The Troubadour's Romance (15 page)

“
Come, my lamb,
”
Vespera said, her patience renewed. She drew Felise away from the hearth.
“
A dry gown and some rest will help more than you realize.
”

Once the thick feather quilt had been drawn up to her chin a
nd the candles extinguished, Fel
ise
’
s thoughts were likewise kinder and more tolerant. The embers still glowed in the fire and wind passed through the corridors with a chill whistle, a melody that lulled her.
If the time is come,
she lay thinking,
I would rise to it as a woman and have no more of these childish complaints. I pray God delivers me with some tenderness to my fate.

***

The Chaney house was a merchant
’
s dwelling; Master Chaney had achieved success rare for one of his class. His wool was known as the finest and softest, drawing a good coin and barter. Nine sons, all married and fathers of their own children, drew the trade further and took the cloth to France. In their elder years the Chaneys were able to enjoy the manor house, humble by the standards of a noble dame, rich by the measure a commoner used.

The house boasted seven rooms and a stable and sat upon
an enviable plot of land. Close to the city
,
yet free of its clamor and filth, the house was hugged by full brush and trees. The Chaneys employed four servants, fully owned as many horses, and grew or raised all their food.

When she arose, it was the savory smells filling the house that
Felise
noticed first. Her chamber was empty. Vespera and Daria had not only left the room, but their pallets were gone as well. She rose and went to the window rather than the door, pulling aside the heavy curtains and opening the shutters. The sun was high, marking noon, and the sky had cleared. The chill persisted, but the damp ground was covered by a thin blanket of snow.

Felise admired the grounds on which the unpretentious house stood. There were n
o gardens, fountains, or stone-
laid paths, but it was obvious by the cleared yard and cleanliness that the place was loved. She hugged herself against the cold and scanned the yard, spotting a line of footprints in the white sheet. Following them, her eyes fell upon Royce. He had walked a great distance from the house to where a dense copse of trees lined the property. He had one foot resting atop a stump in a relaxed stance, looking at nothing in particular.

She could see his breath swirling about his face, yet he wore no heavy wrap. Donned in simple chausses, leather tunic, and soft leather boots, he did not resemble the roguish knight. His lack of chain mail did not diminish his size. Even at a great distance his height and breadth were obvious. She toyed with her hair while she studied him. In the absence of weapons strapped to a heavy belt, he looked more like the carpenters or smiths in her father
’
s towns. A sudden irony occurred to her: he did not fear her flight or an abduction by one of her suitors, for he carried not so much as a knife at his waist.

He began to walk toward the house, his head down and his stride even but slow. The aura of command was missing from his approach. If anything, his movement spoke of melancholy. Her heart sank abruptly. She knew well enough how to scorn the advances of a lusty knight; she had no experience in dealing with a man who did not want her.

She quietly pulled the shutters closed and went to the
hearth to blow up the fire and place a new log atop the embers. This was barely done when the door opened. Vespera entered first, followed by others, and a rigorous afternoon ensued.

The celebration of the wedding did not resemble a noblewoman
’
s in any way, for it was to be a quaint affair, much like that of a merchant
’
s daughter. There were no visiting dignitaries or village feasts or gathering of decora
tions. But the women were
as invigorated in their enthusi
asm as if this were a match between royal heirs. And further, as though the couple were in love and could bear the waiting no longer.

First there was a tray of food delivered to the bride, then a steaming bath with scen
ted soaps. Daria washed Fel
ise
’
s long hair and combed it before a blazing hearth, and even that sour maid had a manner light and gay.
“
Milady, will you wear the gown of your father
’
s colors, or choose another? The pity there
’
s no time for a bride
’
s frock, one to s
et off the shine of your hair
.
.
.
”

Felise
looked at her suspiciously out of the corner of her eye, wondering at her mood. Daria usually prattled a bevy of
complaints at the snarls in Fel
ise
’
s long hair.
“
It appears that your heart is swollen with some fancy love poem,
”
she said.
“
Do you forget no one is eager for this marriage ... least of all the man and woman hereby pledging?
”

“
Ah, milady, I only know the bride is beautiful and Sir Royce a high and handsome man.
”

Felise turned to look at her fully.
“
You think him hand
some?
”
she queried.

Daria rolled her eyes and licked her lips.
“
‘
Twouldn
’
t pain me
much to think on the bedding .
..
”

Felise, tense enough with these preparations and impa
tient with Daria as a rule anyway, reached behind her to where Daria stood with the comb and gave her a sharp pinch on the back of her hand, gaining a screech from the maid.

“
Well, put it from your mind,
”
Felise said angrily.
“
‘
Tis no concern of yours.
”

Daria resumed her usual tight, pouting look and combed with her customary neglect for tenderness. Felise was slow
to be drawn into a festive mood, but Daria was soon back to chattering in lighthearted glee about the handsomeness of Sir Royce and the aura of romance surrounding this secret wedding.
Felise
frowned darkly, wondering if she would ever in her life look back on this day with any fondness.

Vespera helped choose a gown of the palest green velvet decorated with a silver braid. Felise would have hidden her hair under a wimple, but the choice was taken from her when Vespera insisted that the glorious locks trail loosely down her back as would befit a young virgin. A sheer veil was gathered atop her crown and secured with silver pins. When her dressing was complete, three women stood about looking at her, each holding her breath, exclaiming on her beauty with their glowing eyes.

“
A moment,
”
Isabel suddenly said, turning and fleeing from the room. She was back almost as quickly as she left, a folded garment in her hands.
“
I came by the cloth in a good trade, milady, and fashioned it as a sleeping gown for my youngest daughter. Take it for your own bedding. I can find more of the cloth.
”

Felise
tremulously reached for the garment, not sure if she was moved by this generosity or simply shook whenever the consummation was mentioned. She held the gown by the shoulders and it fell forth in a long, shimmering curtain of white. It was a soft, sheer linen, loosely woven and crafted with expert and loving hands. She raised her eyes to Isabel.
“
It is too precious,
”
she said.
“
I could not take it.
”

“
My lady, I would be honored if you would.
”

“
Thank you,
”
she said meekly, a vision of Royce rending it in his haste causing her to shudder.

“
I have never seen a more beautiful bride than you,
”
Vespera said. She moved forward and, holding
Felise
’
s shoulders, gently kissed her cheek.
“
With but the faintest smile, perhaps sir knight would be moved to tenderness,
”
she whispered.

Felise
attempted a smile, but her insides were knotted and her lips quivered. She looked at the women.
“
I pray forgiveness,
”
she said meekly.
“
I know my manner does not show that I am grateful. I know you try to make this pleasant for me.
”

Isabel laughed softly.
“
Nary a bold bride,
”
she said with a light touch on
Felise
’
s hand.
“
You will soon find there is little to fear. Even yon knight of Henry has some soft place, and you will soon find it. It is the knight
’
s desire to hide his weakness from the thrusting sword; yet a gentle word will lay bare his soul.
”
She smiled warmly.
“
Venture into his heart with kindness, Lady Felise. Come. If your knight is not impatient, he is blind.
”

There was no church for the vows, nor choir of voices, nor communion. Royce and Felise knelt before a staircase in the merchant
’
s house while the priest spoke the words and blessed them. Royce
’
s voice was clear and strong, and while Felise willed hers to be equal to his, a tremulous whisper was her best effort.

They rose before the priest and Royce turned her, looking down into her eyes. She felt the warmth of his gaze, but the stern set to his mouth gave her to believe that though he was impatient for her body, he was no more eager for her companionship than she was for his. Then his lips lowered to hers and the searing hunger of his kiss left her breathless and weak. Her arms rose weakly to his and her cheeks blazed in embarrassment, for his display might better be confined to their private moments. As if the thought struck him at the same time, he broke his kiss quite abruptly, leaving her to look up at him in some confusion. She laughed awkwardly.
“
Patience, my lord,
”
she whispered.

The only reaction her words elicited was an angry frown. She could not fathom his moods. Something in his lips expressed wanting, yet his eyes were filled with contempt. This marriage obviously threw him into dour spirits.

A dinner was served to those present: the knights who had ridden with them, and the members of the household. It was a hefty fare of roasted meats, thick gravies, and breads. There was light conversation and plenty of wine, but no dancers, singers, or jesters. Felise ate her meal slowly, agonizing with each bite as the hour grew later. When Vespera rose from the end of the long feasting table and drew near her, she knew the time had come. Royce
’
s hand held his knife over his plate and she covered it with hers.

“
My lord,
”
she whispered, an urgency to her voice. He bent closer to hear her.
“
I meant no harm. I do not mean to do you ill.
”
He looked at her in complete confusion. Her voice came in the meekest whisper.
“
Please do not hate
me.
”

His frown wrinkled deeper.
“
Hate you, madam?
”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Vespera touched her shoulder and bid her come. Royce
’
s brow relaxed in understanding and he gave a slight smile. But
Felise
’
s eyes showed only fear. She saw little more than a brazen leer. She rose to go to the fateful bedchamber.

Again there was a flurry of brushing, primping, dressing. She was ceremoniously seated in the bed, the covers drawn to her waist. The women then stood about. Royce entered with some of his men a pace behind him and stood just inside the door, looking across the room. He smiled appre
ciatively.

“
I need no further assist,
”
he declared.
“
You may seek your pleasures in the hall; I shall seek mine here.
”

Vespera approached him with nervous reluctance.
“
But Sir Royce, the king
--
”

“
You may examine the bedding on the morrow, woman,
”
he said. Though he smiled rather roguishly, there was a strength of conviction in his voice that would brook no argument.
“
I am not a prancing stag inclined to mount my doe for your amusemen
t. If you know the lass is
pure, you will have little reason to doubt she
’
s been bedded.
”