Knight's Caress (19 page)

But Edytha had the circlet. Glenna wondered if Amberlie knew it had ever lain upon the pillow. Had she seen it before the girl took it? Somehow, Glenna doubted it. Apparently, Tedric had placed it on the pillow for Amberlie to find when she woke. But Edytha had snatched it while Amberlie was still asleep. Glenna doubted that Amberlie would truly realize the gift’s significance, even if she’d seen the circlet. The woman considered the Saxons and their customs to be barbaric, so why should receiving a morning gift mean anything to her? Since Tedric had placed it on the pillow, he’d intended that Amberlie wear it. However, if Amberlie appeared in the great hall without the circlet, Tedric might, in his pride, refuse to question her. The Saxons would immediately think that the absence of the circlet meant Lady Amberlie hadn’t pleased their lord. They’d be contemptuous of her. Tedric would be so humiliated by what he’d consider
her
contempt for his customs that he’d quickly seek solace in Glenna’s arms. But only if he knew for certain that Amberlie had seen the circlet and turned down the gift.

And this was where Edytha would unknowingly help her.

“Would you like to play a game with the circlet?” Glenna asked sweetly, and just as she’d planned, Edytha eagerly nodded in agreement.

“Find your brother in the great hall and show him the circlet. Say to him that Lady Amberlie wishes not to receive it,” Glenna told the innocent girl. “Tell him that Lady Amberlie said the custom is not to her liking. Do you understand what to say?”

Edytha nodded slowly but seemed confused. “Aye.”

“‘Tis a game, that is all.”

“I will remember.”

“Make certain you tell Tedric that Lady Amberlie refuses his gift. Make no mention of me in your game, but I shall be listening.”

“Will my mother be angry because I have the circlet?” Edytha gazed with fear at Glenna.

“Oh, no, she will be pleased,” Glenna insisted, and hugged Edytha around the shoulders. “Now let us get you dressed in your kirtle and you can find Tedric.”

Minutes later, Glenna watched from the back of the great hall as Edytha approached Tedric and her mother, who sat upon the dais. Luckily, Magda was the only other person nearby, the king being absent. Glenna was pleased that Tedric wouldn’t be totally humiliated. With all of the talk from the knights and the scraping of bowls as the serfs served up porridge, Glenna inched forward to overhear Edytha, who spoke exactly as Glenna had instructed her.

“Oh, what a horrid woman!” Lady Mabel exclaimed, and clutched at her son’s hand in support. “‘Tis a black heart she has to refuse.”

“Edytha, are you certain you heard correctly?” Tedric asked, his face an ashen color.

“Aye.”

“Perhaps Amberlie doesn’t understand the custom.”

“Hmph! Pardon me for saying so,” Magda hastily chimed in, “but Edytha is speaking true, my lord. Just yesterday morn I mentioned the custom to Lady Amberlie, and she said ‘twas silly and barbaric. She knew what the circlet meant.”

Mabel’s eyes filled with tears. “‘Tis a shame upon us, a terrible humiliation.”

“More so upon her than on us,” Tedric ground out through his teeth. Looking at Edytha, he managed a gentle smile. “Would you mind bringing the circlet to your room and placing it in Mother’s chest? Magda will go with you.”

Edytha seemed to realize that the game was ending, and somehow she’d lost her obsession with the circlet, now that she’d viewed her mother’s misery. Giving a tiny nod, Edytha started to follow Magda out of the hall but spied Glenna. “‘Twas a sad game,” she mumbled to her.

“I’ll think of a better one next time,” Glenna assured her, and smiled brilliantly. “But you played this one very well.”

Very well indeed, Glenna crowed silently to herself. An indignant red stained Tedric’s usually bronzed face. He resembled a volcano, ready to explode with fury and fire. But Glenna knew that he’d keep himself in check, and he’d never mention the circlet to Amberlie. His pride would prevent him.

~
~
~

Amberlie swung around at Tedric’s sudden appearance in their chamber, not having heard him enter. She’d recently finished placing her headdress upon her head, a sheer piece of blue material that she felt would show off the circlet to advantage. She smiled shyly at him, her palms perspiring from nervousness.

Tedric stood in the doorway, assessing her with what she could only discern as an aloof coolness. He extended his arm to her. “The king is in the great hall to break his fast. I trust you are ready to join us.”

“I am ready.” She hesitated, her gaze wandering to his hands in search of the circlet. Where was it?

Tedric’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “My lady, is something wrong?”

She shook her head in puzzlement at not being given her morning gift, but decided he might bestow it upon her after he broke his fast. She moved toward him and resting her hand upon his arm, she allowed him to escort her below stairs. When they entered the great hall, all eyes turned upon them from the king’s to those of the lowliest Saxon serf. William rose to greet them and gestured politely to the spot next to him, which Amberlie immediately took. Tedric sat beside her. Down at the opposite end of the long table sat Guy and Julianne, near Lady Mabel, Edytha, and Glenna. She’d expected a stony reception from her relatives, and the hatred in Glenna’s face, but there was something odd about Mabel. The woman had seemed pleased just the day before, or as pleased as one could be expected to be when one’s son was forced to marry his enemy. Mabel had kissed her and smiled warmly upon her marriage to Tedric. Now she didn’t acknowledge Amberlie’s friendly nod or return the smile.

Something was very wrong, and Amberlie sensed it also in the great hall. As she nibbled on a ripe plum, she peered at the scene before her. The knights ate with gusto, the long trestle tables covered with their bowls of porridge, their tankards slopping over with fresh milk. Nothing unusual there, she decided. But it was the chilly looks sent her way by the Saxon serfs who waited upon the knights, the disapproval in their attitude, the way many of the serving women watched her from under lowered lashes that gave her pause.

What had she done?

During the course of the meal, only King William spoke to her. Tedric seemed more concerned with his food than with her, and she felt amazement that this man could one night love her until she was so satiated that she was spent, and the next morning treat her as if she carried the fever.

William cleared his throat, interrupting Amberlie’s thoughts. “I extend an invitation to you, Tedric, to visit my royal household in London with your bride before the harsher weather sets in. What say you?”

Amberlie knew Tedric couldn’t refuse. No one refused William, but she tensed anyway, waiting for Tedric’s response. “We should be delighted, sire,” Tedric politely returned without a glance at her.

“Bien,
I am pleased. My Matilda shall enjoy having Amberlie for company.”

“It has been a long time since I’ve seen Her Majesty.” Amberlie smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She worried her lower lip as the tension in the great hall thickened. Was it to do with the knights, she wondered, for she was aware that they were loyal to Guy de Bayonne and not her husband. It would take more than the king’s gifts to Tedric to win them over. Yet the knights treated her no differently. Again, she was aware of the undercurrent of condemnation which crept into the faces of the Saxons each time they openly regarded her. She couldn’t very well order them flogged for looking askance at her, since cruelty wasn’t a way to win loyalty.

But Tedric must notice, she thought, wildly uncomfortable. Surely, he could see something was wrong. However, each time she cast a glance at him, if he happened to be staring in her direction and caught her eye, he purposely turned away, ignoring her. What had she done to deserve this shabby treatment?

“‘Twas my pear you just wolfed down, woman! If you had but asked, I would have told you ‘twas mine.’’ Julianne’s high-pitched voice resounded throughout the great hall. Everyone turned their attention upon the woman who stood with arms akimbo over the frail Lady Mabel. “I gave you my chamber, but I’ll not give the food from my trencher to you.”

“I begged your pardon,” Mabel retorted, her usually pale face now alight with red splotches of anger. “I’d no idea ‘twas your pear, for it must have rolled toward my side of the table. I wouldn’t purposely take food from your mouth, woman.”

“What is happening down there?” Tedric inquired, and heaved his broad frame from the bench to see to the disturbance.

His mother waved toward Julianne. “This woman accuses me of thievery over a small pear. As if I would purposely steal such a thing from my son’s table.” She glared at Julianne, getting her point across by stressing the word “son.”

Julianne threw an imploring look at Guy, who only grinned and said nothing, and then at the king, who left the hall, leaving the disturbance for Tedric to decide. “There are other pears in the fruit bowl, Lady Julianne,” Tedric kindly reminded her.

“But I wanted that one!”

“Should I heave it up and present it to you?” Mabel cried, and looked toward her son. “The woman is irrational.”

“How dare you criticize me, you loathsome woman. I see I shall find no justice in this house. I see very well what I can expect now that a Saxon rules Woodrose.” Julianne made a sweeping turn and left the dais.

“A Saxon has always ruled Woodrose, but for your Norman brutality!” Mabel called after her. “The woman is mad,” she said to Tedric, her voice lowering in her anger. “Truly and hopelessly mad.”

“We’re all a bit mad in our own way,” Guy interjected, and turned to Tedric. “But I shall speak to Julianne about her unbecoming behavior. The last few days have been filled with changes. By your leave, my lord, I should like to see to my sister.”

Tedric inclined his head in dismissal, not the least upset to see Guy go. He heaved a sigh. What a morning, he thought dismally. He existed in a nest of Norman vipers. Julianne detested him and his family and made no bones about her feelings. Guy was still in charge of the knights, but soon that situation would change. Already Sir Christophe seemed wont to obey Tedric without question, and Christophe was a man with many friends who’d follow his lead, now that the king backed Tedric as lord of Woodrose. Tedric fully intended to place Christophe in charge of the knights, and if Guy de Bayonne didn’t like it, he could take himself and his mean-spirited sister back to Normandy, for the king had already approved Tedric’s decision.

And then there was Amberlie, the one Norman whom he couldn’t send back—and wouldn’t send back, though her refusal of the morning gift ate away at his insides like a disease. He’d never tell her how much pain she’d caused him by rejecting the circlet, nor how a part of him now disdained her for what she had done. Last night had proved to him without a doubt that, in bed, they were evenly matched. No other woman had ever made him feel more alive. He’d been so eager to pleasure her in return—and had succeeded.

Why must she be so stubborn, so condemning of his people and their customs? She was now officially the mistress of Woodrose; all would bow to her out of respect for him but not for her. In their eyes, she’d still be the enemy.

Turning around, he found Amberlie’s doe-brown eyes upon him. “I apologize for Julianne,” she said.

“Apologize for no one but yourself and your own actions, my lady. Now I have things to oversee. I trust you do too.” He curtly bowed, and without another word, Tedric strode out of the great hall and into the bailey.

Color stained her cheeks for she realized he had coldly dismissed her and chastised her at the same time, but what she’d done, she didn’t know. Glancing toward her new family as if for answers, she noticed that Mabel and Edytha were withdrawing from the hall, without so much as a polite word to her. Glenna held Lady Mabel by the elbow to guide the older woman’s steps, but she looked back over her shoulder at Amberlie. There was so much malice upon her face that Amberlie shivered.

Something was wrong, horribly wrong.

For half of the day, Amberlie took over the duties inside the keep which Julianne had performed. There was a heady feeling about having the servants instantly obey her, now that she was mistress. However, these very same servants, people who had at least smiled at her on occasion, now stonily regarded her and went about their work with grim countenances.

Near midday, she decided to visit Gundred, who, though a bit peculiar, always seemed pleased to see her. The old woman was placing a poultice on the chest of the serving woman called Runa, who coughed nastily.

Amberlie didn’t immediately enter the cottage, but waited outside while Gundred dealt with her patient. “‘Tis cold in the chest,” Gundred observed sagely, and advised the serving woman how to care for herself.

Runa sneezed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I’ll do all ye say, but I must ask Lady Amberlie if I can take a leave of the kitchen for the day. I feel ungodly terrible.”

“I’m certain Lady Amberlie will allow ye a day to rest. She has a kind heart, though I hear she has no heart for Lord Tedric.” Gundred made a small clucking sound.

Amberlie stiffened outside the doorway; her ears perked up at Tedric’s name. “Oh, aye, ‘tis true, Gundred, ‘tis true,” Runa sniffed in agreement. “I was in the great hall this morn when he led her to the dais. No matter that she is a Norman, we all expected Lord Tedric to have given her the morning gift. But she wore no circlet atop her head. ‘Tis shameful for him to have married a woman who gives no pleasure to her lord.”