fare can’t compare to that served at Gyer. More wine, my lord?”

Alexander extended his cup. “A little. I’ll not drink too much more, however, else I’ll never be able to stay atop my horse all the way back to Gyer.”

Lillis smiled and poured the wine.

“Alexander,” she said more seriously after a moment, “I wish to ask you something about Hugh and Hugo. Have you ever noticed anything different about them? Different from the rest of your siblings, I mean.”

“Of course!” Alexander exclaimed, laughing. “Have not you? They’re different from
anyone
I’ve ever met, much less my other brothers and sister. Why? Do you have reason to believe that my parents stole them from gypsies or some such? I assure you they didn’t, though God alone knows I’ve thought the same thing at least a thousand times during my life. Over and over, after they’ve performed some particularly heinous misdeed, I’ve looked at them and said, ‘They cannot be my brothers. They
cannot
be.’ But, of course—” he shrugged and smiled “—they are.”

Lillis smiled weakly in return, wondering whether she should say anything about what Barbara had told her. She’d thought much on the matter over the past few weeks, especially because the twins were constantly underfoot, forcing her to think of it. Could they truly be her half brothers? The idea seemed unbelievable, and yet, she must admit, they did resemble her father. She knew she was
trying
to see the resemblance, yet even so she couldn’t dismiss the similarities that were there. What she couldn’t understand was how they were her half brothers, if indeed they were, and how they had come to live at Gyer instead of Wellewyn.

“Do they resemble your mother’s side of the family, then?” she queried.

“Yes, though they get their dark hair from our father. All of us do in that way, save Candis, who escaped with a little of my mother’s red coloring. My mother had green eyes, which is where the twins and I got ours and where I suppose Candis got her hazel eyes from. My father was quite dark all over, much like Willem and Justin. Dark hair and dark eyes. He used to frighten me near to death when I was a child, all dark and omnipotent as he was.” Alexander pulled a grape off a bunch that rested in a nearby bowl and popped it into his mouth. “I used to think he was the very devil,” he added, smiling.

The very devil, thought Lillis.
Her
father had had green eyes and his hair had been quite dark until age had turned it white.

“That must have been a difficult delivery for your mother. Bearing twins, I mean.”

“Oh, it was,” Alexander agreed. “I shall never, in all my life, forget it. I was ten years of age and my father was away from home, as he generally was. Matters hadn’t stood well between them during the months of Mother’s pregnancy. He left, I think, to avoid being there for the birth, to punish her for some reason or other.” He reached out and took hold of one of Lillis’s hands, holding it with both of his on the tabletop.

“I remember my mother screaming with so much pain and crying like a little child. Willem was only eight then, and it was very hard on him. He had a hiding place beneath one of the tapestries in the great hall and I found him there, all trembling and crying. I tried to comfort him, though to little avail. We sat together for a long time, listening to the screams. It was odd,” he said with a shake of his head, “but Aunt Leta wasn’t at Gyer, either. I don’t know why, but she wasn’t.

“My poor mother! She had no one to stand by her. There were her ladies-in-waiting and the servants, of course, but no family. The screams were terrible. I could hardly stand them. And Willem! Willem cried and cried. I remember being so angry with my father. So angry that I hated him.”

He fell silent and their eyes met. Lillis squeezed his hand and nodded sympathetically. Alexander continued.

“Finally I felt as though I could bear it no longer. I left Willem beneath the tapestry and went to my mother’s chamber—the chamber that is yours now. The women who were there told me to leave, but I wouldn’t. I went to my mother’s side, and she reached out a hand and took mine, squeezing it so hard I thought it would break. I remember that she calmed a little and told me she loved me. Nothing short of death could have taken me from her side after that. I sat through the whole ordeal and held her hand. She could have wrung it off my arm and I wouldn’t have cared.” He smiled and brought Lillis’s hand to his lips to kiss it. “She nearly did, too,” he said.

“No one knew there were two babies, of course. They were all entangled when they came out, so that to this day we’ve never known which one came first. Perhaps they were inseparable, even in the womb. My poor mother! She was so weak and weary from the birthing, yet she wouldn’t rest until she held her babies.”

Alexander’s eyes were distant, seeing anew of what he spoke.

“I have always hoped and dreamed that she looked at me when I was born the way she looked at the twins that day. She held them both at the same time, kissing them in turns. Her face was so beautiful, so filled with light—she looked like an angel to me. She let me name the twins. Did you know that? I was sitting there and watching her hold them and she looked at me and said, ‘These are your very own brothers to care for, Alexander. Would you like to name them?’ And of course I did. Hugh and Hugo seemed appropriate at the time, though I don’t remember why. If the twins hate their names I suppose they can blame my ten-year-old ignorance.” He laughed, and Lillis smiled.

“Mother liked the names,” he continued. “At least, she said she did. She might have been only trying to humor me, or perhaps she was too weary to argue. I’ve always believed she liked the names, anyway. She let me hold them then, before she went to sleep. They were so tiny! Much smaller than other babies I’ve seen, and more like puppies than human babies. My mother told me to bring Willem up and let him hold the babies, too, and to tell him that she loved him and would see him when she’d rested. Willem was always her favorite, you know. She said he needed her the most.”

He grew thoughtful. “Mother said one last thing to me before she went to sleep. She said, ‘Promise me that you’ll always take care of Hugh and Hugo, and promise me that you will always love them. They haven’t anyone else to love them.’” Alexander shook his head at the memory.

“Of course, she was half crazed with exhaustion and didn’t know what she said, but I made her my solemn vow nonetheless and then she closed her eyes and went to sleep. I was left sitting with the two babies, wondering what to do. Even then Hugh and Hugo seemed to sense a good opportunity for mischief. The moment Mother was soundly asleep they began to wail.” He laughed. “I handed them to their nurses in a hurry! And then I kissed Mother and went to seek Willem out. Poor Willem! He’d cried so much that he’d fallen asleep beneath the tapestry and—Lillis, you’re not crying, are you?”

She was, and Alexander set his arm about her waist, pulling her close. “My darling! I never meant to make you cry.”

“What—what did your father do?” she asked tearfully.

“What did my father do?”

“Yes, when he returned to Gyer? What did he do?”

“He came home the next day,” he replied, bewildered. “He loved them, of course. I’ve told you before that he ever favored them above the rest of us, and spoiled them. He and my mother made up whatever argument they were having and Aunt Leta came back to Gyer soon after and she loved the twins, as well. Who couldn’t have loved them? They were the handsomest babies you ever set eyes on.”

“Oh!” cried Lillis. “Oh, thank God!”

Alexander was thoroughly confused. He kissed the top of her head and asked, “Because everyone loved them, or because they were so handsome?”

“Both!” she wailed.

He forced her face up so that he could kiss the salty tears off her cheeks. “Lillis, I cannot bear to see you crying. Please stop.”

He kissed her mouth, long and tenderly, until she stopped her tears and put her arms around his neck. He pressed his face into her hair and hugged her with all of his strength. “I want to have you in bed, Lillis. I will have you, unless you tell me to go away.”

Her voice was a whisper when she replied, “I was going to sing to you first.”

“First?”

“We haven’t any minstrels here, as Gyer does. I was going to play the lute and sing to you first.”

Alexander’s usually agile mind was having difficulty understanding what these words meant. He said again, more hopefully, “First?”

Lillis stood and took his hand to lead him back toward the warmth of the fire. Halfway there Alexander stopped, tugged her back into his arms and kissed her again.

“Thank you for the wonderful meal, my lady. I enjoyed it greatly. I enjoyed your company even more.”

“You are most welcome, my lord,” Lillis replied. “I only hope that your men enjoyed their meals, as well. You don’t think they will grow inpatient waiting for you?”

He understood exactly what she was asking. “My men will not intrude upon us unless they are ready to be dismissed from my service. Of that I give you my solemn vow. But what of your serving maid?”

Lillis blushed under the tender scrutiny of his gaze. “I warned her that you might be quite, quite late in leaving this eve. She is well prepared to keep your men supplied with food and drink.”

“Ah, but you are a most wise and wonderful woman,” Alexander murmured. He touched her cheek with his fingertips and kissed her softly. “You had best play for me now, my lady,” he suggested, “for I intend to love you long and fully before I leave this place, and I’d not want either my men or your Tildy to suffer for it.”

In all of her life Lillis didn’t think she had ever played or sung worse than she did that night. She seemed to have entirely forgotten how to play the lute; her hands refused to behave properly and her voice wavered every time she met her husband’s meaningful gaze. She couldn’t remember how the song she had practiced was either played or sung, and she forgot nearly all of the words. The only thing she could think of as she struggled through the ordeal, strangely, was the slow and tender way in which Alexander had made love to her at Gyer, of the way his hands and mouth felt as they moved over her skin. Somehow she got through it, though, for suddenly she found that she had stopped playing and singing and was simply sitting quietly, staring at her husband.

Slowly Alexander moved toward her. He took the lute from her hands and placed it on the floor, then he slid his arms around her waist and drew her close.

“That was nicely done,” he whispered, his breath warm on her face. “I thank you, my lady.”

She stared at him.

“Where is your chamber?” he asked, picking her up in his arms.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “The first chamber at the top of the stairs,” she replied somewhat breathlessly, anticipating what was to come.

Alexander stopped midway to the stairs. He looked at her and asked, “Your father’s chamber?”

She nodded again and smiled. Alexander shook his head and frowned.

“Is there nowhere else?”

“Nowhere else?”

“Some other place where we might—?”

Lillis was confused. “No!” she said. “My chamber is very nice. I’ve cleaned and refurnished it. It looks not at all as it did when it was my father’s. And I’ve kept the fire well fed all day so that the chamber would be warm.”

Alexander stood where he was, looking miserably uncertain. Lillis chuckled and stroked his cheek with a gentle hand. “I’ve had a new bed put in there,” she whispered, “and I had my father’s old one taken out and burned.”

Alexander didn’t need to hear another word. He bounded up the stairs with Lillis in his arms, pushed into the chamber with energetic zeal and kicked the door shut behind him with a resounding slam.

* * *

Many hours later, Alexander lay warm and comfortable in his wife’s new bed, holding her limp, damp body against his own and feeling more sated and happy than he had in a long while. Lillis snuggled closer and made a little yawning sound. Alexander picked up one of her hands and brought it to his mouth. He kissed each finger, then drew her little finger inside his mouth, sucking on it lightly. Lillis laughed and pulled her hand away.

“Stop that,” she said, then chided, “you are a very hungry man, my lord.”

“Hmm. I am full for the moment, good lady wife. And for another half hour or so.” Alexander yawned sleepily, trying not to think about the fact that he would have to leave Lillis soon. His men must have begun to wonder what had happened to him. It was dark outside now, and the ride back to Gyer would seem long and tedious, indeed. “If anyone had ever told me that I’d spend some of the happiest hours of my life in Jaward of Wellewyn’s bedchamber, I’d have told them they were mad.”

“But it is not his chamber any longer,” Lillis reminded him. “It is very different, is it not? I couldn’t have stayed here if I’d not changed it completely.”

They were quiet for a while. Alexander thought perhaps Lillis had fallen asleep. He stroked her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. With a slow hand he rubbed her smooth back.

“Lillis?”

“Hmm?”

“When will you return to me?”

She didn’t answer right away. She turned her head on his shoulder, then hugged him a little. “Soon, Alexander. I shall come back to you soon.”

“I need you,” he said quietly.

“It will not be long, Alexander. I promise that it shall not be. The time I’ve spent here at Wellewyn has been good, for I’ve never before known such freedom and peace. There is no one to tell me what I must or must not do—no disapproving nuns, no ever-present guards, no unbending husbands.” She gave him a teasing grin, but Alexander only looked grim.

“There’ll be no more of that when you return to Gyer,” he vowed. “You know I speak the truth. Everything will be exactly as it should be.”