Chapter Eight #2
St. Alban didn’t say any more. He took William from his musty chamber, out into the corridor of the barracks.
Men were up and about, knights preparing for the day as St. Alban and William descended to the first floor and walked out into the dawn.
It was cold and damp, dew hanging heavy on the ground as they silently made their way across the compound.
Over to the right was the Beauchamp Tower; William’s gaze was fixed on it, wondering if all was calm for the moment as he went about his requested duty.
He hoped so. He did not want to have to explain his absence to the Earl.
His pace picked up.
*
Avalyn was awoken from a dead sleep by her aunt leaning on the bed. Blinking in the light as a servant pulled back the oilcloths covering the window, she rubbed her eyes sleepily, gazing up into her aunt’s brown eyes.
“Auntie,” she struggled to sit up, groggily. “What is wrong?”
Anne’s smooth face was emotionless. It was as if she was trying too hard not to show any sentiment. “Time to rise, dear,” she said, helping her niece sit up in bed. “You must bathe and dress.”
Anne began directing servants as Avalyn struggled to wake up. Bleary eyed as she was, there was something in her aunt’s tone that set her instantly on edge.
“Why must I bathe and dress?” She looked around. “Where are Isobel and Anne?”
“Isobel is a guest of Clarence and Anne is a guest of de Clare. He has a daughter her age, you know. Margaret. She was at the feast last night. Did you not see her?”
Avalyn hadn’t. But, then again, she didn’t really care. But there was something very strange about the bedchamber being vacant at this early morning hour and her cousins being conveniently absent.
“What time is it?” she asked.
Anne threw open the massive wardrobe. “It is an hour after sunrise. I realize you’ve not had much sleep, but today is a busy day.”
“Why is that?”
Anne fixed her in the eye. “Lord Charles is leaving and you are going with him. We must prepare you and pack.”
Suddenly, Avalyn wasn’t tired any longer.
Her aunt’s words were like a dagger through her heart.
But she recalled the events of earlier, how she had promised to marry Aubrey if Brogan was left in peace.
I promised. There was nothing she could do, having agreed to her own fate.
But the knowledge didn’t make the end result any easier; she was sick with distress. With a heavy sigh, she hung her head.
Anne saw her from the corner of her eye but said nothing.
She was busy directing the servants to fill a big copper tub as her own two ladies pulled forth garments from the wardrobe.
As the women piled clothing on the bed and began pulling forth accessories, Avalyn continued to stare at her lap until Anne finally went to her.
“Rise, Avalyn,” she said in her soft, low voice. “Let us get you bathed. Your new husband would like a presentable bride.”
“Presentable,” she snorted, lifting her head and horrified to realize there were tears in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away, but not so fast that her aunt did not see her. “By all means, let us give him a presentable wife.”
She tossed the covers off, so strongly that she nearly ripped them from the bed.
On her feet, she yanked off her shift and stood naked in the cold room, more anger and frustration in her heart than she could adequately handle.
She was oblivious to the sensual manner in which the light fell on her delicious body, her soft white curves and full breasts revealed to the world.
One of Anne’s ladies poured scented oil into the bathwater and the fragrance of tuberose filled the room.
Avalyn plopped into the tub and water splashed over the side.
Anne could see the temper, the hurt, but she kept her mouth shut.
It is for the best, she told herself. She would not let her emotions be swayed by an angry niece.
As one of her ladies tied a heavy apron around her waist to protect her fine surcoat, Anne went to work washing Avalyn’s hair.
The three women scraped and scrubbed Avalyn until she was slick and clean.
The entire time, Avalyn sat and brooded; at least, that is what it seemed.
But her mind, ever-shrewd and ever-sharp, was struggling to formulate a plan.
As the ladies washed and rubbed, her golden gaze roved the room, trying to think of a way out of the situation.
As long as she wasn’t married yet, there was still a way out.
Her uncle must be very worried indeed to pack her off so quickly with Aubrey.
Avalyn’s eyes moved over the wardrobe, the doors open and clothes askew.
Beyond the wardrobe, something caught her eye; a small, narrow servant’s entrance used to access the apartments.
She’d seen it a thousand times but had never given it any thought until now.
The door almost blended in with the wall, as it was meant to.
The longer Avalyn stared at it, the more her plan took shape.
“Auntie,” she said softly.
“Yes, Avalyn?” Anne looked up from the brush in her hands.
Avalyn turned to the small, dark woman. “I want William to come with me. I do not want to go to my husband without a man who does not serve him. I want someone who will serve only me.”
Anne put the brush down and wiped her hands on a linen towel. “William is sworn to your uncle, dear. You must ask him.”
“Will you ask him for me? I fear his anger towards me is not yet abated.”
Anne didn’t reply for a moment. She knew of Inglesbatch’s feelings for Avalyn; they all did. But she was trying to determine why Avalyn felt the need to take the man. Security? Manipulation? When the pause became excessive, Avalyn turned to her aunt again. “Will you, please?” she asked.
Anne untied the heavy apron before answering. “Your husband’s men will be sworn to you also when you marry him. Why must you take William?”
Avalyn climbed from the tub as the two ladies cloaked her with linen towels. “Because my future husband’s captain was quite brutal to me earlier. I do not trust him. I would like protection of my own, even from my husband’s own knight.”
Anne’s thin face tightened. “Aubrey’s man was cruel?”
Avalyn nodded as the women dried her vigorously. “I am afraid of him, auntie. Please ask Uncle Richard if I may take William. It would make me feel so much better with him to protect me. Will you please go and ask him now?”
Anne gazed at her niece, feeling the pity she had been so desperately trying to stave off creep into her veins.
She hadn’t been keen on this betrothal since the beginning; it had been her husband’s doing and, as a good wife, she supported him.
But hearing of Aubrey’s cruel knight increased her doubt.
If taking Inglesbatch made Avalyn feel better, then so be it.
She saw no harm in it. With a sigh, she nodded her head.
“Very well,” she set the heavy apron aside. “I will do what I can.”
“Thank you, auntie,” Avalyn said softly.
Anne didn’t respond as she quit the chamber. Avalyn waited a few moments before turning to her aunt’s ladies. The two women were finely bred, older, and were her aunt’s shadow. Avalyn had never particularly liked them; they were hovering, judgmental, and cloying.
“Get out,” she snapped. “I would dress alone.”
The women didn’t argue. But when they didn’t move fast enough, Avalyn barked at them and they quickly fled.
When the door shut behind them, Avalyn threw off the linen towels and began madly rummaging through the clothes the ladies had laid on the bed.
She found a lamb’s wool shift of soft white and threw it on, followed by a pair of pantalets that were Anne’s because they were too narrow and too long.
Working very, very quickly and a bit sloppily, she put on a pale blue surcoat made from very fine linen and lined with white rabbit.
It had a sash tie rather than a girdle or belt, and she hastily tied the sash as she went hunting for shoes.
The only shoes she was able to find immediately were Isobel’s doeskin boots with fur lining and she yanked them on, so swiftly that she lost her balance and fell onto the bed.
But that was of little matter; she was dressed, albeit not too elegantly, and her last order of business was to grab a yellow hair ribbon that young Anne had tossed on the floor.
With a few strokes of the fishbone comb through her damp hair, she braided it very quickly and tied it with the ribbon, leaving the thick braid draped over her right shoulder.
The hidden servant’s entrance called to her, lodged in the dark recesses behind the massive wardrobe.
Avalyn had no idea where it went because she’d never used it, but at this moment, she was desperate.
She could only hope it didn’t lead to the dungeons somewhere.
Without a second thought, she was through the doorway and heading down a very narrow flight of steps.
When the dark stairs emptied out into an equally dark corridor that eventually spilled into an alcove off the main hall downstairs, she knew exactly where she was.
She ran faster than she had ever run in her entire life.
*
The smell of baked bread and other cooking scents filled the air as St. Alban directed William into a cluster of shops and merchant stores, now beginning to open for the day.
Just after dawn, the city was coming alive with peasants going about their business.
The two big chargers made loud clopping noises against the hard-packed earth of the dirty London avenue; William’s charger had to be muzzled because the beast was particularly vicious and those going about their business made sure to avoid the foaming horse.