Rose of Hope (52 page)

Spring crops slowly ripened. Four-footed babies of every description scampered and frolicked in the pens and pastures. The meadows were awash in a sea of color while a haze of green covered the land. Fallard watched in private delight as the full bloom of early summer engulfed the village with the rioting blaze of color he had foreseen in his first days as lord.

The love between Fallard and Ysane blossomed along with the land. The burh women wagered whether Ysane or Roana would be the first to be found increasing, while the men teased without mercy both Fallard and Trifine over their besotted state.

The only pinprick of serious concern brought to Fallard’s attention came, as summer waxed, by way of his reeve, Aldfrid. The man was worried over the lack of moisture. Rainfall had been normal after the unexpected blizzard, but as summer progressed and the time drew nigh for planting of fall crops, it had slowed to naught. While none wanted storms at this time of year, the slow, gentle showers necessary to crop growth had not come. If none fell within the next few seven-days, Aldfrid feared a drought. Fallard met with Tenney and Ethelmar and ordered supplies be sequestered, in case.

***

At break of dawn early in the month of mowing, Ysane sat in the window embrasure of the bower she shared with Fallard. She inhaled deeply to savor the glorious fragrance of the roses in her garden. Woven through the smell of the roses drifted the scent of the lavender. The two scents together were nigh to overpowering. Thanks to judicious watering from the lowering river, the burh gardens flourished, if naught else did in the drought.

She leaned forward to watch as a red deer hind with two fawns wandered out of the shadows of the forest and crossed the far edge of the clearing, heading to the river to drink. Already the new day was unseasonably warm and with water scarce, the river, and the lake in the distance, had become popular watering places. The animals moved without hurry, sensing no threat. The hind stopped to briefly graze on yellowing meadow grass, then all three passed beyond her sight. Despite her worry over the lack of rain, the little group brought a smile to her countenance as she turned back to the room.

She lifted her heavy hair to allow the morning air to cool the heated skin of her nape. Fallard still slept, and she waited for him to awaken. She had news, and decided this morn was the perfect time to tell him. Crossing the chamber, she sat on the edge of the bed beside him. He lay as he oft did, spread-eagled on his back, one arm thrown over his head, with but the lightest of bedcovers tangled about his waist. A faint sheen of sweat glazed his forehead and bare chest. His big body occupied most of the surface of the bed.

She studied him, thoroughly enjoying this rare chance to observe him unaware. His hair had grown considerably in the months since his arrival and now it stuck out in tousled spikes all over his head. The bluish cast to the black had deepened from time spent in the sun without his helm. The powerful muscles of his arms and torso appeared ready to leap into action despite his somnolent state, the skin bronzed as if cast from that brown-gold metal.

His breathing was deep and steady, his mouth relaxed. She had heard the burh women speak of how in sleep, men’s faces lost the hard lines and angles that characterized them while awake, making them look younger. Fallard looked about as innocent as Grendel. Betimes she wondered if he had ever been young. Not that she minded. A playful grin curved her lips as she reached to trace the angry scar on his left shoulder and then spread her palm in the springy black hair that covered his chest.

***

Fallard was not asleep. He lay quiet and still, and waited for her to return to bed. When her fingers fanned out over his skin, he grabbed her wrist, pulled her full against him and rolled over with her beneath him, all in one lightning movement. She yelped, and startled moss green eyes blinked indignantly.

Then she started to laugh. “You cheated,” she huffed, and she cuffed him with her free hand, only to find that wrist also imprisoned.

He straddled her hips, pulling both wrists above her head and holding them while he plundered her lips. “Nay, ’tis but a ploy a warrior uses when he wishes to take an enemy by surprise,” he breathed against her mouth.

Her brows flew up as her eyes widened. “I am your enemy, then?”

“Oh, aye, and the most dangerous of them all.” His mouth ravaged the soft skin beneath her chin. “A man with such a foe must make use of every advantage he may find, especially those deemed unfair. ’Tis only wisdom.”

“‘Wisdom’, ’tis, then? Methinks mayhap, I should see these advantages you speak of as lessons, and learn from them.”

He chuckled. “’Twould add a most interesting perspective to life, should you succeed. Mayhap, I will offer you many such lessons and give you leave to practice them as oft as you will.” He abruptly changed the subject. “What saw you from the window that had you smiling?”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips made a little moue. “A family scene.”

This time, ’twas his brows that raised. He bent to rub noses and then kissed her again. Between nips and pecks he said, “What kind of a family scene?”

“Oh, the kind one oft sees at this time of the twelvemonth.” Excitement edged the words with gilt.

He considered this for a while. Finally, he said, “Wolf?”

“Nay.”

“Fox?”

“Nay.”

“Badger?”

“Nay.”

“Hares? Squirrels? Ducks? Swans?”

“Fallard!”

“Ah! It must be deer.”

She grinned. “A hind and two fawns. They were headed to the river, methinks.”

“Two fawns.”

“Aye.”

“Twins.”

“Of course.”

“Did ever I mention multiple births run in my family?” He whispered nigh her ear as he caught both of her hands in one of his own and tickled her with the other.

Her answer was a squeal that turned into uncontrolled laughter as she squirmed and thrashed in an unsuccessful attempt to make him cease.

“Stop! Fallard, please, cease! I can bear no more! Stop!”

“Ask me again, more nicely this time.”

“Fiend!” She yelled in between peals of mirth. “A horrible man you are, Fallard D’Auvrecher. If you stop not, I will, I will…well, I swear I will think of
something
awful to do to you, and when you least expect it.”

“Hmmm, methinks that is no proper way for an obedient wife to speak to her husband.”

“’Tis good enough for you.”

He chuckled, but ceased his torture and pulled her outstretched arms around his neck as he rolled again, bringing her atop him, tangling them both in the bedcover and in her glorious hair. He ran his hands into the soft mass and gently tugged her down to kiss her again, then wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

She sought without success to loosen his grip. “Faith! I might as well try to move the tower.” Her voice rose to a squeak on the last word as he squeezed again. “You, my lord, are a tyrant.”

“Indeed? ’Twould seem instead I have been too lenient. A wife should respect her husband. Methinks mayhap, this calls for more stringent discipline.”

He made a threatening face and his hands moved to cup her bottom.

“Fallard, wait! There is somewhat I wish to tell you, lest we forget all in the moment.” She was full of an expectant excitement.

He waited.

She stared down at him, grinning like a child with a hand full of honeyed nuts. She licked dry lips and he closed his eyes, the sight doing things to his insides that must, perforce, wait upon her news.

“Well?” His voice had gone hoarse.

“Methinks I am increasing.” She blurted it out, grimaced and gave a groan. “Faith! To think I have practiced for days the words I wished to use to tell you, and now, I have forgotten them.”

He watched her face. “Certain of this, you are?”

“Methinks so, aye. I have missed two of my courses, and this month is late.” She blushed at the words and hid her face against his arm despite the intimacy they shared.

“So I had thought, and I am glad. Look at me,” he said, and allowed a grin the size of a farmer’s sickle to plaster itself all over his face. He sat up and scooted so he rested against the backboard, arranging her so her knees straddled his hips. He pulled her against his chest, caught her face between his hands and kissed her lovingly, slowly, thoroughly.

Between kisses, she pouted. “You…knew?”

“When a man is oft intimate with his wife, ’tis hard not to notice the absence of a certain bodily function.”

She grew quiet and dropped her eyes, then ran a fingertip along his breastbone. “I knew not if I could give you children Fallard, at the least, not sons. Much of Renouf’s anger was due to my lack in producing a male child. It enraged him it took so long to get me with child. He accused me of barrenness, and methinks ’twas his thought to seek an annulment. When I finally conceived but the babe I bore was not the son he craved, his rage was very great. He despised Angelet. To his mind, a female held no value at all, worth less, he said, than the livestock in the burh. He said at least one could
eat
the cows and the pigs.”

“By the wolf’s head! That man was a wholly despicable lout. ’Tis a better world without him.” He ran his forefinger down her cheek. “Ah, wife. Need I speak the words? This news pleases me greatly, Ysane, and that holds true whether you bear me son or daughter. I will love either, or both.” He grinned. “Aye, and ’tis my thought this calls for a celebration. How would you fancy a trip to the faire at Fallewydde?”

“Oh, Fallard, ’twould be lovely, my deorling! It has been twelvemonths since I’ve been to the faire, and ’twas one of my favorite activities each summer. They offer the most delicious foods and the happiest music, and troupes that dance and do the most amazing balancing acts. There are beautiful fabrics and wonderfully curious things from far away and Fallard, there is a man who comes there to sell books or at least, he used to come. Books! Terribly expensive they were, but even to look upon them was a joy. He would bring them out to show to me, and let me touch and admire them. Father would sometimes buy the small ones, and then allow me to read them. Oh, I loved the books most of all!”

He chuckled his indulgence. “’Twould seem my words have unleashed a greedy child. Well and good, we shall leave this very day. But if we are to attend this magnificent event, mayhap, we should leave this bed and quickly, for if you keep looking at me in that way, my sweet rose, I swear we will leave not this bower for a seven-day!”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

They made it to the fair, but not in the manner expected. Lynnet knocked and peeped inside the door, but Fallard sent her away. They washed and dressed together, and laughed in shared enjoyment. He pulled Ysane’s thin linen syrce over her even thinner cyrtel, but declined to tighten the girdle, then combed out her hair at her insistence.

“’Twas you, deorling,” she said, “who mussed it so badly, so ’tis only fair you tidy it.”

“Ah, so I am a tyrant, but you, my rose, are a taskmaster.”

When he began to plait the strands, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “You are a knight of unexpected talents, my lord. Do I assume you have performed this service for your…sisters?”

He gave her a playful shake. “Play not the jealous wife, Ysane, and aye, when we were very young, I had occasion to help my sisters. Melisent, in particular, loved to sit while others combed her hair. Nay, leave the braid to hang,” he said, when she made to pin it up, and when she held up the headrail, he shook his head. He refused to allow her to wear the hot, confining wrap in the privacy of the hall. “’Tis a wife’s place to wear the thing, but ’tis a great discomfort when the weather is so warm.”

“I have a husband of much gentle consideration.”

She started down the stairs in front of him, but came to an abrupt halt as he caught the length of the dangling flaxen plait and wrapped it round them both, tucking the end into the sash that secured his braies. “I am considerate in other ways, am I not, little rose?”

“You are.”

“And you are grateful, aye?”

“Oh, of a certainty.”

“Show me,” he said, his growl husky. Their arrival in the hall was delayed by several minutes longer than they intended.

“Your fair face is still delightfully pink, my rose,” Fallard whispered later in her ear as they broke their fast with crisp bacon, cheese and bread slathered with honey.

He glanced at her trencher, piled high with the food Roul brought, then teased, “If you take not care, you will grow fat.”

She grinned. Her pregnancy had gifted her with an embarrassingly increased appetite and naught of the stomach distress she had experienced while carrying Angelet. “Will I still please my lord do I grow overly large?”

He slid his arm around her waist and gently squeezed. “You will please me do you grow larger than the moon and all your teeth fall out.”

She burst out laughing.

He leaned to nibble on her earlobe. “You taste better than the bacon. Shall we tell them, my rose?”

“About the babe? Aye, my deorling. ’Tis good news for them too, methinks. Besides, ’twill be exciting to learn who won the wager.”

“What wager?”

“The wager over who first got with child, myself or Roana.” Her grin, offered between bites, was pure mischief. “A smaller wager was placed for whoever guessed the correct month whichever one of us announced it.”

He stared at her.

“Close your mouth, deorling. Is it truly such a shock?”

He threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. “I know not why I am surprised,” he said when his mirth had finally stilled. “But you must know while ’tis commonplace for men to wager on everything, ’tis most unusual for the womenfolk.”

She gave him a sidewise glance but said naught. She was too busy chewing.

He chuckled again. “Very well, let us give forth the good news.”

He stood, barely waiting until she put down her hadseax before pulling her up beside him.

“I would have your attention, one and all!” The sound of voices stilled. Roul hurried to stand behind him. Expectant faces, many sporting curious grins, looked up at him. “I have news my wife and I would share. My friends, in seven months….” Ysane elbowed him and he stopped. She lifted on her toes to whisper something in his ear. He inclined his head at her words, then nodded. “My pardon. In
six
months, a new babe will be born to the hall of Wulfsinraed. My lady wife is with child!”