“He is no longer capable of forbidding anything. It is my wifely duty above all to prevent his death, and I can do so by proceeding in his place to the enemy, so that terms might be negotiated.”
“I make no moral judgement,” the priest said. “Despite the promises of paradise, I myself am in no haste to leave this earth before my time, and would welcome an end to this damnable, ungodly siege.”
“Then I won’t let you die,” said Sylvanne. “And foremost, I will not let my husband die.”
She brought her hands to her lips in a praying gesture, and noticed how filthy her fingernails were. Scraping a black rind of grit from under a nail, she called out.
“Mabel!”
The maidservant pushed her way through the bottleneck of onlookers in the doorway. “Yes m’Lady.”
“I have need of a bath. A proper one.”
“The water will be cold, ma’am.”
“The better to shake me sensate.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The crowd of gawkers parted for Mabel to take her leave. Sylvanne spoke again.
“Wait. On second thought, make the bath hot, and lay out my best clothes. I’ll want to look my absolute best.”
“But how shall I heat the water, ma’am?”
“I don’t care. Burn all the furniture in the place if you have to.”
Mabel hesitated. “But how shall I decide which pieces to start with, ma’am?”
“Jesus Christ, woman!” Sylvanne cried angrily. “Have I not enough on my plate that I must attend to every detail?”
“I’m sorry ma’am,” said Mabel.
“Here’s a suggestion,” said Sylvanne, calming herself. “Start with the chairs and tables in the rooms intended for my children. It looks very much now like those will never be needed.”
The young maidservant Ethelwynne burst into tears. The priest tried to put his hand on Sylvanne’s shoulder but she shuddered and pushed it away. She told herself she would not lose her composure. To the young girl she said, “Run along and help Mabel with her tasks. All of you run along. I wish to be alone with my husband.”
WHEN THE ROOM WAS at last cleared she locked the door, then sat on the bed and stroked his cheek gently. All was silent but for the light wheezing of his breath. She thought of her life the first time she had seen him, a mere five years ago, when she lived under the roof of her father, a respected farmer and tithing man. Sylvanne’s mother had died in childbirth, giving her life, and the attending midwife, who herself had been recently made a widow, took on the task of caring for the helpless infant. Soon enough Sylvanne’s father and the widowed midwife found cause to marry. They would have five more children together, but Sylvanne never felt that she was treated as anything less than a true and beloved daughter by her stepmother, whom she always called Mother, and thought of that way. As the eldest, she assumed a heavy load of responsibilities in the family, not least of which was caring for the dairy cows, and transporting their milk to market every day, in a little cart pulled by a bulldog.
One spring day in her eighteenth year, as Sylvanne brought milk as usual to barter in the bailey of this very castle, she was spotted by Gerald, son of the Squire. For him it was love at first sight, he was indeed smitten, and boldly told her at that first meeting that she would be his bride. She was not nearly so taken by him, for he was not handsome, and walked with a limp, the unfortunate result of a childhood fall from a horse. Yes, he was certainly less than perfect as a potential husband, but bold and confident none the less, and articulate too—he wooed her with extravagant phrases, all to the effect that she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. She accepted his compliments with modesty, having heard similar things from the young men who worked the fields with her father, and most especially from the soldiers loitering by the castle gate, who were always enthusiastic, if more crude and less poetic in their remarks. She was known to one and all as a radiantly healthy, honest, openhearted milkmaid, and therefore had no shortage of eager suitors—farmers’ sons, handsome young carpenters and broad-shouldered blacksmiths among them—although none had yet won her heart.
Gerald was the most persistent and prestigious suitor she’d yet met. When Gerald proposed, her father, keen on improving his standing, insisted she accept. If she didn’t precisely love the man