was here. Maël had revealed that, in exchange for aid given by the youth’s sire to get Mercia to safety, the young man was to complete his training at Wulfen. “How fares De Grandmesnil’s son?” she asked.
“’Tis only three days since he arrived, but I see he will prove a greater challenge than William’s son.” The lady shook her head. “Our Eberhard is younger, but you would not know it for how much more proficient he is in all things the warrior.”
“He is a fine son,” Nicola said. “What of the Dane who aided Maël with Mercia’s escape?”
Hawisa shifted her daughter onto her shoulder and began patting her back. “As Maël vouches for him, I believe use can be made of Ingvar’s skills in training our young men. We must only discover how. You vouch for him as well?”
He had been among Prince Canute’s men who took her and Mercia from the abbey and been good to both women in the short time between abduction and the trade going awry.
“I do,” Nicola said and, hearing Abelard’s belly grumble, lifted him onto her shoulder and patted his back. “Goodness,” she said as she tried to make herself as comfortable as he. “If my brother can give you a son this size, imagine what Vitalis will give me. That is, when we…” She grimaced. “A lady should not speak of such things, should she? Especially with one who has been so loved by her husband.”
Hawisa set a hand on Nicola’s arm. “I can see Vitalis is happy with his bride, and I am certain if not this eve, soon you will be husband and wife in the most beautiful way possible.”
“He loved you very much, Hawisa.”
A smile touched her lips. “He did, and I cared for him, but just as I want no man other than your brother, I believe Vitalis wants no woman other than you.”
Fearing she might cry, Nicola swallowed hard. “He has said he loves me, and I know it to be true, but… I want to make him as happy as he believed he would be with you.”
“Already you do—and more. Though he is far from being at peace, when I looked into his eyes this day, I saw they move to the path ahead, rather than the one behind. That has not been true since before my sire denied him my hand in marriage. You revive Vitalis. Believe it, and even if he turns his face from you, keep breathing your life into him.”
Swallowing a sob, more vigorously Nicola patted the infant.
“As for the size of your babes to come,” Hawisa said, equally serious, “since your husband is a very large man, we must pray your wee ones come a bit early the easier to birth them.”
Nicola was well aware of the danger, but just as she was determined she would not let fear of a son being too soon fostered away keep her from making a family with Vitalis, neither would she allow what might or might not prove the limits of her body.
“That is my prayer,” she said.
Hawisa smiled. “Now let us see if your nuptial chamber is ready to receive its bride.” She eased the infant girl into the crook of an arm, and when Nicola did the same with Abelard, led the way across the hall.
When they stepped off the stairs, the door at the far end of the corridor closed behind a young woman. Lightness in her step, she hastened forward. “Lady Nicola!”
“Aye?”
She halted, nodded over her shoulder. “Ardith is settled. Whilst my sister keeps watch bedside, the little lady asks that I fetch her honey milk from the kitchen.” She looked to Hawisa. “May I, my lady?”
“Of course—and drinks for your sister and you.”
“I thank you, my lady!” She hurried away.
“When you have rested,” Hawisa said, “you will have to tell how it came to be Lady Chanson is to assume guardianship of the girl and how you pried two Saxon women out of De Warenne’s service.”
Hoping the missive sent to Stern Castle informing her aunt of the heiress soon to appear was as happily received as tidings her niece was recovered and wed, Nicola said, “I am still all surprise myself.”
Once more, she sent thanks heavenward for William’s generosity and the reaction of the woman at market they had sought out before departing Thetford. She had cried over her daughters being so far removed but assured Vitalis her tears were more for joy and relief that those born of her