The Temptation (The Medieval Knights Series) (28 page)

"Especially to the child Denise," Hugh said. "She will be ever under Elsbeth's hand now, and Elsbeth must not think of where we will dwell or when we shall leave Warkham. That is not to my purpose, as you know better than any. None shall hinder me in my task here. Including you, Raymond," Hugh said, his fierceness showing through his amiable charm like a ray of shining light through dark cloud. "Consider that."

"My lord," Raymond said, kneeling, "I am your man as you are Baldwin's. I will not speak amiss. I will not betray. I will not hinder."

"Good," Hugh said, clasping his shoulder in forgiveness. "Now, give me the fight I yearn for. My blood is high and hot, and I may slake my needs on none here but you, Raymond. Only you have that high honor."

Raymond smiled and bowed to his lord, obedient to his every will.

* * *

He was waiting for her in her chamber. But then, were not all the chambers of Warkham his? He could go where he would; there was no lock against the lord of Warkham.

She stepped into the room cautiously. Her father's temper was uncertain, and she had learned to walk carefully when walking in his way.

"You have denied him," he said. He was leaning against the bed, his arms crossed and his legs out before him. A most casual pose, yet nothing her father did was casual.

"I have not," she said. "I am in flux. I am unfit and unable, nothing more."

"Unfit?" he said, smiling. "You never could be unfit, Daughter. You are all that a wife should be. I am most proud of the woman you have become."

"Thank you, Father," she said, letting his words wash over her like water, sliding, smooth, and then gone.

"He is a well-favored man," he said. "And a fighter of some skill, I can attest."

"You fought with him?"

"Yea, and took his measure. Or perhaps he was taking mine," he said easily. "But what was certain was that he was a man in need of a maid. He has needs, Daughter, and you must meet them."

"I will. When I can," she said, keeping the open door at her back.

"You can now. It can be done," he said. "If your mother were here, she could tell you."

"Yet my mother is not here," Elsbeth said abruptly. "And I will not go against church doctrine. Now is not my time."

"Yet what of his time? The time is hard and hot for him, Elsbeth," he said, grinning at her. "Does the church not say that a woman must give herself to the man who claims her? He has given you his name. It is your part to give him your body."

"I cannot."

"
Will
not says it plainer," he said, standing suddenly. He was a tall man, tall and dark and still in the prime days of his strength, or so it seemed to her. "Think, Elsbeth," he said. "Think what will serve you best."

"I know what will serve me best," she said grimly.

Gautier laughed softly and shook his head at her. "I know what you would say, Daughter, yet the contracts were signed before I knew of your passion for the cloister. What could I do? I would not make an enemy of Baldwin and his liege man over a simple betrothal. There is no wisdom in that course. Nay, I was trapped as surely as you. He stood in my very hall and heard you beg for release from the married state."

He would remind her of that.

"I did not know he was there. I did not know of the betrothal," she said.

"As I did not know how a betrothal to Hugh of Jerusalem would distress you," he said. "We were companions in our ignorance. Yet now you are his wife. And being his wife, you must perform your wifely function. If you would ever see the inside of an abbey, you must gain his goodwill."

Aye, she knew it. What did he tell her that she did not know?

"Give him what he wants," Gautier said. "Without childish delay, meet his needs."

Gautier came to her and took her chin in his hand. Smiling softy down at her, he said, "Do this, Elsbeth, and you are more likely to get from him what you want. An even exchange. A well-ordered bargain."

A bargain, aye, and with her body as the tool to achieve her ends. It did not sit well with her. Then again, nothing her father said was likely to sit well with her.

"Think on it," he said, dropping a kiss upon her brow before he left the chamber.

Think on it. Aye, she would.

What would Ardeth have to say about such bargaining?

Chapter 14

"Denise, I do not need any aid," Elsbeth said as she gathered food from the kitchens.

"Lord Hugh told me that you did, or would, or might, and so I am here," Denise said. "I am to stay with you."

Elsbeth reached down a hand and brushed it over the girl's shining hair. Well, there were worse things than the company of a small and very earnest companion. Her own fostering had been slipshod. Isabel of Dornei had a kind heart, but a wayward will, and her instruction had been... inconsistent. She would not wish such on Denise; her success as a lady of a great holding would depend upon her skills. It did not matter so much for Elsbeth, as Ardeth had taught her early and taught her well all that a lady of this world must know to thrive. She had learned well, listened well.

She knew how to pray and how to sew, how to manage a house and how to discipline a servant, how to submit and how to survive. She was very adept at submission. All who knew her said as much and more. Even Hugh would come to say the same, and from there, it was a small step to gaining his permission to enter the convent. A small step, but so perilous. It looked less likely by the hour that he would disavow her, but would he let her run to Sunnandune without a husband at her side? He seemed to want her most desperately.

Nay, she was being foolish. Hugh was a charming, carefree man, given to smiles when other men were given to anger. He would release her. He needed only to understand that she would make an unfit wife. And he would see that. She would make him see that.

She would make him see that before her blood deserted her. That was very important. She must not and would not be breached, no matter what her father counseled. Or perhaps because he counseled it. To have him encourage her to open her legs to Hugh made her clench them together all the tighter. She did not want to give him what he wanted, though his arguments had been all of her and how she could best achieve her goals. No matter. There had to be a way of achieving her ends without the opening of her thighs and the breaching of her maidenhead.

There had to be.

"Where are we going?" Denise asked, picking at a crumb on the table and popping it into her mouth.

Elsbeth corralled her thoughts and pinned them on the duty at hand. "We are going to the village to see who might need an extra crust or a wedge of cheese. Perhaps there is a child who sits untended at the edge of a toft or by a cold hearth who would be thankful for a small bite."

"Shall I hold the basket with you?'

"Nay, you carry the sack of apples; I shall carry the basket."

"But the cook will not like that his apples are gone missing."

"You speak from experience, to judge by the whiteness of your cheek," Elsbeth said with a smile. "Fear not. These apples are very small. I am certain John will not miss them."

"Well, if you are sure," Denise said, looking around for the cook, who was not to be seen at the moment. "Perhaps we should hurry."

"Denise," Elsbeth said, lifting her chin with a hand. "I am the daughter of Warkham, the lady here until my father weds again. I can take what I will from all of Warkham's bounty. None shall gainsay me. This is a lesson to be learned."

"This is a good lesson," Denise said, her eyes glowing with possibilities. "I will remember this lesson."

Elsbeth laughed. "Just be sure you remember that your duty is to see to all of your holding, and not to see to yourself."

"Lady," John said, coming into his kitchens. "Can I serve you?"

"Nay, John, we have served ourselves, taking what can be spared for the villeins of Warkham," Elsbeth said.

"Take what you will and more, lady. 'Tis good service you do. And 'tis well to take the child with you. You make a likely pair, full of goodwill and good heart. Take this pie with you. The crust is scorched on the rim. I would not serve it at Warkham's table, but it may serve down below."

Denise's eyes were as big as cats' as she watched John hand over more provender from Warkham's stores. Elsbeth only smiled and took the pie. She had seen far worse arrive on Warkham's table, but she held her tongue as to that.

"Many thanks, John. This will be well received."

They left the heat and smoke of the kitchen and went into the breezy chill of the bailey. Hugh was not to be seen. She was relieved. And puzzled. Where was he?

"But," Denise asked, the apples bumping against her leg, "can I never see to myself?"

"Hmm?" Elsbeth said, her eyes scanning the curtain walk, looking for a blond head tousled by the autumn wind. She only wanted to find him so that she could avoid him, that was her reasoning. Her father's words she had banished from her memory. It was her mother's counsel on the affairs between women and men that she would heed, and using her body as a tool was no part of Ardeth's counsel to her daughter.

"Does a lady never get anything for herself?" Denise asked.

"A lady takes care of all around her—her husband and lord, her children, her land, her home, her people. It is then that God smiles upon her. And when God smiles, life is rich indeed."

"How can you tell when God is smiling?"

They passed the tower gate and walked down the hill to the single street that made up the village of Warkham. Pigs scattered at their coming, snuffling in the dirt of the street.

"How can you tell when
you
are smiling?" Elsbeth asked, looking down at Denise and pulling her close. A certain pig, one with a mottled snout, looked quite fierce, eyeing them boldly.

"How can I tell?" Denise said, looking up at her. "I can just... feel it."

"And how does it feel?"

"It feels good."

"And so it feels when God smiles upon you," Elsbeth said, smiling. "It feels good. You feel good."

"Hmm," Denise said, pondering.

"Hmm," Elsbeth echoed, grinning at the girl.

A boy of about Denise's size came running into the street with a long stick, herding the pigs down the road, away from them. The angry pig with the mottled snout resisted the boy. The boy ignored his resistance and thwacked the pig on the rump with the heavy end of his stick. The pig grunted and ran into the throng of his brethren, his resistance done.

"Sorry, my lady," he said. "You here special? Looking for someone?"

"Nay, only to give what aid I can with a few small apples and loaves."

"And cheese," Denise added, looking him over.

He was missing two front teeth—his milk teeth to judge by his age—and had rough-cut hair the color of wet slate. He was perhaps a year or two older than Denise.

"Are those your pigs?" Denise asked.

"Four of them," he said with some pride. It was not every family who could boast the ownership of fine, healthy pigs. "We'll be killing two of them soon, in the blood month."

The blood month. November. When fodder was scarce, animals were killed, feeding those who could not afford to feed them. It was the same everywhere, even in the halls of the richest barons. None could sustain themselves without the killing that defined the blood month.

It was the smell that Elsbeth disliked. It tainted the very air with the metallic stain of blood.

"Will you miss them?" Denise asked.

"Miss them? Pigs?" he said and laughed.

“They will likely not miss you, either!" Denise shouted at the boy's retreating back.

Elsbeth looked down at Denise. Denise looked down at the dirt.

"You have a quick tongue, and a quicker temper. It will do you none but ill in this life," Elsbeth said.

"He did not have to laugh at me. I was only trying to be kind," Denise said.

"And succeeded very well," Elsbeth said, turning Denise to face her. "It was kind of you to ask about his pigs."

"Then why did he laugh?"

"Think, Denise. The best of his family's riches are in those pigs, yet he would starve, as would the pig, if it were not killed in the blood month. Would you have him give his heart to something he cannot keep? Would you have him admit it if he struggles against ropes of tenderness for a mere pig? He had to laugh. You asked him a question he could not answer, not even in the quiet of his own mind."

"Oh."

"Come, let us find some soul who has need of what we bring. That will cheer you."

"Is that another lesson?" Denise asked, kicking a pebble.

Elsbeth laughed in spite of herself. "You are learning me too well. Yea, it is another lesson. Never forget that—"

"That helping others is the greatest reward and that God will bless us for the act."

"That is so. I see someone else has taught you this. Or tried to."

"I learned it," Denise said. "I do not yet know if I believe it."

"Then let your belief follow on the heels of the act. Faith is sometimes built upon just such a foundation."

Denise held her tongue and kept kicking the pebble. Elsbeth was content with the silence.