Barbara Erskine 3-Book Collection: Lady of Hay, Time’s Legacy, Sands of Time. Barbara Erskine
my own fault.’ She found herself responding to his warm smile. ‘I brought no retinue, Archdeacon. No escort except for the one John Picard there could spare me, out of his kindness. I was foolish to come, I suppose.’
He scrutinised her face for a moment, and then grinned boyishly. ‘I can understand you wanting to come here. One’s home is always the best place to be and I believe women in your condition frequently conceive such fancies. After all, where else should your child be born but here?’
She felt herself blushing at his outspokenness and drawing her mantle more closely round her she retreated to the fire, where she stood and watched as two sandalled lay brothers from the priory carried in a folding stool and set it down near her. They were followed by others with trestles and table tops for the dais, benches and candlesticks. Finally a linen cloth was produced and carefully laid on the table. Matilda waited in silence as the hall was transformed. Slowly, through Gerald’s eyes, she was beginning to see the funny side of her undignified arrival. He had been watching her closely and he didn’t drop his eyes when she caught his stare, but grinned pleasantly once more. ‘Better?’ he enquired humorously.
She laughed. ‘Much better, Archdeacon. I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘Don’t bother. My own reading chair is on its way down to you from Llanddeu. You will find it easier sitting on a chair with a back I should imagine. If there’s anything you need, or any help wanted, send for me. I’m usually there when I’m not travelling round the diocese.’ He stepped forward and took her hand earnestly. ‘I’ll take my leave now, I can see you’re tired. But remember I’m there if you need me.’
John Picard raised an eyebrow as Gerald left. ‘An intense young man, that. But I’m glad he’s here. He’ll keep an eye on you till your husband comes,’ and he leaned back tucking his thumbs comfortably into his belt.
It was from Sir Robert Mortimer that she at last understood the full extent of the danger in which she stood and which the Picards had managed to keep from her throughout the winter. John Picard had left at dawn the next morning, bidding her a cheerful goodbye and leaving her with a smacking kiss on the cheek, then Sir Robert had found his way to Matilda’s side.
‘I’ve ordered a double guard, my lady, on the walls and on the gate, and I’ve told them to keep the townsfolk out for now,’ he reported.
‘Why?’ She stopped clearing a pile of linen from the table and turned to look at him, puzzled. Nell went on folding the material, but her eyes too were fixed on the constable’s face.
‘We cannot take any risks with you here at Brecknock, my lady. Things have been peaceful this winter. We’ve had no trouble, but now you’re here I’d expect them to have a go at you.’ He clenched his fist over the hilt of his sword.
‘Have a go? Who?’ Matilda narrowed her eyes.
‘The Welshies of course, my lady. An eye for an eye; a death for a death, all that. You’ve heard of the galanas?’
She looked puzzled and he shook his head. ‘The blood feud. They will seek revenge, my lady. It’s the law of these hills. Then, no doubt, if they get it, your descendants and relatives will seek theirs in their turn and so on it will go. It’s the way the Marches take their justice.’
Matilda shivered. ‘So Seisyll’s wife died?’
He shrugged. ‘As to that, I haven’t heard for sure. But we’ve got to assume you’ll be a target, with Sir William away at Windsor or wherever. Did the Picards not warn you?’
Matilda licked her lips nervously. ‘Yes, they did mention it. Lady Picard told me of the feud, but I paid no attention – I was ill … I must have put them in great danger while I was there.’ She walked over towards the hearth, her light green skirts sweeping the rushes. ‘They sheltered me all winter, Sir Robert, and never let me know that.’
Sir Robert rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘Aye, they’re good folk right enough.’
‘Let the town people come and go as usual. I don’t want them to resent me from the start. Give me a bodyguard of some sort, that’ll be enough. These are my husband’s people after all, not Seisyll’s. I’m sure they’re not involved in any feud.’
Sir Robert frowned. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. ‘There’s something I think you should understand, my lady.’ He looked at the floor, embarrassed. ‘The thing is, your husband is not exactly well liked by the people. These lordships came to him from the family of his lady mother. They do not like de Braose.’ His voice tailed away into silence.
‘All the more reason that I should make them like me, Sir Robert,’ she flashed back at him. Then she smiled. ‘Please. Help me make friends with them. I should hate to feel that I have enemies here. Perhaps we can win them round if we try.’
He looked at her determined, eager face and grinned. ‘Well, my lady, if those are your orders, I’d be glad, for one. They’re not a bad crowd in Aberhonddu. We’ll guard you well and hope they’re not over-concerned with the doings in Gwent. Will you be sending messages to Sir William?’
She nodded. ‘I must. He should be told I’m here and I want some of my servants from Bramber. Will you arrange for someone to go to find him? Meanwhile I’ll choose some women to serve me and we’ll make a start at trying to make this place comfortable.’ She grinned, and turned back to help Nell with her task.
The next few days passed in a bustle of activity. As word got round that Lady de Braose was there, people from the small township below the castle walls began to make their way to her presence. She was called upon to act as arbiter and judge amongst them. They seemed to be accepting her. She had scarcely any time at all to herself, and almost forgot the worries and torments of the long winter. She found the people prepared with their tithes of provisions and supplies, all eager and curious to see Sir William’s bride; all apparently prepared to be friendly.
She spent long mornings closeted with Hugh the Bailiff, who had eventually turned up between two men-at-arms, so drunk he was unable to stand. She had curbed her initial desire to have him flogged and waited to see him when he was sober. And she was pleased she had done so. He was in his own way grateful for her restraint and proved himself a competent enough steward after his initial defensiveness had worn off. He took her on a tour of the barns, storerooms, pantries and the cellar, proud that Brecknock should still be comparatively well stocked after the long winter.
She sat for many hours, however, pondering over his accounts, desperately trying to make sense of the squiggles on the pages before her, applying her limited knowledge of reading, knowing his taunting eyes were upon her, waiting for her to make a mistake.
At last, exasperated beyond measure, she summoned Father Hugo, the priest who had been sent by Gerald to take mass at the chapel each morning.
‘Father, I need your help.’ She looked up at him from Gerald’s elaborate chair by the fire. ‘I need to know how to read properly. Can you teach me?’
Together they pored over the account book for some time. Then Hugo straightened up and put his hand to his eyes. ‘I can hardly read this man’s hand myself,’ he muttered at last. ‘Especially these last few pages. I’ll bring the mass book from the chapel for you. That at least I know is legible.’
Two days later Gerald was ushered into her presence. ‘I hear you want to learn to read,’ he said, without preamble. ‘Hugo is not the man to teach you, my lady. His eyes are too old to see the letters himself. I shall do it.’
‘You, Archdeacon? But how will you spare the time?’ She was a little nervous of the energetic, handsome young man and she glanced rather apprehensively at the volumes under his arm.
‘I shall teach you to write as well,’ he went on. ‘It is unthinkable that a lady of your standing should be unable to read and write with fluency. Writing is one of the greatest arts.’
She blushed. He made her feel suddenly inadequate. Secretly she had been