Chapter Twelve
Alixandrea was overwhelmed with the sheer size of the place as Matthew brought their party through the gaping front gate, passing through the double-portcullis entry and then passing through another gate that led to the vast inner ward.
Once through the second gate, he made an immediate left and headed for one of the massive inner towers.
She would later learn that it was called the Wakefield Tower.
In the center of the courtyard sat an enormous pale-stoned structure four stories to the sky.
Narrow, cylindrical towers marked the four corners, topped with turrets that were littered with black birds.
Sun glinted off the roof, creating flashes of light.
Matthew helped Alixandrea from the carriage and she nearly fell, not paying attention to where her feet were placed as she absorbed the enormity of the keep.
It was mesmerizing. Matthew grinned as he helped Caroline from the cab.
“The White Tower,” he told her before she could ask.
Alixandrea poked a finger at it. “That is the White Tower?”
“Aye.”
It was a struggle to keep her mouth from hanging open. “It is colossal. I do not know what I had expected, but surely there is nothing larger in the world.”
The men were moving around them, gathering capcases and other materials from the carriage. Alixandrea had to step out of the way or risk being run down by over-eager soldiers.
“I shall take you to it after we’ve had a chance to settle,” Matthew said. “I would assume you would like to rest a while before this eve.”
She turned to look at him. “What is happening this eve that I will need my rest?”
“A feast, of course. And I am sure that Richard will request an audience.”
Her eyes widened. “The king?”
The corners of his mouth twitched as he pulled a small valise out of the cab and handed it to a waiting servant.
It was as much of an answer as he would provide.
Alixandrea had to remind herself yet again that The White Lord of Wellesbourne was at the right hand of the king.
Until this moment, none of that had seemed real.
It was tales she had simply heard of the man; now, however, she was about to become acquainted with the reality of his station. It was a heady awareness.
Mark suddenly rounded the corner of the cab, ripping off a gauntlet in a sharp move. His visor was raised, his dark eyes glaring like shards of obsidian. It was clear that he was still boiling over his confrontation with Matthew earlier.
“Caroline,” he barked. “Come with me.”
Matthew’s smile faded as he watched Caroline meekly pursue her husband. Alixandrea watched also, almost daring Mark to make eye contact with her. He seemed to have an inordinate amount of hostility and she did not understand why.
“He is not angry with her, is he?” she looked at Matthew. “What has she done?”
Matthew’s gaze lingered on his brother until the man disappeared from view around the side of the cab.
“She’s done nothing,” he said simply. “Come along, love. Let us get you settled into our rooms.”
He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.
Alixandrea followed him to the enormous tower and into the stone-arched entry.
It was cool and musty inside. They ascended the steps to the second floor, took a turn, and opened up onto an enormous corridor.
It seemed to go on forever. They walked a nominal amount of time before coming to a great carved door, which was already open.
There were servants milling around inside as Matthew ushered her into the room.
The chamber was done in the blue and white colors of the Wellesbourne crest, with expensive chairs arranged neatly in the center.
A wide-mouth hearth blazed over to her left and a large tapestry of a knight astride a white horse covered one wall.
There were all manner of plush furnishings that were unknown in the more austere, battle-oriented castles that Alixandrea had known.
This place was made for comfort. Properly awed, she gawked as she studied the room.
“It is beautiful,” she gasped. “Do you truly warrant such richness?”
Matthew grinned. “I am content in the knight’s quarters, but somehow, I was issued these rooms at Richard’s insistence. I rarely use them.”
She shook her head, once again reviewing the opulence. “A pity,” she sighed. “I have never seen such luxury. I fear I may become accustomed to it and grow irreversibly spoiled.”
Coming up to stand behind her, he wrapped his arms around her, his face in the side of her head as he inhaled the delicate scent of her hair. “You would be the one person to truly justify such lavish attention,” he said. “I would like to spoil you.”
His hot breath against her head sent chills bolting down her spine. “Careful what you say. You may regret it.”
“Never.”
They shared a moment, briefly, before separating. There were too many people about and the nature of their relationship was still too new for blatant public displays of affection. Besides, Matthew did not want to create a spectacle for gossip-mongering servants.
As he moved to retrieve a small case that had been set on the floor, Luke and John were suddenly in the door, making their presence known by kicking aside one of the chairs that was too close to the entry.
It crashed to the floor, taking a small table with it.
Alixandrea frowned at the brothers, moving to right the table as John steadied the chair.
“You two are a pair of wild bulls,” she said. “You must be more careful.”
John grinned contritely while Luke, oblivious, went straight for Matthew.
“Much is going on, Matt,” he said, his tone laced with quiet urgency. “The king would see you now. Gaston is already with him.”
Matthew handed the case over to his wife. “You have been here a matter of minutes and already you know this?”
“Richard saw you come in through the gate,” Luke replied.
At that moment, Mark’s head popped into the doorway. “Matt,” he said. “We’ve been summoned.”
Matthew glanced over at his dark-haired brother; they were back in professional mode, the disturbances of earlier in the day forgotten.
“So I have been told,” he said. He looked at Alixandrea, standing a few feet away with the case in her hand. She had been listening to the conversation. “I am afraid that I will have to leave you alone for a little while. Will you be all right?”
She nodded. “Of course. I have much unpacking to do.”
“Good.” His easy smile returned, briefly, and he gave her a wink. “Make sure that you do not leave this chamber until I return for you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I ask this. Please.”
There was something in his tone that precluded further argument.
Alixandrea nodded her head, watching as her husband and Luke quit the chamber.
John followed them out, giving her a small wave as he did so.
She waved back and the door closed, leaving the chamber oddly still.
There had been so much commotion just a few moments before that the sudden stillness was unsettling.
It took her a moment to get herself moving, realizing there was a lot of work to be done and no Jezebel to assist her.
She had no idea where Caroline was. But standing just to the left of the chamber door were two female servants, workers at the Tower.
They stood there, uncertainly, obviously waiting for direction. She put her hands on her hips.
“Who are you?”
The first maid, a tiny woman with gray hair and very few teeth, bowed sharply. “Ann, m’lady.”
The second woman, not quite so old and a little plumper, did the same. “Mary Joan, m’lady.”
“Are you responsible for these chambers?”
“These and the three other Wellesbourne chambers when the lords are in residence, m’lady.”
“Very well,” Alixandrea said crisply. “As Lady Wellesbourne, you now take directives from me. Help me to get unpacked, and quickly, for I have a busy night ahead.”
The women flew into action, an organized assault on the cases still left in the main chamber.
They picked up what they could and disappeared into the door adjacent to the hearth.
Alixandrea followed them into the smaller chamber beyond; there was a massive bed frame with only a mattress, a large wardrobe against the wall, and little else.
Compared to the sitting chamber, the room was fairly plain but comfortable enough.
“We’ve not yet had the chance to make your bed, m’lady,” Mary Joan said. “We only learned of your arrival a short time ago.”
Alixandrea waved her hand at her, unconcerned. “I have no need for the bed at the moment. It can wait. But I do need to unpack and find my gold brocade surcoat.”
The women nodded, throwing open the trunks and cases and beginning to lay forth garments to be put away.
Alixandrea moved to help, but realized they were efficient in what they were doing.
They did not need her help. In fact, they looked rather confused when she made the attempt.
Not the least bit offended, Alixandrea wandered back out into the sitting chamber.
After a few minutes of drifting around, inspecting every piece of new-found furniture, she poured herself a measure of sweet red wine from the decanter in the corner and planted herself in one of those magnificent chairs.
Feeling somewhat like the Lady of the Manor, deposited into affluence she had never before imagined, she settled down with her wine and her chair to enjoy the rest. It was just coming to dawn on her what being the wife of The White Lord of Wellesbourne would truly mean. And the thought was overpowering.
The next she realized, the sun was set, the room dark, and Mary Joan was waking her from a deep sleep.
*
“Henry has not yet left the shores of France, though all intelligence tells us that it is imminent. I fear what this summer will bring.”