When Leila awoke, she knew it was morning for thebright sunlight peeking through the closed curtains and the sweet sound ofbirdsong. She was alone in the huge bed, her only clue that Guy had slept withher the indentation in his pillow. She was surprised but grateful that he hadallowed her to sleep through the welcoming feast. She felt much better now.Wondering with a nervous rush of excitement if he might still be in the room,she sat up and tentatively drew back a curtain.
"So you're awake at last, my lady,"camea cheerful voice, startling her.
"Enid," Leila breathed, her eyes dartingaround what she could see of the sunlit chamber. "Is Lord deWarenne. . . ?"
"Your husband and a good three dozen knights andmen-at-arms rode out a few hours ago," the serving woman replied, herlively tone sobering as she tied back the dark blue curtains with tasseledcords. "Ah, the times are not good, my lady. Word came early this morningthat one of the neighboring villages was raided during the night.'Tisthe first time the rebels have struck so close."Enid shook her dark head. "I share the Welsh blood of the men whocommitted the crime but not their hate of the English. My family has served thedeWarennesfor generations, and we're proud of it."
Leila felt a moment's fear for Guy, but she pushed itaway. If there was one thing she had learned about her husband, it was that hewas more than capable of taking care of himself in dangerous situations. Sherecalled wondering how knights occupied themselves, and now it seemed she hadgotten her answer: by keeping the peace for the king and protecting what wastheirs.
"Did he say when he might be back?"
"No, but if they manage to catch the wilyscoundrels, mayhap bymidafternoon. If not . . ."Enid shrugged, her plain face becoming almost pretty as she smiled reassuringly."Don't trouble yourself about it, my lady. Your lord will come home soonenough. And until he does, Father D'Arcy asked me to tell you that he'd behonored to show you the castle in your husband's stead."
Leila frowned. The idea of spending a good portion ofthe day in Philip's austere company did not sound exactly pleasant, especiallyafter his strained greeting, but it might be better than sitting in thisbedchamber with nothing to do. And it certainly wouldn't hurt to learn thelayout ofWarenneCastle.
"Very well," she murmured, throwing back thecovers and climbing from the bed with ten times more energy than she had whenshe sank into it yesterday afternoon.
While Leila dressed, Enid chatted about the feast; thedelicious dishes that had been served, the speeches, the toasts, the spiritedentertainment, the drunken brawl among some men-at-arms. Though irksome, thediverting patter freed Leila from dwelling overmuch upon Guy. Yet whenever hewas not with her, he was always in the back of her mind, a troubling fact towhich she had reluctantly grown accustomed in the long weeks she had known him.
Would it be the same when she left him? Leila wondered,as Enid expertly braided her long tresses. Foolish thought! She knew she wouldnever forget him. How could she?
Oh, enough! She didn't want to think about it anymoreand was glad when Enid finally finished her hair. After donning a veil andfillet, she practically flew out the door and down the spiral stairs as if shemeant to escape her feelings.
"My lady, Father D'Arcy has a small office on thefirst floor of the keep," Enid called out after her. "If he's notthere, you'll find him in the chapel."
Leila was breathless when she reached the last step,her head spinning from going round and round so quickly. Steadying herself, sheknocked on the nearest door, but there was no answer. She tried two more timesbefore a male voice called out for her to enter.
Suddenly a bit nervous, though she didn't understandwhy, Leila opened the creaking door. It took an instant for her eyes to adjustto the dimmer light. While her bedchamber had several glazed windows, this roomhad only a very small one placed high up near the ceiling; the interior was litwith candles and oil lamps.
"Good morning, Lady Leila," Philip said,rising from a stool set before a slanted desk. His smile was restrained, andhis eyes held little welcome. "I take it you slept well?"
She closed the door behind her and faced him again. "Yes,thank you. I'm sorry I missed the feast."
"No matter. Everyone understood how tired you wereafter your long journey. Have you eaten yet?"
"No, but I'm not really hungry."
"Nonsense," Philip objected. "Guy wastelling me last night that you were too pale, and I agree. A robust diet isessential to good health." He gestured to a table laden with several traysof food. "Please. Sit down."
Remembering the flash of resentment she had seen in hiseyes yesterday, Leila bit her tongue, deciding not to correct his highlyinaccurate view of nutrition. What was the sense in it anyway? She wanted notrouble with this man. She had seen plenty of ugly rivalries between Arabphysicians and knew what a sensitive issue medicine could be between those whoheld different beliefs.
From Philip's simple statement about diet, she alreadydiscerned that their approaches to healing were worlds apart. Her father hadclaimed many times that western physicians were like blindfolded men stumblingaround in the dark, often no better than butchers. Philip would no doubt onlyscoff at anything she had to say. It was better to humor him.
Leila pulled out a bench and sat down, then waitedsilently while Philip filled her trencher with what looked like leftovers fromthe feast. He picked up an earthenware pitcher.
"Wine?"
She nodded, wondering why he hadn't fixed himself somefood.
"Go ahead. I've already eaten," he urged, asif sensing her thoughts. After handing her a filled goblet, he went back to hisdesk. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I have to finish this last entry inthe household accounts."
Leila picked at the food, opting for a chunk of freshbaked bread and some crumbly cheese over the distasteful morass of meat andgravy set before her. She could not help wondering how Philip managed to stayso lean yet advocate such a diet. Perhaps he kept so busy managing Guy's estatethat he had little time to put his belief into practice, she surmised,listening to the scratch of the quill on paper as she sipped her wine.
Unable to eat any more, she twisted on the bench, hergaze moving around the room. She spied with great interest a row of carefullydusted books on a low cupboard. They were the first ones she had seen sinceDamascus; she had almost begun to believe manuscripts didn't exist in thesewestern lands.
"May I look at your books?" she asked, tryingto hold her eagerness in check.
"Only a few of them are mine, some medical textsapproved by the Church. The rest of the collection belongs to Guy. I doubt hewould mind if you looked at it. I've kept his books in here while he was away,but I'm sure he'll soon be moving them back to his private solar."
