Winter Song (14 page)

“Very well,” he replied, “but are you sure that you do not
wish me to stay?”

“You will be sorely in my way.” Alys touched his hand. “I
will not be able to think of cleaning—or of anything but…” She sighed, then
laughed. “Do go away, Raymond.”

He laughed also. “I will take John and Wulf with me. They
speak so little French, and that so foully, that they would be of no use here,
and they cannot say anything amiss in Rustengo’s kitchen quarters or guardroom.
Shall I bring back some decent servants, my love?”

“No, not yet. There is only rough work to be done, but if
your kinsman offers you dinner, stay with him.”

“And leave you to starve?”

“I will not starve,” Alys assured him, “but there will be
nothing fit for you, my lord. I wish to serve you as you should be served. It
would shame me if the first dinner I put before you as your wife were coarse
and ill-cooked.”

Raymond looked around him. “If you could serve any cooked
meal at all, I would think it a miracle, but I will stay with Rustengo, my
heart, if it will make you easier.”

“But you will come home before dark?”

Again Raymond looked at the bleak hall, at the ragged,
slovenly servants who had by now got to their feet and were staring toward the
gentlefolk but not moving. The truth was that Raymond hated the place. It made
his skin crawl. He was dying to get away, but his conscience smote him. Alys
looked so small and frail.

“If you are afraid,” he said, “I will not go at all.”

Fear for herself had been the last thing in Alys’s mind, but
this time she had sense enough not to say she wanted her husband safe behind
strong walls after dark. “I am not afraid,” she replied, “but to be alone in so
strange a place after dark…”

“I will not fail you,” Raymond assured her, still guilty but
relieved. “Only you must promise to have one or two men-at-arms with you at all
times. I do not think any of these poor creatures would offer you hurt, but
still do not put temptation in their way.”

“No, my lord, I will not.”

Raymond turned toward her as if to kiss her, but thought
better of it. Instead, he smiled and moved back into the passage, shouting down
for some men to come up. It was soothing that they obeyed him as swiftly as
they had obeyed Alys, although he was not specifically aware of what had
pleased him. Actually, he associated the feeling with leaving Blancheforte.
Even if it were cleaned, he wondered whether they could ever live in the place.
When Hugo and Peter had come into the hall, Raymond went down.

Alys watched him go, waiting until the sound of his steps
died away. Then she swung back toward the cluster of men and women and gestured
them toward her. “What is the meaning of this disgrace?” she called.

The group, which had been advancing slowly, hesitated. A few
heads turned nervously as if seeking an escape route, but Alys was sure there
was no other exit from the hall, except the steps that led to the floor above
and the floor below, and those were only traps.

“Come you hither, and quickly,” she commanded, “or my men
will fetch you with bared swords.”

Several of the women began to weep, and all fell to their
knees as soon as they were within normal speaking distance, babbling of Master
Ernaldus, the bailiff. Alys silenced them with a single furious word.

“All of you deserve to be well whipped,” she snapped, “and
cast out masterless to die in the cold. I do not care that no orders were
given. It is your duty to keep all clean and fresh.” Actually what the servants
had said was that the bailiff had forbidden them to clean, but Alys simply
could not believe such a wild unlikelihood. She assumed that the difference in dialect
between her Anglo-French and this southern version of the language had caused
her to misunderstand, or simply that the servants were lying. But such a silly
lie seemed unlikely, too. She decided to ignore the problem for the moment. It
was more important to get the hall clean than to punish the pathetic scarecrows
trembling before her.

“There is one path for you to escape your just deserts,” she
continued. “If this hall is swept, washed, and garnished forth as fitting a
nobleman’s place before the sun drops in the west, I
may
reconsider your
punishment. Now get out of that muck. You are filthy enough without further
smearing yourselves.”

They rose at command, and were quieter now. Although some
still wept, most seemed quite confused, addled with fear and weakness. Alys had
to ask where the rush-rakes were, and when they were found, she ordered that a
path be cleared for her to walk to the fireplace and to the stairs to the floor
above. This done, she lifted her skirts so that the hem would not be sullied by
the mess on either side of the cleared path, and passed to the next floor. At
the stairs she paused to say sharply that she expected to see a good clearance
made by the men, water to be brought up, and the women to have scrubbed clean
the area around the hearth before she came down again.

Above, the situation was considerably better, in that the
area was simply dusty and unused. Alys sent Hugo to fetch Arnald, bidding him
to bring up a pair of stools, if he could find usable ones. When the
master-at-arms arrived, Alys began to laugh at his appalled expression.

“We are landed in a pretty mess, are we not?” she said.

“I have never seen the like,” Arnald replied, sitting down
at her invitation and looking around curiously. “And I will say this, my lady.
Had we not been so many and armed, I think the men-at-arms would have done us a
mischief. They are ugly and sullen, and one loudmouth threatened that Master
Ernaldus would see us turned out.”

“Master Ernaldus, eh? That is the second time I have heard
his name, and I dislike it already. We will come to him betimes. Now all I
desire is to make a clearance here. Ugly and sullen, are they? Then you think
it unsafe to use them to clear the bailey? How many are there?”

“Twelve. It is safe if they be watched by enough of my men to
prevent a surprise,” Arnald said after a moment’s consideration.

“And what of the grooms and other servants?” Alys asked.

“They are like these in the hall. Never have I seen such
miserable creatures. Not even those at Ilmer, where I went once with your
father, were so bad.”

That remark lent conviction to what Alys had been thinking.
The people of Ilmer had been long misused by Lady Elizabeth’s first husband and
by that man’s father. But this keep had no direct master in constant need of
money so that he starved the people to wring a few more pence from the land.
The king was not that kind of master. What was more, Alys knew he had not a
penny’s profit out of Blancheforte. Thus it must be the bailiff whose neglect
or dishonesty made the men-at-arms insolent and the servants quivering lumps of
fear. Alys vowed she would make certain that bailiff made no more profit, but
first things came first.

“Leave Hugo in charge of about eight men, and let him see
that those men-at-arms do the filthiest work. Meanwhile, do you and the remaining
nine men go out on the demesne and bring in what men and women can be snatched.
They will be unwilling, but pay them no mind.”

She thought for a moment, then went on. “Do as little hurt
as you can. Take no women heavy with child or with small babes, and leave at
least one woman in each house to care for whatever children there be. Of the
men, choose out the strongest. I would bid you promise them no harm will befall
them, but they would not believe you. Say what you think best to them or
nothing at all.”

“How many will you need?”

‘Twenty of each, if so many can be gleaned. But do not spend
more than an hour or two searching. Oh yes, let your men who watch the keep
guard take the carters’ whips and lay on freely for any slowness in labor or
sullenness in looks.”

“That will be a pleasure, my lady.”

“Do you know whether there are any stores at all in the
keep?” Alys asked next. “Is there a cookhouse and cooks?”

“A cookhouse, yes. I saw the fires. Whether the creatures
around them are cooks, I cannot say. As to the stores, I will set one of the
men to looking. I could do with eight to bring in the people, and if you give
me leave, I would rather that two men stayed by you. It was Lord Raymond’s
order, and if you should need one to run a message, I would not like you to be
alone, my lady.”

“If it was my lord’s order, it must be done. Now, as soon as
you return with the serfs, lock up the keep men-at-arms if there is a prison
room on the lower floor. If none is there, you will have to chain them, or
perhaps there is a storage room you could bar in some way. I would say put them
to the sword, except that my lord may wish to question them.”

“Most wise, my lady.” Arnald was relieved. He did not if think
the labor that could be extracted from the rebellious men-at-arms was worth the
danger they represented.

“Oh, yes. Send Edith and Bertha up, and the carters may
begin to unload my bed and the chairs and cushions for my bedchamber. Nothing
else at this time. I will send word when I desire the other things to be unloaded.”

The maids arrived with eyes as big as saucers. Having been
born and brought up in Marlowe, neither had ever seen such dirt and disorder.
Both were older than Alys and could remember that when Alys’s mother was alive,
Marlowe did not run with the snap and crackle it had under Alys’s hand, but it
had been nothing like Blancheforte.

“How do they do below?” Alys asked.

“They have the windows open and are throwing out the foul
rushes. Also, the place near the fire is scrubbed clean. I took the liberty of sending
two men for clean water. The whole floor will need to be washed.”

Bertha answered in fair French, since her mistress had spoken
that language to her. Both women spoke far better French than their husbands, a
natural result of being indoor servants with much greater contact with the
upper classes. Before Alys could reply, Aelfric, one of the older, steadier
men-at-arms, who was Edith’s husband, called out for permission to enter. Alys
gestured to him, but held up a hand to prevent him from speaking while she
finished her business with Bertha.

“Did you have any sour looks or grumbling?” Alys asked the
maid.

“No, my lady.” Bertha seemed surprised. “I do not think those
poor, starved creatures could give a sour look to a worm.”

“Good. If you are not afraid and can bear the stink down
there, go down and make sure the work is well done, and send up two women to
clear this room. Edith will tell them what to do.”

Privately Alys felt like laughing at Bertha’s expression, in
which pride and eagerness mingled with distaste, the men and women who had
elected to follow Alys to France had done so out of ambition or, for the
youngest of the men-at-arms, a spirit of adventure. For the two women, it meant
a chance to be personal maids—which might be a curse or a blessing, depending
on the character of one’s mistress. But Bertha and Edith knew Alys. She might
slap them when she was out of temper, but she was fair, would protect them and
their children from everyone else with vigor, and was generous, within reason,
with gifts of clothing and trinkets. Moreover, the work was much lighter and
more enjoyable. No more scrubbing or carrying. Their only duties were to care
for Alys’s clothes, jewelry, and person, all of which was a pleasure.

Now it seemed there would be even more advancement. In this
keep, at least, Bertha and Edith would be the chief women, directing the other
servants. Alys was both pleased and amused by her maids’ reactions,
complimenting herself that she had chosen well among the many who wished to
accompany her. Bertha seemed to draw herself up taller as she went out to the
stairs, and Edith looked around at the rooms with a suddenly possessive eye.
Then she hurried out after Bertha, and Alys could hear her calling down the
stairs that the women should bring up kindling and firewood so that their lady’s
chamber should be warm.

Alys did not wait, but followed Edith out. “Then I will
leave to you the care of these chambers, and whatever else can be accomplished
to make this place livable,” she said.

She turned to Aelfric and had to bite her lips at the smug
expression of pride he was wearing. Edith and Aelfric had not been married
long, and he was patting himself on the back for his choice. A woman who had
her lady’s ear could help her man advance, also.

“Well, is there food?” Alys asked him.

“Yes, my lady, and good quality, also. There is a
fresh-killed sheep hanging and salt pork and beef and fish, turnips in plenty,
and barley and corn.”

“Then why do the servants look like bags of bones?” Alys
wondered.

“The men-at-arms are well fed, and the cooks and their
helpers, also,” Aelfric remarked.

“Oh? So. They will soon be leaner,” Alys promised. “Very
well, let us go down and set the cooks to work.”

A glance around the great hall showed that progress was
being made. The mess was nearly cleared off the floor, and the women were
cleaning away the more liquid and sticky film with brushes and sand. Although
she said nothing, Alys gave Bertha an approving nod. Apparently she had set
some of the men to fetching water and emptying the dirty buckets in regular
relays now that few of the rushes remained. The floor could be left bare to dry
overnight, Alys thought, and the next day she would discover where rushes could
be obtained to cover it. Fortunately no more than sweeping was necessary in the
women’s quarters and the main bedchamber, and there were rugs in the baggage
she could use to cover the bedchamber and anteroom floors.

The musing had brought her to the cookhouses, and here
things were not nearly as horrible as in the remainder of the keep. Although
the place would take no prizes for cleanliness or neatness, there was no
question that the kitchens and bakehouse could function. Alys ordered that
potage and stew for a hundred be made at once and said what should go into the
dishes. She was surprised to see the cooks’ terror mount as she recounted the
ingredients.