Winter Song Read online

  “But you are right. One should not be wasteful. You will teach me, my love, and I will learn—”

  “But it is not a question of right and wrong,” Alys interrupted desperately. “In your world those garments are only fit for servants. In mine they are what is worn by better folk every day. Try to understand—”

  “I do not want to understand anything, except—do you love me, Alys?”

  She was silent, her eyes fixed on his thin, bitterly hurt face. “Yes,” she sighed, “I do love you. If you were a poor, penniless knight, I would follow you barefoot through the world. I would cook for you and sew for you and, if need be, carry your goods on my back if you had no packhorse. But I am afraid, Raymond, afraid I will shame you.”

  “No!”

  “You love me, and you cry no, but I do not understand your way of living. I knew no better than to send you away with those old things of Harold’s…”

  “Alys, do not talk so silly. I was at court, wearing King Henry’s clothes. I could have taken what I wanted from what he lent me. I never thought of it myself.”

  “Men do not think of such things. It is a woman’s place to see that her man is fittingly attired.”

  “Nonsense!” Raymond laughed. “My mother would not think of studying my father’s court cupboards. His servants—”

  “Not even that!” Alys cried. “Raymond, I will go demented. What am I to do all day?”

  “Whatever you wish, my love. Alys, all that matters is that you love me and I love you. Everything else will be arranged. Beloved, I swear I will remake the world for you if I must. Do not deny me. How can you say you love me and yet bear to part with me?”

  “To save you hurt and shame—” she began.

  But he did not allow her to finish. For answer, he seized her and kissed her. She was rigid at first, pushing at him, but her strength was nothing compared with his, and soon she yielded. Her lips grew warm, and she felt strangely lightheaded and weak. Raymond’s lips had left her mouth and wandered to her chin, then under it. Alys drew a shuddering breath just before his mouth closed on hers again, and her hands, which had crept out from between them and around him to press him closer, did not move to save her wimple when Raymond began to pull at it.

  “I do not wish to interrupt so warm a greeting,” Sir William remarked, “but perhaps it is just as well that I do so before it grows any warmer.”

  Alys and Raymond jumped apart, coloring self-consciously. “I have my father’s agreement for our marriage,” Raymond assured his prospective father-by-marriage.

  “I should hope so,” William laughed. Then he sighed and put out a hand to clasp Raymond affectionately above his elbow. “That is not quite true, you know. I do not really know whether I am pleased or not. For Alys’s sake, I am glad, but… Well, I suppose there is no help for it.”

  “Where is Lady Elizabeth?” Raymond asked.

  Sir William smiled. “Are you delicately implying that I am greedy and want to keep my daughter, even after winning the wife I so long desired?”

  “No, sir. I—” Raymond swallowed. In fact, he had thought just that.

  Laughing at him, Sir William answered his question. “Elizabeth is still at Hurley—we were both there. She will be along soon. Come and sit down, my son.” William paused over the words and smiled. “That has a pleasant sound—my son. Well, I cannot imagine your news was very welcome to your father. Just how unwelcome was it?”

  “Not near so unwelcome as you think, sir,” Raymond responded with a grin. “Of course, at first he near had a fit, not because the dower was inadequate—he did not even stop to ask—but because Alys’s land was here in England.”

  “I can see that. I cannot say that I am overjoyed to have my daughter’s husband a Provençal.”

  “But then I had a thought.” Sensibly Raymond ignored William’s remark, since there was no way of changing his nationality, and continued to put forth his notion of using the revenues of Bix to pay for lands ceded to Alys in Gascony.

  William sat up straighter as he listened, and a pleased smile began to soften his rather grim expression. “By God,” he exclaimed when Raymond was finished. “You have more than you realized. We—you, I, your father, and Alys—are like to make more out of this than you ever expected. Have you heard that Nicholas de Molis, the seneschal of Gascony, is hard beset between Theobold of Champagne and Gaston of Béarn?”

  “Béarn? But surely he is King Henry’s friend. Eleanor is his niece, and I heard that Henry and Gaston could scarce be parted when they were in Bordeaux. And Henry gave such gifts to Gaston as to—”

  “But the gifts are used, the money spent,” William interrupted caustically. “Wales is in arms. We have suffered severe losses there.”

  “Are you summoned?” Raymond asked eagerly. “May I go with you?”

  “Raymond!” Alys exclaimed. “Do you want to get killed before we are even married?”

  “I will come to no hurt,” he assured her absently, his eyes still on Sir William.

  “As Papa came to no hurt when he was last in Wales?” Alys snapped.

  Laughter and love flooded Raymond at the anger in her voice and the bright fury in her eyes. His mother would have fainted, his sisters would be screaming, sobbing, and swooning by turns, and neither reason nor command would stop them. Alys, on the other hand, might quarrel with him and try to change his mind with reasons why it was unwise to go to war, but she would not try to bind him by his heartstrings, nor make his life a misery with moans and sobs and constant laments.

  “No, love,” he replied, laughing. “I certainly do not intend to be wounded if I can save myself from it, and I will also gladly—most gladly—marry you before I go. I will marry you right now, if it is your desire, and again before I go, or each day until I go—whatever you prefer.”

  “So I can be a widow?” Alys retorted, still angry but nearly won to laughter. She knew it was impossible to keep men from regarding war as a pleasant sport.

  “Stop your nonsense, Alys,” William said. “If I were summoned, I would naturally call on my son to support me, since I have no castellan for Bix yet and Hurley is now also on my hands. And you would hold your tongue and send your husband off with a light heart, as is your duty. As it is, you know quite well that the king will do nothing until after Christmas. The remnants of our armies are safe for a while, and it takes time to gather a levy.”

  “Good,” Raymond put in. “Then Alys and I can be married and have a few months of quiet before we go.”

  “I think not.” William pursed his lips, and then, seeing Raymond’s face flush, he smiled. “I did not mean you could not marry,” he amended hastily. “I meant you would have no time for quiet. Let me finish what I was about to say before that silly chit dragged us into this stupid discussion of going to war. The only reason I mentioned the Welsh problem was to point out why Henry cannot even try to get money or men to aid de Molis.”

  “But if the seneschal is not crying wolf…”

  “Molis is a good man. He would not cry wolf, although he himself might be deceived. We can hope that is true but not count on it.”

  “Then some help must be sent him,” Raymond said, frowning.

  “Yes, and I think that you may provide that help, or a little of it, anyway, and Alys and your children profit largely thereby.”

  “But my lands are small,” Raymond pointed out, “and my mother’s people are bound to the de Soler faction, who care more for their own freedom than for the feudal duties they owe the king.”

  “It may be possible to increase your lands substantially, well above the value of Bix. As you mentioned, those revenues are small but sure. Twenty pounds in the pocket is more easily spent than a hundred owed but never paid. At another time, Henry might not see this. He has a sanguine nature and can seldom be brought to see that long promises long delayed are unlikely ever to be fulfilled. At this point, however, he might gladly grant several properties to you for your promise to aid de Molis now and suppor
t the right of the English throne in the future.”

  “I would take oath on that, and gladly,” Raymond said. “As for my own lands and those granted to me, I could perform as I swore, but I cannot see what my sword and a few hundred men could do.”

  “It would be more than that. When you speak, it will be believed you speak for your father. There is no need to say yea or nay unless you are asked directly. Moreover, you, too, are related to Gaston of Béarn…” William allowed his voice to drift away.

  Raymond’s pale eyes glittered with enthusiasm. “Yes, I see. Indeed, I see. I would know what to say, and I have no fear my father would differ from me.” He jumped to his feet and began to pace about, turning suddenly and almost bumping into Alys, who had risen and was walking away. “Where do you go, love?” Raymond asked.

  “As far as I can get from both of you,” she replied.

  “Dear heart—” Raymond began.

  “Alys, my love—” her father said simultaneously.

  She looked exasperatedly from one surprised face to another. “I am so glad my wedding will be of use to the king,” she said, “and to the seneschal of Gascony, and to the power and purse of my husband, to everyone, in fact, save me! I am not sure I wish to be married for the purpose of providing King Henry with an army. And I am not at all sure I will have great pleasure from a wedding voyage spent alone while my husband goes to war.”

  “No, no. I will make time for you, I swear,” Raymond teased, seizing her in his arms. “You do not understand,” he continued more seriously, holding her so that she could not wriggle free or strike at him. “If I can rally enough support, there will not be any war at all. If the king of Navarre sees a campaign will cost too high, he will withdraw to wait for a more propitious time to push his claim. Truly, Alys,” he said, releasing her and looking at her soberly, “I will defend myself when someone strikes at me, and I take pleasure in it, I admit, but I do not think it a good thing to stir up real war. That will not be my intention.”

  She sighed. “I beg your pardon. You are right, of course. If our marriage can be of help to the king, I should be glad, not spiteful. But…but I am used only to being a private person, not one whose doings affect the world at large.”

  “It is not easy, dearling,” William said gravely. “I know it well. I struggled for years to avoid it—but that was wrong. Very wrong. I regret my selfishness. Every person who is called to such a place must accept the burden. It is a man’s duty to serve God and man as best he can, and a woman’s duty to support her menfolk in that service.”

  “Yes, Papa.” She put her hand out to Raymond. “Forgive me. I will make no further trouble, if I can only master my unruly tongue.”

  “No, love, say what you like,” Raymond urged. “You are right to protest what seems wrong to you. It never hurts a man to think twice over a plan, or to put his reasons for a thing into clear words. Only good can come of that, so long as you listen to reason, and I see that you do. I will always be eager to hear what you have to say.”

  “Even when it is silly?” Alys asked, her lips beginning to curve into a smile.

  “Especially when it is silly,” Raymond assured her, “because then I can kiss you for being a woman.”

  He suited the deed to the word, and Alys returned the salute good and hearty before she said she would see to his clothes and a bath, and went away. Sir William looked after his daughter for a moment before he turned his full attention to what Raymond was saying about the areas in which it would be best to have a grant of land. William had seen that Alys’s eyes did not reflect the smile she had given Raymond when she left them. Do not be a dog in the manger, William told himself. It is right that she should fear for the man she loves. But it had not sounded like that kind of fear. William could not give his mind to the matter then. What Raymond was saying was of greater importance.

  That night, however, he mentioned the scene to Elizabeth in pillow talk and noted that she did not answer him at once. “Do you think I am jealous of her love for him?” William asked.

  “No—well, a little, dear heart,” Elizabeth replied softly. “It would not be possible to feel nothing when you see her—whose whole heart and mind were always yours—begin to look to another. But that cannot be what is troubling you now. No, I have seen that Alys is not easy, and love her though I do, I am certainly not jealous.”

  “You do not think she has changed her heart and will marry him only to keep her word? I would never—”

  “Now that is jealousy, William,” Elizabeth interrupted, “or rather, your reluctance to lose her. You saw how she looked at Raymond at suppertime, and later, when they sat together, how she reached to touch him when there was no need. No, she loves him, and loves him dear. Let it be, love. It may be some maiden fancy that troubles her. When we have a little peace together, I will try to speak to her and uncover her uneasiness.”

  That peace was not long in coming. Raymond and William were in such quick agreement on the terms of the marriage contract that they rode out only two days later to propose their notions to Richard of Cornwall, who was fortunately at Wallingford. If he approved, they told Alys and Elizabeth, they would go on to set the proposal before King Henry. And, the day after they left, a messenger arrived to say that Richard was so enthusiastic about the idea that he was going with them to Henry.

  “It is settled then,” Elizabeth said. “We had better give all our attention to finishing your clothing and preparing the linen and furniture you will be taking. I have a feeling that the king will seize at this like a drowning man reaches for a log. He will want the marriage held in all haste so that Raymond may the sooner leave for Gascony.”

  Alys did not reply, and Elizabeth reached out and took her hand. “I have always loved you, Alys,” Elizabeth said then. “Partly because you were William’s child and partly because I never had a daughter. I know you love Raymond, and yet you are not happy. Do you grieve at leaving your father and your familiar place?”

  “No.” There was no hesitation in that response. “I will miss Papa, but…no. Now that I am sure he will not be lonely, I do not regret leaving, nor leaving Marlowe. I always knew Marlowe was not mine.”

  “You do not fear coupling, do you?” Elizabeth asked. “You are small and may have some pain at first, but—”

  “I am not afraid of pain,” Alys snapped, and then her eyes clouded. “Not my own pain, but… Elizabeth, do you think I am fit to be Raymond’s wife?”

  “Fit? What can you mean?”

  Mutely Alys drew her stepmother into Raymond’s chamber and opened the clothing chest, from which she drew several items of court dress. They were of striking magnificence, a soft leather belt all chased with gold wire and studded with sapphires, a tunic all woven with gold thread in graceful arabesques and embroidered at neck and wrists with more gold and small gems and pearls, and a surcoat of brilliant blue velvet, cut and sheared so that acorns and oak leaves of gold showed brilliant against the darker sheen of the cloth. Neckband and fronts, hem and armbands, were again lavish with gold and gems.

  “You mean that Raymond is rich, and we are not?” Elizabeth asked. “But he knew that.”

  “No, not the wealth. As you say, Raymond knew, and it seems that I will be a richer prize than either of us thought anyway. But this clothing shows the state in which he lives.”

  “Alys, you have just lived in such a state yourself—”

  “And I hated it,” Alys interrupted. “No, that is not true. It was pleasant enough for the time we were at court, but if I had to live like that always, I soon would hate it. I know I will burst into some speech or action that will shame Raymond dreadfully. He would be hurt.”

  “No, I think not, Alys. You are too clever for that. No one is on show always. Queen Eleanor pisses and shits like the rest of us, and doubtless quarrels with her husband and her servants, also. Merely, she does not do so in company. Well, neither do you. When you are alone with your husband, you may say and do what you like.”
/>   “And what am I to do the rest of the time? Listen to lovesick lyrics and twanging lutes?”

  Elizabeth frowned at her thoughtfully. “I am not sure, my dear, but I think you should trust Raymond. Ask him what you can do to help. Tell him the truth, that idleness does not agree with you. As to the manners you must use, you need only watch carefully and take your behavior from that of the other ladies. Even if you think them silly, you must do things their way. You are the stranger, and you cannot expect everyone to change for you. Is this what you fear?”

  “No, only that Raymond will be ashamed when I seem vulgar.”

  At that Elizabeth smiled. “You need not fear that! He will not notice, or if he should, he is so besotted he will think your way more charming. It is only for your sake that I tell you to match yourself to your new family and friends. And remember, you have a ready defense. You are a stranger. No one will know whether your difference is owing to your English upbringing or to the simplicity of your father’s station in the past. But do not defend your way. Do not always say, ‘We did it this way.’ There is no right or wrong way to do a thing, so long as it is done well.”

  “Is it worth it to change my whole life?” Alys asked.

  “I cannot tell you that, dearling,” Elizabeth replied softly. “You know you may change your mind if you wish. Your papa will even be glad if you do. Do you wish to live without Raymond?”

  “No!”

  “But that is your only choice. The new life with Raymond, the old one without.”

  Alys stared down at the magnificent garments strewn across the bed. They were scented with the herbs that lay in the chest to keep the clothes sweet and keep the moths and fleas at bay. On the chair beside her, however, lay a shirt and chausses Raymond had left to be washed, which a lazy maid had not taken away. Those garments exuded his male odor, pungently acrid. Somehow it was slightly different from her father’s. It belonged only to Raymond.

  Even as Alys resolved to have the skin off the maid’s back for her carelessness, a quiver of sensation passed through her, as though her organs had moved by themselves within her. She needed to master an impulse to bury her face in Raymond’s underthings and breathe in his scent. A pang of longing for him stabbed her.