Rose of Hope (23 page)

“The escort companies are aware of the danger and will be able to avoid the rebels.” Ysane murmured. “But what if the stewards run into them? None can be certain of aught when a man like Ruald is involved.”

“Worry not, lady. All but two of the steward’s parties will arrive from a direction different than that from which the rebels will come.”

“Aye. Of that I am aware, and ’tis that which alarms me, Sir Jehan. The group led my brother-by-law is one of which you speak, which has yet to arrive from the south and west. The other is a Norman steward. If Ruald finds them, they will die.”

***

Ysane awoke from the depths of sleep to darkness broken only by the faint light of coals still warm in the brazier. Eyes closed, she tried to pinpoint what had roused her. A sound pierced the night, a familiar noise. ’Twas her bower door squeaking on iron hinges as it was slowly pushed open. Heart pounding, she sought to control her breathing as she opened her eyes a slit and tried to decide if she should scream the walls down.

A slight form slipped into the room and started toward the bed.

“Ieldramodor!” She gasped in relief even as the figure paused beside her. Her grandmother had not visited her during the night in many months. “Oh mercy, you frightened me. What are you doing here?”

“You would begrudge a visit to my favorite nefene?” Lady Hildeth’s retort was sharp.

“Of course not, deorling, but must it be when everyone else sleeps?”

“You know I can never rest at night, so what better time to come see you? I would have done so ere now, but ’twas difficult to get to you. That
cifesboren
Renouf kept me locked up as if I were a thief and refused to allow me nigh you. Not that I do not know what you are about. Your life has been rather busy, of late. Know you, I missed that insanity about your execution? Believe me, child, had I known what mischief that
léasere
Ruald was up to, I would have sneaked into his bower and cut out his heart! But no one ever tells me aught!”

Ysane did not bother to mention Lady Hildeth would not have remembered had she been told. “I know, but ’tis all right, since I was rescued quite in the nick of time.”

“Aye, and that story, little one, is as romantic as any of those ridiculous stories the scops tell. The powerful knight, fearsome in his armor, strides into the courtyard where he fights his way through a cordon of soldiers to reach his lady fair, to sweep her into his arms. Indeed, ’tis a fair tale, and more exciting than any poem or song, because ’tis true. I have heard he plans to wed you, nefene
,
and soon. I wished you to know I have met the man, and I approve.”

“But Ieldramodor, he is Norman.”

“Ha! Think you that matters after Renouf and Ruald? He is a man of honor, and he will be kind to you, and it hurts not he is also handsome and strong. I would see you wedded to such a man, regardless his clan, rather than to a Saxon like that
léasere
Renouf. He will give me fine, strong grandchildren. Has he bedded you, yet?”

“Ieldramodor! Do you and Roana think of naught else?”

Lady Hildeth laughed, the sound a girlish giggle one would expect from a woman decades her junior. “And why should I not? My Lyolf was a lusty man, as surely must be your Fallard. I quite enjoyed his attentions. Mark my words. Marriage is far more bearable if one does. But mayhap, after Renouf, you know that not. Still, I say you true, your marriage bed will be far better with Sir D’Auvrecher than before. So then, answer my question. What think you of his caresses child, was he gentle with you?”

“Nay! I mean, he has come not yet to my bed. He gave me his word he would not, till I have grown more accustomed to him.”

“Honorable indeed, nefene! Have you any notion what a remarkable promise that is? Why, the man is a mighty warrior, a lord, a conqueror and a consort of the king. Such men ask not, they take as they please! Ah, but this grows more romantic than I had thought. Has he become enamored of you? I can think of naught else to explain his restraint.”

Ysane sighed. “Roana believes he is, but I know not.”

“Have you feelings for him?”

“Aye, but I understand them not. I fear him not, which inspires endless astonishment, but I see his goodness, and find I enjoy his company. I would see him safe, and I willingly wed him, but beyond that, I know not.”

“Has he at least kissed you?”

“Aye.”

“Did you kiss him back?”

“Roana asked me the same thing!”

Lady Hildeth snorted, rather inelegantly. “That girl has more intelligence than I credited to her. Marlee says she has gotten herself betrothed to one of those fine young knights who rode in with your lord. Seems ’tis the silver-haired boy with the laughing eyes, or did I hear not correctly?”

“Sir Trifine is no boy, Ieldramodor, but aye, he is the one Roana loves and plans to wed, and you are right, he has kind eyes, and is full of mirth. Methinks he will be a good husband to my kinswoman.”

“Aye, and you should know any man below the age of forty twelvemonths is a boy in my eyes. When is the wedding to take place? Marlee was to tell me, but she has grown so old she remembers naught that anyone tells her.”

“’Twas supposed to be four days from now, but with all that is happening, I can say not for certain.”

“Ah! That was the other thing I wished to know. What is happening? The villagers and ceorls are inside the wall, as they have not been for almost as long as I remember, and today the gates were closed. Are we at war? Has that young bastard William finally crossed the Small Sea and attacked Angelcynn as everyone said he would?”

“Ieldramodor! King William is not a bastard. Well, he
is
, actually, but not that kind. He is our king now, remember you not? But nay, to answer your question, we are not at war, at least, not the whole country. ’Tis that there are some Saxons who still fight King William, and their battle has brought them here, to Wulfsinraed. They hope to take over the hall from my lord and use the burh as a base for their rebellion.”

Lady Hildeth was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, the sadness in her voice was deep as the ocean. “But is that not why they took my son away, because they thought he rebelled against Harold? As if he would do such a thing. Kenrick loved Harold. He would have died for the king! Where is my son, where have they taken him? I have seen him not for so long. Oh, how I miss him so.”

Quite suddenly, she was weeping. Ysane pulled her grandmother into her arms. She cupped the fragile skin of the elder’s face and kissed her wet cheek, holding her as she wept. “Oh, Ieldramodor, ’tis all right, deorling, ’twill be all right. I am here, I will care for you.”

Another shadow loomed across the room and Ysane looked up to find Marlee beside the bed.

“Here, my lady, I will return her to her room. She will sleep now.”

“Thank you, Marlee. You are so good to her.”

“Aye, but I love her, you know.”

“I know. Marlee?”

“My lady?”

“Will you make sure she is at the wedding?”

“I will.”

“I want you there, too.”

“My lady, you would have to tie me down to keep me away.”

***

The following day was busier for the burhfolc than even the cleaning day. Lynnet woke Ysane before sunrise and she hurried to wash and dress. Preparing for a siege took a great deal of work, especially when one had but a single day to accomplish it.

She was not so busy, howbeit, as not to realize more than a seven-day had passed since Sir Fallard D’Auvercher, knight extraordinaire had charged headlong into her life, bringing with him a seeming reversal of her fortunes. Still, a certain dubiety continued to cloud her thinking regarding the man and his intentions. The rapidly unfolding events since that day had left her little time to sort through the tangle of inner contention.

The intimacies they had shared further confused her thoughts. She had always prided herself on an ability to maintain a certain sensibility in how she viewed life. ’Twas not her nature to vacillate wildly between one emotion and another. She believed ’twas that very prudence, that balance between thought and feeling that had enabled her to withdraw and hide deep within herself to survive the depredations of Renouf. He had not liked that she fought him, not with her body, but with her will.

But Fallard’s caresses had been…enlightening, had shaken her to her core and awakened a depth of sensation previously unrealized. It frightened her and conversely, left her yearning for more.

If only she could learn if Cynric was back. If she could but speak with him, he, of all others would find a way to help her resolve her doubts. But the day had only begun, with no time now to visit his cottage, even if Jehan allowed it. With the siege preparations and the possibility of enemies arriving outside the gates at any moment, all hope of slipping away had vanished with the news brought by last eve’s messenger. She could but hope if her brother was nigh, he would stay far from the rebel force. He was capable of it. He could hide from anyone, if he wished. Even her.

Thrusting the whole gnarled question of Cynric and the new lord of Wulfsinraed into the back of her thoughts, Ysane focused on the task before her. ’Twas still very early. She sat in the hoarding room, tallying the lists of supplies. With her were Tenney, Ethelmar, and Wigmaer, the assistant hoarder, a clear-eyed, russet-haired man of medium stature.

Wigmaer was also burh scribe and interpreter of the occasionally ambiguous system of law by which her people lived—at least, as much as was still possible under Norman rule.

In the course of their rushed scrutiny, Ysane confirmed they had ample stocks of everything from ale to candles, cheese and dried fruit. But being the back end of winter, they were perilously short on flour and honey, two of the food staples. The beehives were within the wall, though there could be no renewal of supplies until spring had fully come. Did they run out, they would simply have to make do. But the mill was now beyond their reach. Lack of bread would become a serious problem did the siege last for any appreciable length of time.

“Twill be necessary to confiscate every kernel of wheat, rye and barley that may be found among the people, Ethelmar, and ration the supply.”

“Aye, my lady. I will see to it.”

“My lady?” The tentative voice broke into the murmured conversation at the table. Four heads swiveled to look toward the grizzled warrior standing in the doorway.

Ysane flashed a smile. “What is it, Sir Harold?”

Despite his age, Harold’s experience qualified him to serve as Second-Marshal of the hearth companions. But ’twas a measure of the chaotic nature of the day that he had come to the hoarding room at all. Normally, a boy would have been sent to find her, but they were all in the forest, gathering branches and kindling with the men who were chopping trees to haul within the walls. The extra timber would be needed for defense purposes, the additional cooking fires of the burhfolc, and if the siege lasted more than a few seven-days, for making more charcoal.

“Another messenger has arrived, my lady. He hails from Blackbridge.”

Joy surged, even as disappointment warred with Ysane’s thankfulness that her family was not in danger on the road. She had seen not her sister since her marriage to Renouf, and had anticipated her family’s presence at her wedding. “Arnulf sends a message? That means he journeys not. Saints be praised, I have been so worried. Oh, but I hope there is naught wrong. Harold, does the messenger seem anxious or upset?”

“Nay, my lady. Shall I bring him here or will you come?”

“Take him to the kitchen and have Alewyn feed him. He is most likely tired and hungry. I will come.”

Harold nodded his shaggy gray head and headed back down the stairs.

Ysane rose. “We have almost finished, have we not, Tenney?”

“Aye, m-m-my lady, and we are in excellent position to withstand a m-m-moderately long s-s-siege, even without enough flour. With great care, we could last s-s-six-months, though ’twould be not easy.”

“Well and good. When you are through here, I would that you and Wigmaer find Sir Jehan or Thegn Noll. I am certain they have a use for more willing hands. Ethelmar, accompany me.”

She hurried down the stairs and across the hall, noting as she went the other ladies, even Lady Norma, whose sickness of the morn was severe, were preparing stacks of bandages. Under Luilda’s direction, medicaments of many kinds were concocted and organized. The smell of crushed herbs and dried medicinal plants was sharp in the hall.

Ysane stopped long enough to insure the servants were hauling out the extra cauldrons from the kitchen storage chamber for use in pouring boiling water from the wall. Jehan had also ordered every extra barrel, vat, bucket and pail filled with sand or water drawn from the river to fight fires ignited by burning arrows. He sent off-duty sentries to the armory in the south tower to fetch extra weaponry to stockpile inside a large wooden box in the stable. The burh’s hunters searched for whatever game could be found in the course of a day to supplement the meat reserves. The men and older boys who lived outside the wall had returned to their homes to scrounge every remaining vestige of food, clothing and any other serviceable supplies to bring behind the walls, thus preventing their use by the attacking force.

Ethelmar edged behind her as she stepped into the kitchen. She dodged busy servants to greet Arnulf’s messenger, who set down the roasted chicken leg he devoured. He took a swig of ale, wiped his hands on his tunic and bowed.

“My lady, I am Victor. I am come from my lord du Theil with a message begging my lord D’Auvrecher’s consent to wait a few seven-days ere he and Lady Gemma travel to Wulfsinraed.”

“I see. Why does my lord du Theil wish for this delay in following his liege-lord’s command?”

“’Tis for the sake of his lady wife. She is heavy with their fourth child, and ’twould be difficult and dangerous for her to travel such a long journey.”

“Gemma is increasing?” The words fairly exploded from Ysane’s mouth. She glared at Ethelmar as if he were to blame for the failure to inform her of her sister’s condition, then turned back to the messenger.