When Love Awaits

Chapter 15

MY lady?"

Leonie opened her eyes to find herself lying on her belly, clutching her pillow, an unusual position, as she never slept like that. Then she remembered last night and warmth rushed through her.

"My lady?"

Wilda was standing at the side of the bed, holding out her bedrobe.

Leonie sighed. She would rather have lain there and savored her memories, or found her husband there instead of Wilda. But a quick glance around told her that he was gone.

"Have I overslept?" Leonie asked.

"No. Now thatheis below, I thought it safe to come and wake you for mass," she said sharply.

Leonie grinned. She knew why Wilda was angry. "If I share the room, I must share his habits." She changed the subject. "Did you sleep well?"

"I fear I did not. The fleas!" Wilda's voice rose. "I was nearly eaten alive!"

Leonie sympathized, for she had a few bites herself. "This place is—"

She recalled the shock she had felt yesterday when she'd had her first good look at the hall.

"Dreadful," Wilda finished for her. "The kitchens and servants' quarters are even worse than the hall, and I fear to go near the garderobe.

Only this room is fairly clean."

Leonie frowned as Wilda began combing her hair. "Why, do you suppose? True, Crewel has not had a lady to supervise since Alain's mother died, but there was the Montigny steward in charge. And Lady Amelia is here now." She shuddered recalling the vermin she had seen in the rushes in the hall, vermin mixed with bones, rotten food, even dog excrement!

"That one obviously does not bother herself," Wilda said. "And the servants, from what I have already seen, do nothing they are not told to do. They have no will even to improve their own quarters."

"How can my husband . . . I would not have thought him a man to live this way."

"But he is rarely here, my lady."

"What?"

"That is what I learned from Mildred," Wilda confided. "A man of war, living in army camps and the like—the conditions here cannot be much different."

"But, Wilda, what do you mean about his rarely being here?"

"Since he took possession of Crewel, Mildred says, he has been away a great deal."

"What else did Mildred tell you?" Leonie asked, knowing that Wilda kept very little to herself.

"It seems, my lady," Wilda began eagerly, "that for all his being given the whole of Kempston by the king, only the gates of Crewel opened to him without a battle, and that was only because Lord Alain had fled and all was confusion here anyway. Do you recall the tourney we heard about?"

"Vaguely," Leonie replied uneasily.

"Well, that was an excuse to gather the Kempston vassals and castellans in one place so they could swear allegiance to their new lord."

"I see," Leonie mused aloud. "Instead of being summoned one by one.

A lone man might refuse and simply lock himself in his keep."

"Indeed, that is what Mildred said," Wilda said, proud of her lady.

"And they did all come, but not to swear! All seven attacked Sir Rolfe, then fled."

Now Leonie understood what she had witnessed that day. She was disgusted that Sir Edmond's vassals would behave so despicably, even if motivated by fear. They hadn't even given Rolfe a chance to prove himself.

"What did my husband do after the attack?"

"He besieged all seven keeps."

"How . . . seven? Does he have enough men for that?"

Wilda shrugged. "How many men does it take to besiege a keep?

Pershwick has never—"

"I know, I know," Leonie interrupted impatiently, her mind elsewhere.

She was amazed. It was an impossible task, for one must close up all seven keeps at once, in order to keep one from helping another. That would surely take thousands of men. But such a large force so near Pershwick would have been reported to her. Yet she had heard of nothing like that.

"Are you sure you heard correctly, Wilda? Could it not be that my husband is just making war ononeof the Kempston keeps?"

"No, my lady. Four of the keeps are already won. Wroth is now under siege, and the others are closed, awaiting his orders."

Leonie was realizing what all this fighting would mean. "I will not see much of my husband for many months, then, will I?"

"That should ease your mind."

Leonie smiled to herself as Wilda went to fetch her a bliaut. The maid believed she still detested this marriage.

"Wilda," she called, "I want to wear my best today, the blue silk we got from the French merchant."

"But you only wear that for very special occasions. You even refused—

"

"I know. I did not think my wedding was special enough, but now I want to wear it."

Wilda did not argue, and Leonie was strangely silent as the maid laced her into the long-sleeved dark blue chemise. Over this was placed the wine-colored bliaut of Spanish wool. It was slit up the sides to reveal the dark blue chemise beneath, and its bell-like sleeves were heavily embroidered. The bliaut was lovely, molded to her body in the current fashion, with silver embroidery around the high neckline. The girdle, worn loose around the waist, was made from strands of silver cord, and it trailed to her knees.

Leonie left her silver hair loose, and thick locks of it fell over her breasts as her braids usually did. A silver cord circled her head, holding in place a small square of white linen. She completed the costume with soft leather shoes over blue woolen stockings.

"Do I look like a lady befitting my lord's station?" Leonie ventured with a little smile.

"You do indeed." Wilda smiled back, delighted that she had played a part in making her lady so beautiful.

"Then let us hide in here no longer. We will have much to do in the next few weeks, so we must begin our work."

Wilda's eyes lit up as she understood. "Give me leave, my lady, and I will have these lazy wretches—"

"All in good time," Leonie interrupted. "First I must have my lord's permission."

Wilda did not like that at all. Her lady no longer had the final say, and she didn't even try to keep her displeasure from showing as she and Leonie left the room.