A Tapestry of Dreams (21 page)

“Will Rufus go with Fritha?” she asked. “I like to tie the horses on the other side of the ridge so they will not frighten whatever creature might come into the valley.”

“I would rather see him settled myself,” Hugh said. Rufus was calm now, not changed out of a horse’s proper nature into a crazed killer by the scent of blood and the sounds of battle, but the stallion was always high-strung, and Hugh wanted no accidents.

“Do not forget to bring Thurstan’s parchment back with you,” Audris urged, “and if you are hungry, ask Fritha for the basket with the cheese and wine.”

He returned alone, carrying the basket in one hand and a somewhat crumpled roll of parchment in the other. Audris was surprised when Fritha did not come with him, for she had not instructed her maid to stay behind. She blushed faintly, assuming that Hugh had told her to stay with the animals and wondered whether it was only Hugh’s concern for his fine stallion being out of sight or whether it was a device to be alone with her. Both ideas disturbed her in different ways, but what disturbed her most of all was that she did not know which she wanted to be his reason.

“I am sure there will be some clue in the parchment that you can follow,” Audris said hastily and in a rather breathless voice.

Hugh smiled at her, set the basket down, sat down himself, and unrolled the parchment, holding it so that Audris could also read. She sat stiffly for a few minutes, but soon she was absorbed in the tale Thurstan had recorded and leaned confidingly against Hugh without realizing it.

“How sad. How very sad,” Audris murmured. “I wonder why she left the nuns? It is clear that she was well provided. See here what Thurstan says of the furnishing of her chamber—her own sheets and her gowns, though few, of the best cloth, and fine swaddling for the babe—” She broke off and looked up at him. “You were that babe. It is very strange to think of you as a babe, Hugh. You are so big.”

“Perhaps that killed her,” he said, frowning.

He had thought as little as possible about his parentage over the years of his youth, and even when Thurstan had introduced the subject, he had not felt much, except for a flicker of gladness and pride that he had meant enough to his mother to spark her desperate struggle to place him in safety. Now he felt a sharp pang of grief and guilt, and he looked at Audris’s small body and shuddered.

“I should not think so,” Audris replied thoughtfully. “I have seen large babes born of small women with ease and small ones that could not be born at all. The fault seems to be in the woman, although sometimes it is needful to turn the babe. In any case, Hugh, it is not something you had any choice about. There can be neither guilt nor sin when free will is absent. What happened was in God’s hands, not in yours. And it is long, long over now. What interests me is why she fled the convent.”

Hugh was very willing to leave the unpleasant idea that had occurred to him and admitted there did not seem to be any reason for his mother’s action. It was clear that she had gone willingly to the nuns. A small troop of men had escorted her there, but none had entered the convent with her, and all the nuns knew was that the men rode away at once. After that, she could have left at any time, for she had the wherewithal to pay new protectors and to find other lodging if she wished. They pored over the parchment, but could find no other fact of significance except the list of nuns who had at one time or another attended Hugh’s mother.

“You will have to go back to the convent and speak to those who are still alive yourself,” she said.

“They will remember nothing at all after all this time,” Hugh replied. “Why are you so set on my finding out my mother’s people? Audris, I hope you will not think me a coxcomb, but I have seen that you favor me. I cannot guess why. God knows I am no beauty—”

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Audris said, smiling, “and your mouth is gentle and tender, but I would not care even if you had no feature at all with charm. You do not look at land only to see if it is fit for sheep or for the plow or for the hunt. You see that sometimes a place may be of value for itself, for its beauty alone. And you do not see me as a key that will unlock a box of property. You looked at
me
,
at
me
as Bruno looks at me. I told you that when we first rode out together more than a year ago.”

“I do not look at you as Bruno looks at you,” Hugh said deliberately. “You must understand that, Audris. I do not feel as a brother feels.”

Color stained her cheeks as memory brought back the image of that raised shaft with the foreskin drawn back from its reaching red head. “I know that,” she whispered, looking down at her fingers twining restlessly in her lap.

“And you must know also that finding my mother’s people—and perhaps even my father’s, if he was not some common churl—probably still would not make me a fit suitor for you.”

Audris lifted her head. “I never thought about that,” she said earnestly. “It was for your sake—and for any who remembered your mother with love, if there be any—that I urge you to follow the trail. Hugh, you must answer the doubts in your own heart.” She put her hand over his. “It is better to know—even a bad thing—than to doubt. But truly, I am sure you need have no doubts about your father’s blood. Remember the troop of men who came with your mother and the rich furnishings. And remember that the nuns said she spoke with confidence of her husband returning for her.”

“He did not return, nor was there any other who came to ask about her,” Hugh pointed out, but there was no longer force or bitterness behind the remark. It was more a warning to himself, for a faint hope was beginning to stir in Hugh.

The points he and Audris were discussing were all significant, and Hugh found that he was less doubtful about his ancestry. Audris had suggested that his mother hid her name because her husband had been a rebel. Hugh had been born in 1114, in the first third of the late King Henry’s reign, just about the time the king felt strong enough to make demands on his vassals and expect instant obedience. Henry could be very vindictive and also liked to provide a few horrible examples as warnings. Say his father had been imprisoned and died in prison or executed outright, Hugh thought; he would never have betrayed his wife’s hiding place. She had been heavy with child. If the babe were a boy, as it had been, his father would not want his wife and his heir in the king’s hands too. Could an estate have been forfeit—possibly to the king himself? Crown lands could be returned to a disseised man’s heir! Hugh knew he already had Stephen’s favor, and if Sir Walter would use his influence…

Dreams! All dreams because he desired a woman. “So if you do not care whether I am suitable as a husband,” Hugh went on, his voice suddenly harsh, “what do you want of me?”

“I want a man who does not scorn me as a pale nothing that he
must
take to get Jernaeve,” she said bitterly and shook her head as Hugh tried to protest. “And you are beautiful to me,” she went on, blushing but meeting his eyes. “I love your face, which is so different, and your body… is very beautiful.”

Hugh started to bend his head to kiss her, remembered his promise to himself, and pulled back. “Audris, you must not leap at each idea that comes into your head. I assure you that my body is much like that of other men. There is nothing special in it. And if you would talk to others as you talk to me, many men would look at you with desire.”

“Is that true?” Audris asked.

“What, that all men’s bodies are the same or that you are a desirable woman?” Hugh countered.

“I have seen other bodies,” Audris said. “They are not all the same, but I know what you mean.”

“Then, in the same way,” Hugh snapped angrily, “I cannot swear that
every
man would desire you, but many would.”

“I am glad of that.” Audris smiled brilliantly. “I would not want you to be cheated.”

“What?” Hugh exclaimed, startled.

“Why should you be satisfied with what no other man would want?” Audris teased. “Do you have such poor taste? Or, if you desire me out of pity, thus taking only half a loaf or a quarter, would you not be deprived—or still hungry? So I am glad you think others would want me too.”

The smiling face turned up to his was irresistible. Hugh caught the back of her head with one hand, her chin with the other, and pressed his mouth on hers. Initially the kiss was as much a mark of his irritation as of his desire, but when Audris’s arms went around him and her lips answered eagerly to his, he forgot he had been angry. He let go of her chin, knowing there was no need to hold her, that she would not pull away, and used that arm to press her against him.

In the circle of his arm, she was so slight, so pliant, that he did not dare take his support from her head lest the force of his kiss break her neck. It was a silly idea, but still, fear began to mingle with Hugh’s passion. And he had sworn to himself he would not take her, not unless… Hugh did not permit himself to complete that thought. He drew back his head, turned his face away, and slackened his grip on her.

“For pity’s sake, Audris,” he whispered. “Say me nay. Help me. I am only a man, and what we are doing is wrong.”

Unicorn, Audris thought triumphantly, not an uncaring bull but a pure, fierce unicorn, gentle only to the maiden. The word brought a faint chill of doubt. For the unicorn, the maiden was a trap; she held him and subdued his ferocity so the hunters could kill him. Audris’s arms tightened convulsively around Hugh for an instant; then she told herself it was the maiden’s choice. If the maiden were faithful to the unicorn instead of to the hunters, no harm would come to him. She unlocked her arms from his neck and cupped his face in her hands, turning it toward her again.

“Do you feel sinful?” she asked.

Hugh looked into her pale, clear, pool-deep eyes. For once there was no laughter, no light teasing there; her expression was solemn, even sad. “No!” he exclaimed passionately. “For you are my woman, and the only woman in the world to me. Whatever comes after, I shall cleave to you, forsaking all others.”

Audris knew the last few words were part of what the priest said to a bride and groom. She clasped Hugh’s hand and said firmly, “And I to you, in sickness and in health, until death—”

Hugh wrenched his hand free and covered her mouth, knowing he could have and should have stopped her sooner. He had been paralyzed by the joy of hearing her give herself to him, but he could not let her finish making what she might believe a binding oath.

“Audris, dear and beloved Demoiselle,” he murmured, taking his hand away and barely touching her lips with his in recompense for his seeming rejection. “You must not promise what circumstances might make impossible for you to perform.”

“
You
swore,” she said.

“My case is different,” Hugh pointed out. “I am my own master, and it matters not at all whether or not there is issue of my body. Whatever I am, it is not a king’s son or a great earl’s, which would make my marriage a matter of state. I am free to swear my life and my soul to you, but you are not free. If your uncle ordered your marriage—”

“He will not,” Audris broke in. “He would never force me. And what difference can it make whether or not I say the words aloud for you to hear? You can stop my tongue, but what is in my heart and mind is there already. I will never marry until—until I can have you, unicorn.”

She had been about to say “until my uncle dies,” but she could not force out those words. Up to this moment she had thought them often, and said them sometimes, with ease and freedom—because her uncle’s life had been her protection, and she truly wished that he should live long, even outlive her. Now, suddenly, Oliver’s life was an obstruction, a firm wall between her and Hugh. But Oliver had
given
her her life—only a little neglect would have disposed of the babe that had come into his hands—and he had cared for her for over twenty-three years. Could she wish him dead now, just because she had found a man she desired?

“You must not say such things. There is
no
chance that I would be acceptable to your uncle.”

But Hugh was only saying words demanded by his strong conscience. Inside him was a growing determination to have this woman who set him afire body and soul. Others had won great estates by the strength of their arms. He knew his ability as a fighter. What he had lacked had been a reason to fight. Fortunately, he had taken the first step; he was Sir Hugh. The next must be to establish himself as nobly born, if possible. Hugh did not doubt that there would be lands and honors enough changing hands in England and elsewhere. Rebellion was brewing all over. If Audris was right about her uncle—and she might be, Hugh thought, for he was not unaware that Audris’s husband must supplant Sir Oliver—he might win enough land to make him a suitable match. He could sweeten the pot, too, by offering to take Audris to
his
lands and letting Oliver remain in Jernaeve. It was Audris he wanted, not the castle.

The grim expression that had formed on Hugh’s face as he made his decision alarmed Audris. “I will say nothing to my uncle of how I feel, and he will not ask,” she assured him, but then she added passionately, “And I will never marry. I want you and none other. Hugh, please…”

She was not sure for what she was pleading, only that Hugh’s face had become hard, the brilliant blue of his eyes suddenly seemed as cold as the blue of deep ice, and he seemed to be slipping away. But when she spoke, his expression changed at once to concern and tenderness, and he took her in his arms.

“You need not say ‘please’ to me,” he murmured. “You have only to tell me what you want, and you will have it.”

Relief brought Audris’s lighthearted mischief bubbling up. “Even if I ask for the moon?”

But Hugh did not laugh as she expected. He loosened his grip and drew back just enough so she could see his face and he hers. “I would try, Audris,” he said very soberly. “I would die trying, even though I knew what you asked was impossible to achieve.”

He had meant to reassure her, to say without actually saying the words that he would strive up to and including the giving of his life to make himself fit to ask for her in marriage. But Audris shuddered and pulled herself tight against him, burying her face in his chest.