So Great A Love Page 4

  “It will snow soon,” said Guy the man-at-arms, the sudden comment jerking Arden's thoughts away from grief and guilt and back to the present.

  “From what you have said, my lord,” Michael the squire remarked, “I judge it's another two days' ride till we reach Bowen. Let's hope we are safely there before the weather breaks.”

  Arden only grunted in reply. He had not been to Bowen Manor for more than a dozen years, since well before leaving England as a young man, but he had always enjoyed his visits there as a boy and in his youth he liked knowing that one day the place would be his. Bowen had always felt more like home to him than Wortham Castle, which was his father's stronghold.

  Resolutely, he put aside memories of Bowen as it was during his childhood, memories that threatened to undo his hard-won self control. He would not allow himself to think of his pretty, laughing mother, or of his dear younger sister. They were both lost to him, his mother dead for almost ten years and Catherine grown to womanhood during his long absence and surely married by now, with children of her own. Most of all, Arden refused to let himself think about his father. Perhaps at Bowen he would regain some measure of peace before he faced his formidable parent.

  He hoped there would be snow, and he did not care how deep it fell. Bad weather would delay Tristan and his party, which would give Arden more time alone, time in which to decide exactly what he would say, and how he would say it, when he finally met the baron of Wortham.

  Chapter 3

  Sutton Castle

  January 5

  The Twelfth Night festivities began at midday with an elaborate meal to which everyone who lived or worked at the castle was invited. At many castles the nobles served the servants during the Twelfth Night feast. Lord Phelan loudly declared his disapproval of such antics and besides, he reasoned, his voice growing more strident, he could not force his honored guests and prospective son-in-law to act as servants. The nobles would eat at the high table just as they always did, and the fun and games could begin after the meal.

  Margaret wore the red dress, which had originally been made for someone who was a good deal heavier than she. Aldis cinched in the too-loose waist with a gold sash. Catherine braided Margaret's straight black hair and stuffed it into a gold mesh net that, like the sash, was borrowed from Ermengarde.

  “Dear Cat, I cannot believe what you did!” Margaret said, laughing in spite of her nervousness. “For that matter, I can't believe Ermengarde actually gave you what you wanted. And all you had to do was knock on her chamber door and make the request – and she honored it?”

  “It can be a useful thing to be the daughter of a wealthy and powerful baron,” Catherine said, alluding with airy unconcern to the description of her that Lord Phelan had used on the previous night. “I do believe Ermengarde would have given me anything I asked for.”

  Catherine was wearing a bright blue silk dress, deliberately chosen because it was easily noticeable, especially when she and Margaret stood together to provide a startling contrast in colors. Aldis was in deep green, a far more retiring shade. All three had masks to match their dresses, though they did not plan to wear them at first. The masks were to be used later.

  “Aldis,” Margaret said when they were ready, “are you certain you remember the two maidservants I pointed out to you early this morning? You will not make a mistake?”

  “Of course not,” Aldis responded. Her saucy grin revealed the delight she was taking in their carefully thought-out plan. “I remarked those servants well, and I understand that you do not want them to be aware of the parts they are to play until the very last moment, so when they are questioned later, they will know nothing and cannot be punished for what they believe is no more than a Twelfth Night prank.

  “I promise, I will have all of our belongings packed and delivered to the men-at-arms in good time for our departure, and I will see to it that your traveling clothes will be at hand when you need them. Trust me, I won't fail you.”

  “We know you won't,” Catherine said, her eyes sparkling with her own excited reaction to the challenge before them. “It's just that we are all a little nervous. It's not every day that mere women undertake to outwit nasty and determined men.”

  “Oh, my dears!” Margaret exclaimed, wrapping her arms around both Catherine and Aldis and pulling them close. “I do not know how to thank either of you for what you are doing. Never has a woman in need been blessed with truer friends. I do promise you, I will do everything in my power to see to it that you do not suffer for helping me.”

  The three of them stood like that, close together, arms around each other for a bit, bound by affection and the thrill of possible danger, until Catherine turned aside to sneeze.

  “If we are ready,” Catherine said, sniffling a little, “let us begin now, and good luck go with us until this night is over.”

  * * * * *

  As the women had planned in advance, during the feast Margaret sat demurely next to Lord Adhemar at the high table so everyone in the hall could see her in the bright red gown.

  Meanwhile, Catherine spoke to Lord Phelan in her most charming manner, telling him that, with his kind permission and in honor of the holiday, it would be her great pleasure to take over as temporary chatelaine during the foolery of the afternoon and evening, thus freeing both Margaret and Ermengarde to enjoy themselves. Phelan was delighted to receive such an offer from the daughter of Royce of Wortham and he made certain that all the guests at the high table knew of it.

  Having obtained Phelan's consent to her supervision of the feast, Catherine proceeded to see to it that an unusually lavish distribution of wine and ale was provided to the guests at the lower tables, as well as to those who were sitting on the dais.

  Margaret watched as her friend moved about the hall, overseeing the servants with practiced ease, stopping now and then to chat with the guests in a friendly way. She noticed how Catherine paused a little longer when speaking to the men-at-arms who had come to Sutton Castle with her, and Margaret saw how, after Catherine spoke to them, they continued to eat well, but they all drank little. Margaret was so fascinated by what Catherine was doing that she was able to endure Lord Adhemar's renewed lascivious attentions until they became too obvious to ignore.

  “It's a good thing you wore the dress I gave you,” Adhemar said to her, leering at the expanse of white shoulder and bosom revealed by the wide, low neckline, “else I'd have taken you to your bedchamber and removed whatever you were wearing.”

  Not wanting to encourage him for fear he would insist that they retire to her bedchamber in spite of the fact that she was wearing his gift, Margaret tried to show no reaction to the crude overture. A short time later Adhemar pulled the hem of the red skirt upward so he could place his hand upon Margaret's bare knee above her stocking. Margaret forced herself to allow his unwelcome touch, but when Adhemar fumbled farther up her leg she pressed her thighs together and spoke to him through gritted teeth.

  “My lord, I must insist that you stop,” Margaret said.

  “You belong to me,” Adhemar responded, his wine-soaked breath hot on her cheek. “I can do with you whatever I want.”

  Margaret's cheeks were flaming and the revulsion she felt at his touch threatened to make her physically ill. Her decision to flee her impending marriage had never seemed so right as it did at that moment. However, she harbored a very real fear that Adhemar would decide not to wait until his wedding night to claim her body as his property. She did not think her father would raise any objection, not when he was so eager to see her wed to Adhemar.

  It was a problem Margaret knew she was going to have to deal with unaided by anyone else, for in so intimate a matter there was nothing Catherine, or Aldis, could do to help her. Hoping Adhemar would not notice how badly she was trembling, Margaret took his hand from her thigh, lifted it to the tabletop, and held it there. He had by this time consumed so much wine that it was no very difficult task to overcome his resistance to what she was doing. Margaret fought ba
ck her disgust and tried to speak politely, yet firmly enough to leave Adhemar in no doubt about her intentions.

  “My lord, I went to my first marriage bed a virgin,” she said. “I intend to go to my second marriage bed a virtuous woman. My insistence upon maintaining my virtue now, today, is your guarantee of my fidelity after we are wed. If you persist in putting your hands on me, I will complain to your chaplain in a very loud voice. Tomorrow, after we are formally wed and our union has been blessed by the Church, I am indeed yours to do with as you wish. Until then, you may not touch me again.”

  Though Adhemar appeared to have no respect for women, it seemed he did respect God's representative. Or perhaps, Margaret thought, his advanced age and ill health made him cautious about transgressing the sanctions of Mother Church. After a hasty glance at his chaplain, he left Margaret alone and directed his increasingly slurred remarks to her father instead. The two of them were concocting a plan to make war on a third baron, whose lands they coveted. With King Henry mired in grief over the recent death of his sons, they did not expect royal interference with their schemes and they began happily dividing up the lands they intended to gain by force of arms.

  “After the first test of our loyalty to each other,” Phelan said with wine-induced confidence, “we can move on to more important alterations in our circumstances. I suggest we should plan to attend the royal court at the same time and use our combined influences on the king.”

  Relieved to be freed from Adhemar's importunities, Margaret returned her attention to what Catherine was doing. She noticed that Aldis and all of Catherine's men-at-arms were missing from the hall. She had not seen them leave, but she took their absence as a sign the escape plan was under way. Margaret hoped it was so. Every moment she spent at Lord Adhemar's side made her more nervous, more eager to be gone, and more afraid something would occur to prevent her from leaving Sutton and to cast blame onto Catherine and Aldis.

  Finally the long meal was over, if not the drinking, and the men and women who had been sitting at the lower tables were on their feet. The tables and benches were being pushed back to make room in the center of the hall for a band of acrobats who had come to the castle offering to entertain in exchange for food and lodging. There were also to be wrestling matches between Phelan's men-at-arms and Adhemar's men and, later, a pageant put on by the servants.

  Suddenly there was a lot more noise in the hall and much movement, with the servants beginning to assert their right to have fun on this night that was also known as the Feast of Fools, which they considered to be their own special holiday. With a shout of good-natured laughter one of the stableboys was lifted onto a table, there to be crowned with a large cooking pot, as the Lord of Misrule. Margaret knew the time was approaching for her to make her move.

  From across the hall Catherine caught her eye and nodded to her. Margaret understood the signal, but for a tense few breaths she could not make herself move. At last, with her heart beating like thunder, she gathered her courage and rose from the bench where she was sitting. She left the dais so quietly and the guests at the high table were so full of wine and heavy food, and were so intent upon the performances of the acrobats and the nonsense of the noisy servants, that no one remarked on her going. No one but Eustace's wife, Gertrude, who also left the table to trail along a few steps behind Margaret.

  Catherine was waiting at the entrance to the screens passage. Margaret followed her friend into the deserted kitchen and then out another door and beyond, to a small garderobe behind the kitchen that was used by the servants and men-at-arms.

  “Margaret?” Gertrude called after her sister-in-law, her voice little more than a frightened whisper. “Where are you going? Lord Adhemar will be disappointed when he sees you have left him. You ought not to anger your lord and master.”

  “If Lord Adhemar drinks much more wine, he won't know which castle he is in,” Margaret snapped at her, “let alone who is sitting beside him.”

  She saw at once what a mistake her sharp words were. Gertrude's pale, watery blue eyes filled with tears and her chin began to tremble. She was going to cry and the weak-spirited creature would almost certainly run to Eustace, to try to curry favor with her unfeeling husband by telling him that Margaret and Catherine were up to something.

  Gertrude turned, chewing on her quivering lower lip, and took a hesitant step back in the direction of the great hall. Margaret's hand reached out to catch Gertrude's sleeve, holding her in place. Several possible methods for dealing with Gertrude tumbled through Margaret's frantic mind.

  She could tell Gertrude what she was bent upon doing and hope Gertrude would sympathize enough to keep silent. Margaret quickly discarded that idea. Gertrude was so afraid of her husband that at Eustace's first question as to where she had been she would almost certainly reveal everything she knew of Margaret's plans. Margaret felt a deep pity for Gertrude, but she knew she dared not trust her.

  She and Catherine could push Gertrude into a storeroom and lock her in there, but that would be unkind to someone who lived in constant fear and, besides, Gertrude might be discovered before Margaret and Catherine and their company were safely away from Sutton.

  There was only one thing to do. They would have to trick Gertrude. Margaret shot a quick look at Catherine and saw her friend waiting to follow her lead.

  “Gertrude, we are playing a prank,” Margaret said, trying to sound merry and lighthearted. “Catherine and I want to make the men laugh.”

  “Yes,” Catherine said, joining in the trickery. “It's a Twelfth Night game. Gertrude, you won't spoil the fun, will you? Just go back to the table and don't say a word to anyone, and I promise, in a little while there will be a surprise and everyone will laugh.”

  “You mustn't trick your father and Eustace,” Gertrude said to Margaret with great seriousness, “and certainly not Lord Adhemar. It isn't nice to fool one's husband.”

  “He isn't my husband yet,” Margaret pointed out, speaking in impatient irritation. When she saw Gertrude's face begin to crumple in the prelude to tears, Margaret exclaimed, “Eustace will laugh so hard and be in such a good mood!”

  “Eustace, in a good mood?” Gertrude repeated, looking as if she could not quite believe such a thing could ever happen. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, just wait and see,” Catherine said with a bright smile.

  “Gertrude,” Margaret said, “the timing for this game must be just right and you are keeping us from putting the final touches on our prank. Now, go back to the hall and act as if you know nothing. Be patient, wait for the joke to occur, and in the meantime, tell no one you have seen us.”

  “If you are sure Eustace will be entertained,” Gertrude said, sounding as if she were not at all certain of it.

  “I am absolutely sure,” Margaret told her, barely resisting the urge to give Gertrude a strong shove in the direction of the hall.

  “But, Margaret, I am still concerned about what Eustace will do,” Gertrude said. She took a single step toward the hall and then another backward to Margaret and Catherine, as if she could not make up her mind. “Won't Eustace be annoyed if he discovers I knew and didn't tell him?”

  “Gertrude,” Catherine said with remarkable patience, “the point of arranging a surprise lies in not telling anyone about it beforehand. All you have to do is keep quiet and tell no one you have seen us. Can you do that? Please?”

  “I think so,” Gertrude said after a moment of perplexed thought.

  “Then, go along,” Margaret said, trying her best to conceal her impatience though she was near to screaming at the foolish woman. It was the same kind of fearful uncertainty that had led Gertrude to repeat Eustace's drunken, disloyal words about the king to Margaret – words Margaret shivered to recall.

  “Yes, do please go,” Catherine said in a cajoling tone. “Thank you for your help. Now, remember, not a word to anyone.” She paused, smiling, while Gertrude looked from her to Margaret.

  “Not a word,” Gertrude repeated wi
th some reluctance.

  To Margaret's great relief, Gertrude finally left them. As soon as her sister-in-law was out of sight, Margaret opened the door to the little garderobe and she and Catherine slipped inside. Dim, late afternoon light entered the room by a narrow slit window. Catherine bolted the door and they leaned against each other in silence until their heartbeats had quieted.

  “For a few moments there, I feared we were caught,” Catherine said, her voice a bit shaky.

  “I am sorry for Gertrude,” Margaret said, “but she has all the wits of a terrified goose and she tends to tell everything she knows. Let us hope she will control herself just this once and remain silent about seeing us until after we are gone.”

  “My men-at-arms are ready and waiting for us,” Catherine reported. “If we should become separated, you have only to make your way to the outer bailey. At the gatehouse ask for Matthew. He is the leader of my men and he will see you safely out of Sutton. Now, let us play maidservants to each other.”

  While she talked Catherine was helping Margaret to remove the detested red dress, until Margaret was clad only in her shift, stockings, and shoes. Then, holding Margaret's dress above the damp floor to keep from soiling it, Catherine lifted her arms so Margaret could unfasten the lacings at either side of her own, bright blue gown. Margaret at first fumbled with fingers shaking from nervousness, then bit her lip and tried again and it was done. Catherine stood like Margaret, clad in shift and shoes.

  No sooner was Catherine undressed than a soft knock sounded at the garderobe door.

  “Let us hope it’s Aldis,” Catherine said, her voice betraying her own nervousness. She stifled a sneeze. “If it's Gertrude again, or a servant, we will be questioned as to what we are doing in here with our clothes off.”