me within,” he said, the even tenor of his voice serving to ease away her embarrassment. “I’m perfectly harmless, I assure you.” While she wasn’t sure she believed that statement, she couldn’t resist the smile that accompanied it. “If you’d prefer that I leave, I shall, with William none the wiser.”
“Nay, milord, ‘tis not necessary.” He’d only be here for a day or so at most; surely she could remain immune to his charm for that long. She should look upon his time at Murat as an adventure.
And enjoy it while she could, her mind taunted.
But she had no business thinking such thoughts, especially given the present circumstances. Anna smoothed her hands down the skirt of her gown to still their faint trembling and reminded herself of what lay ahead. ’Twas enough to calm her disordered brain—for the moment, at least. “’Tis kind of you to agree to William’s request, though I cannot understand why he would ask a guest to help with such a gruesome venture.” She reached for the latch and opened the door. “I’m sure that both Trudy and I will appreciate your assistance.”
Ella scampered past as Swen followed Anna into the building. He gazed about him with curiosity. ’Twas a large chamber, nearly the size of the main hall in his parents’ home, dominated by a huge forgelike hearth at one end. Shelves, tables and strange tools were ranged about the room, and a number of lanterns hung from the rafters at close intervals, especially over the massive table in the center of the room.
What was this place?
Anna led him to the table. Trudy stood beside it, bent over a body—her husband’s, he assumed, while the corpse of the other guard lay uncovered on the far side of the table. A bloodstained blanket sat neatly folded at the body’s feet.
Trudy set aside a wet cloth and looked up. “Lord Siwardson is here to help us,” Anna told her. “Is there anything you’d like him to do?” She picked up a kettle from the bench near the door and crossed the room to the hearth.
The other woman straightened, curtsied and gave a nod of acknowledgment. “’Tis good of ye to offer, milord.”
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Nothin’ for the moment, milord.” She reached out and smoothed Ned’s hair back from his battered face. “Though once I’m done wi’ the washin’, I’ll need some help raising him up to put him in this.” She picked up a large piece of linen and wiped the tears from her eyes on the edge of it. “But the mistress could use your help, most like,” she added with a nod toward Anna. Giving him a wan smile, she turned once again to her task.
Anna stood near a bench lined with casks across from the hearth, ladling water into the kettle. “I’ll take that for you,” he offered when she made to lift the pot. Though she looked surprised by the suggestion, she moved aside and let him take it to the hearth and place it over the coals.
Drawing up two tall stools, she motioned for him to take one. He pulled the two seats closer together and sat down. Anna glanced back at Trudy, still standing beside her husband. “I think we should allow her some privacy,” she said, her voice pitched low. “When I offered to help her earlier, she said she’d prefer to do it herself.” Gathering her skirts together, she hopped up onto the stool. “I thought to wait until she’s finished before I take care of Pawl.”
“It must be difficult for her, losing her husband,” Swen said. “It’s never easy when our loved ones are gone.” A vast understatement; some losses were pains that never healed.
He heard his words again in his mind, thought back over his behavior around Anna and nearly jumped off the stool to storm about the room. By the saints, when had he begun mouthing platitudes?
God’s truth, he didn’t know what to say to Anna; ever since he’d recognized her last night, his mind seemed to go blank with confusion whenever she was near.
He raked his fingers through his hair and fought a surge of self-disgust. He hadn’t had this much trouble around a woman since he was a beardless youth.
If ever.
Anna glanced at Trudy, then turned her attention back to him, her gaze thoughtful. “Yes, I can see that it’s difficult.”
A strange response. Perhaps she hadn’t lost anyone close to her. If that was so, she was more fortunate than most.
She closed her eyes for a moment; when she opened them, he’d have sworn ’twas pain that darkened them to a deep, honeyed amber.
Perhaps he was wrong.
“‘Tis probably foolish to warm the water when he cannot feel it, but I’ll do it anyway,” she said, her voice wavering a bit. She slid off the stool and took up a poker to stir the fire, staring at the cloud of sparks that rose into the air. “I thought to spare his mother and daughters more sorrow, though it seems little enough, under the circumstances.”
“It’s good of you to do it,” he said, and meant it. “Most ladies would not exert themselves so much for one in their employ. They’d have their servants take care of such a task.”
“Ladies and servants?” She laughed, though he heard no humor in the sound. The poker clattered against the hearth stones as she cast it aside and whirled to face him, her gaze questioning. “Why should I have servants?”
Why, indeed? “But aren’t you mistress here?”
Her brief burst of laughter sounded genuine this time, before she cut it off by clapping her hand over her mouth. She glanced over at Trudy with a look of guilt on her face. Trudy never even looked up. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m not laughing at you, milord, truly. But I can see that William told you nothing of our lives here in Murat.”
“Nay, he had no chance to do so before Ella came to fetch us.” He rose to stand near her, drawn by the sparkle of humor that brightened her eyes. “But you have guards to protect you, William and the others obviously hold you in high regard. Indeed, last night William said—”
“He said I was of value to the abbey. I’m sure ‘tis true. Father Michael, the abbot, prizes me highly.” She reached over and took his hand, sending that mysterious jolt of energy surging through him, and led him to an enormous steel-banded chest against the wall. He felt the loss of her touch like a pain when she released him to fumble with the ring of keys tied round her belt. “Let me show you the source of my worth to the Abbey of St. Stephen of Murat.”
The key turned smoothly in the lock; Anna raised the lid and reached inside.
The cross Anna drew forth in both hands gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the open door—as tall as his forearm was long, the polished gold embedded with all the jeweled colors of the rainbow. It must have weighed as much as the kettle she’d filled, yet she held it with an ease that mocked his earlier attempt to help her.
She looked it over for a moment, then cradled it in her arms like a child and met his gaze. “It’s meant for the altar of King John’s private chapel,” she said with simple pride.
But what had that to do with anything?
“I believe ‘tis my finest work yet,” she continued. “The engraving is more detailed than any I’ve done before, and the colors—” She smiled. “The colors are as deep and true as any found in God’s creation, though Father Michael would caution that I shouldn’t be so arrogant as to say so.”
Swen thought that the cross, while an object of great beauty, could not compare to her loveliness. “You said you’d explain, Anna,” he urged.
“I’m as much a servant as anyone else here at Murat, milord. This cross is my creation, brought forth from within my mind, created by my hands for the glory of God and the abbey.” Her fingers moved in an unconscious caress over the designs etched in gold. “This village exists so that I might do my work. Murat and all its people—especially me—and my work, belong to the abbey, to do with as God wills.”