“Er, yes.” Thomas rubbed the back of his neck and avoided my eyes. “I did mention Cullen was a gift from one of the baron’s vassals.”
Margaret blinked prettily. “’Twas me! Oh, I am so glad you have Cullen as your boon companion, Thomas. It is like I myself have been looking after you all these years!”
Just that morning I had witnessed a touching farewell between dog and man; much barking and leaping, tussling and petting there had been. Now I imagined it between Thomas and Margaret herself.
“You haven’t been,” I said. “Looking after him, I mean.”Not the way I have.
Margaret appeared to notice me for the first time. “Who is this?” she asked, eyes fixed on the birthmark at my throat.
Thomas had told me to feel no shame for it, “For lady, I would gladly pluck that rose.” But Margaret’s goggling eyes brought the embarrassment back, made me forget the brush of Thomas’s fingers—and later, his lips—against the mark. It was a blemish now, a flaw, and I rubbed at it until Margaret looked away.
“I am called Bess,” I croaked out, then cleared my throat.
“Bess is a cunning woman,” Thomas said. “Here to lend what help she may to the baroness.”
“Here with you,” I added, taking his hand, and squeezing it perhaps too tight.
Margaret averted her eyes from our clasped hands, and her mouth went round, like a crude, obnoxious poppet’s. “Yes, now I remember. I did hear there was a healer coming.” Her pretty little nose wrinkled, and she crossed herself. I suppose she, like the priest back home, believed it unwise at best, heretical at worst, to mess with “the Lord’s will.”
My belly churned, and I swallowed back bile.She really is all iron and crucifixes, blushes and moues and sanctimonious pride.
Margaret cocked her head at me. “Did you not travel with your husband, then?”
“I do not have one.” I had a paramour only—the handsome shepherd who stood before us both.
She bowed her head, clasping her hands at her breast. “Oh, I am sorry for your loss.” I could almost picture her eking out a single perfect tear.
I stared at her a moment. “I never had a husband.”
“Oh.” Eyes owlish and wide. “Then you are convent-bound?”
If I had been drinking, I would have spat it out. “No,” I growled. “I came with Thomas.”
Margaret pulled away, her expression strained. I could only imagine what manner of woman she thought me. “Neighbors, then.”
“We could hardly be closer.”
She gave a feeble smile. “Well. Yes. We should have someone show you to your quarters. Richard!” She waved over a lanky groom. “Do show the baron’s son and the young cunning woman to their rooms.” Rooms, again. Plural. It lingered like a snake’s hiss in my ears. I did not see what I could do about it.
Little did I know, when I demurred at the idea Thomas and I were to have separate chambers, that I was lucky to be given quarters at all. The manor house had no place to put a woman who traveled alone. Never mind that Thomas and I traveled together. We were unwed, and in the baron’s eyes, and those of his household, I was as nothing to Thomas.
We share a life,and he owes me his.In this world, it meant nothing unless sanctioned by God.
Eventually, I was given a pallet in the attic, where the laundress sometimes stayed when caught out in a storm. Clearly, this was a rare occurrence, for the space was barely habitable, dim, dusty, and bare. Only a blanket protected my modesty and concealed me from view.
“I will speak to someone,” Thomas promised. “It is not acceptable for you to be treated in such a base fashion.”
I bit my lip. The baron had treated his own son like a servant. We were naïve to suppose I might fare any better.
Wait until I have saved the baroness and young Malcolm,I thought.Then the baron will see my worth and give me the respect I deserve.
And I quieted the voice that told me,I could command it now.Lammas magic warred with the heavy mortality of the manor around me, but the manor won.
’Twas no better that evening when we were summoned to the great hall to dine. To say “summoned” is a misstatement, where I was concerned. No one bothered to fetch me. Only from the bustle and scurrying of the servants around me did I know when supper was nigh.
I did wash myself, and rebraided my hair, wishing I had a gown as fine and lovely as Margaret’s—in two colors, no less! I then tracked down a groom and followed him into the great hall, where I waited to be seated.
Trestle tables were lined up on the sides of the hall, illumined by proper candles in spikes on the wall or in chandeliers overhead. Patterned tiles covered the floor, the walls hung with fine tapestries, and an enormous fire burned upon flagstones in the center. When I followed the smoke with my eyes, I could see the wooden roof beams were stained with soot.
