The Unquiet Bones (18 page)

I won the second match. She seemed close to victory twice, but each time I was able to salvage my position with adroit moves. Whether they were my adroit moves, or hers, I know not. It may be that she allowed me to win.

I thanked Lady Joan for the entertainment and stood to retire. But before I could depart she asked if I thought it not wise to inspect her injured hand and arm once again before withdrawing. I agreed, and we approached the fire, where the blaze would allow more light on her hand. We stood nearly inside the great fireplace. Its warmth was intoxicating. Or was it the nearness of Lady Joan? I know not.

She held her wounded arm out in its sling and I took her hand for a careful and perhaps overlong examination. I was pleased to see that what redness was there seemed more a product of the glow of the fire than any toxin. I held her fingers for this close inspection, but when I had finished she would not be released.

“You will call on me tomorrow? To again measure my recovery?”

“Aye, m’lady…at the third hour, as today, if so be that is well with you.”

“Very well, Master Hugh.” I felt her gently squeeze my fingers before she dropped her hand. I turned to watch her as she summoned her maid and left the solar.

My eyes followed her form as she faded into the darkened south end of the solar. While my eyes followed her, Lord Gilbert’s eyes followed me. I turned from the south door to the settle where he sat with Sir John and saw that, while he listened to Sir John, he observed me.

I nodded and approached. When Sir John finished his point, I spoke: “M’lady’s hurt does better, m’lord. I was troubled yesterday…even this morning. But now I think the toxin recedes and we may expect good progress.”

“You have been diligent,” he said with that eyebrow in upraised position, “in observing your patient.”

“It is my duty, and a service to which I am obligated.”

“Yes. Onerous, no doubt, but you will perform it nonetheless.”

“No, m’lord. Lady Joan is not a troublesome patient.”

“No. I have observed. She is troublesome in another fashion.”

And with that remark Lord Gilbert turned back to the fire and his conversation with Sir John. I bid him goodnight, but he took no notice. Lady Petronilla sat opposite the men before the fire, her nimble fingers occupied at some work of embroidery. I bid her goodnight also. She replied with a nod and a smile.

I saw Lord Gilbert next morning. We met as I made my way through the castle yard to call on Lady Joan. I think now he watched and waited to catch me there as I passed.

“Ah…Master Hugh. We are well met. You slept well?”

“I did, m’lord.” Actually I had not slept well, but to say so might mean having to explain why I had not. As the matter concerned Lady Joan, this I was unwilling to do.

“You go to attend my sister?”

“I do, m’lord.”

“I think, if she does well today and the morrow you may be released from duty here and return to Bampton. Do you agree?”

“Aye. If the toxin has gone by tomorrow I will have little work here. Nature must do the work now I have set it in motion.”

“And I would have you again employed seeking a murderer…two murderers.”

“That is a labor which nature will not accomplish on its own,” I agreed.

Lady Joan awaited me in her chamber. I was pleased to see both the lady and her hand. Both looked remarkably well. Almost no discoloration appeared beneath the stiffened linen, and the swelling which had burst up from under the plaster was reduced as well.

“I improve daily, don’t you agree, Master Hugh? And the hurt is much reduced. I think I will not need your draught today.”

I did agree, although there were certain things about Lady Joan which would have been difficult to improve upon. I thought this, but did not say it, coward that I am.

“I am well pleased. I think you are out of danger. I will return to Bampton on Monday and see to my duties there. You have no more need of surgeon or physician until the splint must be removed.”

She looked out the single narrow window of her chamber, across a snow-dusted meadow to the forest beyond. “It is an ill season to travel. I am sorry to have been the cause of your discomfort.”

“It has been my pleasure to serve you, m’lady,” I replied in my most chivalrous tone. This was not counterfeit. I much enjoyed Lady Joan’s company, even if she did vanquish me at chess. Her beauty was surely appealing, but I was learning to admire other qualities as well.

“I think you should remain ’til Christmas is past,” she said suddenly. “’Tis but two weeks hence. My brother will offer a feast, and has already procured entertainers. Bampton will be quiet and you will be quite alone there. That should not be at Christmas.”

I found the offer appealing, but was not sure Lord Gilbert would.

“I have duties in Bampton which call me, m’lady.”

“What is there which cannot wait a fortnight?”

“Your brother has charged me with finding two murderers. Thus far I have failed him.”

“Ah, yes. Petronilla told me of the young man you saved from hanging, and the girl who was dead but found alive and well. I congratulate you, Master Hugh. You have skills to save life in many ways.”

“I must be frank, m’lady…”

“You generally are, Master Hugh. I find that appealing.”

I think I blushed. My face felt suddenly warm. Standing before a draughty window as I was would not be the cause of that.

“The youth…who was to hang…it was my faulty witness which put him near the noose, so ’tis not quite proper to say I saved him. More truthful to say I saved myself from terrible error.”

“It is a measure of a man that he is able to see and correct his faults. Many men cannot, or will not.” She laughed quietly to herself. “My brother would have me wed one of them anyway, so be it they have lands and a title.”

She had steered the conversation in a direction I had no wish to follow. Her remark, however, made it clear that no other direction would be ultimately pleasing, for I had neither lands nor title, and was not likely ever to have either. I admit that since the previous day I had entertained thoughts of Lady Joan as my wife – foolish as I knew that hope to be. I thought her words and behavior indicated a disposition in her to consider it as well, although why such as she would consider a poor surgeon, her brother’s bailiff, for a husband I did not understand. I did not want to understand, for then I would recognize the foolish nature of the hope rising in me overnight.

The blast of a horn from the yard indicated a groom calling castle residents to dinner.

“I will speak to my brother…you will remain ’til Christmas.” She said this with much assurance. I bowed and followed her out the door into the east range hall. The poor lodged there were arranging themselves to follow us as we passed through the hall. Many spoke soft words of greeting or bowed or curtsied in obeisance as Lady Joan passed.

I noted several times during the meal when Lady Joan was in deep conversation with her brother. A harpist played at the conclusion of the meal to accompany a final goblet of spiced wine.

“Master Hugh!” Lord Gilbert called as I rose from my place. “Will you accompany me to the solar?” Of course I would, but a true gentleman’s demand is always voiced as a request.

“Lady Joan,” he began, when we entered that small, comfortable room, “castigates me for a lack of hospitality. I am unfair, she complains, to send you back to Bampton when you might remain to celebrate Christmas here.”

I made no reply. Lord Gilbert’s desire for an employee to return to work and earn his keep did not seem to me unreasonable, yet I did wish to enjoy the holiday at Goodrich.

“I am inclined to agree with her, though I think her concern of another nature than she claimed…do you agree, Master Hugh?”

“I…uh…esteem Lady Joan’s thoughtfulness.”

“You do, no doubt,” he laughed. “A politic answer. By heaven, you should have been a bishop.”

“M’lord, I am confused…”

“Aye. Well, so am I. But you may stay, if you wish, ’til St Stephen’s Day.”

“I am much in your debt, m’lord.”

“Hmm…well, you have given me good service and I will expect the more.”

“You shall receive all in my poor power to give, m’lord,” I replied.

“Spare me your humility,” he grunted. “I will be the judge of your poor powers to serve. Modesty becomes a man only when ’tis not hollow.

“There is a service you may perform for me while you linger here,” he continued.

“I am at your command,” I replied in my most ministerial tone. Lord Gilbert continued as if he had heard nothing.

“A guest will arrive next Wednesday. It is Ember Day, but there’s no helping that. Sir Charles de Burgh will remain through the Feast of the Holy Innocents.”

“I will be pleased to do Sir Charles whatever service I can,” I replied to this announcement.

“Oh, ’tis not him needs your service. I do, and Lady Joan, although she knows it not…yet. I have invited Sir Charles as I would have him meet Lady Joan. I charge you to observe the man closely; watch if he may make a good husband for my sister.”

“You do not know Sir Charles?” I asked.

“Only by reputation.”

“And what is that?” I queried.

“He has estates in two shires and is reputed to be a man of valor, although he was too young to serve the king at Poitiers, and since the Treaty of Calais has had no opportunity to show his mettle on the field, or to take profitable hostages.”

“A pity,” I commiserated.

“Lady Joan,” Lord Gilbert continued, “tries me. I cannot force her to marry, and would not if I could, but she will not choose. So where am I, then? What will she have me do? Compel her to choose?”

I thought how unlikely it was that Lady Joan would be compelled in any such matter, but did not need to say so.

“I know, you need not remind me. My sister is not a lady to be coerced to anything, especially marriage. But she seems,” he continued, almost plaintively, “to ignore my concern. It is for her benefit. She must find a husband who has lands, for she will inherit none. Where will she go, I ask, if she does not marry well? To an abbey? I would not see my sister a pauper; would you?”

I agreed that such would be a sorry future.

“She thinks not of these practical things,” he continued. “But fortunately for her, I am a man of practical notions, else she would, were not someone wiser to guide her, marry some penniless scholar from Oxford or some such foolishness. That would bring her a life of misery and lost rank. She would ever rue her choice. Do you not agree, Master Hugh?”

I agreed, for I received his message clearly. He knew what he had observed, and was not pleased.

I saw Lady Joan twice each day in that week. Our conversations centered on the mending of her fractured wrist, for when I perceived the subject shifting I brought it back to the reason for my visits to her chamber, or devised some appointment which called me away.

Did I think her dull, that she would not remark the change in me and wonder at it? No; I hoped she might rather think me frightened of my quest, or too timid to pursue her.

Wednesday was Ember Day, which made little difference in dinner. Like many in the kingdom, Lord Gilbert and his household always kept Wednesday as a day of abstinence, serving but one dish of meat at midday, and one of fish at supper. This day, fish was offered at both meals, with bread and ale, but no wine.

I peered about cautiously as I entered the hall that noon, searching for the favored Sir Charles, or an extra place at the high table. I saw neither at noon, but in mid-afternoon, as I was about to call again on Lady Joan, I heard a commotion in the barbican and guessed what it might portend.

The noise was due in part to hounds, for Sir Charles arrived with four, a handler, and a brace of squires. Lord Gilbert, I learned later, had praised the hunting in the Forest of Dean, and Sir Charles was keen for hawking and hunting wherever he might travel.

I saw no reason to greet this new guest, so made my way to Lady Joan’s chamber. The visit was becoming ritual, as for the past two days there was nothing new to learn of either her wrist or her opinions. I concentrated my attention on the first and avoided as best I could the other.

The window of Lady Joan’s chamber looked out over the rock-cut moat. By pressing one’s face to the glazing and looking to the left one could just see the barbican gate to the castle and the tumult created by the new guest and his retinue.

Sir Charles de Burgh was a tall man. I could see from even that distance that he was a head taller than his host. When greetings were done Lord Gilbert led him across the moat and out of sight of the narrow window.

“Has my future husband arrived?” Lady Joan asked with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Uh…Sir Charles de Burgh, your brother named him.”

“And that is all he told you, Master Hugh?”

I could not look her in the eye, so dropped my gaze to the floor at her feet. “No,” I replied, and was silent.

“What did Lord Gilbert say of Sir Charles?”

“Did he not tell you of him, and his visit?” I replied.

“I knew he was coming, and could guess why. He has invited so many men to table that I become acquainted with his purpose.”

“Sir Charles has estates in two shires, I am told, and is said to be valorous…and fond of hunting and hawking, as you are, m’lady.” I said this with a glance at her sling-supported right arm.

“Ah, estates. Well, then, he must be a suitable husband. Little else matters to my brother.”

“He has your interest at heart, m’lady.”

“Truly?” She turned on me with flashing eyes. “Does my brother know my interests?”

“He believes so.”

“Aye. I suppose he does, in the way powerful men know what is best for others.”

“And powerful ladies?” I asked.

“Them, also,” she agreed.

“Them?”

“All right…we,” she admitted. “But even the weak can know that which others should do before they know themselves.”

“They can,” I agreed. “But they have not the authority to command others to their will. There is the difference.”

“So you,” she asked, suddenly very quiet, “know what I should do? But unlike my brother, you will not…cannot…command me.”