A Tapestry of Dreams Read online

  Hastily he buried that foolish notion by recalling Sir Walter’s comments on the unusual idea of offering Demoiselle Audris a choice. Ordinarily a husband would be chosen by a male guardian to suit himself. The very last and least consideration, if the subject were considered at all, would be whether or not the woman would like the man to whom she was given. But in this case, Sir Walter had said, the king must induce the lady to oppose her uncle.

  “If the girl wants a husband and Oliver has been refusing decent offers,” Sir Walter had said, frowning unhappily, “she has a right to be married, and I will not stand in her way, but I wish Stephen did not so openly intend her for one of those landless hangers-on he brought with him.” Then he sighed. “Well, I suppose he thinks a man who owes him everything can be better trusted. But I am not so easy in my mind about replacing Oliver with a young man bred in Blois or France who does not know our ways and who might be greedy as well as poor. No, I do not like it, and I am going with the king to Jernaeve and taking a few friends, too, to make sure Demoiselle Audris is not forced into marriage with Stephen’s man.”

  So, Hugh thought, his eyes fixed on Audris, who had threaded her way through the benches and was nearing Stephen’s chair, the king dared not give the impression that he was usurping without cause Sir Oliver’s position as Demoiselle Audris’s warden. Hugh’s lips twisted. Of course, that was why the Demoiselle had to come down. The king needed witnesses that she wished to marry and that Sir Oliver’s refusals of all offers for her were a violation of her rights.

  Hugh’s mind had been so busy that it took a little while to register what his eyes were seeing. But now he noticed that Demoiselle Audris’s quick, light gait was eager. Actually, the swift approach changed his feeling that she was being pushed forward; now it appeared as if the small, quick figure was towing the larger, reluctant form of Lady Eadyth behind it. Nor, Hugh saw, did the Demoiselle Audris seem to cower away from the stares of the attentive men or to be at all disturbed by their silence. And when he could see her face clearly, he perceived that her eyes were bright with interest and her lips curved into a half smile as she sank to the floor in a deep curtsy. Could she have guessed the king’s purpose? If so, it seemed Demoiselle Audris would jump at the chance of being free of her uncle’s domination and would gladly choose one of the four young men with Stephen. A disappointment as unreasonable as his earlier resentment made Hugh draw back farther behind the king’s chair.

  “I do beg your pardon, Sire.” Audris’s head was bent in seeming submission, but her voice, low and sweet, held, to Hugh’s surprise, a note of merriment, and her next words shocked him. “I was taken of a sudden notion for a new picture, and I quite forgot we had so exalted a guest.”

  “Audris!” Eadyth exclaimed, horrified.

  “No, do not scold her,” Stephen said kindly.

  Although Hugh could not see the king’s face from his new position, he was certain Stephen was delighted that Eadyth’s remark had given him the chance to show himself as a protector against her oppressors. Now Stephen had reached out and cupped Audris’s chin in his hand to lift her face. Her head came up without resistance, and her smile had broadened so that her rosy lips displayed her teeth, a trifle too large to be delicate, but strong and white.

  “You are merciful, Sire, to forgive me so easily,” Audris said, spoiling the deferential words by a confident chuckle. “But to show my true contrition, I have brought you a gift.”

  She rose and peered behind the benches, then nodded and gestured. Fritha hurried to her side, holding a rolled tapestry in her arms. Oliver stiffened, inwardly cursing his wife for being such an idiot as to allow Audris to show this work, but he did not rise or speak. It would be worse to protest against displaying the picture than to pretend indifference to it. The best way to protect Audris now was to act as if there were nothing out of the ordinary about the panel. Audris herself, Oliver realized, did not seem to attach any significance to the piece. She had asked for someone tall to hold up the work and was waiting with a pleased smile for Stephen’s opinion.

  The king’s first word was “Beautiful!” but as he took in the subject, he glanced at Oliver and frowned. Oliver merely nodded his agreement with Stephen’s judgment, seeming not to see the expression that had followed the word. Stephen’s lips twisted. “So,” he said softly, “my coming was not a surprise. This cannot have been woven in a few hours or even a day. Who—”

  Audris’s smile had frozen on her lips. She had noticed the way her uncle had stiffened and realized that bringing down the tapestry had been a mistake. What a fool I am, she thought, not to have seen that my aunt was troubled by more than a fear of foretelling. I should have tried to learn what was going on beforehand. I could have sent for it later. And she blamed herself all the more bitterly because she had not stopped to think through the results of offering the gift to the king. She had only wanted to be rid of the piece, which made her uneasy.

  “Oh, but it was a surprise!” Audris cried, interrupting Stephen. “I swear I did not know you intended to come here. The picture was only what I hoped for—wished for. Bruno had told me that he was going to you to find help after Summerville threatened to take Jernaeve by force when my uncle would not yield. And I was… afraid.” That was not true; Audris could not remember fear, only a concentration on the work she was doing, and because she was unaccustomed to lying, her voice shook, immediately convincing everyone that she had, in truth, been terrified. “So I wove a picture to comfort myself,” she finished.

  Stephen was smiling again, for Audris’s explanation was both reasonable and flattering. He nodded at Oliver, but it was to Audris he spoke. “I did not mean to frighten you, child.”

  That drew a return smile. “I am no child, my lord. I know I am small, but I fear I will grow no larger. I am near three and twenty.”

  “And still unwed!” Stephen exclaimed. “How does that come about?”

  Audris had seen the trap, but only after she had fallen into it. Stephen’s too great satisfaction with her answer was betrayed by the slight preening of his body, by the way his fingers moved and his head tilted, even though he had kept all but an expression of sympathy from his face. That satisfaction told her of his intention before his words defined it. The king, like Bruno a few weeks ago, was going to blame her uncle for keeping her unmarried. But the king, who had power, could call her uncle neglectful and give her a husband of his own choosing.

  For an instant panic held Audris frozen; then her quick mind found a solution. So the king wanted to trick a poor, ignorant girl and force a husband on her, did he? Audris was sure her uncle had the right to choose what man she should marry, and if it was not his fault she was still a maiden, Oliver’s right could not be taken away.

  “Alas, Sire”—Audris sighed, dropping her head guiltily—“it is through my own overgreat particularity, I fear. My poor uncle must be near to wringing my neck, for it is he who must bear the wrath of those I refuse. He has brought a bushel of offers to me, but I could not, among them all, find a man to please me, and Uncle Oliver is too kind and too fond to force me.”

  This time it was Stephen’s smile that froze on his face. Hugh, who had been drawn forward again in his desire to see the tapestry clearly, had seen the stiffness around the king’s lips. He was not surprised that Stephen was somewhat stunned. Hugh could hardly believe his own ears. He had been certain, when Demoiselle Audris’s head bent, that her next words would be the traditional, “I do not know why, Sire, but I will have a husband according to your wishes.” Now Hugh held his breath, torn between a delight whose cause he refused to recognize and anxiety that the king would react with rage.

  But Stephen had no chance to reply. Walter Espec laughed loud and heartily. “Demoiselle, I think you have been made naughty by overindulgence. Still, if your uncle is willing to put up with you, it is none of our business.”

  The words were addressed to Audris, but the last phrase
was clearly a warning to the king. Had Sir Oliver given some sign of reluctance to accept Stephen, Espec and the other northerners might have accepted his ambivalence as an excuse for the king to press the issue of the heiress’s marriage. The warmth of the welcome Sir Oliver had extended, however, closed that loophole.

  But Stephen had recovered from his surprise, and if he was aware of the hidden warning, he gave no sign. “I do not think the Demoiselle naughty,” he said. “One who can produce work of such beauty”—he gestured toward the tapestry—“may indeed have a particular taste. Perhaps among my gentlemen she will find one to suit her.”

  Another trap. Panic rose again in Audris. All she wanted was to escape. If she could save herself now, she swore that she would disappear into the hills. It would be safe enough now that the danger of Scottish raiding parties was gone. The weather was still too cold to make roaming all day and sleeping out-of-doors pleasant, but there were shelters aplenty, and she hoped the king could not spare more than a day or two. Jernaeve was strong, and the lands, under her uncle’s care, had grown wide and rich. Still, Jernaeve must be a small matter when compared with the affairs of the whole kingdom. Audris clasped her hands nervously and then opened them as if in supplication.

  “But I do not wish to marry,” she cried. “I am happy as I am. And if my wish alone does not merit your indulgence, Sire, still you cannot believe after what I have said of my uncle’s kindness that I would marry any man who did not have his goodwill. Sir Oliver alone can judge whether the lands of your gentleman would be well fitted to mine.”

  “All women wish to marry,” Stephen said, his voice growing sharper. “And lands are not all in all. These gentlemen have my favor, and a king’s favor is worth much.”

  The sharpness of Stephen’s tone brought both Bruno and Hugh forward. Hugh stopped after a single step, again crushing down a surge of protective rage, but Bruno took the chance of coming right to the back of the king’s chair and shaking his head in warning. When Audris had first approached, Bruno had deliberately placed himself out of sight, for he feared Audris was so heedless that she might run to him before she greeted Stephen. Now, however, he felt it more important to stop her from saying any more. She might anger the king by further argument when she could safely leave her case in the hands of the northern barons, who, Hugh had told him, did not want to see her married to Stephen’s penniless henchmen any more than Sir Oliver did.

  Fortunately, Bruno’s motion caught Audris’s eye, and instead of saying rebelliously, “Such favor is not of much worth to me!” she cried aloud, “Bruno! Dearling!” and then clapped her hands to her mouth, but almost at once she removed her muting fingers to say in tumbling haste, “Oh, I am sorry, my lord. I will think on what you have said most dutifully, but I beg you to give me leave to speak to my brother, Bruno. I thought I had lost him again, and you have brought him back to me.”

  “Brother?” Stephen repeated, glancing at Oliver. The displeasure smoothed from his face, and he turned back to Audris and smiled. “Yes, I will let you go in a moment. I must just ask if you know what it means to do homage.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Audris replied, infinitely relieved that the subject of marriage seemed to have been put away. “I did homage once—no, twice it was—to King Henry.”

  “And are you willing to do homage to me?” Stephen asked.

  A flicker of her eyes had caught her uncle’s urgent nod. “Yes, with all my heart,” Audris replied. “Shall I kneel now?” She started to bend and then looked anxious. “Oh, but our token is not ready.”

  “It will be readied by the time supper is eaten,” Sir Oliver said, rising to his feet and bowing to Stephen. “Eadyth, see to the folding of Audris’s picture in oiled cloth and then in leather so it will be safe for the king to carry with him when he chooses to leave us. And you, Audris, curb your time with Bruno. You must be fittingly dressed if you are to do homage. It is no wonder if King Stephen thought you neglected. You come down like a beggar maid, all besmottered with stray threads. For shame. I am grateful I have not been accused of starving you.”

  Audris had turned her bend into a curtsy to Stephen and now whirled to throw her arms around her uncle’s neck and kiss his cheek. “I am sorry, uncle,” she cried, laughing. “Aunt Eadyth bade me change my gown, but I thought it better to mend my first rudeness by coming quickly than to delay to be fine.” And on the words she was away, to throw herself into Bruno’s arms.

  “I have told you over and over—” he began, but Audris, clinging tight around his neck, whispered into his ear, “Come away. Come away.”

  Bruno was so startled by Audris’s urgent whisper that his eyes flew to Hugh, and he made a beckoning gesture. The moment he had done so, he felt ridiculous. He trusted Hugh, but this was not an alehouse brawl or a rough-and-tumble in an army camp. There was nothing Hugh could do to help—or was there? Hugh had Walter Espec’s ear, and Audris could not have a stronger champion. Bruno was grateful to Stephen and was coming to love his generous master, but when he had urged his sister to take a husband, he had not meant a penniless adventurer. Moreover, although he understood why Stephen wished to place his own man in Jernaeve, he knew the king would do his cause more harm than good by accomplishing his purpose. Thus, as he followed Audris across the hall to a spot out of the sight and hearing of the king, he looked over his shoulder and beckoned Hugh again.

  “You are still saving me from scrapes,” Audris sighed, kissing Bruno’s cheek and letting her arms drop from his neck. “I was about to say something highly improper to the king. How dare he think he could force on me a pauper henchman and push out Uncle Oliver? Thank Saint Bede I saw you and found a way to escape. Now, if I can only stay out of his way—” She stopped speaking and her eyes widened as she saw Hugh. “The unicorn!” she cried, recognizing him by the shock of red hair.

  “Do you know Hugh?” Bruno asked, surprised.

  “No,” Audris replied, smiling. “But I saw his shield from the window—and his hair. There cannot be many with heads as red as that.”

  “Then let me make known to you Hugh Licorne, who is Sir Walter Espec’s squire.”

  Audris smiled again, and Hugh bowed gracefully. “I must thank you,” she said, “for putting into my head the subject for a new picture. And I must find a way to thank Sir Walter for supporting my uncle.”

  “Sir Walter spoke for us all—I mean for all the northern barons,” Hugh replied, his fair skin reddening under its weathered tan at his slip. “As to finding a way to thank him, there can be no problem. I will take you to him whenever you wish to go. But you must not be afraid of his loud voice. He cannot help it, and I swear the words will be kind.”

  Audris touched his hand gratefully, knowing he wished to be consoling, but she could not help laughing as she denied any fears of Sir Walter. Hugh was barely conscious of the rippling sound of mirth. The gentle touch on his hand had made him breathless, and his heartbeat had quickened. Hugh was annoyed with himself. Demoiselle Audris could never be anything to him. She was not even beautiful, he told himself; he had seen many women more beautiful, and had felt no great interest. The Demoiselle was too pallid for beauty—pale hair, pale brows and lashes, pale eyes—but those were different and perhaps the source of her power, for her eyes had a depth and luminosity rarely seen.

  “Hugh, do you not agree?”

  “Forgive me,” Hugh said, tearing his eyes away from Audris’s face and looking determinedly at Bruno. “I did not hear. Agree to what?”

  “That the king is a good man, and Audris must not leave immediately after the ceremony of doing homage,” Bruno repeated, looking with some surprise at his friend.

  “Leave?” Hugh echoed. “Leave for where?”

  “My own tower,” Audris said, smiling questioningly. “I can say I must get on with my weaving.”

  “No,” Hugh protested, not quite looking at her and missing the unspoken question. “That
will sound as if you are kept at your work night and day. And Bruno is right, I do not think you should hide yourself away. If you do so, it is possible Stephen will claim it is by your uncle’s order that you are sequestered and the words you spoke were not from your own heart but learned out of fear of him. Better that you mingle freely with the guests.”

  Now that Hugh had pulled his eyes away from her face, Audris examined his, though somewhat more covertly. She had been oddly disturbed by his intense scrutiny, which was so different from the awed staring of the superstitious common folk and the measuring yet indifferent glances of the men who offered marriage and wished to be sure she was not too deformed to bear children. Hugh Licorne’s face might be called ugly by some, with those wide-set eyes over a strong nose and long chin, but it was a fascinating ugliness, and his mouth was beautiful, tender-looking and expressive. But what Audris read in the eyes and from the movements of his body was even more fascinating. For the first time a man was looking with avidity at her rather than at her uncle as he described the prized estate.

  “But most of the guests are those—those suitors with hungry, gaping maws that he brought with him,” Audris pointed out. “I am afraid if I say one word or nod my head to one of them, the king will have a priest saying the rites of marriage over me before I can turn away.”

  “No, Audris. He would not,” Bruno assured her. “King Stephen truly thought you were being kept a maiden against your will. He even intended to offer you a choice, an uncommon kindness.”

  “A fine choice,” Audris snapped contemptuously. “Each one so poor he would have holes in the behind of his chausses if the king had not provided patches.” Then her eyes and voice softened, and she slipped her arm around Bruno’s waist and kissed him again. “He has been good to you, brother—”