A Widow Plagued (3 page)

“Then, I will not agree to marry thee. Thou dost not guarantee our safety.”

“I will agree to never hit a member of this household with any object other than my bare hands, unless they are a danger to others. I will agree to never disparage a member of this household in front of others.”

“Ye would hit me, if I spoke against thee?”

“I would never strike a woman. I will spank ye, as is my right and duty, were ye to misbehave.”

“My husband never raised his hand to me. I see no need for ye to treat me as ye might a child.”

“Ye are a woman and thus a dependent. I have the right to discipline ye, if need be. Do not disobey me and I will have no need.”

“Tis my responsibility to run this manor. If the needs of my children or my servants necessitate my disobedience, then I will be forced to speak against thy wishes. Can ye not understand that we might sometimes be at odds?”

“Tis a woman’s place to support her husband. If thou disagrees with me, thou wilt keep these thoughts to thyself.”

At Sara’s subsequent silence, Gavin nodded and walked from the door. Sara sighed, sitting on the bed as she heard the chair being shoved beneath the outside doorknob. Twas worse than she imagined it would be. Not only was the new lord controlling and course, he intended to marry her and thus bother her, physically.

She could not bear it. No, she would bear it, for Hannah’s sake. She would not allow Hannah to marry at her tender age. At least he had agreed to a contract. At least she could ensure that she and Hannah were provided for. That much would be an improvement upon their situation. And Hannah need not know that she was unhappy with the arrangement. Hannah could be allowed to believe that she was willing to marry the pig-headed usurper. God’s toes! He set her teeth on edge.

Chapter 2

The Marriage

“My Lady! My Lady! Wake up!” Millicent shook Sara’s shoulder insistently. “I must ready ye for thy wedding ceremony. The Master has returned with a priest in tow. It seems that the Master has a writ from the King, entitling him to act as he so wishes, regarding this household. The priest has come to marry thee! Is this not the most excitement we’ve owned since the miller’s daughter ran away with Sir Reginald’s squire? Why a young, handsome husband, My Lady! Tis God’s own blessing, it is. Now, thee and my Lady Hannah will be safe and provided for. Hurrah! Let us put thee in thy green dress. Thou art a bit sallow for it, but tis the best fabric and thou hast no other fine gown.”

Sara stood and allowed Millicent to flit about her like a humming bird does its favorite flower. She cared not how she looked. This marriage was yet another negotiation meant to benefit the male aristocracy. She was but a pawn in the game. Yet, she herself felt motivated to seal this union and establish a sense of security for the inhabitants of the keep. For too long, they had all lived in fear of what a new lord would mean. Now, at least, they would all be assured of their continued residence.

A ghost of a smile played across Sara’s face as she took in Millicent’s excitement. She could be happy for her, she assumed, and for Hannah and Adam. She could relax a bit, after the contract had been signed. Thank God she knew how to read! Sir Gavin knew not of her. This, at least, she had on her side. She was bright, and she was educated. She would not allow herself to be destroyed by any man.

“How thick thy hair is, My Lady! I know of no other tow heads with such thick hair as thine. I will simply brush it and plait two pieces from yer face. We will let the rest hang down. It makes ye look younger that way.”

“Art thou implying I am too old to be a bride, Millicent?”

“Thou art no longer young, My Lady. Thou art a score of years now, old enough to have a brood of children.”

“Thou art too bold, Millicent. I am young enough yet to carve out a bit of a life for myself. I do not intend to settle down as a breeding mare. I intend to have some space for my own wishes and desires.”

Shaking her head, Millicent finished Sara’s hair, and stepped back to admire her work. Sara was beautiful. The problem was that she did not realize it. She never used her curvy figure and slanted green eyes to her advantage. “Ye must learn to soften that tongue of yers, Sara, if ye are to get anywhere with thy new bridegroom. Men do not take well to vinegar.”

“I was my first husband’s puppet. I was young and impressionable; I did not question his authority. Where did it get me? Widowed and destitute, tis where. It is by a lucky turn of fate that I am not starving and desolate at this very moment. I will use my wit and sharp tongue, if need be, to ensure the safety of those I care for. I care not for a “happy union”. My match with Sir Gavin is one of mutual convenience. I will not play the puppet again.”

Millicent looked her age-weathered eyes up into Sara’s stone countenance and sighed. “Ye have known the role of the beggar. Now, ye plan on playing the role of the conqueror. Neither suits thee, My Lady.”

Sara did not reply, but holding her head high, strode from the room and down the stairs. Her heart beat fast. She would play the role of the bold and fearless warrior. For years now, she had played the role of a weak milksop. She had cowered and avoided drawing attention to herself. Sir Gavin did not know this, however. She would play her cards right and, perhaps, protect all that she held dear.

Sir Gavin looked up from his conference with Father John to take in the appearance of his betrothed. God’s teeth but she was a striking woman. Tall and golden, she stood, her pale hair and skin in bold contrast to the dark green of her velvet gown. Although her skin was so fair as to be nearly translucent, the warmth that radiated from within her seemed to shine through, making her exposed flesh appear iridescent.

His heart skipped a beat, and his chest contracted as Gavin was reminded suddenly of his own mother, beautiful and pulsing with life. For once in this process, Gavin was taken from his focus on business negotiations, to think of his bride on a personal level. She would be a mother he would like for his children, a wife he could be proud of. His chest warmed, and he smiled broadly at her. Lifting his arm, he beckoned her to his side.

“Lady Sara, this is Father John. He has agreed to stay as our guest for the next few days. He will marry us tonight.”

“I am pleased to make thy acquaintance, Father. Might I offer ye some refreshment?”

“Some ale would be greatly appreciated, My Lady.”

“Millicent,” Sara turned to the servant waiting in the shadows and ordered softly, “please bring our guest some ale.”

“Aye, My Lady.”

“I assume, Father, that thou art also the one that will be preparing our marriage contract?”

“Aye, My Lady. Sir Gavin has explained to me the terms of the agreement, and we were just putting them down, now,” Father John gestured to the parchment and ink well splayed out upon the hall’s great table.

“Very well. Pray, continue.”

Father John looked at Sir Gavin, uncomfortably, unsure of how he should ‘continue’ in the presence of the lady.

“I know tis a bit unsettling, Father, but my betrothed also happens to be my dependent. This places us in the awkward position of allowing her some input into the negotiation, as it is most unorthodox to negotiate with ones self.”

Nodding, the priest sat and continued to add to the document. Once finished, he read the agreement aloud. Sara stood and walked behind him. Surreptitiously reading over his shoulder, she pretended to only listen to the words being read. Something deep in her gut warned her to keep her literacy a secret. She did not trust this man, and having the ability to read his correspondence without her knowledge could serve to protect her household in the future.

Once the priest ended his recitation, Sara responded, “Ye did not mention anything about the treatment of the household, Sir Gavin.”

“I thought our verbal agreement should suffice.”

“I have no intention of questioning thy honor, Sir. However, it seems that as I am not in a position to be familiar with thy management techniques. I would feel more comfortable with some guide lines within our marriage contract.”

Father John and Sir Gavin looked at Sara, mouths agape. “I will not appear thy servant, My Lady. Tis essential that I establish myself as undisputed executor of this estate. Our contract must not look as if I had to negotiate with thee.”

“I appreciate that this negotiation may cause trouble for thee, but tis a matter of survival those in thy care. I must insist.” Sara’s heart raced, but she stood firm. Never in her life had she talked so to a man, much less one as large and imposing as this one.

“Very well, Father, if ye will add: ‘Sir Gavin agrees to protect and guide the members of his household following the code of chivalry. In return, all members of his household will demur to his judgment without contest.”

Sara did not quite like the last part of the agreement, but nodded her head in consent, as she understood the pressure for Sir Gavin to establish his unquestioned authority. Thinking through the contract, Sara was concerned about the financial allowances. “The contract wills me half of all thy wealth? I do not understand such benevolence.”

“Aye. If anything happens to me, ye will need to support our children. I will not have them penniless.”

“But what of Hannah? No amount has been listed for a dowry.”

Nodding, Gavin continued. “I know not what amount I will have available to offer. I thought of a fraction, but I do not want to appear too eager to appease ye both. I want, instead, to appear to have won yer obeisance.”

Sara did not like the idea that her stepdaughter would not be promised a good amount. “Can we state that Hannah will receive a dowry worthy of her station? In this way, she is promised a dowry, but not an amount that might attract the wrong sort of suitor. Is this yer concern?”

“Aye, I need not create a marriage contract that serves also as a price on my head. Art thou reading the words, My Lady? Know thee how to read?”

Sara blanched, then shrugged, noncommittal. “I am learned in the women's arts, Sir Gavin. I can recognize and write my name.”

Sir Gavin assessed his bride with new eyes. She was educated and intelligent, he had no doubt. Although she had tried to hide it, her eyes had tracked the page, verifying the veracity of the priest's reading. So, why now deny it? Clearly, she was also bold, stubborn, and not to be trusted. Beautiful and glowing she might be, but she would need to be taken well in hand if he were to establish control of this keep. Standing, he strode around the table to stand beside Sara and Father John. “Let us sign this and exchange our vows. I am eager to have our dinner.”

Sara shivered, but rallied and gripped the feather firmly in her hand. Her signature stood boldly against that of the men, and she felt a swell of pride in her accomplishment. For the first time in months, she felt hope for a stable future. Fast upon the heels of this crowd of positive emotions, a swell of anxiety and disquiet stalked. She barely knew this man. Now, in a few short moments she would be married to him. Her future felt murky and ominous.

At that moment, Hannah descended the stairs and joined them in the hall. Her soft, doe-brown gown added to the sense of her timidity.
As pretty as she is, she might as well be a mouse standing next to a drago
n
, Sir Gavin mused.
Sara is more vivacious and striking.

And yet, with such tenderness, Sara turned to her child. Smiling serenely, Sara grasped Hannah’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “The kind and benevolent Sir Gavin has just agreed to provide thee with a fine dowry. When ye are old enough, ye should be able to marry well, my pet. What dost thou think about that?”

“Sir Gavin, I am profoundly grateful for thy kind consideration. I know that thou art not obligated to provide me with anything. That thou hast done so is such a relief and a blessing. God bless ye, Sir.”

“Twas nothing more than any descent knight would do. Now, let us have nay more talk of it.”

Sara looked up at her betrothed and noted that he shifted uncomfortably. He did not like the abject praise which Hannah had focused upon him. Twas making him uncomfortable. She smiled inwardly at the observation. Perhaps he was not a pompous man.
He expects and demands respect from his dependents. He does not expect worship and fawning
.
This pleases m
e
, she thought.

“I will change and freshen up. I would like all the servants present, for our ceremony. I have met only Adam and Millicent. How many others reside within the keep?”

“None other, My Lord.”

At this Sir Gavin looked at Sara with mild alarm in his verdant gaze. “How have ye protected yerselves and maintained the grounds?”

“The plague has protected us. We have maintained only limited portions of the castle this past year, I am afraid. We have done the best we could.”

“I see. We will speak of this again on the morrow. For now, let us prepare to wed.”

Nodding in ascent, Sara left to check on Adam and Millicent’s progress with the feast. The kitchen smelled of yeast and yams. Sara couldn’t help but admire the small but delicious spread of pheasant, eggs, fish, nuts and berries which Adam had set out upon the wooden trenchers.

“I thought that ye would share a trencher with yer new husband, My Lady. Hannah could sit with Father John; then, Millicent and I would share a trencher at the table tonight.”

“Of course, Adam. This sounds reasonable. Let us all sit at the end of the table, so as not to make our small number appear too sparse. I fear that the new lord plans on bringing more men into the keep. He does not feel that we can defend ourselves with the current number.”

Adam said nothing, but continued to load the flat trays with food.

“Thou hast been beyond the keep to hunt and fish. What dost thou think, Adam? Are there any about that would be safe?” Sara pressed.

“I will trust that the new lord will have a plan for resolving this dilemma, My Lady. Ye and I need not worry ourselves over such concerns any longer.”

“Ye and I have survived thus far by living by our wits. I have no intention of ceasing now. Please bring the food into the dining room, as Sir Gavin wants us all present at the ceremony. I doubt twill take long.”

“Aye, My Lady,” Adam responded, without raising his head from his task.

Upon returning to the main hall, Sara was taken aback at the change to her groom. Gone was the long, practical black tunic. In its place, he wore a shorter green cotte and black chauses. His sword hung by a black belt and his face was shaven. Sara’s heart flopped clumsily as she peered into his handsome face. Sir Gavin’s freshly washed hair fell in soft waves about his ears, accenting the line of his chiseled cheek. He was broad and muscular and quietly powerful. Not at all like her former husband.

Sara’s body crawled with equal sensations of attraction and fear, curiosity and guilt. She did not want to marry another man. Her husband had not yet been dead a year, and she was marrying another! Twas immoral.