Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,4

of the English

“I do not recall him,” she said, “but I know of your family.” Obviously he was a spare young blood at court, sent out with FitzCount on escort duty. “Your own name?”

“Domina, it is William, the same as my father.”

“Well then, William D’Albini, you seem to know about horses.”

He gave her a wide smile, exposing fine, strong teeth. “Well enough, domina.” He rubbed the mare’s soft muzzle with a large, gentle hand.

“I hope my lord FitzCount has a spare mount.”

“I am sure he does, domina.”

Matilda was not so certain. Sounds of a heated exchange flashed across to them. Someone had mislaid the tent pegs and everyone was blaming everyone else. “This would not have happened at my husband’s court,” she said with displeasure.

D’Albini gave an equable shrug. “There are difficult days when whatever you do, you suffer mishaps; today is one such.” Clucking his tongue to the mare, he led her away to tether her with the other horses.

The tent pegs turned up in a different pannier to the expected one and, following more bad-tempered oaths, were driven into the ground and the canvas secured. Brian FitzCount directed operations, now and then scraping his hands through his hair, looking increasingly embarrassed and exasperated.

Gradually, however, order emerged out of chaos and Matilda was able to enter the tent and at least be out of the wind, even if the canvas sides flapped like wings striving to lift the structure into the air. Her women set about making her bed, layering several mattresses on to the strung frame and topping them with clean sheets and soft blankets. A manservant hooked a partition across the middle of the tent and someone else fetched a chair with a quilted cushion. A bench and a small table arrived.

Matilda remained standing, arms folded.

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Brian FitzCount entered the tent followed by servants bearing a flagon and cups, loaves of bread, and assorted cheeses and smoked meats. “The men are making a windbreak,” he said. “At least it isn’t raining.”

“No,” she agreed, thinking that rain would have been the final seasoning. She sat down on the chair. The servants spread the table with an embroidered cloth and brought food and drink. Before she could change her mind, she indicated that Brian should join her. News of the court in advance of her arrival there would be useful.

He hesitated, went to the tent entrance to bellow more instructions, then dropped the flap and returned to serve her himself. She studied his long fingers as he poured wine into silver cups. An emerald ring glinted, and another of plaited gold. His hands were clean, the nails clipped short, but they were ink-stained, as if he were a common clerk. She tried to remember him from her childhood, but found no trace. It had been too long ago and he would have been just another youth at court.

“My father is well?” She took her first sip and felt it warm its way to her stomach.

“Indeed, domina, and eager to see you, even if the circumstances are sad.”

“I have seen him but once since I was a little girl,” she said shortly. “I know why he is pleased to welcome me home.” Silence fell between them. She decided that the windbreak must have been successfully erected, because there were fewer flurries at the sides of the tent. She broke bread and ate it with a slice of smoked venison, gesturing him to eat too.

“Would you rather have stayed in Germany?” The directness of his question took her by surprise; she had expected him to continue being the deferential courtier. “It was my duty to return at my father’s bidding. What would 12

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have been left for me there without my husband? His successor has his own affiliations. I would either have had to marry into them, which would not suit my father’s policies, or retire to a nunnery and live out my days in service to God.”

“That is a worthy thing to do.”

“But I am not yet ready to renounce the world.” She gave him a shrewd look. “Has my father spoken to you of his plans for my future?”

He returned her stare. “He only speaks in general terms and even if I did know his heart in the matter, it would not be for me to say. You must be aware of some of his intent yourself, domina. If he did not have plans for you, then you would still be