Hearts Aflame (10 page)
There were seven women in the hall, and every one of them stopped what she was doing when Waite stepped inside with Kristen. The combination of her male garb, half of it torn open and hanging on her, and her height, which let her tower over every woman there by half a foot or more, made Kristen feel like a freak. All the other women were covered from their necks to their feet by their long-sleeved chainses, a few even wearing veils to hide their hair as well, while her arms were bare and her back was now exposed too. They were clean and tidy, while she was filthy from the dirt and mud she had purposely smeared on herself to disguise her smooth skin.
One woman, garbed more richly than the others, rose from her seat and called Waite to halt. Her light-blue outer gown was embroidered along the edges, even on the wide elbow-length sleeves over the white of her tight-fitted chainse sleeves, and girded about the waist to reveal a tiny frame. Her hair, golden-brown in color, was dressed in a net of woven beads. Her eyes were a light blue, very bright, like those of the man Kristen hoped she had killed.
Kristen thought the woman would be very pretty if she didn’t frown so, as she was doing now. She was probably the lady of this hall if she could halt the soldier with such authority in her voice. Kristen was not surprised that the Saxon lord would have a lovely wife. She could almost envy this lady such a fine-looking husband, if she were not the prisoner of that husband.
“How dare you bring him in here?” the woman demanded of Waite after she took a few steps closer, but still left a long distance between them.
“Milady, he is a she and Lord Royce orders the women to bathe her.”
“A woman?” the lady gasped, coming closer now, her eyes traveling from the top of Kristen’s head to the chain still binding her feet together. She shook her own head. “Nay, ’tis not possible.”
Waite grabbed Kristen’s long braid and tossed it over her shoulder for the lady to see. “Lord Royce had her whipped, which led to the discovery of her deception.” Roughly he turned Kristen around. “’Tis not the back of a man.”
“A smooth back and long hair do not a woman make.”
Waite chuckled. “Milord made certain in another way, which you will see for yourself when she is bathed.”
The lady made a sound of disgust with her mouth. “And what are we to do with her after she is bathed?”
Waite shrugged. “Put her to work as you see fit, milady. She is to remain in the hall.”
“What can Royce be thinking of,” the woman wailed, “to keep a heathen in our home?”
“He means to use her—”
“No doubt!” she snorted. “In the same way those Vikings surely used her!”
“Mayhap that, too.” Waite grinned. “But used more for a hostage.”
“Oh, very well.” A long-suffering sigh was forthcoming. “Send someone for the key to those shackles if she is to be washed thoroughly. But take her to the bathing room first and leave two men to watch her until I tell my women what they must do. They will not like this any more than I.”
Kristen was left with Uland and Aldous, though she didn’t know which was which, for Waite had simply shouted their names as he passed through the hall. The small bathing room was partially under the stairs, with a door leading directly to the back yard, where water could be brought from a well. The other door was under the stairs, near the cooking area. There was a wooden tub inside, not nearly big enough for more than one person as the one in her uncle Hugh’s bathhouse was. It seemed the Saxons did not share baths.
The two men Kristen dismissed as servants and ignored as such. They were both small and dark in coloring, one old, the other young, perhaps father and son. They watched her fearfully, as if they knew they would have trouble stopping her if she tried to leave.
Kristen had no thought for leaving. She was very much looking forward to this bath, now that she no longer had to hide her femininity. The filth she had worn on her person until now had been a sore test of her endurance. She would probably have pleaded for this bath if it hadn’t been ordered.
The blacksmith came in to remove her shackles, though he did not take them away with him. Kristen immediately sat down on a bench to remove her boots and inspect her ankles. The skin was chafed bright red, but not broken. It would mend soon enough if the foul shackles could be dispensed with.
Kristen stayed where she was, busying herself with
unbraiding her hair, while a line of boys began bringing in buckets of water from outside. It did not look as if they would bother heating any for her, as the tub was nearly full already. She didn’t mind, though, accustomed as she was to swimming in cold water.
When five women crowded into the small room, not counting the lady who remained by the door, Kristen finally became annoyed and stood up. “I can wash myself, lady.”
“God’s mercy, and here I thought I would have much trouble making you understand.”
“I understand perfectly. I am to bathe. I will do it gladly, but I do not need assistance.”
“Then you do not understand at all. ’Tis Royce’s order that the women will wash you, and so they shall.”
Kristen was not one to take issue over something so minor. Nor would she give it another thought once she had conceded. She shrugged carelessly, waiting for the men to be sent from the room. When they were not, yet the women all began to crowd about her to remove her clothes, she shoved them back so forcefully that two of them fell, shrieking.
“Listen, lady”—Kristen had to shout over the cries of the fallen two—“I will allow your women to wash me, but not in front of men.”
“How dare you tell me what you will allow? They are here to protect my women from you, for you cannot be trusted alone with defenseless women.”
Kristen almost laughed at that. Five women, six counting the lady, and they called themselves defenseless against one. Yet they just might be if they insisted on stripping her in front of serfs. And if the women were that afraid of her, it might not hurt to brazen it out.
She pointed a finger at the two men, who were wide-eyed now at the prospect of having to subdue her. “They
are the ones who will need protecting if they do not leave.”
The lady sputtered in anger and began shouting orders. Kristen picked up the bench she had been sitting on and threw it at the two men.
Royce could hear the shrieks and screams as he approached the hall. He entered just in time to see Uland literally tossed out of the bathing room. Aldous stumbled out right after him, and then tripped over the younger man and went sprawling too. By the time Royce reached the room it was much quieter, though Darrelle was still making shrill noises in her anger.
“What the devil is going on here?” Royce bellowed from the door.
“She would not let us bathe her!”
“Tell him why, lady,” Kristen managed to gasp.
She was lying flat on her back on the floor, with four women sitting on top of her. They had come at her from behind just as she chased the old man from the room. Tripping her to the floor, they had pounced on her immediately. She could barely breathe now, with one on her chest and another on her stomach.
“God’s breath, Darrelle!” Royce stormed. “I give you a simple thing to do, and you make a shambles of it!”
“She started it!” Darrelle protested. “She would not let them undress her. She lives alone with dozens of men night and day, yet she is shy now in front of two serfs.”
“My order was for the women to bathe her. I said naught about men.”
“But she is a Viking, Royce! You certainly could not expect us to be alone with her.”
“God’s breath, she is just a woman!”
“She does not look like a woman. She does not act like a woman. And she attacked those two cowards with a bench! And you want to leave her alone with us?”
“Get off her!” he growled at the women as he walked
to Kristen, jerking her to her feet as soon as she was free. “You cause any more trouble, wench, and I will deal with you myself. You will not like it.”
“I was ever willing to have the bath, and glad of it.”
Royce frowned at her calm reply. “Then have it,” he said. To the oldest woman in the room, he instructed, “Eda, bring her to my chamber when you are done with her.”
“Royce!” Darrelle protested.
“What?” he snapped at her.
“You cannot mean to—to—”
“What I mean to do is question her, Darrelle, not that it is any of your concern. Now, be about your business. They do not need you to supervise a scrubbing.”
Darrelle’s cheeks brightened as she stalked out of the room ahead of him. But Royce was in no mood to placate her. Of all the ridiculous things! A simple bath could not even be accomplished without an uproar.
Alden was still waiting for Royce in his chamber upstairs, still standing at the window where his cousin had left him. “You saw it all?” Royce queried.
“Aye, though I could not hear what was said,” Alden replied. He added curiously, “Did you see what I think you saw when you pulled that tunic down?”
Royce grunted. “A lovely pair of breasts the lad has.”
Alden started to laugh at his expression, but he flushed instead, realizing. “’Twas bad enough when I thought a mere lad had brought me low, but a woman!”
“Be consoled, Alden. She just sent two serfs flying out of the bathing room. She is like no woman we know.”
“Mayhap. She is uncommonly tall for a woman, tall enough to have fooled us this long.”
“But why would they bring a woman on a raid?” Royce wondered.
Alden shrugged. “Why else? To see to their needs on
the ship. She was late come to the battle. I would guess she was left on the ship, but saw the attack from there and thought to help. After all, if the Vikings were all killed, she would have been left alone. ’Tis no wonder she fought so hard along with them.”
“Aye. She would even have taken more of the lash, rather than reveal she was a woman. She said ’twas to protect her from the rape of Saxon men.” He laughed harshly at that. “Men are men. What has a whore to fear of a different breed?”
“She would be loyal to her own, and loath to lay with their enemy.”
“I suppose. I can see now why
they
went to such pains to hide her sex. They would have been locked up alone with her at night very soon. But, God’s breath, what they see in such a big, manly woman is beyond me.”
K
risten’s whole outlook on her adventure-turned-disaster took an abrupt turn the day she entered Wyndhurst for the first time. No longer did she only have to worry about keeping her mouth shut and her hair hidden. Now she faced the problem that she had only tried to avoid before: How would these Saxons see her as a woman? Would she be an abomination to them because of her height and the fact that she was their enemy? Or would they find her as desirable as the men at home did?
The Saxon lord had said she offered no temptation to his men. If this was his opinion, then she could assume that a man would not want to make love to a woman who was taller than he was, because he might feel inferior and less in control. Very well, that left her safe from all but two men that she had seen in this place. The one she hoped was dead. The other was the lord himself.
Kristen had mixed feelings about Lord Royce. She had seen little of him this past week, and when she did chance to see him, she had avoided looking directly at him. But she could not forget her first sight of him either. He had looked like a young god riding into the yard so straight and proud on that powerful steed, so self-assured, so in command of himself and all those around him. Boldly he had come up to sixteen hostile men who were huge and powerfully built themselves, and let them see his loathing for them.
There was no fear in the man. Again today Lord Royce had shoved his way through the Vikings to snatch
Kristen from their protection. The men did not know what to make of the way he approached them without weapon in hand.
Ohthere thought he was a fool to be so careless. Thorolf thought he tempted them purposely, that he begged for an excuse to slay them. Kristen favored Thorolf’s opinion, for she remembered the look in his eyes that first day, and his cold, merciless order to have them killed.
She had feared him because of that. But Kristen couldn’t stop herself from admiring him, too. She had always enjoyed watching strong, well-proportioned male bodies. Just that last night of the feast at home, her mother had caught her staring overlong at Dane, Perrin and Janie’s younger son, as he arm-wrestled, and Brenna had teased her by asking if she was sure no one there would do for a husband. A strong, handsome body was a feast for the eyes, and her mother had taught her not to be ashamed that she thought so. And the Saxon lord had not only a superb body but a very handsome face as well.
Aye, to be truthful, she enjoyed looking at him. But she did not want him looking at her with the same appreciation. With the hate he bore her and the others, it could not be a pleasant experience, being made love to by him. As long as he did not want her, she would be safe, even though she was now separated from the others. Her goals were still the same. She would work and keep a low profile until the opportunity for escape came. Only now, the question was at hand: How would he see her as a woman?
The women had scrubbed her with a vengeance, no doubt intentionally, rubbing her practically raw. She bore it only because she wanted to cause no more trouble with them that might bring the Saxon back.
The clothes they gave her were laughable. They had
nothing to fit her tall frame, even with hems lowered. She might be slim in proportion to her height, but compared with them, she was large. The sleeves of the white chainse they gave her were too tight to fit over her wrists. An argument ensued on whether to cut the sleeves and lace them for now, or to go ahead and sew in an insert. Kristen solved the problem by ripping the sleeves away. Her own summer gowns at home were sleeveless, and she would have been too hot with the sleeves anyway. No one approved of this, but they were as loath to argue with her as she was with them. They did not want more of the lord’s displeasure either.