"Youknow what these documents say," she finally said, her voice hoarse andheavy with accusation.
"Onlybecause of the horror on your face." Vedette reached for Eada's hand andwinced when Eada yanked it out of her reach.
"Iam not your child. Old Edith was my mother."
"Yes."
Eadaclosed her eyes and tried to calm the swirl of emotion within her. A part ofher had hoped that Vedette would deny it and would convince her that it was alllies made up by a lonely old woman. Another part of her was strangely calm,however, as if this did not come as any surprise. Eada swallowed the anger shewas suddenly afflicted with, knowing that flinging it at the woman she hadcalled mother for so long would not answer any of her questions. Old Edith hadleft her the truth, but only as seen through her eyes and in old, writtenwords. Eada prayed that Vedette could soften that harsh truth with a fewexplanations.
"Shetold me that she once had a husband, a child, and a finer life. My father wasthat husband; I was that child, and most of the lands to the west of Pevenseywere part of her finer life. How did she lose them?"
"Shedid not tell you that?"
"Shedid. There is a letter here." Eada picked it up, but quickly put it backdown when the crinkling of the parchment revealed how badly her hands were shaking."I wish to hear how you tell the tale."
Vedetterubbed her unsteady hands over her face, took a deep, trembling breath, andlooked at Eada. "They were all taken from her because of her strange gift.I do not seek to excuse my part in this deception, but I swear to you that Idid not know of it until I was wed to your father for nearly eight years."
"Butyou did not tell me."
"Yourfather commanded me to keep it secret. I never really forgave him for making mea part of that cruel lie," she added in a whisper, her eyes brieflyclouding with grief and sad remembrance before she shook it aside. "As hiswife I had to support him."
"But,why did he have to keep it hidden? His marriage to Edith was annulled, so therewas no crime to hide."
"Inever did understand completely. I think he was suffering from a great burdenof guilt. Edith was much older than he, but she had been a good wife. He neversaid a harsh word about her except to curse her gift and, occasionally, that hehad lost all he had gained because of it. Those lands and riches he alwaysspoke of having lost were, in truth, Old Edith's lands and wealth."
"Itsays here that Edith was the daughter of an earl. If Father was so poor, whydid they even allow her to marry him?"
"Becauseshe was almost past childbearing age and no other man would take her. I do nothave the full truth of why, with all she had for a dowry, she remained unwed. Ido not think your father did either. He married her and, for a while, all waswell. They lived in our home in Pevensey while planning to build a castle onher lands. In his way, I do believe your father grew quite fond of her. Then,despite her age, she gave birth to you."
Eadasuffered and conquered a surge of guilt. It was birthing a child that hadbrought Edith her gift, the very gift that had lost her everything. That wasnot her fault, but it took her a moment to accept that.
"Yourfather did not immediately cast her aside," Vedette continued. "Hetried to make her keep it a secret, but she was unable to. He then hoped itwould fade. It did not. It grew stronger and she began to better understandwhat was happening. No matter how often he begged her to be quiet, she couldnot keep the truths she learned to herself."
"Andshe was punished for that."
"Yes.The fears of the people in town grew dangerous. Your father feared that sooneven you would be in danger. He warned her one last time, but she did not heedthe warning. That was when he cast her out. She wanted to keep you with her,but then agreed that you would be safer with him. It was not hard for him toget an annulment, but when the marriage was ended, so was his wealth. All hegot to keep was the house in Pevensey, and he could not even hand that toEthelred upon his death. It was his only while he lived."
"Ioften saw the fear of the people, yet it never seemed that strong. They simplystayed away from her."
"Yes,because now they could. She was no longer in the village; they did not have tosee her every day, and they did not have to fear that they were the next onesshe would see some truth about. Even Edith's father turned away from her, whichhurt him as much as it must have hurt her, for she was his only child, his onlyliving family." She reached out to cover Eada's small clenched hand withhers, relieved when, this time, it was allowed. "Old Edith terrifiedpeople, Eada. If she had not had such a powerful father, she would have beenkilled. Although he turned away from her, her father would have killed anyonewho hurt her. Even after he died, people feared she might still have powerfulkinsmen who would avenge her death; and then, after years had passed, I believethey just fell into the habit of seeing her only on market day and ignoring herthe rest of the year."
Asshe struggled to understand, Eada covered her face with her hands. It was notuntil she heard Vedette refill her goblet with wine that she shook free of hershock and confusion. She took a long, hearty drink to steady herself thencarefully put everything back into the box.
"Youare now a wealthy woman. Edith held claim to a lot of land."
"Whichsome Norman will soon claim," Eada murmured as she closed the chest.
"YourNorman?"
Onthe tip of Eada's tongue was a sharp reminder to Vedette that she was not hermother, but Eada hastily swallowed the angry and hurtful words. Even if theywere not of the same blood, Vedette was her mother. Old Edith had always calledher that—and, Eada now recalled, without any bitterness. If Edith could acceptit, so could she. She could even forgive Vedette for being part of the lie. Thewoman had not really had much choice. The ones who were to blame were thepeople who had let fear rule them. Eada knew that, although she still loved andmissed her father, it would be a while before she could forgive him for castingher mother aside.
"Yes.My Norman. He is the reason I am still alive and that I am not one of thosepoor, sad creatures dragging themselves along after the army and lying down forany man."
"Butyou do lie down for him."
"Ido, but there was no rape."
"Eada!"
