Chapter 14
Aimery had to work hard to look harsh as he entered the hall. Some of the men cheered but stopped abruptly when he stared at them. Hugh was frowning, and Geoffrey was as white as a sheet.
Aimery realized he had a problem. Clearly everyone expected Madeleine to be a bruised and beaten wretch.
He didn’t care about the men-at-arms; their misinterpretation might even increase the healthy fear he was building in them.
He didn’t, however, want Geoffrey to think that was the way to handle a wife.
He sat down between Hugh and Geoffrey. Geoffrey flinched slightly. “Some women scream a lot over very little,” Aimery said.
“Yes, Lord.” Geoffrey wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“She’ll be out here as good as new tomorrow.”
Geoffrey looked at him, disbelieving but hopeful.
“My word on it.” Aimery poured the young man some mead. “You’d be amazed at how few of those blows hit. Perhaps I should practice.” He caught Hugh’s eye, and the older man’s lips twitched.
The next day Madeleine crept about the hall like a properly subdued wife, wincing slightly when she remembered.
She was amused and even touched by some of the reactions.
Geoffrey de Sceine hovered around her anxiously, Sisters Winifred and Gertrude spoke scathingly of men, and most of the hall women showed a pitying kind of sympathy which was as close to acceptance as Madeleine had experienced here.
Perhaps it was this sense of belonging that made it seem the sun shone more brightly, that the air was full of perfume and birdsong. Perhaps that was what made her want to dance and sing.
But it wasn’t. It was the memory of that shared madness and laughter with Aimery.
She was in love. She had first called him lord of her heart in jest, but it was all too true.
It was bittersweet. He had not changed. He’d come to bed cold and breakfasted curtly. The barrier had cracked but been mended, and she still did not know what the problem was.
But she was in love with her husband, which wasn’t all bad. And inside his iron-cold shell there was laughter and fire just waiting to burst free. She would crack that shell if it was the last thing she did.
In the meantime there was still work to do, and it seemed an excellent way to convince him of her honor. As she worked she waited for the evening meal when there might be an opportunity to chip away at his resistance.
That evening the nuns showed their disapproval of Aimery by sitting apart in silence, so the meal passed in the old way with talk of war, weapons, and hunting.
Madeleine listened and waited. When the tables were broken down, Geoffrey and Hugh went to join a dice game.
Aimery was cool, but he made no immediate move to leave the table.
He poured them more wine. “It would be to your advantage to pay more attention to talk of warfare,” he said.
“Why?”
“A convent obviously isn’t the place to raise a chatelaine,” he remarked. “If I am away, you will be in command of the castle, and though Hugh would organize any fighting, he should act at your command.”
“Will you teach me?” she asked eagerly. In truth, it was not so much the knowledge she sought as the time spent with him. Perhaps he recognized it, and that was why he hesitated. But then he rose. “Yes,” he said. “Come outside.”
They passed through the big hall doors into a bailey washed by the red of the setting sun. Most work was done, and those who lived in the castle were relaxing, chatting, or playing games. The villagers were drifting home. One man was whistling.
There was still a long way to go, thought Madeleine, but it was so much better than before. The people had hope.
She ventured a comment. “They seem much happier.”
“They should be. We’re spending a fortune feeding them.” When he looked at her, there was almost a smile on his face.
He abruptly turned serious and strode toward the palisade. Madeleine had to scurry to catch up.
“The palisade and ditch are your main defense,” he said briskly. “It’s old-fashioned and won’t keep out a force of any substance. In such a case you should sue for terms.”
“What kind of terms?”
“As many lives as you can save. Yours above all.” This was said without any trace of sentiment.
“That seems selfish.”
“It’s practical. The fate of the common people won’t be changed by you staying or going. If you win free, you may be able to raise a force to recapture the place, and you won’t be a hostage.”
Aimery climbed up the steep stairs leading to the walkway at the top of the palisade and turned to offer her a hand. Madeleine did not need it, but took it for the touch, brief though it was.
He stood behind her in the narrow space, wide enough for only one man to squeeze past another, and with no rail to prevent a fall into the bailey.
A brisk breeze blew her loose hair. He put up a hand to brush it from his face.
Feeling his body warm and hard behind her reminded her of the faery prince, his voice, his touch . . .
Madeleine was swamped by longing and closed her eyes, grateful that at least he could not see her weakness.
He cleared his throat. “You’re unlikely to come under attack by a major force,” he said rather gruffly, “and these defenses should deter marauders. The main thing is to keep the ditch free of debris and the land beyond clear of growth. That way no one can sneak up on you. The guards should be able to pick off any attackers with arrows, and they’ll be off to seek an easier target. ”
“Such as the village,” Madeleine said with disapproval.
“They’ll raid that no matter what. With any kind of warning, the villagers will be off into the woods or up here for protection. That’s why you have to be sure the watchcorn is alert. You carried a bow at the hunt. How good are you?”
Madeleine turned slightly to look at him. “Dreadful.”
A flicker of humor lightened his face. “Then improve.”
“Am I supposed to beat off invaders single-handedly?”
“It could come to that. But I was thinking we’re going to need a lot of hares for the pot.”
He turned to lead the way off the platform. Madeleine bubbled with optimism. The crack was not completely healed, and the fire within glowed in the evening light.
He guided her over to the small armory and unlocked the door. He took a bow and deftly strung it, then grabbed a handful of arrows and headed outside.
“I hope that’s for you, not me,” she said.
“Of course not. It’s probably a little stronger than you’re used to, but try it.”
Madeleine accepted the weapon reluctantly. “The light’s almost gone. How do you expect me to hit the target?”
“If you’re as bad as you say, I don’t.”
She gave him a look. “If I kill someone, you pay the wergild.”
“I pay everything around here anyway,” he said, but lightly. He pointed at the side of the stables. “Hit that.”
Madeleine gave a snort of disgust, drew, and loosed. The arrow thunked high into the log wall, just at the edge of the thatch.
“Well, you hit it,” he remarked. “Just.”
“Yes, I did,” she retorted. “Just where I intended to.”
“Did you? Then hit the same spot again.”
Trust him to catch her out. Frowning with the effort, Madeleine tried to repeat her former movements. The arrow sailed up to bury itself in the thatch.
He shook his head. “When you release the string, you’re not supposed to relax your left arm, too.
” He came and stood behind her, covering both her hands with his own.
“For a short shot, hold your left hand on the target and don’t let it move.
” He drew back the string and released it, not letting Madeleine jerk.
Madeleine tried to learn, but she was dizzy from being in his arms. The hard power of his thighs behind hers, the rippling muscles of his forearms before her eyes, were turning her own limbs to water.
He stepped away and handed her another arrow.
She fumbled as she notched it, then got a hold on herself.
With grim determination she kept her left hand on her first arrow and stiffened her arm until she feared it would break.
She let the arrow fly, and it shuddered into the wood only a couple of feet from her target. “Stars and angels!” she exclaimed.
“An improvement. But if that had been a man, never mind a small animal, he’d be no worse for it, would he? I want you to practice every day.”
It was such a brusque command, Madeleine itched to give a saucy answer, but she reminded herself she was proving her honor by perfect behavior. “Very well.”
“And you should be able to defend yourself,” he added. “After dinner tomorrow I’ll teach you some tricks.”
He unstrung the bow and went to put it away. Madeleine saw she had been dismissed, but she returned to the hall in an optimistic frame of mind. The embers were definitely glowing, and they were going to play these games again tomorrow.
Aimery took far longer than was necessary to put away the bow. In fact he skulked in the small stone hut like a coward.
It was all falling apart. Day by day he found it more difficult to remember why he must keep Madeleine at arm’s length. He worked himself like a devil so he would sleep at nights and rushed from the bed in the morning before temptation overwhelmed him.
Putting his arms around her this evening had definitely not been a good idea, and yesterday . . .
He laughed at the memory of her shrieks. When he’d seen her rosy with laughter, he’d wanted her with more than lust. She was a witch . . .
But if she was, she was the cleverest witch in Christendom.
He’d watched her like a hawk. She was skillful, industrious, patient, kind.
She found food in the forest and gave it to the poor.
Which was the truth? The cruel, deceitful witch, or the firm and kindly chatelaine?
His heart said the latter, but his head demanded caution.
She was undoubtedly very clever, and it would not be beyond her to pretend virtue in an attempt to enslave him.