She saw his face darken with anger, and drew in her breath. But he said nothing, merely dug his heels into his destrier’s sides and galloped away from her.
The village of Wolffeton lay nestled in a valley not two leagues from the castle. A dozen men were building the defensive wall that would rise some eighteen feet into the air, shielding them from sea attacks. The ground was deeply rutted and muddy, and piles of refuse were stacked around at least a dozen tents. The only completed structure was the merchant’s house. Drieux stood in the doorway waiting for them. He was an ascetic-looking man, his face thin, his pale eyes deeply set, and nearly the age of her father. He had been exquisitely polite to Kassia when he had met her some weeks before at the castle.
“My lord, my lady,” he said, bowing deeply from the waist.
Graelam nodded, gracefully dismounting. “All goes well, I see,” he said, gazing about the growing village. “You do need more men,” he added, pointing toward the wall.
“A dozen more families will be arrriving within the week,” Drieux said. “By the end of the year, we will be self-sufficient.”
Graelam turned to Guy, and Kassia watched him and the men ride toward the wall.
“I have brought my wife to see the goods we settled upon,” Graelam said.
Goods! What goods? Kassia felt Graelam’s hands close about her waist as he lifted her gently off her mare’s back and set her on the ground. “Come, Kassia.”
Graelam had to bow his head as they entered Drieux’s house. Actually, Kassia saw, the main chamber housed his goods. The beamed ceilings were high, the floor still earth-covered. All smelled of freshly cut lumber. There were several long trestle ta
bles, and on each were piles of material, boxes of spices and herbs and shining new tools. “ ’Tis a beginning,” Drieux said wryly. “Here is the carpet, my lord.”
Kassia sucked in her breath as a young boy helped Drieux unroll a magnificent red wool rug.
“Oh, Graelam, ’tis beautiful!”
He smiled down at her, his eyes lightening at her obvious enthusiasm. “Does it match your cushions?”
She turned glowing eyes to his face. “I will make new ones if it does not!”
He watched her finger the thick wool, exclaiming to the merchant as she traced each swirling pattern. “From Flanders?” she asked.
“Aye,” said Drieux.
“And the other, for our bedchamber.” Graelam said.
The other carpet was a vibrant blue, so soft that Kassia could imagine her bare feet sinking into it. “It is so very fine,” she breathed. Suddenly she frowned, thinking of the cost, thinking of the valuable necklace stolen from Graelam’s chest.
“It does not please you?”
She flinched at his harsh tone, and swallowed. “We really do not need it, my lord. It is so very valuable.”
“It matters not. I want it.”
She smiled up at him shyly, and he returned her smile, until he realized that he was playing the fool, seeking to please her.
“Shall we put it in the duke’s bedchamber until he leaves?”
“An excellent idea,” he said shortly. “The duke will doubtless believe that you are just the mistress Wolffeton needed.”
He left her then, to see to the village’s fortifications.
Kassia followed him outside and stood quietly, watching the men work on the wall. Drieux came up to stand beside her. “The carpets are indeed from Flanders, my lady,” he said.
“However did you get them so quickly?”
“From a rich merchant in Portsmouth. Lord Graelam wanted them quickly.”
Kassia smiled up at him. “Doubtless you will become a wealthy man, monsieur.”
“With Lord Graelam’s strength and protection, I believe it will be so.”