Matilda was disgusted. ‘I never drink milk. I’d much rather have wine.’
‘Milk is better for you, madam.’ The older woman’s voice with the gentle lilt of the hills was surprisingly firm. ‘You try it and see, why don’t you?’
Matilda pulled herself up on the pillows and allowed the woman to feed her broken pieces of the fine wastel bread. She found she was very hungry.
‘Did I see you in the hall last night?’ she asked between mouthfuls.
The woman smiled, showing rotten teeth. ‘No, madam, I was in the kitchens most of yesterday, helping to prepare for the feasting.’
Matilda sat up, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘Do you know how many people are coming? Was there much food being brought in? Are the guests already arriving?’
Laughing, the woman spread her strong work-worn hands. Her nails were badly broken. ‘Oh enough for two armies, madam, at least. They seem to have been at work for days, ever since Sir William even hinted at a feast. But yesterday and the day before, I have been helping too with a lot of the women, to see that all is ready in time.’
Matilda lay back, stretching luxuriously beneath the rugs. ‘I wish I were coming,’ she commented cautiously. ‘Sir William feels that I should rest because of my condition, and not attend.’ She glanced at the other woman, and saw with satisfaction that she looked astonished.
‘Surely you’ll feel better by then, madam, if you rest now.’ The woman smiled kindly and twitched one of the coverlets straight. ‘It would never do to miss such a fine occasion as this one, indeed.’
Matilda smiled. ‘That’s what I’ve been thinking. I feel much better already.’ She noticed that the plate was empty and smiled. It was no use pretending that she felt too ill to eat. She tried to compose her face. ‘Where’s Nell, the lady I brought with me?’ she demanded, suddenly remembering. ‘She should have come to look after me. I want her to arrange some maids. I brought no other attendants.’
The woman concealed a smile. ‘Your lady, madam, is talking to Sybella, the constable’s wife. I felt you needed food first, attendants later. I’m thinking you’d have waited all day indeed if it had been up to those two.’ Without comment she took the plate and cup and put them aside, bending to pick up the mantle which Matilda had left trailing from the end of the bed.
‘Tell me your name.’ Matilda was watching closely out of half-shut eyes.
‘Megan, madam. My husband is one of Sir William’s stewards.’
‘Well, Megan, I want to see that my clothes chests are brought up here and then later, if I do feel better, will you help me to dress for the feast?’
‘Of course I will, gladly indeed.’ Megan’s face lit up with pleasure.
‘And listen,’ Matilda raised herself on an elbow and put her finger to her lips. ‘We won’t let Sir William know that I might be coming. I don’t want him to forbid me, thinking I am more tired than I am.’
She lay back on her pillows again after Megan had gone, well pleased with the little Welshwoman’s conspiratorial smile of understanding.
Below in the courtyard the morning sounds were reaching a crescendo of excitement and down the winding stairs to the hall she could hear a hubbub of shouting and laughter and the crashing of the boards onto the trestles as the tables were set up. It was hard to lie idle with so much going on about her but she was content to rest for the moment. The time to get up would come later.
She watched as a boy staggered in with a basket of logs and proceeded to light a new fire, and then a man humped in her boxes of clothes. There was still no sign of Nell, but Megan was close on his heels. Throwing back the lids under Matilda’s instructions she began to pull out the gowns and surcoats, crying out with delight as she fingered the scarlets and greens of silks, fine linens and soft-dyed wools, laying them on the bed one by one.
Matilda looked at each garment critically, considering which she should wear. Ever since she had heard about the feast she had thought about the gold-embroidered surcoat brought to her from London by William for her name day. It had come from the east and smelled of sandalwood and allspice.
‘Oh my lady, you must wear this.’ Megan held up her green velvet gown trimmed with silver. ‘This is perfect for you. It is beautiful, so it is.’
Matilda took it from her and rubbed her face in the soft stuff. ‘William thinks that green is unlucky,’ she said wistfully. She loved that dress and she knew it suited her colouring. It would go well below the gold.
Nell appeared at last, fully recovered from the journey and in high spirits, as Megan was hanging up the last of the gowns in the garderobe. She had brought a message.
‘From one of Lord Clare’s knights,’ she whispered, full of importance. ‘He wants to see you in the solar, now, whilst Sir William is out in the mews with his hawks.’
She helped Megan dress Matilda hastily in a blue wool gown and wrapped her in a thick mantle against the draughts. Then, her finger to her lips, she led the way out of the bedchamber.
Richard was waiting in the deep window embrasure, half-hidden behind a screen. He was dressed for travelling.
‘Richard?’ Matilda stared at him as Nell withdrew.
‘I am leaving. Your husband demands it.’ He put out his hand towards her, then let it fall. He shrugged. ‘My men are waiting. I return to Gloucester.’
‘No,’ she whispered in anguish. ‘I thought he would change his mind and let you stay … I thought you would be here …’
He reached out and touched her hand. ‘This is your household, lady,’ he said sadly. ‘This is where you wished to be, at your husband’s side. There is no place for me here. Better I go now.’
‘But I thought it would be different – I thought it would be all right.’ She looked away from him, her bravery and excitement forgotten. ‘I had forgotten what he is like.’ She put her hands to her face trying not to cry. ‘And I have to stay with him for the rest of my life!’
Richard felt the sweat start on the palms of his hands. ‘You are his wife,’ he said harshly. ‘In God’s eyes you belong to him.’
They stood for a moment in silence. She wanted to cling to him. Firmly she put her hands behind her. ‘I am carrying his child,’ she said at last with an effort. ‘So he is going to let me stay. Not here, but at Brecknock. He is not going to send me back to Bramber after all.’ She gave a faint smile.
Richard stiffened. The pain in his face was hidden in a moment, but she had seen it. She clenched her fists in the folds of her long skirts. ‘Are you not going to congratulate me on fulfilling my wifely duty?’
He bowed slightly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I couldn’t …’ she whispered. ‘I couldn’t …’
Outside the wind was rising, funnelling down the valley, turning the melted slush back to crisp whiteness. It rattled the shutters and screens and stirred the hay which covered the floors, releasing the smell of stale woodruff, tossing the fire-smoke back down into the rooms.
‘You said your men were waiting,’ she said at last. The words caught in her throat.
‘So. God be with you.’ He took her hand and raised it to his lips. Then he left her. She heard him walk across the room and slowly down the long winding stair, his sword catching on the stone wall as he went until the sound died away and she was alone.
She sat for a long time on the stone seat in the embrasure, then, stiff with cold, she returned to her room and crept back beneath the covers of the bed.
Some time later Megan reappeared. She was bubbling with excitement. Prince Seisyll had arrived with his eldest son Geoffrey and his retinue, his harper and his chief councillors.
‘Handsome