Chapter 9
The first order of the day was the departure of Paul and Celia de Pouissey.
Madeleine was going to bid them farewell, but the king forbade it and sent Count Guy to see them on their way.
Though she was left without any lady of rank to be her companion, Madeleine felt her spirits lift.
Baddersley was hers, at least for one day.
But then she would have to marry Stephen de Faix. What other choice did she have?
Everything about Aimery de Gaillard now spoke of his dislike for her. He’d made it clear last night that he didn’t want to marry her, but today his feelings were stronger and more unpleasant. She could not possibly choose him.
Still, her eyes were constantly drawn across the hall to where he stood with some men, including that large, dark brother. Some joke must have been told, for he suddenly laughed in an open, boyish way, his teeth white in his golden skin, his eyes crinkled with delight.
Tears threatened because he would never laugh like that with her . . .
She dragged her gaze away.
She saw Odo alone, scowling at the other group.
He must have just returned from bidding farewell to his father and stepmother.
She realized how difficult and awkward the situation must be for him and felt genuine sympathy.
Despite that, and Odo’s attempts to ingratiate himself and recall the happier times of their youth, she could never choose him either.
After that attack, she could hardly bear his touch.
So it had to be Stephen and, she told herself firmly, there was nothing wrong with that. Where was he?
He breezed into the hall, his russet hair a little disheveled, his eyes warm, his mouth relaxed in a smile. He would make a pleasant companion in life. But there was something about his expression that itched her with disquiet. It was cat-like. Self-satisfied. Satiated.
Her eyes traveled the three again desperately; the one who hated her; the one she hated; and the one whom she would have to choose when every instinct screamed it would be a terrible mistake.
A servant approached with a question. Madeleine grasped the excuse and hurried off to make sure all the arrangements for the king’s stay were still in order.
Everything was going surprisingly well. To her relief she was discovering the hall servants were competent when they were given clear orders and not scared out of their wits.
They could be trusted with the day-to-day running of the hall.
Moreover, the Baddersley people no longer regarded her with malevolence.
They even at times treated her as their lady and protectress against this group of Norman invaders, which included that terror, William the Bastard.
Some of them could be said to be desperate to please.
Even Aldreda was courteous. She was obviously afraid Madeleine would seek revenge against her for past malice.
She addressed Madeleine with quiet respect and kept her eyes properly lowered.
When Madeleine glanced back into the hall to check on matters, she saw the woman laying cloths on a table.
As Aldreda left the room, she went out of her way to pass by Aimery de Gaillard.
She said something. He looked up with a smile and replied.
Aldreda laughed and carried on with a distinct sway to her full hips.
Madeleine bit her lip. Could they be lovers? Aldreda was some years his elder but comely. She told herself she didn’t care and returned to the kitchens to check the food.
There were piles of warm fresh bread ready to go out for breakfast, along with ripe cheese and strong ale.
Three well-grown lambs were turning on spits for later eating, and a good number of chickens were being prepared.
Pies and puddings were also in hand, and her custard was ready.
Tonight’s feast, she vowed, would do justice to Baddersley.
She gave encouragement and praise as she went, and an occasional suggestion.
She commiserated with the cooks over the lack of spices, and produced a few more from her seriously depleted supply.
Somehow, Madeleine vowed, she would get more.
One of her greatest problems, she was discovering, was lack of coin.
If Baddersley had made any money in the past year, it had disappeared.
As she crossed the bailey from the kitchens to the hall she was aware of a pleasant sense of purpose and command, but also all the burdens which came with authority.
She sighed. If it came to the worst, she had the jewelry given her by the queen.
She would sell it to preserve Baddersley.
She wondered if Stephen de Faix had money to put into the place.
She thought of Aimery de Gaillard’s gold ornaments.
They’d keep Baddersley going with ease . . .
She saw a flash of gold and realized it was him. He was talking with a woman just outside the hall. Aldreda!
Madeleine watched, tight-lipped, as the woman swayed against him, placing her palm on his chest. He put a familiar hand on the woman’s hip, tipped her chin, and kissed her quickly on the lips before returning to the hall. Aldreda watched him go, radiating sensual satisfaction.
Well, thought Madeleine bitterly, it was clear what Aimery de Gaillard had been up to last night. No wonder he hadn’t been interested in a mere heiress. Men! They were all the lowest form of life to creep the earth. She stalked into the hall in a fit state to poison the lot of them.
The king was still working with his clerks and advisers. Messengers had arrived overnight, and even as she stood in the hall, another ran in. No one would break their fast until the king was ready, and so Madeleine slipped off to the chapel for Mass. Today of all days she needed God’s countenance.
There were few people at the service. The king’s clerics and the hall servants were all busy.
Clearly most of the nobles were not pious.
Stephen slipped in and knelt on the stone floor beside her.
His presence was part of his courting but still, it showed concern for her interests.
Her earlier outrage was soothed. If her husband at least cared enough to try to please her, it would be something.
As they walked back to the hall afterward he talked lightly of all manner of inconsequential things and managed to drop in a great many compliments.
It was a silly performance, but it left Madeleine feeling lighter in heart and spirits.
As they entered the hall she smiled on him with genuine warmth. Her future did not seem quite so bleak.
The king was just coming out of the solar. He saw them, and a faint frown weighted his brow, then he smiled. “Good morning, demoiselle. I see you add piety to your many virtues, but what else should we expect from one raised in a convent?”
Madeleine curtsied and returned his greeting, then went to sit by him as the food was brought in. He drew her out to talk of the area, its land, and its people, but Madeleine sensed he had other concerns. Had one of the messengers brought bad news?
When silence threatened she said, “It is a shame work follows you everywhere, sire. Every man deserves an interlude.”
He laughed. “I chose my course. No man who wants an easy life should reach for a crown. But one of my messengers should set your mind at ease about that Golden Hart, Lady Madeleine. He is not lurking in your forest. He is raising the peasants of Warwickshire.”
So he wasn’t Aimery de Gaillard. She hadn’t realized until this moment how that suspicion had lurked in her. Madeleine felt like laughing at her own foolishness. How had she ever believed anything so unlikely as Edwald being a Norman knight in disguise?
“Is there to be another battle, sire?” she asked.
“No, no,” he reassured her. “It is a minor matter and my sheriff there will handle it. Hopefully we’ll have the rogue by the heels this time, though.”
“What will you do with him, sire?” she asked. Despite everything, she did not want to see Edwald punished.
“That depends. I don’t waste talents, Lady Madeleine. You don’t cut the throat of the fiery, rebellious horse. You tame it. If, that is, it will come to bridle. But,” said William jovially, “if your forest is free of the human hart, I hope you can offer us some of the animal kind to hunt.”
“Of course, sire. And boar, and many smaller animals. My men have been out in the forest for days, marking the deer trails, noting all the signs of venison.” The words “my men” rolled sweetly off her tongue. She looked around the hall with heightened pride.
“Excellent!” The king announced the entertainment to the men. They all cheered.
Madeleine breathed a sigh of relief. A day’s hunting would help feed the men. It would also leave her in peace to continue to put her hall to rights.
Then she found she was to accompany them.
“But, sire, I need to stay here and arrange for your greater comfort.”
“Your servants seem tolerably able, demoiselle,” he said implacably, “and you have little enough time to weigh your three choices. We cannot allow you to waste any of it.”
She should tell the king her choice was already made, but she quailed at the thought.
He wanted her to marry de Gaillard, and braver people than she had put off telling William of Normandy something he didn’t want to hear.
Perhaps, she thought desperately, something would come up to delay the decision—the rebellion in Warwickshire, plague, a Viking invasion . . .
Anything.
But nothing was going to delay the requirement that she go hunting.