Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

Etta, clutching her rosary, fled the bedchamber, praying that she had saved her mistress.

“It is a tunic for me,” Graelam said.

“Aye. You are so large, and your shirts and tunics so worn and ill-fitting. I wanted you to be garbed as you should be.”

He looked at her for several moments, trying to still his guilt. “You will ask me in the future,” he said, and tossed the velvet to her. “And, my lady, you will answer me honestly when I ask you a questio

n.”

With those emotionless cold words, Graelam turned on his heel and strode from the bedchamber, leaving Kassia to grind her teeth and jab her needle into the velvet. Upon reflection, she knew she should have told him immediately that it was not a gown for herself she was making. But how dare he treat her so! Ill-humored tongue! Looking down, she realized she had set several very crooked stitches and jerked them out of the velvet, venting all her fury on the hapless thread.

15

Graelam stood on the ramparts, looking east toward rolling green hills. He had tried to concentrate on the administrative problems Blount had brought him: two peasants who wanted the same girl for wife; a dispute over the ownership of a pig; and a crusty old man who had wanted to sell Graelam his daughter. But it was no use.

He turned westward and watched the sun make its downward descent. A slight breeze ruffled his hair, and he impatiently smoothed it out of his eyes.

“My lord.”

It was as if he had willed her to appear. Slowly Graelam turned to Kassia, standing some distance away from him, her head bowed.

“My lady,” he greeted her, his voice clipped.

“The baker has made some pastries I thought you would like—almond and honey, your favorite.”

Graelam cursed under his breath. “Can you not come closer?”

She obeyed him, but her step was hesitant. He watched the sunlight create glints of copper and gold in her hair. He felt a pang of guilt and it angered him.

“I don’t want the pastries,” he said when she came to a pained halt in front of him.

“I did not really come for that reason,” Kassia said, raising her head.

She was pale and he saw the strain in her eyes. Damn, he had but chastised her for taking the cloth! “Why did you come?” he asked.

“To tell you I am sorry. I should not have taken the velvet without your permission.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” She looked at him searchingly, hopeful of some bending, but his face was impassive. “I meant no harm.”

He saw her blink rapidly and lower her head. Kassia quickly turned away from him, not wanting him to see her tears. Her anger at him was gone, and she had hoped that he would smile at her again and dismiss the entire incident. But he looked all the more grim.

Graelam cursed, and grabbed her arm. “I did not give you permission to go,” he said harshly. He closed his hand more tightly about her arm, feeling her delicate and fragile bones that would snap like a twig under his strength. “Why do you not eat the pastries? By all the saints, you are so slight that a breeze could sweep you away.”

Kassia did not understand him. He sounded furious, yet his hand had eased on her arm, and his fingers were gently massaging where he had clasped her so harshly.

“Truly, my lord,” she said at last, “I did not mean to anger you. I did not think—”

“No, ’tis obvious,” he interrupted her, hating the pleading in her voice. He dropped her arm and turned slightly away from her. “You gave orders to have the outbuildings whitewashed.”

“Aye,” she admitted in a small voice, cursing herself at the same time for her cowardice. Were she at Belleterre, she wanted to shout at him, not only would she have given orders to whitewash the sheds, but she would have also overseen, with her father, the drawing of the charter with the merchant Drieux. Would he give her authority to act as mistress of Wolffeton one minute, and withdraw it the next?

Silence stretched between them. “Have I your permission to go now, my lord?”

“Why, my lady?” he asked, turning to face her again. “Do you not find my company to your liking?”

“I must tell the servants not to whitewash the outbuildings.”