Chapter Seven #4
She nodded. “Mm-hmm. I guess so.”
“She’s not going to blame us for the sheep’s head, is she?”
“I don’t know. I think she was more frightened than angry.”
Hugh tugged at his shirt collar with a thick finger and swallowed.
Bronwyn looked at him. “What is it, Master Hugh? What concerns you?”
“Nothing, nothing. I just don’t want her blaming the servants for these little mishaps, is all. Here, bring her some bread rolls. That’ll keep her happy.”
“I thought those were for the servants’ dinner.”
“You thought wrong. Go.” He handed her a plate and shooed her from the kitchen.
Bronwyn brought up the plate of fresh bread rolls for the empress and found her pacing the throne room. The room was lined by men-at-arms and guards, who watched her most carefully but said not a word. The empress beckoned her forward and took a bread roll, then hesitated.
Bronwyn met her gaze. “I brought them up from the kitchen myself, Empress.” But she hesitated. She hadn’t watched them being made, however, and knew very well that they could have been tampered with.
“Then you won’t mind taking a little bite,” Empress Maud said. “Go on.”
Bronwyn took a crumb from the plate and swallowed it. “Perfectly fine.”
The empress said, “Fine. Go about your business, then. No, wait.”
Bronwyn handed the plate to a page standing nearby. “Empress?”
“This person, whoever it is who is a spy in our court, sent from Stephen and that witch wife of his. Have you found them?”
“No, Empress. But I think Tristan knows something. He seems confident in his abilities.” And perhaps that confidence might be his undoing, she thought.
“Then bring him here at once. No, wait. On second thought, tell him I want him to reveal the person’s name in front of us all at dinner.
We are in need of some entertainment, and I want my court to see I deal with intruders swiftly.
This search has gone on too long.” The empress ate another bite of the roll and beckoned forward a servant who held a jug of wine.
“I notice you do not put forward any suspects. Did I ask too much of you?”
Bronwyn gave a slight shake of her head. “Nay, Empress. I too have my suspicions.”
“But…”
“I haven’t the proof yet to back them up.”
“Many nobles act without proof.”
“But I am not a noble, Empress.” Bronwyn felt her cheeks warm at this admission. She lowered her gaze, then slowly raised it to Empress Maud.
Empress Maud was in her forties or so, but was fierce, like a bird of prey.
Her light-brown hair was pinned back beneath a veil, but her angular face was pale and lined from poor sleep and the strain of it all.
Her eyes were sharp with intelligence, wit, and calculation.
It was the last quality with which she looked upon Bronwyn now.
“Some think I am making a mistake in relying on you, a servant girl. They think I raise you up from nothing, you who are as poor as dirt. With nothing but your name and the clothes on your back. But I tell them they are wrong, and I value good counsel and sharp minds where I see them.”
“I am grateful for your generosity.” Bronwyn ducked her head.
The empress took a second bread roll and bit into it heartily. She swallowed the small bites and said, “Do not disappoint me, Mistress Blakenhale. I hate to be proven wrong.”
Bronwyn nodded and curtsied. She turned to go when the empress said, “I want you in attendance at dinner tonight, too. Be on hand. Tu comprends? You understand?”
“Yes.”
“Lady Susanna tells me she is to give you lessons in French. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I approve You will need a working knowledge of French to be useful to me. You should have asked me permission, of course, but it is a good occupation for her, and I approve of people trying to better themselves. Especially those born in poorer circumstances. Maybe these lessons will keep Lady Susanna out of trouble. She needs to atone for her little prank in London. Go.” The empress motioned for Bronwyn to leave.
Bronwyn worked steadily in the kitchen that afternoon, after reporting to Hugh that the empress liked the bread rolls well enough. He was relieved until she told him the empress’s request.
His expression clouded, his bushy, black eyebrows knitting together. “You serve at the table? Like a page? Why? Why you?”
Bronwyn shrugged. “She likes me? I, uh…” She paused and added quietly, “Tristan thinks he knows who is behind these little incidents with the empress. She wants to have him reveal it at dinner. She wants me there I think to support his claim.”
“And who does he think is behind all this?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t tell Hugh of her real suspicion, that Tristan might be behind this. “He wouldn’t tell me.”
Hugh frowned. “What do you think?”
“I… don’t know. Not for sure. I have an idea, but I cannot prove it just yet.”
“You need to hurry, girl. I don’t know what I’d do.”
She thought for a minute. Back to her days on the road, where they’d been scrounging for food and setting traps, or hunting. “I think I know.”
“Go on.”
“Tease the person out with bait, like you would an animal. See if they fall for it.” And with any luck, she thought, Tristan will reveal the flaw in accusing his so-called culprit, which may lead to proof of his own involvement in these crimes.
Hugh scratched his chin. “That’s not a bad idea…”
Bronwyn entered the small chapel within the castle grounds, craving some solitude.
It wasn’t a large building, as she might have imagined.
She considered that being so close to the cathedral, the need for a chapel was small, and thus it was of a proportionate size.
A quiet place to think would be welcome right now, she thought as she opened the stiff, wooden door.
But as the door creaked open, she saw she wasn’t alone.
Inside the church already knelt the empress before the altar, her head bowed in prayer.
Bronwyn hesitated, then decided that the church was open to all, and she needed a minute. As long as she didn’t disturb the empress, her presence there might be tolerated. She looked at the guards who manned the door. Their faces were unfriendly.
“I’ve just come to pray,” she said.
“Make it quick,” one said in a gravelly voice. “The empress is at prayer.”
Bronwyn walked forward, keeping a fair distance from the other parishioners.
Inside the church stood the nuns Sisters Rebecca and Joan.
Bronwyn nodded a greeting to them both and knelt on the stone floor, the cold of the flagstones biting into her bony knees.
Even though they were in late summer, the siege made one day to the next feel like they were pieces moving in a prison.
They weren’t strictly behind bars or in cells, but life outside the castle walls and gates was not safe.
The coldness of the stones reminded her that winter was never far away.
This will be quick, she thought. The floor was chilly. As she closed her eyes and began to pray silently, a gasp interrupted her. Her eyes flew open.
The empress staggered back, falling to her bottom as she dropped a book on the floor. In seconds, the nuns were at her side, along with two guards. “Empress?” Sister Rebecca asked.
“What’s happened?” a guard asked, pulling the empress up by the arms.
“I’m fine. Let go of me,” Empress Maud snapped.
Bronwyn got to her feet and stood by. The empress waved them all away and turned, her eyes alighting on Bronwyn. “You. Come here.”
Bronwyn approached. “Are you all right, Empress?”
“No. No, I am not. For when I opened my Book of Hours, that letter came out.” She pointed an imperious finger at a scrap of paper on the floor.
A guard picked it up and stiffened. He crumpled it in his fist. “I’ll dispose of this, Your Grace.”
“No. Hand it here.” Empress Maud took it and handed it to Bronwyn, who smoothed it out.
It bore a black ink scribble, a sketch of a woman wearing a crown who lay on the ground, a knife in her back. There was no doubt it was a depiction of the empress.
“What does it mean?” the empress asked. “I have not looked at it properly and no time for such foul pranks.”
Bronwyn pocketed the note in her sleeve. “It’s a sketch of you. A nasty one.”
“Yes, I know. Does that mean someone is going to stab me in the back?”
“It’s certainly a threat.” Bronwyn frowned.
One of the guards picked up the prayer book and handed it to the empress. She clasped it tightly and looked ready to leave, when Bronwyn asked, “Did anyone read your Book of Hours recently?”
The empress made as if to shake her head, then paused. “No. Not to read. But… there was a bit of fuss this morning.”
“Oh?”
“I felt for the sisters and wished to loan them the use of my Book of Hours.”
“Such a kindness,” Sister Rebecca said, joining them.
“Yes. Well, this morning, Lady Susanna offered to fetch it, but Mistress Agatha said her hands were so dirty that she shouldn’t touch it, so she offered to bring it instead.
They argued and even tugged on it. It’s precious to me, and so delicate.
Its illustrations alone were costly to commission.
” She sighed. “I told them to quit fighting, and Lady Susanna ran off in tears. She’s a sweet young woman but no temper in her at all.
She needs more spirit.” The empress tsked.
“Mistress Agatha brought the Book of Hours down here to the nuns, and I came here later to use it. I had thought the church would be a quiet place.” Her pointed expression said, I thought wrong.
“So out of your ladies, who touched the book?” Bronwyn asked.
“Lady Susanna. And Mistress Agatha was right; her fingers were dirty. Black, as if she’d been playing with soot. Mistress Agatha touched it too, and then the Sisters Rebecca and Joan, I suppose.”
Sister Rebecca coughed. “Forgive me, Empress, but I must interject. We did not touch the book.”
“I beg your pardon? When I came into the church, it was beside you.”