Barbara Erskine 3-Book Collection: Lady of Hay, Time’s Legacy, Sands of Time

She slipped naked under the heavy bed coverings and, her plans quite made up for the morning, was soon asleep.

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On the sofa Jo stirred uneasily. Beneath her lids her eyes moved rapidly from side to side and her breathing quickened.

‘I was tired after the days of endless riding,’ she said slowly. ‘And I slept heavily. It is first light now. The room is grey and shadowy and the fire has sunk to a heap of white ash. I am sleepy … trying to remember where I am …’ There was a long pause. ‘I am not alone any more … There is someone here with me in the room …’

‘So you are awake at last!’ William leaned over the bed and dragged the covers down to her waist. His breath stank of stale wine. ‘My beautiful wife, so eager for her husband’s company. I’m flattered, my dear, that you should have missed me so much.’ He laughed and Matilda felt herself shudder. She lay still for a moment, afraid to move, as his calloused hands gripped her breasts, then she reached down desperately for the bedcovers, trying to drag them over her once more, remembering the charm she had recited to herself in the dark; the charm which would protect her from him for months to come.

She forced herself to lie still and looked up at him, her clear eyes steady on his. He immediately looked away, as always uncomfortable beneath her gaze.

‘You must not touch me, my lord.’

His mouth widened into a sneer. ‘Oh no? And why not, pray?’ He grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully until she wanted to scream, but she managed to keep her voice calm as she spoke. ‘Because I am with child. And my nurse Jeanne says if you lie with me again whilst he is in my belly he will be stillborn.’

She held her breath, watching his face. Cruelty turned to anger, then disbelief, then to superstitious fear. Abruptly he released her and he crossed himself as he straightened, moving away from the bed.

‘That witch! If she has put the evil eye on my child …’

‘She casts no evil eye, my lord.’ Matilda sat up, drawing the fur bedcover over her breasts and clutching it tightly. ‘She wants to protect him. That is why she sent me to you, whilst I was still able to travel. Your son must be born in Wales, in your lands in the Border March. You cannot send me back to Bramber.’

She watched him, hugging herself in triumph as he stood with his back to her, staring down at the dead ash in the hearth. Then he swung round. ‘How does she know all this?’

Matilda shrugged. ‘She has the gift of seeing.’

‘And she sees that I will have a son?’

‘A strong, brave son, my lord.’ She saw the look of triumph on his face as he stared at her.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But you may not stay here. I shall order a litter to take you on to Brecknock. You will be safe there.’

She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes with a sigh. ‘You are kind, my lord. I will try and obey you. I just pray to the Blessed Virgin that the extra journey will not harm the child. I am so tired.’ She put her hand on her stomach dramatically. ‘Please. May I not rest a day or two more? For your son’s sake?’

She glanced up through her eyelashes to see what reaction her words provoked. William seemed nonplussed. He strode back and forth across the room a couple of times kicking viciously at the hay which was strewn on the floor, obviously struggling with himself. Seeing his preoccupation she felt a wave of something which was almost affection for this stocky broad-shouldered man, still almost a stranger to her. He looked so uncertain.

‘Are you pleased, William?’ she asked after a moment. ‘About the baby?’

‘Of course I’m pleased.’ His voice was gruff. ‘But I don’t want you here. Not today.’

‘But why not? I shan’t be in your way, I promise.’ She raised herself on her elbow, her hair cascading about her bare shoulders, dark auburn in the pale sunlight. ‘You won’t even know I’m here, and in a day or two when I’m rested I shall go to Brecknock if you think that’s really best.’

William straightened his shoulders, frowning reluctantly. ‘If I allow you to stay,’ he blustered, ‘and I’m only saying if, you would have to promise on no account to leave this room. Not for any reason. It would not be safe. You would have to give me your oath.’

‘I promise, my lord.’ She crossed her fingers beneath the covers.

‘You do understand me. You are not to move from here all day, no matter what happens.’ He glared down at her. ‘In fact you would have to stay in bed. The feast is not for you. It’s no ordinary Christmas junketing but a gathering of local Welsh princes and dignitaries for political discussions. I have to read them an ordnance from King Henry. That’s why the Bloets weren’t asked. It’s no place for them, and it’s no place for women. Do you understand?’

He turned away from her and strode over to the perch where his falcon sat. Picking up the gauntlet which lay on the coffer nearby, he pulled it over his knuckles. Gently he freed the bird’s jesses and eased it onto his fist, whispering affectionately as he slipped the hood from its head. The creature looked at him with baleful eyes. ‘If you are going to be here I’ll take this beauty back to the mews,’ he said grudgingly. ‘Remember, you are not to leave that bed. If you try, I shall have you locked up.’ He turned on his heel sharply and left the room.

Matilda waited until his footsteps had died away. Then she slipped triumphantly from the bed and pulled a fur-lined dressing-robe around her shoulders. Running to the high window, she peered out, feeling the cold wind lift her hair, listening to the sounds of life which were beginning to stir in the bailey below. It was grey morning. The watery sun above the hills to the east was so shrouded in mist and cloud that it give off as little heat as the waning moon.

Shivering a little, she glanced round the room. It did not look so comfortable in the cold light but she hugged herself excitedly. Her plan had worked. She was free of Bertha, was mistress of her own large household, or would be very soon, and had ensured that she was free of her husband’s loathsome attentions until her baby was born. She gave a wistful smile. She had never felt better nor stronger than in the last two months, and she knew there was no risk. She was strong and healthy and had had no premonitions for the baby, nor for herself. She frowned suddenly as she gazed from the window, for premonitions she had certainly had, strange formless terrors which had plagued her for the last three nights in her dreams. She shrugged away the thought. Whatever they meant, she was not going to let them spoil today’s excitement.

She wondered where Richard was this morning, then abruptly she put him out of her mind. To think about Richard de Clare was dangerous. She must forget him and remember that she was another man’s wife.

She dragged her thoughts back to the day’s feasting. She had no intention of keeping her promise to William and staying in bed. She meant to be there at his side.

There were about five hours to wait until it began, she judged, squinting up at the sun. Many of the guests were probably already at the castle or camped round its walls, others would be riding down from the Welsh hills and from Prince Seisyll’s court, wherever it was, with their attendants and their bards and their entertainers. She felt a tremor of excitement.

At the sound of a step on the stairs she turned from the draughty window and ran back to the bed, shivering. A small woman entered, her hair grey beneath a large white veil. She was bearing a tray and she smiled at Matilda a little shyly. ‘Good morning, my lady. I’ve brought you some milk and some bread.’

‘Milk!’ Matilda was disgusted. ‘I never drink milk. I’d much rather have wine.’

‘Milk is better for you, madam.’ The older woman’s voice with the gentle lilt of the hills was surprisingly firm. ‘You try it and see, why don’t you?’

Matilda pulled herself up on the pillows and allowed the woman to feed her broken pieces of the fine wastel bread. She found she was very hungry.

‘Did I see you in the hall last night?’ she asked between mouthfuls.

The woman smiled, showing rotten teeth. ‘No, madam, I was in the kitchens most of yesterday, helping to prepare for the feasting.’

Matilda sat up, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘Do you know how many people are coming? Was there much food being brought in? Are the guests already arriving?’

Laughing, the woman spread her strong work-worn hands. Her nails were badly broken. ‘Oh enough for two armies, madam, at least. They seem to have been at work for days, ever since Sir William even hinted at a feast. But yesterday and the day before, I have been helping too with a lot of the women, to see that all is ready in time.’

Matilda lay back, stretching luxuriously beneath the rugs. ‘I wish I were coming,’ she commented cautiously. ‘Sir William feels that I should rest because of my condition, and not attend.’ She glanced at the other woman, and saw with satisfaction that she looked astonished.

‘Surely you’ll feel better by then, madam, if you rest now.’ The woman smiled kindly and twitched one of the coverlets straight. ‘It would never do to miss such a fine occasion as this one, indeed.’

Matilda smiled. ‘That’s what I’ve been thinking. I feel much better already.’ She noticed that the plate was empty and smiled. It was no use pretending that she felt too ill to eat. She tried to compose her face. ‘Where’s Nell, the lady I brought with me?’ she demanded, suddenly remembering. ‘She should have come to look after me. I want her to arrange some maids. I brought no other attendants.’

The woman concealed a smile. ‘Your lady, madam, is talking to Sybella, the constable’s wife. I felt you needed food first, attendants later. I’m thinking you’d have waited all day indeed if it had been up to those two.’ Without comment she took the plate and cup and put them aside, bending to pick up the mantle which Matilda had left trailing from the end of the bed.

‘Tell me your name.’ Matilda was watching closely out of half-shut eyes.

‘Megan, madam. My husband is one of Sir William’s stewards.’

‘Well, Megan, I want to see that my clothes chests are brought up here and then later, if I do feel better, will you help me to dress for the feast?’

‘Of course I will, gladly indeed.’ Megan’s face lit up with pleasure.

‘And listen,’ Matilda raised herself on an elbow and put her finger to her lips. ‘We won’t let Sir William know that I might be coming. I don’t want him to forbid me, thinking I am more tired than I am.’

She lay back on her pillows again after Megan had gone, well pleased with the little Welshwoman’s conspiratorial smile of understanding.

Below in the courtyard the morning sounds were reaching a crescendo of excitement and down the winding stairs to the hall she could hear a hubbub of shouting and laughter and the crashing of the boards onto the trestles as the tables were set up. It was hard to lie idle with so much going on about her but she was content to rest for the moment. The time to get up would come later.

She watched as a boy staggered in with a basket of logs and proceeded to light a new fire, and then a man humped in her boxes of clothes. There was still no sign of Nell, but Megan was close on his heels. Throwing back the lids under Matilda’s instructions she began to pull out the gowns and surcoats, crying out with delight as she fingered the scarlets and greens of silks, fine linens and soft-dyed wools, laying them on the bed one by one.