The Traitor's Daughter (15 page)

Her mother had nodded wisely, but simply said, “It is
one thing for the king to show his wisdom and mercy by allowing us to remain
here, since it has secured for him the continued support of the local lords and
our relatives who would not have wanted to see a stranger given the lands. It
is another thing for him to welcome a traitor’s daughter into his court.” And
for Alais, that was her first lesson in political expedience, the first
indication she had had that Edward’s forgiveness might not be the result of his
forgiving heart, as she had always imagined.

So she gave up all thoughts of going to court and
concentrated instead on what she must do to please her husband. Now she began
to wonder if what she had been taught to do would indeed please a man such as
Sir William. She had only met him briefly on the day they had been betrothed.
He had turned down her brother’s offers of hospitality and remained with them
only for the ceremony. He had not even attended the celebration afterwards. He
had given no indication that he would not be taking Alais with him when he
left. She was of age and everyone had expected her to go with him back to his
home. They had expected that the marriage would be formalised and consummated
within a few weeks. Alais’ mother had put it down to him missing his wife and
not being ready to take a new one. “Give him a few months,” she had said. “He
will return in a few months.” The months had turned into years and there had
been no word from Sir William. It had been so long that her memory of him had
dimmed until all that remained was the impression of a predator. Even as a girl
she had understood the desire she had seen on his face. He had not striven to
hide it from her, although she doubted anyone else had seen it. She had
expected to see desire there, why else did a wealthy middle-aged man marry a
young girl, but she had been shocked by the rapacious nature of that desire.
His sudden departure had confused her more than anyone else. If he had wanted
her body that much, and she had known it could only be her body that he had
desired, why had he left her behind?

In the four years since Alais had not found an answer to
her question. She doubted not that she would find the answer here in his house.
She had chosen to accept that he had not wanted to take the traitor’s daughter
until it was necessary, but she was not satisfied with that answer. Her husband
had had to ask the king’s permission to marry her. There was no one whose good
opinion mattered more than that of the king and he already knew that Sir
William was married to the daughter of one of the men who had betrayed his
father. Personal distaste could not be the reason, since he had chosen of his
own free will to marry her. Fear of what his children might think must also be
ruled out, since he apparently did not esteem their opinion of him in the
least. Sitting here and looking at the poverty of provision for his people she
was quite prepared to believe that the real reason was that her husband had
been too mean to take on another mouth to feed.

She sighed so loudly that Hugh asked if she was ill.
Stifling a yawn she shook her head, smiling, “Merely tired, my lord.”

“I, too, am tired. I did not sleep well last night.”

Alais’ stomach turned over. He had not slept because he
had almost kissed her, she was sure of it.

“Then, my lord, you should be abed soon. You have more
days in the saddle ahead.”

He leaned closer, so that only she should hear. “I would
not leave your company so soon, my lady. The prospect of a journey with only
Edmund for companion is not as pleasant as it used to be.”

“My lord, I am grateful for the compliment.”

Lady Katherine demanded his attention before he could
say more and Alais was grateful. She did not know where the conversation might
have lead, but she knew that it should be avoided. She, too, could not regard
the coming days with the same equanimity she had been used to, having grown
accustomed to his presence and his kindness.

Having dealt with Lady Katherine, Hugh turned back to
her.

“My lady, I know that you do not have a horse of your
own and I doubt my father has thought to make provision. I know he is not
suitable for a lady, but I give you Full Moon as a wedding gift. I will write
the deed tonight and leave it for you.”

“My lord…” Alais was speechless.

“I know that you will look after him well and exercise
him.”

Hugh’s expression was guarded and then she understood;
Full Moon was to be her escape. With the excuse of exercising the horse, she
could leave the house when she wanted.

“Once again, my lord, I am overwhelmed by your
generosity. Thank you”

He smiled, but there was no humour in his eyes. “I also
give you leave to use my room as you see fit. You may have need of a place
where you can be alone. I can do no more for you, my lady.”

She made sure that he alone saw that she moved her hand
as if to touch his. “You have done more than I had any reason to expect. I am
in your debt.”

“Well,” said Hugh, loudly, to attract the attention of
the entire hall, “it would be fitting to celebrate the safe arrival of my
father’s wife to this hall.” All heads turned to him. “Let us call the
minstrels and dance!”

Alais could not hide her delight; she loved to dance.

Immediately the servants came in and cleared and put
away the tables. Some of the men left the hall to return with their
instruments. Alais wondered who would dance, but she did not worry too much,
knowing that she would dance with Hugh and that would be enough.

Indeed it soon became obvious to her, if not to anyone
else, that Hugh’s sole purpose in calling for dancing had been to entertain
her. He asked what her favourite dances were and demanded that they be played.
When she told him that she liked such and such a tune he began to sing it until
the small band of minstrels joined in. He smiled into her eyes and she realised
that he was really a lot more handsome than she had previously thought. Men and
women began to laugh and smile as they moved around the hall in the various
patterns that the dances called for.

Hugh stayed with her always, despite his brother calling
his attention to Lady Katherine. That saddened Alais, as she thought the next
time they danced in this hall she would dance with her husband and Hugh would
be betrothed to Lady Katherine.

As it grew late the steward drew near after each tune to
remind Hugh of his father’s orders about the candles. Finally Hugh relented and
called an end to the evening. He walked her up to her room and placed her in
the care of Agnes and Elizabeth. As he left, he bowed low and kissed her hand.

“Farewell, my lady,” he said, quietly.

“Farewell, my lord.”

When she woke in the morning he was gone.

The women rose early and went down to the hall to break
their fast. Mindful of the demarcation that even Hugh had followed at Hill,
Alais did not sit with Agnes and Elizabeth, but made her way to the top table
and took her seat from the previous evening. The food, as she had expected was
sparse and tasteless. It will not be long, she thought, before Isabella’s gown
fits me well. As she finished her meal, Lady Katherine appeared.

“Ah, Alais, there you are. Come with me, I will show you
your work.”

Alais was indignant, but remained seated.

“Did you not hear me?” Lady Katherine demanded.

“I heard you, Katherine,” Alais said, softly.

“I am Lady Katherine,” she said haughtily.

“And I am Lady Alais. And as Sir Hugh pointed out last
night, I am lady here and not you.”

Lady Katherine smirked. “We will soon find out who is
lady here and who is not. But I do not think I can bring myself to call a
traitor’s daughter ‘my Lady’.”

“Then,” replied Alais, coolly, “I am afraid there can be
very few conversations between us, for you and I are equals and if you call me
Alais I must call you Katherine.”

Lady Katherine turned and started from the hall. Alais
could not know whether she had made a powerful enemy or not. Certainly Lady Katherine
thought her position powerful, but Alais was not so sure. Hugh had certainly
felt comfortable ignoring her, but he was the heir and she was only the lord’s
betrothed wife. Sir William and Lady Katherine both intended that the latter
should marry Hugh and it seemed reasonable to Alais that Sir William would
allow her great influence in his household. It was becoming very clear to Alais
what her own position must be.

She had already decided on her first task of the morning;
she would exercise Full Moon and discover the countryside around Liss. She had
no intention of sitting indoors with a group of gossipy women and sewing when
she could be riding her horse.

Alais went out to the stables and had a boy saddle Full
Moon. The horse was eager to be away and, for the first time in her life, she
allowed her mount to gallop. She had spent three days pretending to be a man
and now that she was riding a stallion, she felt the need to continue the pretence.
Full Moon did not care; he galloped for the pleasure of it. Alais discovered
that she could easily control her horse at such a speed and the knowledge gave
her power and drove all thoughts of Lady Katherine and Sir William from her
head.

Alais was surprised at how great a release it was to be
out of the house; she had not realised how oppressive she found it. Perhaps
that was more due to Hugh’s absence than to anything else.

To cool him down she walked Full Moon around the village
and then around the fields. She had formed her impression of what the fields would
look like from the house and was not in the least surprised to discover that
they were poorly kept. No one at Liss seemed to take any pride in their work.
She wondered that the farmland produced enough food for the manor house, let
alone the entire village. She dismounted and took some of the soil in her
fingers and examined it carefully. It did not smell right and she knew that she
was missing Leigh. Still, the land was not her concern, she reflected, as she
dropped the soil and cleaned her hands. She returned to the house and gave the
horse over to one of the stable boys. The boy was as surly as the rest of the
servants and she decided that she would come out later to ensure that her
orders had been followed.

The hall was empty when she returned and she walked
round it slowly, taking note of what needed to be done. It was filthy and the
tables and benches needed to be cleaned. Soot from the fire covered everything and
the walls needed washing. Not knowing how her husband wanted her to run his
household, she hesitated to start giving orders to the servants. Given
Katherine’s attitude to her, and the woman’s apparent perception of her own
position, Alais was beginning to suspect that her part in running the household
might be minimal, but her fingers itched to be busy and make this house clean
and tidy. Since she could do no real work, she went to Hugh’s room. As he had
promised, the deed transferring Full Moon from him to her was resting on the
chair. There was another letter with it. He gave her the use of his room, which
Alais appreciated. In a house of secrets she, too, might want to keep things
secret and, unless anyone actually saw her enter or leave Hugh’s room no one
would suspect that she had ever been there. He also gave her the use of
anything of his that she might need. She sighed; if only she were marrying him.
Hugh had foreseen everything that she needed and had provided it where he
could. He had been kind and respectful and she did not think she would see much
of those virtues in the rest of his family. He suggested that she burn the
letter, which she did, promptly. Then she went to look for Agnes and Elizabeth.

Alais found them in the solar with Katherine. Agnes was
reading aloud to the small group of women, who were sewing industriously. Alais
stayed for a moment, listening, struck by the beauty and passion in Agnes’
voice. Then she left to find the herb garden. Her tour with Hugh had shown that
the still-room was in a sorry state. Many ingredients for medicines and salves
and concoctions would be needed before winter set in and she wanted to make
sure all was ready. To her delight, the herb garden was well-cared for. She
found the gardener, an old man who had come to the estate with Lady Maud. 
Hugh’s mother had left him a pension so that he could stay on at Liss after her
death. He was too old for heavy labour and had been left to tend the herb
garden as he saw fit. Since Lady Maud’s death there had been no one to give him
direction and no one with a real use for the herbs, apart from the cook,
although Alais thought privately that from what she had tasted last night and
this morning the cook could have little idea of what use to make of the herbs
that he had at his disposal. They discussed what was available in the garden
and what would continue to be available through the winter. The old man was
pleased that someone else was taking an interest in what he was doing and Alais
realised, with relief, that there would be some solace for her at Liss. She
went to take inventory of the still-room. She spent the rest of the day sorting
through the pots and the jars, arranging and rearranging them. She heard people
moving to the hall for their evening meal and went to join them.

Stephen sat in his father’s chair and Alais made to sit
beside him.

“No, not there,” Stephen said, turning his handsome face
away as if she were not worth his notice. “Lady Katherine is to sit there.”

“Katherine is the guest and I am the lady,” explained
Alais, patiently.

“No one in this house gives way to the daughter of a
traitor,” said Stephen, still not looking at her.

“I am your father’s wife,” said Alais, feeling the anger
build within her. It was one thing for her husband to insult her and quite
another for his son to do the same.

“If you wish to eat, you must go lower,” said Stephen,
disdainfully, finally turning his amused face to her. He was enjoying this.
“With others who are not good enough to eat at the top table.” And he pointed
at Agnes and Joan who were just then taking their seats. Alais could not think
which would be the greater humiliation; to sit with the lower members of the
household and eat, or to take her rightful position and go hungry. She drew a
deep breath. Without Hugh, she had no one here to defend her. In essence, she
knew she had no choice but to accept this humiliation. It seemed her life would
be no more now than a series of petty humiliations. And Stephen seemed to
delight in humiliating her at every turn. She could thwart Katherine’s attempts
simply by ignoring her or making sure that she kept out of her way, but Stephen
was head of the household until his father or Hugh returned and the servants
obeyed him.

Over the next few days Alais settled into a life of
tedium and insult. It was quickly made clear to her that her husband’s poor
manners in not sending a proper escort were not an accident, as Hugh had tried
to convince her. Everything about her life at Liss seemed calculated to
emphasise that she was a traitor’s daughter who was only there on sufferance.
She quickly got used to sitting in a lower place with Joan and Agnes. She
enjoyed their company more than that of Stephen and Marguerite and Katherine,
but she was worried by the insult. It meant that the servants did not respect
her. Like her, they realised that such behaviour would not have happened
without the explicit approval of Sir William. She wondered how she would run
the household when he returned. After a few days, she realised that she was
never meant to. Her only function had always been to give him Leigh and to warm
his bed, if he so desired. Her suspicions about Katherine were confirmed daily
as the entire household deferred to her. Poor Hugh, thought Alais, he had been
the last one to realise that he was to be married to her. Even the servants had
known before he did. He could not have realised that he no longer had a choice.

For a few days she was miserable, her life at Liss
stretched out in front of her in endless years. She could see it going on and
on with no joy to it, except when Hugh was here, but there was little joy to be
had in loving another woman’s husband and she knew now that she did love him.

A week after her arrival she was crossing the courtyard
when someone rode in. She recognised him as Tom, the stable boy from Hill. She
went up to him with a smile. He saw her and smiled back, shyly.

“Lady Alais, I have a message for you.”

“For me? Come into the house and have a drink.”

Alais took him into the kitchen and served him herself.
He coloured even more and tried to stop her, but she persisted and he sat and
drank, then she fed him, heedless of the cook’s protestations about the cost.

“Now,” she said, once he was comfortable, “what message
do you have?”

“Before he left, my lord asked me to find out and bring
you news about Roger and Margaret.” He paused for effect and only continued
when he realised that he had worried Alais. “Never fear, they are well.”

She laughed with relief. “I am so glad to hear it. They
were very good to my mother and me. Where are they?”

“Sir Hugh said that when they were found they were to be
brought to Hill and there they stay until their house is rebuilt.”

Now Alais had yet another reason to be grateful to Hugh
and so few means of repaying him.

“What other news do you have of Hill and Southampton?”

“Matthew has returned to his duties, but Marion is still
unwell. She eats and drinks but only sits and stares the rest of the time.”

Alais was not surprised. She only hoped that Marion
would keep well enough to bear her child.

“Sarah sends you her regards and hopes that you are
well. Everyone else is well,” the boy continued. “The French did not come back.
There has been no sign of them.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“Is my lord here?”

“No, he had to go to London with his father. Did you
have a message for him, too?”

“No, my lady. Matthew wanted to hear that he was well.”

“You can tell him that Sir Hugh was very well a few days
ago. I will write him a letter to tell him about our journey.”

The boy’s face had fallen at the news that Hugh was not
there, but had brightened again at the prospect of carrying back the tale of
his lord’s journey. Alais left him in the kitchen while she went to write the
letter.

She went to Hugh’s room to write her letter. Since there
were no fires in any of the rooms, it made no difference that his was cold.
Since she used it often, she also kept it clean. Like the rest of the house, it
was damp, but she aired it as much as she could, without making anyone aware
that she was using it.

She had noticed that her belongings in the room that she
shared with Elizabeth and Agnes had been disturbed, so she kept the few things
that she valued in Hugh’s room. There was no doubt in her mind that Agnes and
Elizabeth had not touched her possessions, but she knew there were others at
Liss who were not so mindful of what belonged to others. There had been no reason
for her to write since she had arrived at Liss and she hoped that Hugh had a
quill. She made the ink quickly from ingredients in the still-room, then found
an old quill, forgotten under the bed. Resolving to volunteer to pluck the
goose the next time one was killed, she set about repairing the quill and then
started her letter. She tried to make the journey as entertaining as possible,
knowing that Matthew would read it aloud to the rest of the household, not
once, but many times over the coming months. When it was done, she found
Elizabeth and asked what should be done for Tom.

“He can eat in the kitchen and sleep in the hall with
the servants tonight, but he must be gone in the morning.”

“He will be.” Alais knew that Tom would be as happy to
leave Liss as Liss would be to see him go. As she saw him off the next morning,
she almost wished she were going with him, back to Hill and its comforts.

Alais began to get to know the household at Liss. She
spent most of her time with Joan, Agnes and Elizabeth and learned quickly that
Stephen, Marguerite and Katherine despised them. Joan and Agnes were distantly
related to Lady Maud, who had taken them in when their parents had died almost
twenty years ago. Alais had the impression that Sir William had not wanted to
do so, but had had his own reasons for allowing them to stay. Perhaps he had
already seen in Joan the solution to what would be the problem of Edmund’s
wife. Since Edmund was acknowledged as Sir William’s son he could not marry one
of the village girls, neither could he marry nobility. Alais did not put it
past Sir William to foresee a way of humiliating his wife who would surely not
have wanted to acknowledge her husband’s bastard as a member of her own family.
Joan was very happy as Edmund’s wife. Her only disappointment was that they
lived at Liss; she would have preferred to be at Hill. Alais gradually
understood that Joan had the expectation that Edmund would eventually be the
steward at Hill. It was not impossible. Matthew was getting old and would soon
be fully occupied bringing up his grandson and caring for Marion.