“Do you leave the matter to me. As it happens, my new serf is capable of teaching the girl, if shecanbe taught. Let us see if the iron can be wrought into silver ere we speak more of it.”
Chapter 27
No sooner had Rowena returned to the weaving room than Celia showed up there, sauntering in with a superior-than-thou expression and a tight little smile that warned Rowena she was not going to like hearing what the girl had to say. Indeed, she did not.
“Get you to the East tower, wench. A bath has been sent there for Sir Sheldon’s use, and you are to assist him.”
Celia’s diction was much improved, Rowena noted, when she was not upset. Gloating and delighted were what she was just now, while Rowena felt as if the floor had fallen out beneath her feet.
“Did Mary send you with that order?”
“Nay, Warrick did.” Celia smirked. “And best you hurry. Sir Sheldon has already been shown to the chamber. And mark you, wench, he is not merely a guest, but a good friend of your lord. Warrick would not like it were his friend not pleased with your service.”
A couple of the women snickered at that. Rowena merely got up and left the room. She was angry at Warrick for this new humiliation he would force on her, but even more angry at herself for beginning to think seriously about the suggestions Mildred had made earlier. Any man who could send her to another man’s bed—and she did not mistake Celia’s taunting warning any more than the other women had—was not worth seducing, even if it might better her lot to try it.
She was surprised, too. When the girl Emma had summoned her, she had expected to receive what she had missed that morn, utter shame over her behavior yestereve in his bed. Yet when she had stood before him, Warrick still had not mentioned last eventide, though it had been there in his eyes as he stared at her, full memory of it. Instead he had as much as given her to another man with his blessing.
Verily, this could be seen as another punishment, yet she could not think what she had done to merit it. She had not even hesitated over calling him her lord. She had not delayed in coming when summoned. Had Warrick reached a point, then, where he did not need a reason to punish her, where good behavior would avail her naught? If so, why should she bother to do as bidden?Because there are worse punishments than attending a stranger at his bath.
Attending that stranger in his bed was out of the question, however, no matter if it was Warrick’s wish that she do so, no matter what was done to her for refusing. The stranger would have to rape her, and he was not likely to do that. A knight might take a field wench without a thought, but he would not abuse his host’s servant in that way—not without his host’s permission. But there was the rub. Had Warrick told this Sir Sheldon that he could have her?
Mixed in with the anger was hurt that aught not to be there, but dread took over both emotions the closer she got to the East tower chamber, until she was nigh sick with it. Yet there was a core of stubbornness in her that would not let her run and hide instead.
The door to the chamber was open. A young squire was just leaving the room with Sir Sheldon’s heavy armor. Steam rose from the tub that had been set in the center of the room. Buckets of cold water had been left to temper the hot. And Sir Sheldon stood next to the tub, rubbing the back of his neck as if it pained him. It took him a moment to notice her standing just inside the door. When he did, his surprise became quickly evident.
“Youare to assist me, lady?”
Lady? So he knew. Warrick had told him about her andthensent her here, making it all the worse for her. Damn that monster and his diabolical methods of revenge.
She lowered her head and gritted out, “I am ordered here by Lord Warrick.”
“I would not have thought—” he began, but ended with a slight flush. “I am grateful.”
That single word put a new light on what she had to do and took the shame out of it. Were she lady of this castle and married, she would not think twice about assisting an honored guest. Her mother had frequently done so, and did the guest require more than a bath, he would be sent a willing light-skirt of whom every castle had its share. Granted, virginal ladies were not expected to assist at a bath, but Rowena was not exactly virginal any longer. ’Twould be best to treat this as any other chore and see first if Sir Sheldon made any untoward advances before she condemned him.
With that settled in her mind, Rowena moved forward to help the man out of his tunic, which was already half unlaced. She was still slightly nervous, so thought to make small conversation to distract herself.
“Did you travel far, Sir Sheldon?”
“Nay, not overly.”
“I was told you are a good friend to Lord Warrick. You have known him long, then, have you?”
“Aye, he was my squire.”
“Yours?”
He grinned down at her. “Why does that surprise you? Thought you he came to knighthood without the training?”
She grinned back at his gentle teasing. She had barely noticed this man in the hall, her attention so set on Warrick, but on closer inspection, Sheldon was not nearly as old as he had seemed at first glance. Verily, he seemed not much older than Warrick.
“So you knew him ere he turned so—” To call the man’s friend what she would like to would not be very wise, so she settled for “Hard?” But that word made Sheldon burst into laughter.
“You do not know him very well, damosel, if all you can call him is hard. Most women call him terrifying.”
Rowena flushed. “I do not claim to know him at all, yet does he not frighten me—much.”
He laughed again, a deep, rich sound. She yanked hard on his chausses to show him she did not appreciate it.
