Rosehaven (Medieval Song 5)

“Aye,” she said, and rose slowly and very carefully.

“I would that you go rest now, Hastings. Alice told me that you have been on your feet for four hours now.”

“I am not on my feet.”

Severin picked up Trist, slung him over his shoulder, and began to rub his chin.

“I had to get out of bed because Trist would not leave me. He is growing fat and lazy. Just look at his stomach, Severin. He is a pig, not a marten.”

Trist batted his paw at her. She laughed, a bright sound Severin hadn’t heard in too long a time.

As quickly as it came, the laughter disappeared. “You rode with Marjorie. She enjoyed telling me about it.”

“Oh? What did she tell you?”

“That you talked about the past, when the two of you were very young. She spoke about how much you wanted her, how much you loved her.”

“Aye, that is true enough.”

Hastings turned on her heel and stomped into the great hall.

“But it is not the entire truth,” he called after her. She didn’t turn, just got stiffer, her head higher. He just shook his head. What did Hastings wish him to do? Return Marjorie to Sedgewick, taking the risk she would catch the sweating sickness? No, he could not do that, but he would have to do something.

He followed his wife to their bedchamber. He paused at the door, believing someone was with her. She was saying, “I will be as fat as you are by the fall and then what will I do? I’ll be a prisoner here at Oxborough. He can do just as he pleases, not that he hasn’t always done what he wished to do. Especially with me. What am I to do?”

“You can begin by trusting me, Hastings.”

She looked up to see him standing in the doorway. Trist, on his back beside her on the bed, twisted to see his master, and immediately flipped over and slithered to the floor. He raced across the bedchamber, climbed Severin’s leg, and curled himself around his neck. Severin began to rub his chin.

She said nothing.

“I have come to look at the wound in your side. You have kept me away from you for a full seven days and nights. I want to see how well you are healing.”

“Ah, won’t Marjorie let you come to her? You wish to relieve your man’s lust, Severin?”

“In part,” he said, and that surprised her. “But more important, I want to see how you are doing. You told me you had healed and there was no poisoning. I want to see for myself.”

“The Healer said I am nearly well. You do not believe her?”

“Lie down, Hastings.”

He had not given her orders for a sennight. Of course there hadn’t been too many orders to give her since that night she’d stabbed herself. He’d told her to stay in bed. She’d nearly grown mold in that bed.

To his surprise, she did lie down. He sat down beside her and pulled up her gown. “Keep your arms at your sides. I don’t need your help.”

“I am not helping you, Severin. I want to hit you.”

“Trist, go sit on her chest.”

The marten unwound himself from his master’s neck and laid himself across Hastings’s chest. He stared at her. She couldn’t help herself. She laughed.

“That’s better.” He continued his undressing of her in silence. Finally, he said, “Your belly is still flat. I don’t ask for much, Hastings, but perhaps just a slight curve would be enough to content me.”

“You still do not believe that I am with child?”

“You have lost your humor, unlike I, who have gained in mine. That was a jest.”

She chewed her bottom lip. Trist mewled, tapping his left paw against her chin.