Part 6 (1/2)

He raised a negligent hand toward the men-at-arms who cl.u.s.tered together on the wall walk. They scattered when Sir Walter shouted, but David didn't flinch. He fell back until Alisoun reached him and they could ride, together, into the inner bailey. Sir Walter hurried to catch them. He had been the castle's warden and Alisoun's right hand; his position had just been changed, and without a word being uttered.

Alisoun wondered if becoming a legend wasn't partly due to an ability to read a situation and a.s.sess it immediately.

The four stories of the keep rose sharply in the center of the inner bailey. No windows or doors sliced through the thick stone on the first level, but serving women hung from the tiny window slots above. They cl.u.s.tered on the wooden stairs that led to the second level entrance. Edlyn stood alone on the landing, hands clasped at her waist, waiting calmly to greet her mistress.

Pleased with her ward's dignity, Alisoun sent a special smile of approval toward the girl, and Edlyn beamed. The cook stepped out of the kitchen shed with fork in hand and brandished a plucked goose. Alisoun nodded, and Easter grinned broadly. Easter knew what Alisoun liked. The baker opened the great oven and in a rush of fragrant steam, removed a loaf with his wooden paddle. Kneeling, he offered it, and even from the distance Alisoun could smell the scent of cinnamon she loved. She started toward him, ready to accept the loaf, and behind her she heard the muttered exclamation. ”Mercy o' me, but you're rich.”

She wanted to ignore him. She meant to ignore him. Instead she turned around gracefully. ”You're not the first man to notice that,” she said in a low voice with only a hint of an edge.

”I imagine not.” David fingered his reins and watched his hands. ”At Radcliffe, the only time we kill a goose is if someone's ill-or if the goose is.”

She wanted to laugh, but she wasn't sure he jested. The mighty Sir David seemed abashed and in awe. Looking around once more, she saw her home through his eyes. The castle walls contained all the necessities of life. The well sat in the middle of the inner bailey. The storerooms beneath the castle contained supplies enough to repel a siege for six months. She'd grown up with the wealth, but she'd been taught to be kind to those less fortunate. Was Sir David less fortunate? He might not have her resources, but he was a man.

Men were the kings; they held all the land. Men were the fathers; they forced their daughters to do as they were told. Men were the husbands; they beat their wives with rods.

Yet David was one of the small landowners whom the drought had hurt. He looked at her and saw a way to repair his fortunes, and what harm could he do? She understood him completely. She knew he'd charmed her because of her money, and it wasn't as if she were unpracticed in repelling likely suitors. As kindly as she knew how, she said, ”After your bath, you can eat the whole goose if you wish.”

He looked up at her. He had brown eyes, she realized with a start. Brown eyes, the color of old oak, brown hair so dark that the strands of gray gleamed like pewter, and a tanned face that had witnessed too many battles, too much hunger, too little kindness. For just one moment, he looked at her as if she were the hapless goose, ready for the plucking.

Maybe she shouldn't put him in charge of her castle.

Had she said it aloud? She didn't think so, but he must have read her thoughts, for he said, ”Nay, my lady, it's too late for second thoughts now.” Then his expression changed, becoming mischievous and a bit rueful. ”I'll hold you to that promise and eat the whole goose.”

She'd been so sure of him, but that one glimpse of his soul left her cold and quaking. Perhaps it would behoove her to remember that he had started with nothing but a knighthood and now possessed both legend and property. That should satisfy any man. She risked another glance at him.

He didn't look satisfied.

But she had a duty. Her role of hostess required the rituals of hospitality. Her people expected it of her. Alisoun expected it of herself, and she had no tangible reason to deny him. She accepted the loaf of bread, wrapped in a cloth, and thanked the baker.

After all, David wanted to gobble up her poultry, not her lands. She broke the loaf open, and he watched with an avid kind of wonder as the soft bread steamed. She took a bite. He observed every movement of her mouth with his own slightly open. Self-conscious, she chewed quickly, then licked a crumb off her lip. She heard his intake of breath. He must be very hungry.

Quickly, she pa.s.sed it to him. ”Share this loaf in welcome,” she recited. ”Bless my house with your presence forevermore.”

”As you command, my lady.” David turned the loaf until he reached the place she had eaten. Then he tore the loaf with his teeth like a ravenous wolf with tender flesh.

Did he mean something by his gesture? Or had the fears of the past moons prodded her imagination to new heights of absurdity?

David pa.s.sed the loaf on to Sir Walter as if unaware of her emotions.

Sir Walter also broke and ate the bread, although from the expression on his face, it might have been baked with bitter horse chestnut. She lost sight of the loaf after that, knowing it would be pa.s.sed as far as possible and tiny bites taken from it as part of the welcome ceremony.

The keg of ale took longer to arrive, hauled from the keep's cellar on the shoulders of one of her largest men. Again she was given the first cup. ”It's my latest,” her alewife told her. ”And a fine flavor it is.”

Alisoun drained it to the bottom. ”One of your best,” she a.s.sured Mabel.

The gray-haired woman winked at her, then refilled the cup and pa.s.sed it to David. The wink she gave him was considerably more salacious, and he winked back with a smile that would melt iron. The gathering group of servants watched, fascinated, while he drank, observing each bob of his Adam's apple with deference. Alisoun didn't know whether to be amused or exasperated, but Sir Walter knew just what he thought. Taking his own cup from his belt, he filled it with ale and broke the chain rather than drink after David. It was a gesture noted by all, but nullified by the fight which broke out among the men. They all wanted to drink from the same cup as David.

It seemed to Alisoun a good moment to slip away. Dismounting, she found herself face-to-face with Sir Walter. Seldom was she without the skills to diffuse a situation, but today she was speechless. She waited for him to speak. He glared. She turned away toward the keep. He caught her arm.

”Why did you bring him here?” His hands rose toward her shoulders as if he wanted to grasp them and shake her. ”What have I done to earn your contempt?”

She kept her fingers relaxed at her side and her face expressionless. ”I have great respect for you. Together, we have kept the peace and dispensed justice in George's Cross for years.”

”I always said so. I always said so.” He took deep breaths, his nostrils flaring with each inhalation. ”You're the lady. You make judgments and I dispense the justice and direct the punishments. You pay me to be the one the peasants hate.”

He spoke nothing less than the truth. Castle folk knew who directed his actions, but his mediation gave them an outlet for their ire other than their beloved lady.

He went on. ”If the folk have been complaining, I can change my ways. Be less strict with their transgressions.”

She knew that in her absence, Sir Walter ran the castle with a stern hand. The exuberant welcome which always greeted her return from her travels told her that. Now she wondered if he disapproved of her tact, discretion, and mercy. His obvious hostility made her wonder a lot of things. ”No one has complained about you.”

”Then why-”

”Hey!” David appeared beside them, relaxed from his intake of ale and grinning like a dolt. ”My lady, you promised me a bath.”

Sir Walter began to growl deep in his chest, like a dog who smells a challenge.

”So I did.” Alisoun faced Sir Walter. ”If you would excuse me?”

”I will not!” He lunged for her arm again and struck David in the back.

Somehow, David had slipped between them, and he seemed unaware of the blow. With his hand on Lady Alisoun's shoulder, he guided her toward the keep. ”Your hospitality is faultless, my lady. Even bathing should be a pleasure under your auspices.”

”My lady!” Sir Walter called. ”I need to speak to you.”

”Come along then,” David called. ”She has a bath to give first.” He looked up at the sky and held out his hand. ”And I believe we should find shelter, for it's beginning to rain.” He could scarcely contain his laughter at the huff of indignation Sir Walter released. David had seen this type of man before. A knight who had held his position for too long, coming to think his place was secure regardless of his actions. It surprised David that Lady Alisoun had allowed it to happen, but undoubtedly the situation had developed gradually, without her realization. At least now she had taken steps to rectify it, and he thought he understood a little better why she'd hired him.

If someone had been shooting arrows, perhaps Sir Walter was the culprit. He glanced back at the puffed-up little grouse of a man. In sooth, Sir Walter didn't act like a probable suspect. David glanced down at Lady Alisoun. And she didn't act like a woman likely to be so wrong in her judgment of her chief knight.

The maids on the stairs greeted their mistress with curtsies and words of welcome. The respect shown her almost amounted to reverence, and she hadn't earned that by being a fool.

The n.o.ble girl at the top of the stairs curtsied, too, then flung herself into Alisoun's arms as if she couldn't bear another moment of separation. Alisoun petted her head-for one moment, only, but it was a definite stroke of affection-then pushed her away. ”Stand straight, Lady Edlyn, and let me introduce you to Sir David of Radcliffe.”

David braced himself for another siege of unwanted adulation, but no recognition lit Edlyn's face at his name. He grinned at his own conceit, and realized that she was too young to recall his mercenary exploits.

She said, ”Greetings, good lord, and welcome to George's Cross.”

Her pretty manners seemed to satisfy Alisoun, for she patted Edlyn once more, briefly. ”Where's Philippa?” she asked.

”Feeding the baby,” Edlyn answered.

Turning to him, Alisoun said, ”Philippa is my personal maid.”

The explanation startled him briefly. Why would she think he cared? Then they stepped inside, moving from warmth to cool and light to dark, and he no longer wondered about anything except the sheer mammoth size of the keep. Stairways spiraled up, rising into the dark. A puff of fresh air told him the stairs extended above three floors to the roof where men-at-arms patrolled. Stairways spiraled down. The scent of damp barrels and bitter herbs rose to tell him of storerooms and wine cellars. A short, crooked pa.s.sage wound toward the great hall. And once there...”A great hall, indeed,” David murmured, trying to look everywhere at once.

The upright posts reached from the floor to the angle of the ceiling, then mighty oak beams, carved in fanciful decoration, carried the arch up and over. High, narrow windows let in slivers of light from the setting sun, but already torches smoked in the wall sconces. Chairs and benches cl.u.s.tered around not one, but two gigantic hearths, one on each end of the hall. Their roaring blazes warmed the cold stones, but the whitewashed walls remained white. Where was the smoke going? Stepping up onto the dais, he wandered closer and realized that a stone hood captured the smoke and siphoned it into a channel which took it outside. ”Incredible,” he muttered, touching the hood with one finger.

Alisoun caught his eye. She watched him without expression, but somehow he thought she read his admiration and amazement.

Well, why shouldn't she? He didn't conceal himself as if he were a miser and each emotion a nugget of gold.