Chapter Six
The next day, Bronwyn rose to the sound of thundering rain, but then it stopped. She rose silently, throwing off the small, thin blanket she wore, getting used to the chill of the floor and the rushes on it, and sat up. The noise started again, a thundering patter against the walls.
She went to the courtyard entrance and gazed at the morning sky. The sun had barely risen and the sky was a dusky-blue hue of early twilight, fading into whitish grey. But it wasn’t raining. Then she realized: the sound. It wasn’t rain. It was rocks.
The invading army had decided to wake the entire household with a barrage of stones.
She fled back inside, hiding as great shadows of rocks and stones struck the castle walls.
There were a few worried faces, but being inside the safety of the castle, people soon got used to the noise and went about their errands.
Following the example of other older servants, Bronwyn left the nuns in the capable hands of Hugh and went about her chores.
The young women were introduced to the other servants and soon word spread about the young nuns in the castle.
But as Bronwyn rolled out bread dough for the day’s bread, she wondered, Who was the man the sister had overheard?
After an hour, she was summoned to the empress’s solar. Escorted by a page and looked at closely by a pair of unfriendly guards manning the entrance to the chamber, she knocked and was admitted.
The empress sat at a small table in a round chair covered with furs.
Her hair was long and she wore a simple circlet, as well as a dark-burgundy dress.
She set down a cup of wine and said, “Ah, Mistress Blakenhale. Come here. You can leave now,” she told the page and the guards. “I’ll call if I need you.”
Once they were alone, Bronwyn curtsied and approached the empress. “Good morrow, Empress.”
“Good morrow. Or is it? I’ve just received word that all our messenger pigeons have been killed.
We’ll no doubt use them for food, but this is intolerable.
Those were highly trained birds. Now we can’t easily deliver messages to our allies.
” She frowned. “And if that’s not enough, in the past day, my best pillow has gone missing, and someone tries to poison my dinner.
It appears to me we have another poisoner in our midst. What have you to report? ”
Bronwyn weighed her thoughts carefully. “I have my suspicions, Empress.”
“Tell me,” Empress Maud commanded. She leaned forward in her chair.
“But I have no proof. Only hearsay.”
“I cannot hold someone accountable on hearsay. Why have you no proof?”
“I need to catch them in the act.”
“Who is it you suspect?” the empress asked. She gripped the sides of her wooden chair.
“I—” Bronwyn started.
There was a noise. A rustle of cloth, a creak of a chair. Lady Alice leaned forward and said, “Oh, I dropped my needle. Pardon me. Do go on, Bronwyn. Just ignore me.”
Her voice was carefree and light, but there was no mistaking Lady Alice’s warning look. Beside her, chairs facing away from Bronwyn so she hadn’t at first noticed them, sat Lady Susanna and Agatha. They all sat doing needlework but were as quiet as church mice, and no doubt listening to every word.
“I’d rather not say, Empress, until I know for sure,” Bronwyn said.
“Very well. But be quick about it. I can’t have another ruined meal like yesterday. Go.” She waved Bronwyn away.
“Yes, Empress.” Bronwyn curtsied and left. As she walked out and down the corridor, she was sure, more and more, of Agatha’s guilt. But how to prove it?
Bronwyn worked in the kitchens that day.
Even though the September sun was shining, the constant pelt of rocks and stones hit the roof and castle walls, and it wasn’t safe to go out.
All it took was one servant to be hit by a stray stone crossing the courtyard and that was enough.
The castle steward decided it was too unsafe.
They were in a siege, after all. No one was to go outside, not unless they were a fighter.
Upon orders from the fighters, Bronwyn helped mix up a vat of bubbling pitch, black liquid filth that stank to high heaven, which Hugh promptly refused to allow in the kitchen.
She wasn’t sorry to see it go. She baked bread, went to the pantry, and surveyed its contents.
With the chicken being perfectly fine, the cooks had torn the carcasses to shreds and used it in pies, so the nobility would be less likely to notice where the meat had come from.
Not that any nobleperson had outwardly said they would refuse to eat chicken after the little mishap with Mistress Agatha, but Bronwyn could well understand if anyone was hesitant.
It would still taste good but would be masked by adding some beer and vegetables, like the thin, reedy purple carrots, onions, and leeks that grew from the castle garden.
The garden itself was large, but the stones from the attackers had already destroyed part of it.
Bronwyn wondered idly how Theobold and Rupert were doing in their separate camps, and how dangerous it would be to send them messages or to slip out via the secret passage from the brewery.
She was sure she could convince the nuns to show her.
It was also somewhat of a safety risk. If they knew about it, what was to prevent other people from using it and the attackers getting into the castle?
She went to Hugh to tell him, when she bumped into Lady Susanna. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Lady Susanna wiped her eyes, streaking ink on her face. “Oh, no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going…” She paused, her face turning red.
“Lady Susanna?” Bronwyn cocked her head. “Are you all right?”
Lady Susanna’s chin wobbled, and she nodded, her lips pressed tight. “I’m fine,” she squeaked.
“Are you sure? You’ve got ink on your cheek.” Bronwyn looked at her.
“Oh.” Lady Susanna wiped her cheek, smearing more ink.
“No, the other one. Now they’re both… Here. Let me.” Bronwyn took part of her apron and wiped Lady Susanna’s cheeks. The ink wasn’t coming off so easily. “Here. Let’s go to the kitchen and—”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t go there. That’s for kitchen servants. I’m not a servant. I’m a lady.” Lady Susanna sniffed.
“I know. But you’ve got ink all over your face. No one will care if you use a bit of water to clean your face.”
“Couldn’t you bring me some?” Lady Susanna asked.
“Yes. Where shall I bring it? Where’s your room?”
“Oh. Actually, never mind. I’ll go with you.
” Lady Susanna made as if to follow Bronwyn, who led the lady-in-waiting down to the kitchen, where she bid her to take a seat at the wooden bench and brought over some water.
Bronwyn dipped a rag in it and wet it, then handed it to Lady Susanna, who accepted it tearfully.
“What’s wrong?” Bronwyn asked.
“You. You’re just… No one has asked me how I am for a long time. And you apologizing for bumping into me, when I ran into you. It’s the first polite word I’ve had all day.” Lady Susanna’s chin gave a treacherous tremble.
Bronwyn gave her a thoughtful look. She didn’t trust Lady Susanna, but she also hadn’t heard anything about the young woman’s lover. Could it be that the romance had ended and Lady Susanna was a bit fragile as a result? “Why?”
“I… You see… The other ladies-in-waiting feel I’m letting them down.
Agatha told me so. The empress expects the best from us.
When she is with us, she means to have the best conversation, the best laughter, the jokes, the witty remarks, and for us to look beautiful at all times and better than the maidservants. ”
“That sounds like a lot to put on you,” Bronwyn said.
“It is. And I… like to read. I thought I knew French well, especially what with Lady Alice’s instruction and lessons, but…
I forgot a lot of it. I don’t think I know French very well at all anymore, and the others point this out all the time.
Lady Alice tries to help me sometimes by practicing, but…
I’m hopeless. I don’t understand it and I’m terrible with languages.
I was practicing writing when I got ink on me and then Mistress Agatha said I looked like a fool with all that ink on my face and laughed and I just had to leave. I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
“No, wait. Where are you going?” Bronwyn asked.
“I don’t know,” Lady Susanna admitted. “But I can’t stay here. I’m in the way. I’m always in the way.” She looked over at a servant who was rolling out dough near a large dish for another pie and licked her lips. “That smells delicious,” Lady Susanna told the servant.
The man glanced at her and stared at her ink-splattered face, then winked.
Lady Susanna had missed the wink and raised the damp rag to wipe her cheeks. “You see? I’m of no use to anyone. I’m hopeless.”
“I don’t think you’re hopeless.” A hopeless woman wouldn’t have the courage and daring to lock two squires in a room overnight, on the evening of a royal coronation. That spoke of deviousness, deception, and planning.
“What do you know? You’re just a servant,” Lady Susanna said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. That was rude.
It’s just what the ladies would want me to say, and it popped into my head.
They constantly tell me I have to be harder, and not so weepy or naive.
When I left to wash my face, I overheard Mistress Agatha say, ‘She’s probably gone off to cry in a corner now. ’” Her face reddened.
Bronwyn stiffened. The woman’s rudeness had surprised her. Was this Lady Susanna’s true nature showing itself? Was she actually a mean person inside, and her so-called politeness and sweet demeanor were just a mask?
Bronwyn took the rag from her and wiped Lady Susanna’s cheeks clean. “There you go.” She lowered the rag. “I don’t think you’re hopeless at all. I think learning French is hard.”