Chapter Six #2
Kathalin thought it rather ironic that plain, well-worn women in a small village were named after things fine and beautiful. “They are lovely names,” she said, wincing as Ruby pushed the last pin into her scalp. “Thank you for taking the time to help me dress.”
Ruby stood back to look at her handiwork, which was quite exquisite. All of the practice on her sister’s bushy hair had paid off. She smiled at the utterly lovely picture before her.
“Ye look beautiful, m’lady,” she said.
Kathalin stood up, gingerly touching her hair, not wanting to mess the careful dressing.
Ruby motioned her over to the cold bathwater that, in the glow of the firelight, acted as a mirror and for the first time in her life, Kathalin was stunned at the reflection gazing back at her.
Her hair was beautifully dressed and the garment she wore was flattering to a fault.
Kathalin hardly recognized herself. As she looked into the water with wonderment, Ruby found the calendula salve and, using a finger, slicked some of it onto Kathalin’s lips before the woman could stop her.
As Kathalin mashed her lips together, unfamiliar with the feel of the salve, Ruby began packing everything away into the basket.
“The cold will crack yer lips if ye aren’t careful, m’lady,” she told her. “The salve will help them not to crack and bleed. Ye should put it on yer lips every time ye put it on yer wrists to heal the rope burn.”
It was an excellent suggestion and one Kathalin never would have thought of. In fact, Ruby seemed to know a good deal about garments and dressing and hair and salves that Kathalin didn’t.
“I will,” she said, rubbing her lips together still. “Thank you for your assistance. It has been invaluable.”
Ruby smiled modestly. “My pleasure, m’lady,” she said, now appearing somewhat distracted as she packed up the last of the basket including Kathalin’s brown wool garment from St. Milburga’s and her worn leather shoes.
“I… I have always wanted to be a lady’s maid so I have learned much.
I would make a very good maid if ye need one. ”
Kathalin’s first instinct was to agree; she thought she might feel much more confident with Ruby along to help guide her through this strange new world, but on the other hand, she had no idea what her father wanted of her and if, in fact, she was heading back to St. Milburga’s soon.
If that was the case, then she certainly wouldn’t need a maid.
“I am sure you would,” she said. “But my… my future is uncertain at the moment; otherwise, I would gladly take you with me.”
Ruby was both elated and crushed. “If ye change yer mind, then ye know where to find me, m’lady.”
Kathalin smiled at the girl. “I do,” she said. “Thank you for your offer. Now, can you tell me where the knight is who brought me here?”
Ruby nodded as she put the lid on the basket, securing it, before going to the cloak that was hanging on the peg behind the door. She shook it out as she went to Kathalin and swung it around the woman’s shoulders.
“He was by yer door all night,” she said. “He never left, but when I came up to yer room a short while ago, he was at the bottom of the stairs with the other knight. Should I get him for ye, m’lady?”
Kathalin looked at her with some surprise. “He… he was outside of my door all night?”
“Aye, m’lady.”
“But why?”
Ruby shrugged. “To protect ye, I suppose,” she said. “He sent all of his men to bed but he remained awake, all night, guarding yer door.”
Kathalin was somewhat astonished by the information but in the same breath, she had a strange urge to smile again.
Just like that urge she had last night every time she looked at the basket de Wolfe had brought her.
What was it about the man that seemed to make her smile all of a sudden?
More than that, her heart would beat faster and her insides felt queer and quivery.
She’d never known such sensations before and therefore had no way of knowing what caused them, but the only common denominator was, in fact, de Wolfe.
The man is making me giddy!
It was a startling realization. There was no reason why Gates de Wolfe should make her feel giddy, but he did.
Only yesterday she had hated the man, hated him for dragging her out of St. Milburga’s.
But since last night, her hate had vanished, turning into something else, something unfamiliar but strangely exciting.
She had no idea what to make of it, only that she found it confusing.
I am simply exhausted, she told herself. That must be why thoughts of him cause my heart to race.
… isn’t it?
Taking a deep breath, trying to calm her unfamiliar thoughts, Kathalin fastened the top of her cloak and turned away from Ruby.
“Will you please find the knight and tell him that I am ready to depart after prayers?” she asked, moving to the half-eaten food tray. “I am sure he is eager to leave.”
Ruby nodded, heading for the door, as Kathalin popped a piece of white cheese into her mouth.
“Aye, m’lady,” she said, opening the door to find three big soldiers standing outside.
She eyed the soldiers warily before returning her attention to Kathalin.
“Remember that if ye ever need a maid, I should be happy to assist ye.”
Kathalin nodded as she chewed and swallowed. “I am grateful.”
With a timid smile, Ruby quit the chamber as Kathalin finished what was left on her tray.
But the lure of food was in competition with the fox-lined cloak she wore, for most certainly she had never in her life known anything so warm or so soft.
She kept running her hands over the fox, enthralled with the feel of it, enthralled with the feel of everything she was wearing because it was exactly as de Wolfe said it would be – soft, warm, and comfortable.
Was this what worldly vanity meant? Wearing garments that didn’t make her skin raw? If that was the case, Kathalin began to think that, perhaps, she might be in danger of being a vain woman because she liked the feel very much. She knew she could get used to it, and happily.
Mother Benedicta would be most displeased.
With that thought, she dropped to her knees, crossed herself, and began intoning the morning prayers for Matins.
It was a habit she had been in since childhood and Catholic guilt dictated that she prayed very hard for her wicked lust for comfort.
At least, Mother Benedicta would say that she needed to.
She was nearly finished pleading for God’s mercy for her evil thoughts when there was a soft knock at the door.
Finishing quickly with her prayers, she bade the caller to enter and when she looked up and saw de Wolfe in the dim light of the chamber, she would remember the look on his face for the rest of her life. She’d never seen anything like it before, ever. Something between surprise, awe, and pleasure.
She fought off the urge to smile at him in return but she couldn’t quite manage it.
“Did you sleep at all?”
The question came from Stephan as he sat across the table from Gates, down in the inn’s common room that was hardly bigger than a solar. It would seat perhaps twenty people at the most, and even now, the twenty people that were there were Gates’ men, all breaking their fast.
Tables were leaning, some were broken altogether, and the entire room smelled heavily of smoke and urine, but Gates’ men didn’t particularly care, and neither did Gates.
Men were coughing, waking up, ordering food, and gathering their possessions for the march to Hyssington as Gates and Stephan sat at the table nearest the stairs.
Gates, who appeared pale and exhausted highlighted by a growth of beard, grunted to Stephan’s question.
“We will be at Hyssington by late today,” he said, avoiding an answer. “There will be time enough to rest once we have reached home.”
Stephan who, in fact, had slept quite well most of the night, whistled low to get the attention of the lone serving wench in the room. He pointed to the table, silently telling the woman they required food, before continuing the conversation.
“I have never known you to sleep much,” he said. “In fact, you are usually awake when I go to bed and you are still awake when I wake up in the morning. Do you not ever become tired?”
Gates smiled faintly, nodding his head. “I am always weary,” he said. “But I have never been able to sleep well, even as a youth. My master did not sleep well and therefore had me up at all hours of the night, keeping busy. It is an unfortunate habit that has remained with me all of these years.”
Stephan’s expression suggested sympathy and understanding. He moved his arm off the table as the serving wench brought a pitcher of watered ale and two dirty cups. He wiped them both out before pouring.
“So we return to Hyssington today,” he said. “What then? We will not be returning to France any time soon, so what is there for us now?”
Gates took the cup that the man offered. “Wales,” he said flatly. “We have come home to fight off Welsh raiders who can be just as deadly as any French fighter. But I will admit that I do have a longing to return home and see my father.”
“The one that taught you to curse?”
“The same. His father taught him, and his father before him.”
“A legacy of insults,” he said. “Let me hear something, then. I’ve not heard you insult the men since we returned from France. Have you forgotten how?”
Gates grinned, drinking his ale as the wench returned with a tray of bread and cheese and cold beef. “Of course not,” he said. “I simply have not had any reason to insult them. This has been a short trip with seasoned men who do not deserve insulting – yet.”
Stephan laughed quietly as he stabbed his knife at the beef, pulling forth a big hunk. “You had plenty of reason last night with the men fornicating in the loft in full view of de Lara’s daughter,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, now – just one little curse.”
“I cannot think of one.”